Missing on Main Street

by Sarah Hualde

  Since discovering Scout, Kat stepped away from schoolwork and service “obligations.” She poured her heart back into her own family. She spent her spare moments in scripture reflection and contemplative prayer. In trying to become the perfect Christian wife and leader, she’d become a Pharisee and a pouty pants. She judged volunteers and non-volunteers alike. Everyone fell short compared to her glorious glow of godliness.

  In her season of spiritual headiness, she’d let a lot of essential issues slide. She failed to notice a hurting girl gone missing. She failed to understand Lydia’s loneliness and worry. She failed to care whether Flora was making ends meet. Kat had failed to love her family, her Savior, and herself. She honored only their service to her and her self-made notoriety. No more, she vowed.

  Late Christmas Eve night, early Christmas morning the Millers drove across town. They buzzed. Each child and parent selected some of their own gifts to relinquish in the name of love. Nervous her children were being forced to give up their presents, Kat had not asked them to take part in such a way. Glad, to have their mom back and happy to be helpful Sam and Jess had volunteered to give away their Christmas. The truth that Ever and Eden were their best friends made their choice much less complicated.

  Thaddeus and Kat surrendered their stocking gifts for their friends. Flora and Kevin would be the first to refuse such blessings. Two of the most humble people in Honey Pot, they strove to savor joy in giving and receiving often embarrassed them. A break-in was the only way to share with them without making things awkward.

  Kat figured she would be the main suspect of the supposed crime. She was one of the only people, in town, with a set of Brandes house keys. But that didn’t matter much. Once they completed the mission, there wasn’t a delicate way to undo it.

  The Millers pulled up in front of the drive, next door to the Brandes house. Thad shut down the lights and the motor and placed his keys in his pocket. Any jingling from them could reveal the intruders. The kids giggled to each other and then focused themselves.

  “We must be fast. We must be silent. We must be invisible.” Kat rallied them and gingerly unlocked the front door.

  “Roll your feet when you step,” Thad added. “It makes walking much quieter.” Everyone nodded to each other and entered the dark, sleepy house.

  ✽✽✽

  Ivy arose, Christmas morning, before the sun. She slid out of bed, warm and comfortable. Her beloved daughter suckled in her sleep, and Ivy brushed a finger against the baby’s perfectly pink cheek. This was not the Christmas morning she dreamt of for her baby’s first. But it was cozy and safe, and they were together. She mourned the days she’d been apart from her precious girl. Who could have figured, out of ugliness and pain, would come this treasure?

  Just ten months before, after her grandmother’s passing, Ivy had been living in the house of a pimp. She hadn’t known what he was at the time. Ivy shook her head at her younger self. She should’ve followed her inner urgings and left Martin alone. But he had spoken so sweetly to her and was understanding about her grief over Mema Annie and her desperation to escape Don. He even backed up her desire to continue her schooling and go to college. But then the devil inside him broke loose.

  His compassion disintegrated almost overnight. He forced her to join him on awkward dates in scary places. Their trips always involved at least one older man. Martin would sit Ivy next to the stranger and then disappear.

  After a few of these weird occurrences, Martin didn’t even bother showing up for their dates. He was livid if she complained. When his friend Ben tried to make out with Ivy, and Martin did nothing to stop him, Ivy got the message.

  With no escape, from Don or Martin, Ivy became dead inside. She ran on autopilot. The active avoidance of both men was her only focus until a double blue line appeared on her dollar store pregnancy test. She had someone else to live for, and she worked hard to protect her baby.

  Ivy couldn’t weep over the past. If she allowed herself to sink into the sadness, she might never come out again. Instead, she kissed Scout’s tiny head and soaked in the baby scent that lay thickly in Scout’s feather-soft hair. It’s impossible for God not to be real, Ivy thought. He felt so near it made her heartache.

  She wrapped the washed green quilt around her shoulders and walked to the living room. Lydia grinned at her, over her laptop screen.

  “Merry Christmas,” she chimed. “There’s fresh Christmas Coffee Cake if you want some.” Ivy’s heart flipped in her chest. Mema always baked Christmas Coffee Cake on Christmas morning.

  This moment was destined to be, Ivy thought, comforted, as she took the chair closest to Lydia.

