Every Sunrise

by Tricia Goyer

  “Could be. But doesn’t he know I’m proud just because he’s him? Nothing he does will change that or make me prouder.”

  The woman yawned wide, and then she was silent again. After a few minutes Sam glanced back at her and saw she’d drifted back to sleep.

  The woman’s words replayed in his mind. Were his grandparents proud of him just for who he was? Sometimes he believed it, but not always. Grandpa always wanted him to be more like him—a happy farmer. And Grandma, well, Sam supposed she wanted him to be less like Pete and more like Bill, the educated, scholarly one. He thought of something else the woman said.

  Life’s too busy, I suppose, to drop a note in the mail.

  He thought about that for a while. Thought about the gift given to him by his grandma. He’d been scared at first to read the letter from his mom. Mostly because he didn’t want to think about her. Every time he did that he wanted to cry, and he hated feeling weak like that.

  He also knew that reading the letter from her would make him think about what he was doing to his grandparents. Even though she’d also run away, he knew she would have done things differently if she could. She had mentioned that—how running from your problems wasn’t the best answer. His mom had also talked over the years about the pain each person’s actions can cause others. She’d told him and his brother and sister about the importance of being truthful and honest. And since in the last day Sam had lied, stolen money, and abandoned those who cared for him most, he knew his mom would be shaking her finger at him over his actions. Or more likely, shaking her finger and pointing him back home. She wouldn’t have liked the idea of him finding his dad. Not that it mattered now. She was gone, and he was here, and this was Sam’s only hope of getting out of Nebraska.

  “My mom made up for what she did.” Sam mumbled, glancing at the old woman to make sure she didn’t hear him. “She left and then made things right later.”

  What was that saying he’d heard before? Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission …

  Sam liked that quote, and he set his jaw. Then he opened his backpack, pulled out the Bible, and slipped out the letter. Better to just get it over with. It was just a letter, after all.

  Yet his heartbeat quickened when he noticed his mother’s handwriting. And even before he read the first word, tears lined the lower rims of his eyes.

  Dear Mom,

  Even though you already know a little about your grandson from our talk on the phone, I wanted to tell you a little more about Sam, my son. Even saying those words overwhelms me. I can’t believe I’m a mom. I think I gave away my heart to this kid, and I have no hopes of getting it back.

  Enclosed are two photos. The first was taken at the hospital. The second at La Jolla Shores, our favorite beach. Isn’t Sam cute in his little sun hat?

  I have to tell you, Sam is a great baby. He loves to be hugged and held, especially snuggled close to my chest where he can hear my heartbeat. Sam’s name means “God heard,” and even though Kevin wanted our son named after him, I insisted on this name. You see, Mom, even though you think I abandoned my faith, that’s not true. And even though I know there are still problems between me and my family—especially with Dad—my son is a great gift. He’s something good that has come out of a lot of mistakes. I think God heard the prayers that have gone up for me and Sam. That’s why I chose this name.

  I have big dreams for my boy. For a safe, happy place where he can grow up. For a family that will love him despite his mistakes. To enjoy the beauty of nature and a community that will guide him as he grows.

  Pray for me, Mom—that Kevin and I can find something like that for him. A happy place like I had growing up in Nebraska. And pray that I can be a good mom. I’m not sure if I can pray for myself, but I know God hears your prayers for me and Sam.

  Okay, I better go. It’s time for his feeding. Tell everyone I said hi and that I’m okay—as good as good can be.

  Love, Denise

  P.S. Sam sends all his love to Nebraska too!

  Sam closed the letter and held it firmly in his hands. His throat felt tight and thick and he wished he had more water. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. He tried to remember if his mom ever told him why she’d picked his name. Or the fact that she didn’t feel like she could pray. Over the years, they prayed at dinner when they remembered and sometimes they prayed before bed. But is that the type of praying his mom was talking about? The simple habits that she’d carried with her from her childhood? Or was she talking about something more?

