No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown)

by Stimpson, Michelle

  A few minutes later, Pauline approached me again. “Mrs. Brown, are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To go on camera. Make a plea to the public.”

  Somehow, I had missed the part about me being on TV. I must have been thinking the press conference would be with the police department and the rangers. Honestly, I don’t really know what I was thinking at that point. I was tired. Nerves fried. Emotionally drained. And I was hungry but I couldn’t force myself to eat, not when Seth was probably starving by then.

  Overwhelmed by Pauline’s request, I sighed. “What…what do I have to do?”

  “Just need you to say a few words about your son and ask for help,” she prodded.

  My phone buzzed with a message from Stelson. Crews coming back in soon. Too dark. Don’t worry.

  How could I not worry with a message like that?

  Daddy must have read the expression on my face when I read Stelson’s words. “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re coming back.”

  “Who’s coming back?” Pauline said.

  “The rangers. It’s getting too dark,” I cried.

  “That’s it, Mrs. Brown. That’s the emotion we need on camera. Share your experience. We’re on in three minutes.”

  Pauline was trying to win her first Emmy, I gathered, as she walked back to her lighting crew to finish preparations.

  Daddy, who’d been sitting by my side since he arrived, leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Is Stelson coming back now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You might ought to wait until he gets here. Let him do the conference.”

  Puzzled, I asked, “Why wait? We’ve only got a half hour until sunset.”

  Daddy poked out his lips for a second. “You gonna think I’m tryin’ to be funny, but I’m dead serious. Stelson’s white. The news gets one look at him, they’ll probably send out the National Guard. But for a black kid…not gonna happen.”

  I felt like Daddy had bashed my face with a brick. Not gonna happen. My lips trembled. “B-but—”

  “Shondra, you know I love Seth. I want him back as much as you do. That’s why I’m telling you. Let Stelson do the press conference.”

  “What about both of us—” the words got scrambled in my throat as I witnessed Daddy closing his eyes, wincing with emotional pain.

  “No. Just Stelson. You remember how people showed their true colors over that little biracial girl on the Cheerios commercial?”

  My lungs deflated as I contemplated his argument. People weren’t simply angry—they were irate that General Mills had portrayed an interracial family as “normal” and loving. Americans wrote so many terrible things on the YouTube page that a decision was made to disable comments.

  I had no doubt that Seth and Stelson would pass for a white father and a white son. With me in the picture; however, our chances of getting Seth back might be lowered.

  Stelson’s hand on my shoulder interrupted my train of thought. Immediately, I sprang to my feet and fell into his embrace. When I finally stepped back to look into his eyes, my blood froze. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, I could see that my husband was worried.

  “Honey, we’re going to do a press conference,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he barely answered.

  “Will you do it?” I blurted out.

  He squinted. “Of course. Let’s—”

  “No. Just you,” I stressed.

  Stelson’s countenance questioned further.

  “Two minutes,” Pauline declared.

  I clutched Stelson’s arms. “Listen. We stand a better chance of finding him if…if I’m not on the screen with you.”

  “Wh-what?”

  I hated to have to spell it out for him, but he obviously wasn’t getting the picture. I leaned in closer. “The general public doesn’t respond to missing African-American children with as much…interest as missing white children.”

  Stelson looked past me, where Daddy was sitting. Stelson’s face flattened as the entire picture must have formed in his head.

  He focused on me again. “We’re going on. Together.”

  “I’m not trying to be politically correct, Stelson. This is our son. Right now, we gotta do what we gotta do to get him back. We can change the world later.”

  In the ten years I had known Stelson, he had never given me the look I saw come across his face at that moment. Nostrils flaring, mouth pinched, eyes drawn together. If he had been anybody else, I would have ducked because usually, in a movie, that was the look the sane person gave before they slapped some sense into the hysterical person.

  “We are doing this together. In faith. Period.”

  He took my hand and led me to the makeshift press room, which was nothing more than a wooden bench with microphones pointing toward the center.

  Cameras flashed, lights beamed, and microphones poked at Stelson and me as we stood with an officer I had seen on television a few times already. Apparently, he was with public relations, from the sheriff’s office.

  He spoke first, “The missing child is four-year-old Seth Brown. He disappeared while hiking through the forest with his church group today. We’ve been looking for several hours now, but have yet to find him. We’re asking for the public’s help. It’s possible that he may have wandered to the outskirts of the trail and beyond.”

  When he took a breath, the reporters inched their questions in, all at once. One stood out above the others, “Sheriff, does Seth have any food or water with him?”

  “Yes. We believe he has a bottle of water,” he answered.

  The press clamored for attention again, settling on the question, “How many adults were with Seth?”

  “Numerous.”

  “Then how did he get lost?” one of them yelled.

  “It only takes a second for a child to wander away,” he defended us.

  I guess the media didn’t like the sheriff’s response. They fired questions at Stelson and me. We heard, “Exactly how did he get lost?” over all else.

