by Tricia Goyer
The restaurant was small inside, with no more than a dozen tables around the room. The scent of coffee and baked treats reminded Sam of Mel’s Place. It was warm and inviting, and Sam felt content being here. After what had happened yesterday, he finally felt safe.
Sam felt eagerness over the reunion, but more than that he felt anxiety. Sam didn’t want to face another night like last night again. He still didn’t know who this woman was, but at least he’d get a meal and a ride.
“Two specials, Judy,” Maggie called. “Sam, I assume you like scrambled eggs? And are blueberry pancakes okay?”
“Yeah, uh, sure. Thanks.”
Sam’s eyes moved back outside, and Maggie turned in her seat to follow his gaze. “Cute town, isn’t it? It was founded during the Pike’s Peak gold rush. It used to be called Golden City, but, well, it isn’t much of a city. Most people just think of it as part of Denver now.”
Sam nodded, unsure why she was telling him all this.
The waitress brought Maggie a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, hon,” Maggie said, then turned back to Sam.
“So, tell me about the friend you’re trying to find. Has he or she lived here long?”
Maggie had an honest, kind face. Round and kind. She wasn’t wearing any makeup but she was pretty just like his grandma was pretty. Sam had a strange feeling he could trust her, and he felt his guard coming down.
“My friend, he hasn’t been here too long. Less than a year.” He looked straight at Maggie. “It’s my dad, actually.”
“Your dad? That’s interesting. What’s his name? I know a lot of people around here.”
Sam took a sip of his water. “I don’t know if you’d know him, especially if he lives on the other side of town. But, uh, his name is Kevin Slater.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t know him. I mostly work with teens. After we eat I’ll take you to the youth center and I’ll show you around.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I should just try to find my dad.”
Maggie shrugged, causing her curly brown hair to bounce on her shoulders. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll give you a ride; that’s no problem. I just thought you’d want to call whoever is back home and let them know you’re okay.”
Sam nearly choked on the sip of water he was taking. He coughed, and it took everything within him not to spit the water onto the table. “What are you talking about?”
Maggie leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. “Listen, Sam, I’ve been helping kids like you for many years. From all that stuff you’re hauling around you’re not just out for an overnight sleepover. From the five o’clock shadow on your jaw it’s been a few days since you’ve showered and shaved—and I can see that look in your eyes. You’re worried about the people back home who are missing you—maybe looking for you.”
A lump formed in Sam’s throat as he thought about his grandparents calling around, frantically asking strangers for help.
“So is it your mom looking for you? An older brother or sister?”
“Grandparents.” Sam swallowed hard, especially as he thought about them having to deal with this for a second time. He’d always heard the story of his mom running away, but it hadn’t seemed like reality until now.
“I guess I didn’t think much about my grandparents before I left.” Now he thought about Emily and Christopher too, but he didn’t want to talk about them, even though he could tell from the look in the woman’s eyes that she knew he was holding back.
“We better pray for them then. When we get our pancakes we’ll pray for our food and your grandparents.”
A few minutes later, a stack of fluffy blueberry pancakes showed up with a side of scrambled eggs. And, as promised, Maggie prayed—for the food, for Grandma and Grandpa, for Sam, and for Kevin Slater. She prayed for them as if she’d known them all her life. She also didn’t mind the looks of those sitting nearby who glanced in their direction more than once. Sam knew this because he too was glancing around and looking at Maggie in wonderment at her heartfelt prayers.
Sam took a bite of the pancakes, and he couldn’t believe how much they tasted like home, like Nebraska. And as Sam chewed he realized he now considered the two the same. Nebraska has become like home.
Maggie too dug into her breakfast with a flourish. They mostly ate in silence, but there was one thing he just had to ask.
“So, Maggie, why did you take time to help me, especially canceling the stuff you were gonna do?”
