by Tricia Goyer
“Thank you, Anita. I appreciate all your help. Please let me know if you hear anything. Maybe Sam will call Paul or Jake. And I’ll do the same if we have any news.”
Pete had barely taken off his jacket when he put it on again. “Has anyone just driven around—you know, around town—to see if they’ve spotted his car?”
“Well, the sheriff’s deputies were going to keep their eyes open.” Charlotte rose.
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” Pete placed his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to drive around myself—just in case.”
Charlotte felt like hugging her youngest son. Finally, some action and not just talk.
“Thank you, Pete. Be careful,” she said as Pete exited. She watched from the window, but before the taillights on Pete’s truck, Lazarus, had disappeared, Bill and Anna were also putting on their own jackets and bundling up the girls.
“You heading out too?” Charlotte turned to Anna.
Anna approached and took Charlotte’s hands in her own. “Bill doesn’t want the girls to miss their bedtime. But won’t you call us and let us know what’s happening?”
“Yes, keep us posted.” Bill sidled up to Anna. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow. I want to talk to Mom and Dad a bit.” His voice was low, but firm. “Maybe Emily and Christopher should head to bed too. Children need order, structure. Things are different these days. Things we may think of as little things like bedtime schedules and routines are actually important,” Bill said as he tugged on his coat. “Kids often need more guidance than we think they do.”
Charlotte nodded as she led them to the door, and she knew this conversation wasn’t about bedtime. It was never about bedtime. It was about Bill’s opinion on who should raise the kids—and a clear statement that he didn’t think Bob and Charlotte were the right choice.
Maybe Bill’s right. Are we just being selfish? Maybe we should think otherwise, think of the kids. Maybe if we’d let Bill and Anna raise them this would never have happened.
Maybe this is my fault. After all, what other mothers out there have this happen twice?
Chapter Seventeen
The phone rang continually throughout the evening, and never with good news. “My guess is that you should check with the bus station in Harding in the morning.” Deputy Johnson’s voice was gentle. “That’s the best mode of transportation out of the area. We sent information up there for the police to look for Sam’s car, but don’t hold your breath. The storm blowing in has caused a power outage in Harding and they’re dealing with a minor crisis up there. Best thing to do is just call the station yourself in the morning, and ask them a few questions. Sometimes they’ll do more to help family members than if a deputy calls.”
“Okay, thank you very much. I’ll do that.” Yet Charlotte’s words weren’t nearly as agreeable when she spoke to Bob after hanging up the phone.
“Bob, there has to be more that we can do. Maybe we should drive up to Harding ourselves. Tonight.”
Bob pointed to the window. “In this weather? Charlotte, it’s just not safe.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. Sam may be confused, but he’s not stupid. He’s not going to do anything to put his life in danger. Just the fact that he took time to pack and to make sure he didn’t leave any clues behind proves he wasn’t being hasty. He has a plan. Now we just need to figure out what that is.”
“You’re right. We’ll wait for tomorrow, and in the meantime pray for his safety.” She moved to the couch and settled into the cushions. Having been through this before, she knew there was nothing much they could do except wait and pray. Nothing anyone could do.
Charlotte glanced at the clock and her jaw dropped when she noticed it was after 10:00 PM. Her stomach growled, and she realized she never did get any of that stew. Not that she could eat now. Her eyelids felt heavy, and all that she could think about was sleep—to escape into a dreamland where everyone was safe and accounted for.
Bob yawned and rose, moving into the kitchen. It was only then that she realized that Emily and Christopher were sitting in the dim light, watching, listening, and not saying a word.
Charlotte got up too. “I think it’s time for all of us to head to bed. Tomorrow, no doubt, will be a long day.”
Christopher hesitantly moved toward her. Charlotte opened her arms to him and he fell into her embrace.
“Grandma, is Sam all right?”
“I’m sure he is. It’s scary, but God is with him. We need to remember that. We need to pray for your brother.”
“Can we pray now?” Emily whispered. Charlotte saw that her eyes were red and her face splotchy.
“Of course.” Bob stepped forward, placing his big hands on his granddaughter’s thin shoulders. “I’m not sure why we didn’t think of that sooner. It should have been the first thing we did.”
They circled together, in a small cluster, and Bob wrapped his big arms around them all.
“Dear Lord Jesus. We come to you with humble hearts. We don’t know where Sam is, but we are thankful you do. Please be with him. Keep your eyes on him, and …” Bob’s voice caught in his throat. “Remind him of our love. Amen.”
“Amen.” Charlotte said.
“Amen.” Christopher and Emily echoed. But for the next minute no one moved. It was as if they all wanted to feel each other’s closeness for just a little longer.
“Grandpa?” It was Emily’s voice that broke the silence. “Can we sleep in the living room tonight?”
“Of course.” Bob answered. “Why don’t you bring down some sleeping bags.” Then he turned to Charlotte and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you head to bed. I’m going to head out and check the animals, and then I’ll be right in.”
“You sure?” Charlotte struggled to hold back a yawn. Her eyes felt thick and scratchy, and the idea of washing her face with a warm washcloth and then snuggling down under her comforter sounded good.
