by Tricia Goyer
Bob parked the truck, waving to Frank, who was shoveling the snow from in front of his barn door. Charlotte pulled her jacket up to her chin and jumped from the truck, slamming the door behind her.
Her boots crunched in the snow as she hurried up the porch steps. Hannah opened the door even before she knocked and pulled Charlotte inside, and into a warm embrace.
“Oh, Charlotte, I don’t know what to say.” Hannah’s breath was warm on Charlotte’s ear. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this again.”
Charlotte tried to say something, but she felt the tears building. She pressed her lips together and nodded her head.
“Know that I’ll be praying for you, gal. I called the prayer chain at church, and they’re all praying too.”
Charlotte felt the stone she’d been carrying in her stomach grow heavier. While she was thankful for everyone’s prayers, she also knew that along with those prayers would come questions. She also knew that for many of her older friends this scenario was all too familiar.
“Thank you, Hannah. It helps to know that many prayers are going up for Sam.”
Hannah stepped back from Charlotte’s embrace, but she kept a firm grip on Charlotte’s shoulders. “Now listen. Their prayers aren’t only for Sam but for you too. I’m sure this is resurrecting all sorts of old feelings and insecurities that should have been done and buried long ago.”
“I suppose so.” Charlotte wondered how her friend who was younger than she was and who didn’t even have kids could be so wise.
“Okay, enough of that.” Hannah turned and hurried to the counter, where a picnic basket was waiting. “I’ve packed a few sandwiches and some cookies. Some dried fruit, and whatever else managed to make it in.”
Charlotte took the basket from her, chuckling as its heaviness tugged her arms downward. “We’re only driving to Golden. It’s not like we’re planning to be gone for a month.”
“Yes, well, better to be safe than sorry.” Hannah waved her hands as if shooing Charlotte out the door. “Hurry now. I don’t want to get Bob upset with me.” Hannah opened the door. “Call if you hear anything, will ya?”
Charlotte put her hand on the doorknob when Hannah stopped her, grabbing her sleeve.
“Wait! Speaking of calling. I almost forgot the main reason you’re here.” Hannah grabbed a small plastic bag and handed it to her. “Here’s the charger for my cell phone. And here’s the phone.” Hannah took it out of her purse and slipped it into Charlotte’s coat pocket. “It has unlimited minutes, so you can call home and check on the kids whenever you want. Just for a little peace of mind.”
“Oh, Hannah, thank you so much. We’ll be in touch.” Charlotte set the bag on top of the picnic basket and gave her friend a one-armed hug. Then she slipped out the door.
The cold wind blew against her as Charlotte carried the heavy basket to the truck and placed it on the floorboard then climbed in herself.
“Wow, Hannah really loaded you up.”
Charlotte nodded and smiled. “Yes, in more ways than one. Food, a cell phone to use, and a few words of encouragement. We’re all set.”
They drove for a while, passing by Bedford Community Church. Pastor Evans’s car was parked in its typical spot and the parking lot was full.
“Is church not out yet?” Charlotte asked. “I wonder if Pastor Evans was especially long-winded today.”
Bob tapped his finger on the dashboard. “It’s only noon, Charlotte. Church should be going for another thirty minutes, at least.”
“It seems later. In fact, it seems like weeks since Sam’s been gone, not only one day.”
They stopped at the gas station on the edge of town and fueled up. Bob bought extra water for the trip. They rarely got away from the farm—this would have felt like an adventure if it wasn’t for the circumstances.
Bob pulled onto the highway and headed west, and for a while Charlotte let her mind reel with thoughts of the reasons for Sam leaving. She watched the other cars on the road but didn’t really see them. Even though Hannah had insisted it wasn’t her fault, Charlotte couldn’t help but letting her mind wander.
Was it us? Did we do something wrong? Did missing his mom trigger it? Or was finding his dad’s address enough to start the whole chain of events? And why was he even looking?