  ✽✽✽

  The smell of brewed coffee drifted a lazy invitation to start the morning. Flora’s eyes fluttered open. She nestled into Kevin’s shoulder, noticing he too was awakening. He squeezed her close and offered the first prayer of thanks for the day.

  The sound of the adults trudging into the kitchen alerted the three children in the house. They sprang to sitting and shot zealous looks at each other. “Christmas!” All three charged from their beds and into the living room.

  “When did you do all this?” Kevin kissed his wife and marveled at the trays of treats and the spread of wrapped gifts. The children shrieked and skipped about the room.

  “I didn’t,” Flora answered. “I thought you did, when you came down, to make the coffee.”

  “I didn’t make the coffee.” Kevin handed a mug to Flora. She took a tiny sip, searing her taste buds but not feeling a thing. She surveyed their tree, lit and twinkling, the platters of food, and the mounds of gifts. Kevin looked around. “You said we didn’t have money for gifts, like that.” Flora turned from the room to hide her tears. Kevin placed an inquisitive arm on her shaking back.

  “God has blessed us,” she sobbed. “Somehow, He’s done it again.” The couple wondered over how the parcels materialized into their living room.

  At the table, feasting on the scriptures and savory, sweet snacks, the entire Brandes clan thanked their Heavenly Father. They discussed the overabundant blessings of God, going above and beyond the necessary to show His children His love.

  Eloise and Ever unwrapped their stacks slowly. Eden burst through bows and ribbons at an eager pace.

  “Sam wanted one of these,” Ever shouted. “I can’t wait to have him over. He’s going to love playing with this!” Kevin winked, at his wife, she shrugged her response. There was no way to know, for sure, which family had made their Christmas so exciting. Flora didn’t want to spoil it. Even though she knew the mystery would nag at Kevin until he figured it out. She delighted in the moment.

  Once every package was gutted, and all their wrappings decorated the floor in ripped piles and cluttered clusters, Flora announced her gift for the family, a new sibling for her children and a new arrow for her husband’s quiver. No one was as excited as Kevin when she told him how far along she was. He hooted and hollered and spun Eden in the air in celebration. He kissed each young head, announcing “God is so good,” over and over again.

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia scooted closer to Ivy’s chair at the table. “Do you want to say Merry Christmas to Ivy?” She turned her laptop to face the teenager who blushed and fussed over her hair. “You look fine,” Lydia assured her.

  “Hello again, Ivy,” Ethan greeted his guest through the wireless. “I hear you will be staying with us for a while.” Ivy glanced to Lydia, surprised. “At least, Lydia and I hope you will.” Ivy sat, confused. She looked to Lydia for an explanation.

  “Ethan and I have been talking. We’d like you and Scout to live with us until you graduate and are ready to brave the world on your own.”

  “But,” Ivy started, struggling to find a reason to reject the offer.

  “I’ve talked with Don.” Lydia rolled her eyes. Don never talked to anyone. Ivy guessed it was more like Lydia spoke and Don cursed. “He’s your guardian. I needed his permission for you to live here. After some intense deba
te,”

  Bribery is more like it, Ivy thought.

  “Mr. Mike from the Mission House and I ...”

  “And me!” Ethan interjected. Lydia had to admit, being married to a sheriff had made Don more compliant.

  “And Ethan convinced him to let us keep you, here, in Honey Pot.”

  Ivy didn’t contain her beaming. Lydia was a much better host than Don ever was, and with Scout’s father being a non-option, the Everett home was the softest landing pad she could’ve hoped for.

  It was plain, Lydia loved Scout. The fear that Lydia would take Scout away lifted. Ivy thrilled at the opportunity to create a family for Scout, no matter how far removed from blood relations it was.

  “If you’d like to stay,” Ethan added, “there are rules.”

  Ivy shivered. Rules led to punishments for Ivy. Punishments brought forth fear and pain. “They’re not intense rules, Ivy. But we will need you to commit to them. We’ve made up a contract, with Mr. Mike, for all of us to sign.”