“I may be missing a gathering of my friends from church, whom I consider my family, but ever since I opened the youth center years ago I have a new idea of what being a believer is all about.” Maggie smiled. “I enjoy my friends, but if one of my kids needs to go out to breakfast, to talk, to pray together, well, that comes first. A believer is someone who acts on what she or he knows to be true.”
Sam nodded, and it seemed to make sense to him. A lot of the people he knew did things for others, but he’d never really thought of it this way before.
“But enough about me. Tell me about yourself.” Maggie took a big bite from her pancakes.
“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “I have a brother and sister. I like to skateboard and play soccer. I kicked for the football team last fall. And I have a car that runs half of the time, but right now it’s out of commission.”
Maggie took a sip of her coffee and then leaned against the table as if Sam was the most interesting person she’d ever met. “Really? Tell me about that.”
So Sam did. He told her about trying out for the football team, and about his recent biff on the skateboard. He told her about getting fired from his job and about leaving his car parked at some gas station on the edge of Nebraska.
“And how long have you been with your grandparents?”
He counted in his head. “Ten months or so.”
She nodded and waited like she wanted him to continue.
“We moved in with them. After my mom died.”
“And your dad? He hasn’t been around for a while, has he?”
Sam lowered his head. “No.”
Maggie was quiet, and Sam pushed the rest of his scrambled eggs back and forth on his plate—his appetite completely gone.
“I’m so sorry, Sam.”
Sam gulped back his emotion, not wanting to cry in front of this stranger. And when he glanced up he noticed tears in her eyes.
She took a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and set it on the table. Sam pulled some change from his front pocket and added it too.
“C’mon. We better get back. I bet Abe wants some breakfast of his own.”
“Abe?”
“My dog. Abraham Lincoln, to be exact. Great president. Man of prayer.” She winked at Sam. “I always name my pets after my heroes. And Abe is a good companion. If you stay around here a while and need a friend, Abe’s great at listening to you talk out your frustration. Or sometimes he’s good just to sit there and let you cry on his furry shoulder.”
“Okay.”
They walked about a mile to a small brick building that had Structure Street Youth Center painted on the windows in bright green letters. Inside it smelled like cinnamon apples. He glanced around and noticed a Ping-Pong table, an air hockey table, and a large TV with some couches.
Maggie took the leash off her big dog. “Let me go feed Abe and get my keys. There are some sodas in the fridge in the side room.” Then Maggie hurried through a back door to an area that Sam assumed was where she lived. She left the door between the two areas open, and Sam could see a small living room and kitchen combo through the door.
Sam glanced around the large youth center and noticed that what looked like graffiti on the walls was actually names: Alexander, Tiffany, Megan, Mason. As he walked closer, Sam noticed that under each name was a single “I can” sentence.
I can stop lying.
I can graduate.
I can change.
I can—
The names and phrases went on around
the room. Sam walked around and looked at them, and read all the statements. A few were funny like, “I can learn to cross my eyes,” but most were serious. As he walked, Abe came trotting into the room. Sam turned and kneeled.
“Hey, boy, how do you like it around here? I bet there are a lot of kids that come around here. If you could talk, I bet you could tell me all types of stories.”
Sam sank onto the floor, sitting. He leaned his back against the cold, brick wall. “I don’t even know what I’d write. I can—” Sam’s mind thought about skateboarding and soccer and even football and his car. None of them seemed that important. He thought about his grandparents and about his brother and sister and even his dad, but it seemed that he was always reacting to them—not figuring out what he wanted. For a while he thought he wanted to be with his dad, but now he wasn’t so sure. In fact, it was hard to know what he wanted, much less how to get it.
Sam sat for a while with Abe, just stroking him and petting the soft fur around his nose. And he continued to look at the words on the wall.
“I can—start to dream of the future,” Sam finally mumbled. Saying those words caused his shoulders to quiver. He’d spent the last ten months mostly looking back. It hurt to think about moving forward. It almost felt as if being happy would mean he didn’t miss his mom.