  My husband responded, “We need all the help we can get to find our son now.” Stelson squeezed my hand. “He’s fun. He’s smart. And he’s got a baby sister who adores him. If anyone has any information, if you saw him wandering near your campsite earlier today, please call 9-1-1. We thank you in advance for your prayers. And we praise God in advance for Seth’s safe return.”

  “Mrs. Brown! Does your son have any experience with camping? Scouting?”

  Stelson answered on my behalf, and it was a good thing because the only thing coming out of me was tears. “Seth is quite adventurous. Fearless. I’m sure he’s making an adventure out of this whole event.”

  Thankfully, they didn’t pressure us much more. The sheriff took it from there, answering questions about how long Seth had been gone, questions about the terrain and wildlife, to which he replied that the area was not inhabited by many harmful animals.

  Someone asked about searching through the night. Helicopters. Planes. Heat-sensitive goggles. The sheriff seemed reluctant to make any promises which, quite frankly, rubbed me the wrong way. “We’re following the protocol for missing children,” was all he mentioned.

  “Have you issued an Amber Alert?”

  “No. This case does not fit the criteria for an Amber Alert.”

  I didn’t even look at Daddy because I already knew what he would say. Words like “protocol” and “criteria” were the polite way of saying “red tape delay”; the kind of delay that doesn’t happen when you know the right people, have enough money, or fall into a certain group.

  We, obviously, weren’t “in” enough. And maybe it was all my fault because I hadn’t listened to my father.

  Chapter 14

  Jonathan arrived just as darkness settled on the park. He joined hands with Stelson and me, praying for Seth’s discovery. He and Stelson talked with the sheriff and the rangers, trying to think through how we could continue into the night. Evidently, military peopl
e have some secret camaraderie that immediately makes them trust one another. Jonathan’s background put him in the thick of the conversation, giving Stelson a bit of a break.

  The swarm of media had grown, but the number of searchers had dwindled down as people realized there was nothing more they could do that evening. Ebby volunteered to take Zoe home with her family while those who were able to stay waited for further direction. Thankfully, I had packed more than enough formula and diapers.

  Jonathan was intercepting my cell phone calls so I wouldn’t have to replay bad news over and over again.

  Family by family, my church and the unselfish people who didn’t even know our names six hours earlier checked out, promising to pray for us. Some of them even said they’d come back if we hadn’t located Seth by morning. The rangers said, “We’ll be here.” as though they had no plans to try finding him at night.

  I turned to Stelson. “We’re not going to leave him out there until tomorrow, are we?”

  “Honey, it’s ten times darker in the woods than it is out here,” he said. “They’re working on a plan B.”

  “That’s not good enough,” I said. “We should all be out there now. Let’s get some flashlights. Some orange vests. We can’t let a four year old fend for himself overnight in the woods. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Equipment is on the way,” Stelson tried to calm me, but he was making me crazy.

  I wanted him to go off on these people. They weren’t doing enough to find my baby. Everybody sitting around like we’re waiting on a shift change at a hospital. “Stelson, I need you to—”

  “Hey! We’ve got a plane coming!” one of the reporters yelled. “A lady called in to the station. Said she empathized with the mom. Donated the use of her private plane to find Seth.”

  “Bless her,” Stelson sighed.

  This news breathed a second wind into those of us waiting for the next step.

  “Hello?” The ranger answered his cell phone. “Yeah. We’ve got the manpower. Yeah. We’re on it.” He pressed a button on his phone to end the call. “Folks, we’ve got a plane. We’ve got everything we need to launch a night search. In some ways, this is better. We can use a night vision apparatus to help us spot him. If Seth is anywhere in these woods, we will find him tonight.”

  Just like that, protocol was overturned. God had given us favor with yet another stranger.

  They called in some kind of special operations team, notified air traffic authorities, and it wasn’t long before we heard the plane flying overhead.

  “Jesus, please,” I whispered.

  Stelson took my hands into his and prayed, “Lord, thank You for sending us help. Thank You, God. Your timing is perfect, Your ways are good. Thank You for hiding him from all evil, according to Your Word. Father, enable those who have been trained for this experience to find our son. Father, position Seth so that he can be found. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”

  “Amen” echoed from everyone at our fly-by-night headquarters, including my father, who hadn’t said much to me since I plastered my brown face on the screen.

  For some idiotic reason, I sat down next to Daddy while Stelson and Jonathan manned the walkie-talkies, which were tied to a middle man who could communicate with the men in the planes.

  “How you holdin’ up, Shondra?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “Yeah. You’re a strong one. Always have been.”

  I wasn’t sure what Daddy was trying to say, but I didn’t have the energy to investigate what might have been an insult.

  “They’ve got a visual!” Jonathan darn near screamed.

  Instantly, we all hovered around the sheriff as he jotted down the coordinates relayed on the walkie-talkie.