The sad thing was Charlotte knew that Sam’s story wasn’t unusual. In her Bible study group they often prayed for children and grandchildren hurt by divorce, by the abandonment of a parent, by all the other numerous heartaches that came with this generation.
“Things have sure changed. I don’t think life is as easy as it used to be,” Charlotte said, turning to Bob.
“I know. I would have never thought of running away. I wouldn’t know how to survive life outside of Bedford. Still don’t. The outside world was just news blaring from the TV. We had innocent fun back when I was Sam’s age.”
“Yes, I agree. We thought we were so clever, but really we were mostly silly. And we horrified our parents with our pranks,” Charlotte said, realizing that this was one of the few times she and Bob had talked one-on-one in weeks.
“How so?” Bob asked.
A smile filled Charlotte’s face as she replayed one of her pranks in her mind. “Well, I remember one time some other kids and I were going out to pizza after church. The church pianist jokingly said to save her some. My friend Beverly and I did. We took home a bunch of pizza crusts and wrapped them up in tin foil and then gave them to her on Wednesday. My mother was horrified, of course, but it was fun.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Child’s play.” Bob smirked. “I remember one summer when I went to church camp. A few other guys and I snuck out one night and we stuck the pastor’s VW Bug on top of a picnic table.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“I’ve never heard that before.”
“Well, once we had kids I didn’t want to bring it up. They don’t make picnic tables like they used to, you know.” Bob chuckled.
It was good to hear him laugh, and it seemed to take some of the tension out of the air too. As they drove they fell into a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts.
The truck wound around a curve in the road, and Charlotte braced her hand on the door as she felt the tires of the truck slide. The snow was thick and slushy—white in every direction. Her head ached and her eyes were tired from trying to focus on the road. She could only imagine how Bob must feel.
Sometimes it was impossible to tell where the lanes were. In fact, they hadn’t seen another vehicle in over fifteen minutes, and the only hint they were still on the road was the line of reflectors that stretched before them—guiding them to Sam.
After thirty minutes, Bob turned in her direction. “You sleeping?”
Charlotte lifted her head from where it rested on the seatback. “No. Just thinking. Or worrying is more like it.”
“I know what you mean.”
“What was Sam thinking, Bob? There’s a blizzard outside, and he’s never even been to Colorado before. Where’s he going to stay? What if Kevin isn’t there—or worse—won’t have anything to do with him?”
“He wouldn’t leave his own son out in the cold.”
“How do you know that? We haven’t seen or heard from the man in almost ten years. He was heartless enough to leave them without ever looking back.”
“Maybe he tried.”
“What?” Charlotte turned up the heater another notch.
“Kevin. Maybe he tried to contact the kids, and Denise wouldn’t allow it. You know how she was when her mind was set on something.”
“I can’t believe she’d do that. As much as she grew to disagree with Kevin, he still was the father of her children. I think she loved them enough to have dealt with Kevin if he would have given her the chance.”
The truck moved on, and Charlotte strained to see ahead, looking for headlights or any other sign of life. It felt so lonely on this road. So slow going. She’d never been
lost in the woods, but she got a hint of what it must feel like to want to see someone else out there—some other sign of life.
“I’m so afraid for Sam,” Charlotte said, resurrecting their conversation once again. “He could really get lost. Or hurt. There are people out there who could hurt him—if the weather doesn’t hurt him more. It doesn’t make sense that the police aren’t going to search for him. It makes me mad.”
“Sam’s nearly an adult. This time we found where he was going. This time we’re looking for him, but before long he will be grown up, and he’ll be making his own choices without our say.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Charlotte sighed. “Who knows what type of choices he’ll make? No kid should ever have to face losing his mother. For that matter, losing his father too.”
“No one has it perfect, Charlotte. If we had it perfect here we wouldn’t need a hope in heaven. We wouldn’t need God.”