  His mom believed God heard his grandparents’ prayers. Were they praying now? Praying to find him? And, more importantly, would God answer them? He hoped not. At least until he found his dad.

  He read the letter again, rereading about what his mother wished for him. A safe, happy place. A family that loved him. Nature. Community.

  Sounds like Nebraska, what I’m leaving behind … Maybe his mom wanted him to have what she’d experienced growing up. The only problem was he had to lose her to get it. Personally, he didn’t think it was a fair trade. And, if Sam had his way, he hoped to find those things in a different place.

  With my dad.

  Sam put the letter back into the Bible and stuck them both in his backpack. Then he pulled out his iPod and put the ear buds into his ears. He turned on his favorite rock band and turned the volume up loud. He guessed even the old lady sitting next to him would be able to hear the music, but he didn’t care. Sam needed it loud. He needed it to drown out the questions that kept running through his head.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sun was just beginning to set when Emily heard the knock at the door and hurried to it. She opened it to find Miss Simons there with her hands holding her coat’s hood around her face, shivering in the cold.

  “Miss Simons! Come on in.” Emily stepped aside, and Dana did as she was told.

  Emily slammed the door shut, locking it so that the wind wouldn’t blow it open.

  “Hey there, Emily. I heard from Melody Givens what was happening and I thought I’d offer to help.” Dana pushed off her hood and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Dana!” Pete’s voice came from the living room. He was wearing a bath towel tied over his shoulders as a cape. Christopher was wearing the same and they both had sheepish grins on their faces. “We were, uh, just playing Superhero checkers.”

  Emily glanced at the checkerboard on the living room floor. “Yeah, and they’re not joking. For the last hour, I’ve been hearing things like, “I’ll use my ability to jump tall buildings—and to jump your red checker with a single bound.” Emily sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I need someone in touch with reality. These guys are crazy, Uncle Pete especially.”

  Dana didn’t respond at first, but when Emily glanced up she saw a tenderness toward Pete she hadn’t expected.

  “Yeah, he’s completely nuts all right,” Dana said with a smile, brushing her dark hair back from her face. Then she turned to the kitchen.

  “I noticed Bill and Anna’s car wasn’t here. I expected them to—you know—be around at a time like this.”

  “Nah, Grandpa said that Uncle Pete could handle everything. They came and left. I think they’ve called a few times, but I don’t expect them to come over until tomorrow.”

  Dana placed her hands on her hips. “Well, are you hungry? I could whip something up.”

  Emily nodded. “Yeah. I had cereal for breakfast and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. I could use some real food.”

  “What do you think about helping me make some spaghetti? When I was your age my grandma taught me her secret recipe, and I haven’t made it for Pete yet.”

  She hurried over to the cupboard and took out the tall stock pan, filling it with water from the faucet.

  “Sam really liked spaghetti,” Emily mumbled to herself.

  She didn’t want to tell Dana, but the truth was she hadn’t eaten much because her stomach hurt and she couldn’t ima
gine sitting down to enjoy a meal. How could anyone eat during a time like this? Sam was out there somewhere—alone. He could be in trouble.

  Emily moved to the dining room and sat in the kitchen chair, willing herself not to throw up. Now Grandpa and Grandma were out there too. She knew they were old. She also knew the roads were dangerous. What if something happened to them before they found Sam? What if she lost three more members of her family?

  “Need help with that?” Pete removed his cape and hurried into the kitchen, ready to become a real hero.

  “Can I help too?” Christopher asked, hurrying in, sidling up to Pete. From Emily’s point of view they looked like the perfect little family—a mom, dad, and son in the kitchen. And as Emily watched Dana she could tell that Pete’s girlfriend was thinking the same thing too.

  Dana was actually humming as she took a jar of tomatoes from the pantry. Then Dana paused before Pete. “Do you think you can open these for me?”

  “Sure, not a problem.” Pete gently took the jar from her hands.

