“Here we go again.” The blond woman slapped the palm of her hand against her car. “I already told you his dad put him up to this. He’s lying to you, and you’re falling for it.” Her voice began to shake. “My . . . my boy’s been hurt, and now you’re . . .”
“Mrs. Rickard?”
Alex’s mother turned. Mrs. Carpenter stood in the doorway looking out at the tense confrontation.
“What?” The blond woman seemed to recover some of her composure.
The director’s wife came toward them. “I’m sorry we’ve had to make you wait so long.”
“No kidding.” Her voice was frigid.
“You said Social Services gave you permission to pick up your boy? And that they would pursue the legal proceedings Monday?”
“That’s what I told you.” Mrs. Rickard reached into her car and pulled out a pair of dark glasses. Putting them on, she gave the other woman a long stare. “Are you deaf?”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Renee glanced down at a small piece of paper in her hand. “I just spoke with them myself. Mrs. Carmichael told me that they had said to you they would meet you here at 3:00. That you were not to take Alex or have access to him before then. Three o’clock – you could meet him then under their supervision.” She looked at the blond woman. “Is that right?”
Mrs. Rickard’s left hand trembled as she slowly pulled the dark glasses free from her face. “I . . . I . . .” An awkward pause. “No, they said I could have him. And that we’d come back and meet at 3:00. They told me over the phone.”
“No,” Renee replied firmly, radiating a new kind of quiet authority. “I asked them very clearly if you were to be allowed to pick him up, and they said absolutely not.” She folded the note and tucked it into the pocket of her blouse. “Mrs. Rickard, you’re under suspicion for child abuse. Plus you just lied to me. You won’t be taking Alex from this camp.”
The child’s mother glanced from one to the other, flinching as she sensed their joint resolve. “He . . . he’s my boy. You can’t keep him from me.”
Renee looked down at her watch. “Social Services will be here at 3:00. That’s only half an hour from now. Why don’t we all just wait here and have that meeting as planned? My husband should be back by then too. And the county sheriff.”
“The sheriff?” Alex’s mother seemed to shrink back at the news. “Why would he be coming?”
“Because I’m going to call him,” Renee said evenly. “Now, would you like to come in here out of the rain? I really don’t mind if you wait inside.”
“No.” Her movements jerky now, Mrs. Rickard looked down at her watch. “I . . . I’m not going to wait around here for some meeting. I came to get Alex, and if you’re not going to let me have my own son, I’ll just have to . . . see you in court.” She faced the director’s wife. “Before I’m through with you this place will be a ghost town.”
Renee Carpenter nodded calmly, quietly cool now. “You’re welcome to wait here until 3:00 and visit with your son under their supervision,” she repeated. “Bucky will send for Alex at 3:00 when they arrive.”
“I can’t wait any longer.” Mrs. Rickard glanced at her watch again. “This ridiculous business has killed the whole day. You people . . . just . . .” Climbing into the driver’s seat, she fumbled with her purse. A moment later the engine roared to life.
“Should we stop her?” Bucky whispered. “She really did it – and now she’s getting away!”
The camp director’s wife shook her head. “That’s not our job. We now know what we needed to know.” Together they watched the white car disappear around the corner, its tires splashing mud angrily behind it.
Suddenly Bucky felt tears spring into his eyes “Poor little kid,” he managed.
“I know.” Renee put a comforting arm around his waist. “Life’s pretty tough for him, isn’t it?”
Then she tugged on Bucky’s sleeve. “Come on in while I call the police.” A wan smile curved her lips as she tapped her forehead. “I got that lady’s license number right up here.”
Chapter Thirteen: News Bulletin
Bucky couldn’t tell whether to feel relieved or sad as he watched the green van from Social Services drive up the road through the rain. Right behind it was a black - and - white cruiser from the Derry police department.
“Right on time,” he muttered to Renee. “I guess this is it.”
“Oh, and here comes Joe.” Renee opened the front door and stepped outside. “I’m glad he’s back.”