“Okay, but if Pete has any news be sure to let me know.”
“Will do.” Bob placed a peck on Charlotte’s forehead. “Now you get some rest. Tomorrow will be a new day.” Then, with a slowness in his movements and a heaviness in his steps, Bob put on his coat and stocking cap and then headed outside.
Five minutes later Charlotte settled into bed. This morning she’d awakened like it was any other day. By tonight everything had changed.
She’d left the bedroom door open as a sign to Emily and Christopher that they could come in if they needed her. But it was also Charlotte’s way of feeling close to the kids. It helped to know they were just in the other room. Even now she could hear them whispering between themselves.
She was almost asleep when she heard Pete come in.
“Uncle Pete, did you see anything?” Christopher asked. She heard him jump up from his sleeping bag. She listened to the sounds of his feet running across the room toward his uncle.
Charlotte climbed out of bed and slid on her bathrobe, wondering the same question. She started down the hall to the living room and then paused.
“Sorry, buddy,” Pete’s voice was filled with sadness. “I drove up and down every street in Bedford—and along many of the country roads too, but there was no sign of your brother.”
“Oh, Uncle Pete, where do you think he is?” Emily sighed loudly.
“I don’t have any idea, but God knows. He sees Sam exactly where he is this very moment. And you know what? Sam’s a pretty smart kid. Running away might not be the smartest thing, but I’m sure he had a plan.”
“So you think he’s going to be okay?” Christopher asked.
“Yup, I sure do. Maybe tomorrow he’ll even call and let us know where he is and what he’s been up to. But I have a feeling that wherever that is he’ll also realize that it’s not as great as being here with us.”
Charlotte peeked around the corner, into the living room and noticed Pete lying down on the floor with the kids. It warmed her heart, and she returned to her room not wanting to intrude on
their special moment.
Sliding between the sheets Charlotte felt as if she was made of lead. Closing her eyes, her body pressed into the mattress, and for a moment she worried that she’d never be able to move again. Especially if something happened to Sam. She couldn’t imagine life going on without him. How could Emily and Christopher cope? How could she?
She tried to pray, but the words didn’t come. Instead, another voice filled her head—her own. Failure, failure, failure, the voice chanted. Not only did she fail once—she did it twice. Even with knowing all she knew about Denise’s teenage runaway experience, she still couldn’t get it right.
“Dear Lord, help me. You brought these children to us for a reason. Help me to hold them close to my heart, but hold them loosely too. They belong to you, not me …”
And with that prayer she felt her body relax and sleep overcome her.
Chapter Eighteen
Pain shooting through her temples stirred Charlotte from her sleep, and it took only a second for yesterday’s events to come back. She sat up and turned toward Bob, but even in the dim light she saw that he wasn’t there. She glanced at the alarm clock, which read nearly 6:00 AM. His side of the bed was still neatly made, which meant that Bob hadn’t come to bed.
Sam. Is there any news on Sam?
She pulled on her slippers and then hurried out of the bedroom. Bob was sitting at the table close to the phone. He’d laid his head on his folded arms and had fallen asleep like that. She walked up to him wondering if she should wake him or let him sleep.
“Dad’s been there all night—didn’t want to leave the phone.”
It was Pete. She turned and noticed him curled up on the couch. It struck her how many times he had slept on that couch like that, and no matter how well she’d tucked him in he’d always kicked the afghan off. Now that very afghan looked like a handkerchief spread over a giant. How mature a man he was now.
On the floor in front of the sofa, Christopher and Emily slept.
“Any news?” Charlotte folded her arms over her chest.
“Well, no good news. When I was driving around I called Brad. It seems Sam didn’t show up for work all of last week. Brad said before that, everything was going just fine. It was like one day Sam just gave up trying.”
“Maybe it was his birthday that triggered things, the first without his mom …” Charlotte’s voice was no more than a whisper. She wanted to make sure she didn’t wake the kids.
Pete shrugged. “Could be, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.”
“Do you think he’s headed to California?”
“That I don’t know.”
“At least Denise left a note. I have no idea where we can even start looking for Sam.”
Pete nodded and didn’t say anything, then he rubbed his eyes. “It’s too early to start making calls again. Why don’t you try to rest a little longer.”
Charlotte nodded and returned to her room, but instead of returning to bed she walked to her closet and turned her attention to the top shelf. There were three shoe boxes, and she reached up and took down the one that said Denise. Since her daughter’s death, she hadn’t had the strength to go through the box, but Sam’s disappearance stirred up all the old memories, and she wanted to remember again.
Inside, Charlotte took an envelope from the top and set it to the side, and then she looked through the other items— elementary school report cards, craft projects made with yarn and coffee filters, and some pictures Denise had drawn. Her favorite was a drawing that Denise had made her first week of kindergarten. It was of Charlotte in the garden surrounded by melons and carrots and pea pods. The only reason Charlotte had known it was her was because Denise had drawn the red and blue apron on the stick figure, just like the one Charlotte had always worn. And on the top the teacher had written these words in quotes: “My favorite place to be.”