Charlotte knew she was tired, she felt herself on edge, and even though she told herself that conversations like this were best held when one was at least halfway rested and not so worried, her mouth kept moving. Just as the snow kept falling out the window.
“I don’t want perfection. Just a few breaks. It’s not fair that some people have to go through so much loss. Like Sam—”
“And like you?” Bob glanced in her direction. “Or me, for that matter? We’ve already had to deal with this once—losing Denise. Having her run away. There’s enough pain and questions in that for a lifetime. Makes me think of what we’re doing wrong.”
“We’re good parents, Bob. And good grandparents too. Or at least we try to be.”
“Yeah, but you have to admit that everyone knows a girl goes looking for love because she hasn’t found it at home.” Bob tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel as he spoke, as if trying to distract himself from the emotions building. “Maybe I should have given her more hugs. Spent more time with her. Not spent so much time in the fields—”
Charlotte wanted to tell Bob that what he was saying didn’t make any sense, but in a way she agreed. She’d thought about that too—although she’d never wanted to admit it. Bob had a hard time knowing what to do with the younger kids. And sometimes she knew Bob used heading out to the fields as an escape. It was easier thinking about soil and seeds, rain, and crop rotation, than how to discipline or interact with the kids.
“I left too much on you,” Bob added. “Forced you to try to manage too much. Maybe if I would have been more involved, Denise wouldn’t have got involved with Kevin.”
“You don’t think I discouraged her enough?” Charlotte leaned up in the seat. “You make it sound like I pushed her into his arms.”
“Well, no, but when you learned she was sneaking around to see him, you should have got me more involved.”
“Bob Stevenson.” Charlotte felt hot anger building up in her. She reached over and flipped the heater down. “After all this time—” She felt her words catch in her throat. “I finally know the truth. You think it’s my fault that Denise got pregnant and ran away.”
“Now, Char, I never said that.” The tires of the truck slid slightly again, and Bob decreased his speed. They were moving barely forty-five miles an hour, but the racing of Charlotte’s blood made up for it.
“You just did.”
“You didn’t argue with me when I talked about not being there for Denise.”
“So what you’re saying,” Charlotte spouted, “is all these years we both blamed each other for what Denise chose?”
Bob didn’t say anything, and Charlotte realized he was acknowledging there was some truth to her words. She had blamed Bob’s absence, in part. And looking back, she could see why Bob had thought she wasn’t strict enough with Denise.
“I could have stopped it.” Bob’s voice had a haunting sound to it, and for a minute Charlotte wasn’t sure if she’d actually heard him speak or had just imagined it.
She turned in her seat to face him. “What do you mean?”
Bob didn’t talk for a minute, and then finally he cleared his throat. “A few weeks before Denise ran away, I had a dream. She was five again, just a little girl with blonde pigtails, and she got lost in the cornfield. I knew she was out there, but I couldn’t find her. I just kept running and running. I heard her voice, but I couldn’t find her.”
Even in the dim light Charlotte could see Bob’s eyes tearing up.
“You never told me that.”
“Yeah, maybe there were ways I blamed you, but I blamed myself more. It was as if God had given me a vision to act on. But I ignored it until it was too late.”
Charlotte saw a green road sign ahead and she hoped it would give them a record of how many miles they had left to go. But the closer they got she discovered that the snow had stuck to it—blown against it by the wind, and the white letters couldn’t be read. She hated not knowing where they were or how far they had to go on this road. Just as she hated not knowing what lay ahead for the kids.
If only God could give them road signs in life to tell them things like, You’re almost through the big curve, or There is a rest stop ahead where you can stop and catch your breath for a while. Or, Sam will be waiting at the end of this journey.
“I’m not sure what to say about the dream,” Charlotte finally answered. “Maybe both of us knew more than we’d like to admit that we were losing Denise—that she was slipping through our fingers. Maybe your subconscious was just dealing with that fact.”