A tall woman wearing a plastic covering on her head stepped out of the van and walked toward the office. “Renee Carpenter?”
“Yes, I am.” Renee stepped forward and shook hands with the Social Services director. “I guess you’re Mrs. Carmichael.”
“Oh, just call me Madge.” The gray - haired woman folded the plastic square and put it away in her purse. “Is this Bucky Stone?”
Moments later all of them crowded into the inside office. Joe, grim - faced, listened briefly as the sheriff and Mrs. Carmichael described the situation.
“And you’ve already picked up Alex’s mother?” Bucky couldn’t believe it.
“That’s right.” The sheriff was a heavyset man with unruly gray hair. “After Mrs. Carpenter phoned the office, I made a quick call to Madge, here. When she heard how Mrs. Rickard had come up here on her own authority and tried to take Alex without permission, that was about the end of it right there. She told us, ‘Pick her up.’ One of my men pulled her over just as she got to the freeway.”
“Boy, that was close!” Renee closed her eyes for a moment.
“Anyway, here we are.” Madge took out a pad of paper and a pencil. “I think I’d like to have a brief visit with Alex before we do anything else.”
“Sure.” Joe turned to Bucky. “Can you get him for us?”
The young camp counselor whispered a quick prayer as he walked over to Dan Litton’s cabin. Please protect this little guy, Lord . . . whatever happens now. You know how much I care about him. As he dodged the mud puddles, the thought occurred to him that God loved Alex even more.
Dan spied his friend standing in the doorway. “What’s up, man?”
“I guess I need to borrow Alex back from you.” He tried to keep his tone light. “He’s got a visitor.”
“Sure.” Dan turned to where the boy was sitting on one of the top bunks with a Chinese boy. “Alex? Mr. Stone’s here for you.”
The two walked over to the main office in silence, Alex’s face a sober mask. As they reached the front door Bucky put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “These people are here to help you,” he said softly. “Mrs. Carmichael’s really nice.”
The social worker stepped forward and crouched down next to the child. “Are you Alex?”
He nodded.
“I’m Mrs. Carmichael. I’m a friend of Mr. Stone’s, and I’m here to try to help you. Would you like that?”
“I guess.” Alex looked up at Bucky, who gave him an encouraging little nod.
“Do you think maybe just the two of us could visit by ourselves for a little while? I’d really like that.”
“OK.”
Mrs. Carmichael put an arm around the boy and led him into the inner office. “We won’t be too long,” she added with a warm smile as she closed the door.
Wandering over to the far corner of the outer office, Bucky stared out at the raindrops slowly dripping from the roof. Across the room the Carpenters were quietly discussing the case with the police officer, but Bucky tuned out the low buzz of conversation. All he could think about were those painful bruises on Alex’s thin body. Several minutes went by before Joe came over to him. “Kind of rough, huh?”
“Yeah.” His camp counselor nodded. “I guess I didn’t figure on something like this when I first came up here.”
“No, I don’t imagine any of us did,” the camp director admitted. “Still, we’re here to, you know, be mom and dad to these kids while they’re with us. Turns out in this c
ase, what he really needs is a mom and dad.” His eyes were troubled.
Bucky shook his head. “I just couldn’t believe that a mother who looked so . . . normal, could do something like this.”
The older man gave him a curious glance. “You figured right from the first that it was Alex’s mother?”
“Yeah.” The response came slowly. “Well, I’d talked with my guys about always telling the truth. The other night during worship. And I could tell that it really got to Alex. So today . . . when he said to me, ‘Mr. Stone, it was my mom,’ I gotta feel in my gut that he’s telling me the truth.”
“Anything else make you sure?” Joe glanced toward the closed door where the boy was still with the county social worker. “I mean, just curious. I guess we all want to be positive about something like this.”
Bucky nodded, sensing the weight of responsibility that the camp director must be feeling right now. “I guess when he woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream. I went over to his bed, and he was moaning, kind of half - asleep, about his mom doing all this to him. So I figure, if he’d been covering for his dad, he’d have given it away then.”