Charlotte put all the items back, her chest filled with longing for her daughter, and then turned her attention back to the first envelope. It was the last thing Charlotte had tucked in the box—the letter Denise left, telling Charlotte she was pregnant with Kevin Slater’s baby and was off to start her own life.
Charlotte pressed the letter to her chest and then returned to her bed. She didn’t need to open it to remember the words.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Writing this note is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but you must know by now that I’m gone. I left because I’m pregnant. Kevin Slater and I have decided to start our own life for ourselves and our baby in California. Don’t try to talk me into coming back because that’s not going to happen. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Kevin is going to take care of everything.
Denise
She’d read the words over and over again during the weeks after Denise had left, and thinking about them again Charlotte realized Denise was right. Denise never did return to the farm. She couldn’t imagine that happening with Sam. Charlotte didn’t want to think about him not rumbling down the stairs like a freight train, or emptying her cookie jar in one swoop of his man-sized hand, or sauntering up to the front porch with his skateboard tucked under his arm.
She pressed Denise’s letter to her chest and prayed for her daughter’s son. She prayed that he wasn’t gone for good. Prayed that unlike his mom, he would return to the farm.
Dear Lord, please let us find him. Please keep him safe. Please let Sam know how much we love him.
Charlotte sat there, rocking back and forth as she prayed, unaware of time passing. It could have been five minutes later or fifty when she heard the sound of Pete and Bob heading out to do chores, and Emily’s and Christopher’s voices coming from the living room. By the serious tone in their voices Charlotte knew her grandchildren were talking about Sam. She opened her bedroom door just a fraction more, hoping they didn’t notice her eavesdropping.
“I think Sam went to Seattle—to find our dad.”
“Seattle? Is that where Dad is?”
“It’s where he went after he left. He told Mom he was going to find work so he could take care of us, but for some reason Mom never wanted to go up there.”
“Do you think he found a job?”
“Well, probably. Maybe at a ball park. He would take Sam and me to watch the Padres when we were little, and I’d get to ride on his shoulders. He’d watch the games and tell us everything that was happening. I always thought he’d do a good job as one of the announcers on TV.”
“Did I go?”
“No, you weren’t born yet—or at least I don’t think you were.”
“Was Dad nice?”
The simple question caused Charlotte’s heart to tie up in a knot.
“Most of the time. He’d give me horse rides on his leg, and he did the best Cookie Monster impersonation ever. I don’t remember much, but I do remember when he and Mom used to fight …” Emily’s voice trailed off, and Charlotte wondered what she was thinking about.
Poor thing, having to go through so much at such a young age.
“If Sam does find him, maybe our dad would take me to a ball park too.” Christopher’s voice was wistful.
“Yeah, maybe. I’m hungry. Want some cereal?”
After that she could hear the sounds of them in the kitchen, and she returned to her spot on the bed. It was interesting hearing Emily’s memories. In fact, it made Charlotte realize that Kevin Slater hadn’t always been the enemy. For a while he’d tried his best to take care of his family.
It also made her realize that if Emily had some good memories, Sam no doubt had more. As the oldest, he’d spent the most years with his father. And if Emily was right, and Sam had gone to find him, it was most likely those good memories that urged Sam on.
Knowing that gave Charlotte more to pray about. Not only for Sam, but for the man whom Denise had once loved. The father of Charlotte’s grandchildren.
SAM GLANCED OVER his shoulder and noticed the sun’s new rays could hardly be seen through the clouds. He shivered on the plastic bu
s seat and zipped his sweatshirt all the way to the top, wishing he’d brought his new jacket that hung in his closet.
He could feel the cold seeping through the bus windows, and it made his ribs ache even more. All that he could see out was white, white snow drifting down. So much snow he didn’t know how the bus driver could see to stay on the road. The only thing he was glad for was that he wasn’t driving in it. He hated leaving his car, but seeing how the storm was building made him wonder if he would have made it.
Could have ended up in a ditch somewhere, frozen. At least if the bus got stuck he wouldn’t be alone.
Next to him an older woman slept with her head tilted back and her mouth open. She snored slightly, quieter than his grandfather’s snores, which often shook the floorboards.
Sam quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He didn’t need to think about his warm bed or Grandpa. He didn’t need to think about what his grandma was making for dinner, or if Christopher or Emily had started asking about him yet. All Sam needed was to think of his mission—and the future that waited at the end of the bus ride.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at it, refusing to turn it on. If he did he was sure that they could track him. Sam had seen that on television, where a girl got kidnapped in the woods and they were able to find her because of her phone. He wasn’t sure if that could really happen, but he didn’t want to take any chances. More than that, he was sure if he turned it on there would be a message from Grandma. That’s the last thing he needed. He didn’t want to think about her or how worried she’d be when she found out. He pushed all thoughts of that out of his mind.
The bus was surprisingly full, yet Sam couldn’t sleep, and he didn’t spend much time contemplating the people around him. His mind was too busy considering how his life could change in the next day or two.
My father is at the end of this bus ride. I’ll get to see him. And then, when he finds out what happened to Mom, he’ll want us all to come live with him. Then we can get out of stupid Nebraska. Colorado’s better than that. Bigger. More in the twenty-first century.