  “But you don’t have to answer until New Year’s Day. It’s only a week to think about it, but Lyds and I believe you deserve time to make an educated decision.” Ethan’s screen feed shuttered and his words fuzzed. “In the meantime, make yourself at home. Ask Lydia for whatever you need, and we’ll do our best. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Ivy responded, breathless and befuddled at the offerings before her. Lydia turned the laptop back to her side of the table and said goodbye to her distant husband. She sent love to her daughter and signed off.

  Ivy helped herself to cake, and then she spotted the stockings hanging on the hearth. One labeled Ivy and one labeled Scout. This is what home feels like, she marveled. She didn’t trust the feeling but enjoyed it even if it only lasted the day.

  ✽✽✽

  The Miller family spent most of Christmas morning snoring. Blissful from their previous night’s adventure, they slept until noon. Sam and Jess startled their parents to wakefulness by leaping onto the middle of their bed.

  Thaddeus yelped and curled protecting his stomach. Sam attacked his father in attempts to start a family wrestling match. Meanwhile, Jess buried herself under her mother’s arms burrowing deeper into her sleepy embrace.

  “Merry Christmas, sweet baby,” Kat nestled closer to Jess, and the girl returned the hug.

  “Merry Christmas, Mama.”

  Thaddeus sang Christmas carols while swinging pillows around and popping his children on their heads. The fits of giggles and rowdiness that ensued filled the entire house with warmth.

  Next to the Christmas tree sat stockings for each kid. Surprised that there were any gifts left, after their giving spree, the Miller kids squeezed their parent’s necks with wild thankfulness.

  Kat sighed and rested on the couch cushions. Her kids were kids, and their gratefulness often got muddled with expectation. But this year had been different, giving had stirred their spirits. Kat gave silent praise for each smile and each appreciative hug. No amount of video games or toys compared to the wonder of Spirit-filled joy.

  ✽✽✽

  Mr. Mike dropped Emily off for Christmas dinner in the early afternoon. He also approved a sleepover for the night. He interrogated Ivy in his usual suspect style. He offered his assistance to Ivy and thanked Lydia for hosting Emily’s Christmas. As soon as he left, Emily heaped herself on Ivy’s shoulder. She apologized and commiserated with the found lost girl.

  Both teens admired Baby Scout and took turns holding her. Ivy was proud of her baby girl, and Emily went baby crazy.

  Lydia served dinner with every Everett Christmas delicacy. The girls stuffed themselves and then added to their stomach’s suffering a slice of pecan pie and a hunk of mocha Christmas log. Lydia missed Joan and Ethan more than she expected but found herself overstimulated by the youths’ celebrations. It was enough to distract her sorrow and give her new excitement.

  Ivy opened her stocking, filled with specialty soaps, grooming supplies, gift cards, and trinkets. Lydia brought out a stocking for Emily, too. It contained much of the same supplies and sundries. In addition, each girl unwrapped two special presents.

  In the first was a new Bible. Ivy thrilled at receiving hers. Don had torn her original to pieces and tossed it at her, the day he kicked her out. She squeezed her Bible to her chest. Emily wasn’t as enthusiastic. She had too many questions that needed answering before she committed her heart to anyone, especially an invisible Deity.

  The second gift was much more thrilling for Emily. Each girl received new cell phones and prepaid phone cards. Emily tore into the packaging and promptly entered numbers. Ivy opened hers carefully. This phone was hers. Hers. Not Don’s and not Martin’s. Hers. Ivy’s thoughts swelled in her throat.

  Lydia hurried to wrap Ivy in her arms and willingly Ivy sank into them. She had no strength left. Fighting her feelings was no longer working. Lydia patted Ivy’s hair as Emily scooted closer and laid her head on Lydia’s knee. Freeing a hand from the older girl, Lydia soothed the younger one. She’d lost Christmas with her own baby girl. Instead, the Lord sent her two surrogate teenage daughters and an infant. She was determined to befriend and mother them as much as they allowed for as long as they wanted.

  Scout gurgled and cried in her sleep. “Oops. It’s time for Scout’s dinner, too,” Ivy said. Strong and solidifying, Ivy shook the sadness off and stood, like a true mother, ready to tend to her child. Lydia was proud of Ivy’s dedication.

  At 19, Lydia had found mothering Joan a gifting. But it was a talent that tired her out and took every single ounce of her strength.