The camp director digested this. “Yeah.” He managed a tight smile. “I hope you’re right.”
It was nearly 4:00 before the door opened and Mrs. Carmichael approached them. “I think we’re finished.” She glanced down at some notes she had taken before putting the pad away in her purse. “I believe it would be best for us to go ahead and take Alex with us. We have a safe home where he can stay for the weekend with several other children, and where the atmosphere’s maybe just a little bit less tense. I know he’s gotten good care here, and he does feel a real bond with his Mr. Stone.” She gave Bucky a warm glance. “But I think this will be the safest thing for everyone.”
Bucky felt a twinge of regret at the news. “What’s going to happen to him?”
The woman chose her words carefully. “There’s going to be a complete investigation. As you all know, we have accusations made against both parents. And while you and I may have our opinions at this moment, we still have to follow the guidelines that are set up for everybody’s protection. So until we have a judge’s ruling in the case, our only official position is that we have this boy to protect.”
Bucky gulped. “He’s telling the truth.”
The statement hung in the air. Joe glanced over at Bucky before nodding his assent.
Mrs. Carmichael smiled. “I’ve found that Judge Winters is usually pretty good at deciding that.” She came over to Joe and Bucky and shook hands with both of them.
“Will you need any of my staff people for any kind of statement?”
“It’s possible. We’ll call you if I think we need that.” Mrs. Carmichael went over to the office door and opened it. “Alex? Are you ready?”
“Uh huh.” The dark - haired boy hopped off his chair and came over to them. His dark eyes still moody, he glanced up at his camp counselor.
“I guess you’re going with Mrs. Carmichael,” Bucky said. “And stay with some friends of hers.”
“I know.”
The Social Services director rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Bucky, I wonder if you might be able to bring Alex’s things here to the office. Do you think you could do that for me?”
“Sure.” Bucky felt a sense of relief at finally having something he could do. “Take me just a sec.”
He trotted down to the cabin. Despite the continuing drizzle, several boys were playing catch out on the ballfield, but most of his troop was sitting restlessly on their bunks. He slipped over to Alex’s bunk and quickly began gathering together the boy’s meager belongings.
“Mr. Stone?”
He looked up. Jason and Gordie were standing next to the bed, watching him.
“Yeah, guys.”
“How come you’re putting all his stuff away? Is Alex leaving?” Jason was doing all the asking.
The counselor paused. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“How come?”
For a moment Bucky sat down on the bunk. “I guess it’s kind of hard to explain. He has sort of a tough home life, and so he’s going to be spending some time with friends instead. Where he’ll be safe.”
“Oh.” Jason picked up a small piece of paper had fallen to the cement floor. “Here, you dropped this.”
Bucky examined the small photo. It was one of those instant photos that people sometimes took at K-Mart stores. Alex and an older man were grinning into the camera.
“Thanks.” Bucky slipped the picture into the suitcase next to Alex’s pajamas and clothes. “I’ve got to get this to the office. We’ll talk about it tonight, OK?”
“Sure.”
“Is Mr. Litton keeping an eye on things in here?”
“Uh huh. He comes over about every ten minutes and tells us to shut up. But he’s, like, just kidding.”
“That’s good.” Bucky glanced around the cabin. “I’ll see you guys in a little bit.”
“OK.” Gordie gave Bucky a little wave before walking with Jason to the door.
The tall counselor trudged back to the front office with the suitcase. “Here we go.” He gave Alex a grin. “All the goodies.”
“Thanks.” Accepting the little bag, the boy began to edge awkwardly toward the van.
“Wait a minute.” Bucky felt a tightening in his throat as he crouched down. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to you.”
Alex hesitated, then came over to him. “Goodbye.”
Bucky held out his arms, and the boy suddenly was in his embrace. “I love you, man.” He clutched Alex’s slender frame for just a moment. “I’m going to be praying for you really hard.”