  “Oh, Mom’s tomatoes are best,” Pete said. “You’re gonna love them.” He opened the jar and handed it back. “You know, I’m really excited about spring because I’m going to double the size of the garden. With our bigger family now, we need more produce. I can’t wait to get on my tractor and get to work, digging up the soil.”

  Pete ruffled Christopher’s head. “You wanna help me plant this year, buddy?”

  “Can I, Uncle Pete?” Christopher’s eyes widened.

  Emily placed her fingertips on her temples, realizing her head was starting to hurt. She wanted to call Grandma and talk to her—to check to make sure everything was okay, but didn’t want to bother her.

  Dana grabbed half of an onion and a clove of garlic out of the refrigerator. Pete pulled out the chopping block and a knife. Emily was sure this was one of the only times she’d ever seen him help in the kitchen. So much for Dana needing my help. Still her mind wasn’t too concerned with that. Her heartbeat actually quickened in her chest as she thought about calling Grandma.

  “Uncle Pete?” Emily clapped her hands together. “Can we call Grandma? Remember, Miss Hannah stopped by to give us the number of the cell she loaned her.”

  “Sure, just don’t stay on too long,” Pete said. “I don’t want to use up all Hannah’s minutes. I hear that costs a fortune. Actually, let me call and then I’ll pass it over to you.”

  “The cost of minutes isn’t too bad … depending on Hannah’s plan,” Dana assured him.

  Pete picked up the house phone and dialed the number. He sat there, waiting for someone to pick up, but Emily could tell it went to voice mail.

  “Sorry, guys. It must be out of range.” Pete shrugged then hung up the phone. “We’ll try again later.”

  Emily felt her stomach turn, and she imagined her grandfather’s truck stuck in a ditch. She felt herself growing cold, and then the voices in the room started to get fuzzy.

  “Emily?” It was Dana’s voice. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She hurried to the bathroom. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Emily closed the door and leaned against it. Slowly her stomach calmed, and then the tears came.

  “God, if you’re real and if you’re out there, would you please take care of my family?” It was a simple prayer.

  She just hoped it was good enough.

  CHARLOTTE NOTICED BOB’S KNUCKLES were white as he gripped the steering wheel and gazed into the snow. Charlotte rubbed her eyes. They burned from staring so hard into the stormy night, and she wasn’t even the one driving. At least they were together. And at least they were warm. She wished she could do more, but the last thing she wanted was to volunteer to drive in this mess.

  “Doing okay?” Charlotte patted her husband’s arm.

  “Yeah, although I’m a little upset that we can’t go faster. I’ve been driving less than 45 miles per hour for the last two hours. At this rate we’ll be lucky to make it to Golden by dawn.”

  Charlotte studied Bob’s tense jaw. He wasn’t a patient man. He liked fixing things and solving problems, and she knew the fact that he couldn’t fix the weather would only make him crankier as they traveled on.

  She tried to think of something to talk about. Something to keep his mind off the weather. They’d talked about Pete and Dana, planting season, and the rising cost of groceries, but she was running out of interesting things to talk about, especially things that didn’t involve the kids.

  “Oh, great,” Bob mumbled under his breath.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Charlotte sat up straighter in the seat.

  “There are flares up ahead. That can’t be a good thing.”

  Bob slowed the truck. They could see a blue sedan stuck nose first into a ditch. And on the other side of the road a car and a truck appeared to have collided. Bob stopped the truck, thumping his palms on the steering wheel. “Of all things. Wonder how long this is going to take.”

  They didn’t have to wait long to hear the answer. A sheriff’s deputy moved toward their truck, half walking and half sliding on the ice.

  “Sorry, folks. You won’t be able to get by for a long while. There’s a big mess up there, and all the tow trucks are out on other calls.”

  “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”

  “Wait? I wouldn’t recommend that at all.” The deputy’s radio squawked on his hip, but he ignored it. “We could be dealing with this mess until mornin’. My suggestion is to turn around and head back.”