She scooted over and placed her head on his shoulder. “The thing is, no matter who we blame, or don’t blame, there’s no going back. We can never rescue Denise. She’s gone. I …” Charlotte placed her fingers over her lips, willing herself not to cry. “I wish we could go back, but we can’t. Maybe God’s giving us a second chance to get it right,” Charlotte suggested. “I’ll take a do-over if it means we can help Sam.”
“Look there.” Bob pointed to a sign that said Rest Area. “I think we should get out and stretch our legs for a while.”
Charlotte climbed from the truck as soon as Bob stopped, pulling her coat tighter around her as she hurried to the small restroom. Bob walked by her side.
“We’re going to keep going, right?” she asked.
“Yes, just a short break and then we’re going to keep going.” Bob reached down and gave her hand a squeeze.
“We have to find Sam,” she said, more to herself than to Bob. “He’s out there somewhere. And with God’s help we can still find him.”
Bob walked to the left toward the men’s bathroom and she moved to the right. She pushed opened the door, thankful it was warm and clean. Last time they hadn’t rushed after Denise. This time they were doing it differently. Last time they’d blamed each other. This time they were pulling together.
No matter how hard it was, maybe they were getting a second shot at doing things right. They were going to do whatever it took to find Sam. It made Charlotte feel better just knowing that. They were in this together, and finding their grandson might heal some of the old wounds they’d ignored over the last eighteen years.
SAM’S HEAD ROCKED against the window of the bus. He’d given up trying to sleep hours ago, and instead began counting the small white poles with reflectors that were spaced evenly along the highway. It amazed him how much he’d come to appreciate those stupid reflectors. Seeing them meant the snow had let up, and that was a good thing. It meant he’d make it to Colorado after all.
His stomach growled, and he pulled a chip bag from his backpack. There were only a few crumbs left in the bottom of the bag, and he lifted it and shook the last of them into his mouth. Then he took the last swig from his bottle of lukewarm water. So much for dinner …
The fact was, he hadn’t eaten much in the last two days.
What was supposed to be a six-hour bus trip from where he’d broken down had dragged out to over twelve hours already, and who knew how much farther they had to go. The storm had slowed them down, in addition to the driv
er’s frequent stops to check on the road. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been many stops for food.
If he’d had his car he could have stopped for a burger at one of the few small towns that dotted the route. In the past few weeks, after he’d found his dad’s name, he’d thought about waiting until summer—or at least spring—so he could drive safely, but he hadn’t wanted to risk it. Once Sam found his dad’s whereabouts, he knew he needed to act fast. It was clear from the long list of his dad’s previous addresses that he didn’t stay in one place long. Waiting risked the possibility of losing his chance, and Sam didn’t want that. He’d already lost too much.
561. 562. Counting reflectors was boring, but at least counting was easier than feeling guilty over the fact that he’d left. Easier than questioning what waited ahead. Deep in Sam’s gut, hope mixed with fear. His stomach ached from the mixing of the two, and from lack of food.
As the reflectors clicked by, his hunger mounted until all his thoughts centered on one thing—an intense longing for a piece of his grandma’s caramel apple pie. As if that would solve all his problems.
“Stop it. Get it out of your head,” Sam mumbled to himself.
“You talking to me?” It was the older woman seated next to him. She had woken up without Sam noticing.
“No, I was—just talking to myself.” Sam shyly met her gaze.
“Oh my, young people seem to do that a lot.” The old woman brushed back a strand of gray hair that had escaped her wool hat. Her face appeared like a map of wrinkles, yet she looked at him with a soft smile. “My great-grandson talks to himself all the time. Quotes from movies and television and things like that. He wants to be a writer for movies, you know. He’s gone to Hollywood, and I haven’t heard from him in over a year. I suppose these days life’s too busy to drop a note in the mail or to pick up the phone.”
Thanks for the guilt trip, lady. Sam turned back to the window. “Maybe he’ll call when he gets settled. Maybe he’s just trying to get on his feet first—to do something to make you proud.”