The child nodded without speaking.
“I’ll see you again soon, OK?”
“Uh huh.”
His eyes welling up with tears, Bucky stood next to the Carpenters, watching in pained silence as the red taillights of the two vehicles disappeared through the growing mist of the late Friday afternoon. At the moment there didn’t seem to be much to say.
After campfire that evening he gathered the rest of the boys around and briefly explained what had happened. “One of his parents hurt him pretty bad, and so the county’s kind of looking after him until they decide what’s the best thing to do.”
Jose tugged at a loose thread on his black sweat pants. “Was it his mom or his dad?”
The counselor hesitated. “Well, that’s what the county’s got to decide for sure.” He looked from one boy to the other. “It’s pretty bad no matter which one it was.”
“Yeah.”
Bucky set down his Bible. “Anyway, like I was telling you guys, telling the truth is so important. I mean, can you see it? One of these parents is lying, and it’s Alex who suffers because of it. I just think that honesty is about the biggest thing you can learn up here at camp.” He flashed a smile at Jason. “Even more important than learning to be hotshot skiers like Jason and me.” The boys laughed.
Even with the usual hum of spiritual activity that weekends at camp always brought, it was a time of anxiety for Bucky as his thoughts kept drifting back to the boy. Would the judge believe Alex’s story? He picked wearily at his supper without enthusiasm.
That evening Bucky and Dan were sitting by the campfire when Joe Carpenter slipped over and sat down next to him. “Just thought you’d like to hear a little news bulletin,” he whispered.
“What?”
“They didn’t even wait until Monday. Alex is going to be with his dad.”
It took a moment for the news to sink in. “Already? How come?”
The camp director lowered his voice as Bucky and Dan leaned closer. “Well, they were taking statements from both the parents. Last night. ‘Course both of them claimed it was the other one.”
“Yeah.”
Joe’s face took on a hard expression. “Poor kid had something like eighteen bruises on him. Bad ones, too. You saw them, Bucky.”
“Uh huh.”
; The director went on, his voice still a whisper. “Mrs. Carmichael had someone in the medical office take a look at Alex. The doctor told her the bruises were made for sure a couple of weeks ago. He was with his mother then. And . . .”
Bucky swallowed hard. “What else?”
“Whoever hit that kid was left - handed.” Joe shook his head. “Eighteen bruises, all made by someone who was hitting on him left - handed. Pretty easy to tell, I guess.”
“Wait a minute!” Bucky felt a little tremor go through him. A memory from yesterday tugged at him. He recalled Alex’s mother fumbling with her lipstick. “Mrs. Rickard . . .”
“Left-handed. Absolutely no question about it.”
A tingle went through Bucky. “Just like that? Alex’s story held up?”
“Yeah.” The camp director nodded, his eyes misty. “‘Course, all of the rest of it added up anyway. With her coming out here and lying to my wife and everything. Judge already signed the papers.”
“That’s unreal.” Dan kept staring into the fire, shaking his head in amazement.
“I know. But God really worked things out for the best. When you think about it, Mr. Rickard could easily have decided to make a run for it and leave the state. And that could have turned into a real cops - and - robbers chase. With Alex in the middle of it all.”
Bucky sucked in his breath.
“Having him up here with us during this past week – especially with you guys to look after him – really was a blessing,” Joe concluded, clapping Bucky on the back before slipping back to his position next to Pastor Jack.
It was late Sunday afternoon before Bucky and Dan finally had an opportunity to sit down and relax. Registering the new batch of campers had been a hectic nightmare, with several kids coming in without forms of any kind. Both counselors had assisted on the telephone as they scrambled to get the necessary information.
“You wonder what parents are thinking about,” Dan scowled as he looked down the dusty road. He mimicked a recent mother: “‘Oh, I’m sorry. I guess we left it at the house. But at least we brought his toothbrush.’ Three cheers for you, honey.” He sighed.
“Yeah.” Bucky still felt drained by the events of the last few days.
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 81