  He told them to head back to the small town they had just passed. “They have a nice hotel there. Had to stay there myself on other nights like this. I reckon they’ll have a room for you if you hurry.”

  Bob nodded. “Guess we don’t have a choice. Thank you, deputy.”

  The deputy walked away, taking every step with care. Bob rolled up the window.

  “Looks like we’re not getting to Golden tonight. Or anytime early in the morning.”

  Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. Having the window down had brought in a rush of cold air, but she knew that wasn’t the only reason she was shivering. She hated the thought of turning back. Sam was out there in this mess—alone.

  With effort, Bob turned the truck around. They found the small town and the hotel. Thankfully, Bob didn’t even bat his eye at the price of the room. It needed to be done; they had no choice.

  Together they lugged their suitcase and Hannah’s picnic basket into the room. It was sparse and quiet. So different from home. Charlotte wondered if she would be able to sleep. At least she’d have Bob’s snoring to make it like home. She smiled to herself at that thought. Charlotte got ready for bed, then she set the alarm for 5:00 AM. Bob watched her and didn’t comment. She knew he was just as eager to get on the road—to get to Sam. At least they’d get a little time to rest. Who knew what tomorrow held.

  IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when the bus neared Golden, Colorado. Sam cupped his hands around his eyes and tried to peer out the window, but all he could see was snow and more snow—even deeper than in Nebraska.

  He pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and glanced at the address one more time. Then he slid the address into his Bible next to his mom’s letter. He tucked his Bible into his backpack.

  Every time he looked at that Bible he couldn’t help but think about his grandma. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looked at him with uncertainty—her brows slightly furrowed—whenever she didn’t know how to handle a situation, which was often. He thought about spring on the farm, which was right around the corner. About cinnamon rolls from Mel’s Place, and even the church services that had sort of grown on him. And then, trailing all those thoughts came a deep longing for his brother and sister.

  The emotion surprised Sam. He’d always considered them pests, or burdens to take care of, or both. But now he knew he’d do anything for them. His shoulders felt tight, and his chest felt empty with missing things back home. The only thing that
helped was knowing that if things went well with his dad he wouldn’t have to be apart from Christopher and Emily for long. But what if they wanted to stay in Nebraska? What would he do then?

  With a creak of brakes and a loud sigh, the bus stopped. The driver announced their arrival at the Golden, Colorado, bus station, and said the bus would be departing again soon.

  The lady next to him gathered her things and exited. Sam knew the time had come. He stood and grabbed his backpack and the additional duffle bag of things he’d brought—clothes, his favorite CDs, and another pair of shoes. As he walked down the aisle of the bus, he tried to picture what it would be like to see his father again. His mind replayed what he was going to say to his dad.

  “Hey there, remember me?”

  “So, how have you been? Long time no see.”

  “I have some news. It’s about Mom.”

  “Well, Pops, what would you think of raising three kids?”

  The cold wind blew through the bus door, and Sam stepped down into the snow. It was deep and wet, and he wished he had boots on. A chill numbed his body and he trudged forward, wondering where to go and what to do. There were a few others also getting off the bus, but they had people waiting for them.

  In a few minutes the bus pulled away, and so did the cars. Sam still stood there, his back against the cold brick of the bus station, trying to shield his body from the cold wind and decide his next step.

  What was I thinking?

  He knew it was too late to find his dad’s place tonight, but where to go until morning was the big question. As he looked around at the line of unfamiliar buildings surrounding him, another deep longing for his grandparents’ warm farmhouse caught him by surprise. Don’t wimp out now. You haven’t come this far for nothing.

  “Don’t think about home, Sam. Just do what you have to do,” he mumbled to himself, looking around.

  He spotted a hotel down the road, but decided that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t imagine spending all that money for one night. Instead, he noticed what looked like a twenty-four-hour Laundromat and jogged across the street with the snow squeaking under his sneakers.