  Three years younger than Lydia had been, with a lifetime of trauma and abuse filling those years, Ivy still set it all aside and put her baby before herself. This girl would make it. She would succeed and be a blessing to the world. God claimed her, led her, and sheltered her along the way. Lydia would help as much as she could, but Ivy was the Lord’s masterpiece, and all the credit was His.

  After nursing the baby, Ivy opened Scout’s stocking. She showed the baby every pacifier, receiving blanket, and bib. Scout snuggled into Ivy’s arms, more comfortable luxuriating in the smell of her mother’s skin than in her bassinet. She remained oblivious to the excitement, happy to be back with her mom.

  ✽✽✽

  Late Christmas night, as Emily slept bundled on the couch, Ivy crept up the stairs to Lydia’s room. The exhausted woman was not asleep. Propped up with pillows behind her back and her worn Bible in her hands, she also wasn’t startled to see Ivy’s shadow creep across her duvet. She finished her thought and saved her place with a bright pink post-it.

  “You need something, Hun?” She asked, patting the spot beside her on the bed. Ivy sat down without making eye contact. She swallowed, forcing down the knot in her throat, and urging the words to come.

  “I want to apologize,” Ivy’s voice cracked with each syllable. Her confession might cost her the comfy guest room and perhaps even her daughter. She had to do the right thing. Her conscience wouldn’t let her sleep until she did. Her relationship with Lydia could never be one of closeness and trust without it. “I stole your purse. It’s my fault you didn’t make it to Africa.” Ivy dropped her head in her hands and rattled with tears. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was yours. I just needed the money.”

  Lydia didn’t reach out to touch Ivy. She didn’t want to interfere with the girl’s speech until Ivy was ready.

  “After I went to see Martin,” Ivy continued breathing to calm herself. “He came to Honey Pot, to find me. He hurt Scout and me.” She tried to stop up the sobbing before it started. “I woke up the next morning,”

  “Bleeding?” Lydia guessed, and Ivy sniffed affirmation. “On the sleeping bag?”

  “I noticed the church was open and snuck inside to get warm and cleaned up. I saw the purse sitting there. I took the money and left your purse behind.

  First, I went to see the doctor. To make sure Scout was all right,” Ivy rubbed her empty belly, a
lingering reflex. “I took the bus. I was worried I may pass out. At least on the bus, if I blacked out, I wouldn’t crash. But after the ultrasound, I heard the doctor calling someone. I thought he was turning me in. Emily’s told me about girls caught pregnant without families. How they never get to meet their babies or how they’re forced to abort them. So, I just left and hid until the next bus ride back.”

  It was Lydia who squalled first. Ivy ignored her and continued her story. “When I got back, they’d taken Ms. Lana’s car. I didn’t know what else to do. Something was happening at the church, so I hid there. No one found me.”

  “You lived there,” Lydia asked.

  “It was warm, and there was usually something to eat in the kitchen. I couldn’t get in touch with Emily or anyone... Martin had taken my cell. So, I stayed in the attic. Until the night Scout came.” She shifted, shivering. Lydia offered a corner of her bedspread. “Your friend was there. She was pacing in the sanctuary. I was still too frightened to ask for help. So, I snuck into her purse and took her phone. I called for a ride to go to the hospital. But it never came.” Lydia’s eyebrows rose. “Then it started to hurt too much to talk. I wasn’t sure what your friend would do. I called you. But you didn’t answer, and then I noticed your friend praying and I hurried back up to the attic. Scout was born soon afterward.”

  Lydia added up details in her mind. “You cleaned up the building later, didn’t you?”

  Ivy nodded. “I washed in the baptismal. Then I bleached it out. I was carrying the towels to the dumpster when Kat showed up and found Scout. I was so weak and confused. I walked to the library and hid in the bathroom. I hoped I could wait out the police.”

  “They never left. They shut down the building.” Lydia pictured the young mother distraught, over-weary, and undernourished wandering the cold streets of Honey Pot.

  “I lived in the library until I couldn’t bear it any longer and walked to the Christmas event.” She dropped down, fitful and fearful. “I’m so sorry. I used some of your money. Then Martin sent his friend down, and he took the rest. I’m so sorry to ruin your vacation.”