Yet, what would happen if he did dream? If he maybe considered graduation and what he would do afterward? Contemplate where he’d live? Talked about it with people instead of just coming up with his own plans and doing his own thing?
Maybe he would stay with his dad. Maybe not. Maybe he’d return to Nebraska and figure out what was next.
Sam’s legs started to fall asleep, and he rose to shake them out. He turned as Maggie hurried into the room.
“Found my car keys,” she called out in a singsong voice. “You ready?” She headed toward the front door.
“Actually, Maggie, um, I was wondering if I could use your phone. There’s someone I need to call.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emily tried to hold in the chuckle as she watched her Uncle Pete making pancakes. When she’d come down from the shower he’d been staring at the page in the cookbook with intensity, and it wasn’t until she saw what he was looking at that Emily even realized cookbooks told people how to make pancakes. She knew how to make them because she’d helped Grandma before. And from the looks of Uncle Pete’s batter, she knew he’d done something wrong.
“Hey, Uncle Pete. Need help there?” Emily sidled up to him, staring at the thin, oily liquid in his bowl.
“Sure, kiddo. Why don’t you set the table. I’m going to get these pancakes going.”
“Uh, Uncle Pete …” She stared at the batter.
“Yeah?” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”
“Oh, no.” Emily didn’t want to make him feel bad. “I was just wondering if you’d like me to make some orange juice to go with the pancakes?”
“Sure, Emily. That will be great.”
Christopher jogged down the stairs just as Uncle Pete had the first few pancakes made. Emily watched as Christopher approached his uncle with wide eyes.
“Uh, Uncle Pete. Those don’t look right.”
Uncle Pete puffed out his chest. “Well, they don’t look the way Grandma makes them, but I’m sure they taste great!”
Christopher tore off a piece from one of the cooked pancakes, testing it.
“Mmm. Actually they sort of taste like donuts.”
“Really?” Emily approached the kitchen counter and took a bite. They did taste sort of oily, but sweet too, like a donut. “Yeah, Uncle Pete. Maybe we don’t even need to use syrup with these.”
The knock at the door surprised Emily. She turned to see Uncle Bill standing there. He opened the door without waiting for them to answer and hurried inside.
Uncle Pete glanced over his shoulder. “Honestly, Bill. You really don’t have to knock.”
“Well, I don’t want to overstep my bounds. Mom and Dad made that clear the other day.”
Uncle Pete sighed, and he went back to flipping the pancakes, but he didn’t say anything.
Uncle Bill glanced around the kitchen. His eyes darted between the sinkload of dishes and Christopher, who was still in his pajamas.
“Sort of running a little late this morning, aren’t ya? Looks like the kids are gonna miss the bus.”
“Oh.” Uncle Pete glanced at the clock. “I—”
“Uncle Pete is going to drive us today,” Emily interrupted. “Considering all that’s going on with Sam, he thought it would be a good idea.” Emily met Uncle Pete’s gaze, nodding her head and encouraging him to go along with the story.
“Yeah, he’s gonna drive us,” Christopher took another bite of the pancake he’d tested earlier.
“Is that breakfast?” Uncle Bill approached the counter and glanced down at the thin, crisp pancakes.
“They’re donut pancakes,” Christopher offered. “A special recipe.”
“Sure. If you say so.” Uncle Bill tucked in his shirt, and his round paunch reminded Emily of her grandpa’s gut, only not quite as big.
Uncle Pete smiled at Christopher and then at Emily, straightening his shoulders as he went back to making pancakes. It made Emily want to stick up for her youngest uncle more often.
“So, what are you doing out so early? Don’t you have meetings and stuff?” Pete finished making the last pancake and turned off the griddle.
“Anna just thought it would be nice for me to pop in. You know what a worrywart she is.”
“You really don’t need to check in on us, Uncle Bill.” Emily took the syrup out of the refrigerator. “But, since you’re here, maybe you can give us a ride when you head back to work. That will leave time for Uncle Pete to straighten up the house before heading out to finish the morning chores.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But, of course, we don’t want to send you to work hungry. Want some breakfast?”
Both her uncles looked at Emily with surprise. She smiled to herself as she sat down at the table.
“Just like her grandma,” Uncle Bill muttered, making his way to the table and pulling out a chair. “If I could guess the future, I’d say Emily’s another Charlotte in the making—bossing everyone around in such a kind way that you don’t realize you’ve been bossed—”
The phone rang, interrupting Bill’s words.
“I’ll get it!” Emily leapt from her chair and hurried to the phone. “Maybe it’s Grandma!”
Emily lifted the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ems.” It was Sam’s voice.
Emily sucked in a breath. “Sam!”
She turned to look at her uncles, and both stood and hurried to her.
“Do you need me to talk to him?” Uncle Bill held out his hand.
Emily shook her head. “Sam, where in the world are you? Do you know you got everyone scared out of their minds?” She couldn’t stop the words that spilled out.
“Emily, let me talk.” Uncle Pete also reached for the phone.”
Emily held up her hand.
“I know. Is, uh, Grandma there?”
“No. Grandma is not here. She and Grandpa are on their way to Golden, Colorado, looking for you!”
“What? Are you serious? How did they know?”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to figure things out on the computer.” Then Emily remembered the reason for Sam’s trip. “So …” She lowered her voice. “Did you find Dad?”
She turned her back so she didn’t have to see her uncles’ faces.
“I want to say hello to Sam!” Christopher tugged on her arm, but Emily ignored him.
“Not yet,” Sam answered. “I’m on my way over there right now. So … are Grandma and Grandpa here? Are they in Golden?”
“Not yet. They had to stay the night at a hotel somewhere because of the weather. But I think they’re pretty close.”
“Are they mad?” Sam�
�s voice sounded anxious.
“Not really mad. They’re more worried. What made you think—”
Emily felt the phone being tugged away and she turned to find Uncle Pete taking it.
“Hey, Sam, this is Uncle Pete. Where are you? Yes, I know you’re in Golden. Where exactly? Who? Okay, that’s cool someone there is helping you.” Emily focused on the one-sided conversation. “Yeah, ask for the number.”
Uncle Pete stretched the cord and found an envelope and a pen to write with.
“Who’s helping him?” Uncle Bill followed Pete.
“Some woman at a youth center.”
“A stranger? Sam’s with a stranger?” Uncle Bill’s eyebrows folded into a frown.
“Okay, go ahead.” Uncle Pete wrote down an address. “Got it. I’m gonna give you a number too. It’s Hannah’s cell phone. Grandma is using it. Call her—” Uncle Pete paused. “Uh-huh. Oh, and Sam, maybe you should wait to go see your dad. Ask Grandma and Grandpa to go with you. No, I think it will be okay. In fact I think they’d like to be there.”
Emily leaned against the kitchen counter and began biting her fingernails. She’d just painted them yesterday but that didn’t matter.
This is real. Sam is going to find our dad soon. After today things can be totally changed.
She glanced up, and her gaze met Uncle Bill’s. He had the smallest smile on his face as he watched Uncle Pete. A look of approval.
Yep, I have a feeling today is a good beginning for change.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sam glanced at the clock for the hundredth time. It had been almost two hours since he had called them, and his grandparents had yet to show up. His grandma had actually started crying on the phone. And like Uncle Pete said, they seemed happy to be able to go with Sam to find his dad. Mostly they seemed relieved that he was okay.
The youth room was quiet except for the television that was playing the first Indiana Jones movie. Neither he nor Maggie was really watching it.
Sam sat in the smaller loveseat with Abe curled up on his feet. The more time passed the more worried Sam became. The roads were bad. His grandpa’s health wasn’t that great. What if something had happened to him? Sam couldn’t deal with that, knowing they had been coming after him.