  I held my breath, waiting for more news through the static-y contraption. “He’s mobile. Moving in a northeast direction…”

  Mobile! He’s moving! Alive and standing on two feet! I don’t think I have ever been happier in my whole life. “Thank you, Jesus!”

  Just then, an SUV from the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department pulled up. Boxes full of helmets with flashlights and what might as well have been canes, as far as I was concerned, were distributed. A group of men, including Stelson and Jonathan, set out to the designated area to retrieve my baby.

  In the meanwhile, I got down on my knees and knelt over the park bench, praying non-stop until the moment I heard my husband yelling from the top of the trail, “We got him! We got him!”

  I ran full force along the water’s edge to meet my husband holding our child. The reporters ran alongside me, with their equipment bouncing along the whole way.

  Even with limited light, I could see Seth’s little legs, covered in red splotches, dangling under Stelson’s elbows.

  “Oh, baby!” I snatched Seth from Stelson and squeezed him. “Baby! We looked everywhere for you! Are you okay?” I brushed his hair back to get a good look at him. His skin was littered with insect bites, but he wasn’t swollen or feverish.

  Seth scolded weakly, “Mommy, I stopped to tie my shoe. And then you got lost.”

  I kissed him profusely as Stelson folded us both into his arms. Everyone clapped and cheered, slapped high-fives and congratulated one another on a mission accomplished. Stelson thanked them all.

  Someone from the press asked the lead ranger for the name of the person who had donated the plane. My ears perked up for the answer.

  “She wants to remain anonymous.”

  Stelson leaned over me and Seth and prayed, asking God to bless her for her generosity.

  Paramedics gave Seth a once-over. We stripped my baby, thoroughly checking him for suspicious insect bites or evidence of anything that may have burrowed into his skin. Seth was given a clean bill of health and a sucker, which ripped off the paper stem.

  He drank a bottle of water, tore into a chicken leg and ate like…well, like a boy who’d been lost in the woods for hours.

  By the time we got home, people were blowing up our cell phones even more than after the press conference. Seth’s misplaced accusation about me getting lost made the local hourly news and even a few of the national spots. Ours was the feel-good story leading almost every broadcast. Seth’s blue eyes shined brightly despite the evidence of his very rough day dotting his skin.

  Stelson, Seth and I stopped to collect Zoe from Ebby’s.

  When we crossed the threshold of our home, a flood of emotion rippled through me as Stelson and I held on to each other and our sleeping children.

  We both smelled like pure funk, but I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t stop crying. Stelson released his bottled pressures, too, by way of sighing heavily and simply groaning. Speechless. That day could have turned out so much worse. But God.

  Once my throat got unclogged, I offered a prayer from both of us. “God, thank You. Thank You, Lord, for returning our son. Thank You for all the people who came to help. And for the woman who donated the aircraft. You are amazing. You amaze me, God. Thank You for a husband who listens to You, without fear. And thank you for proving Yourself to me, God, even though You shouldn’t have to. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  We switched bathing duties; Stelson washed Zoe in the sink and I took the liberty of giving Seth a soapy, hot bath. He fussed, of course, because he was so tired he could hardly sit up.

  “Seth, did you see any rabbits?” I tried to amuse him.

  “No,” he whined.

  “Were you scared?”

  “No.”

  “Seth, honey, where were you? Didn’t you hear Mommy and Daddy calling your name?”

  “Nooooo,” he cried, wiping his eyes with closed fists. “Mommy, I want to go to sleep now. Plee-hee-heease.”

  I laughed because I don’t think Seth had ever begged for sleep before. “Mommy has to give you a bath.” I re-checked his ears, behind his neck, every crevice. I washed his hair three times and raked through with a fine-toothed comb which, of course, brought a low cry with a stream of tears from Seth’s eyes.

&
nbsp; My baby was pooped, but I wasn’t going to let him hit the sheets just yet. I rubbed ointment on his arms and legs and doused him with Zoe’s powder.

  “I don’t wanna smell like a baby. I’m a big boy,” he protested.

  “You sure are. And I’m proud of you, surviving out there all by yourself for all that time,” I said as I helped him step into his pajamas.

  “I wasn’t alone.”

  Terror shot through me. I grabbed his arms. “Who was with you, honey? Did somebody—”

  “God was with me,” he stated with a face full of sincerity. “He told me not to be scared. And to drink my water. But there’s something else, Mommy.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ummm…” he sighed. His eyes closed involuntarily. “I had to do number two outside and I couldn’t wipe. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, baby. This time.”

  I made it as far as the kitchen before I broke out in a praise dance with no music except the fruit of my lips. “God, I thank You! God, I bless You!”

  When Stelson got out of the shower, I told him about Seth’s literal wilderness experience with the Lord. He joined me, kneeled beside me at the bed in thanksgiving.

  “We bless You, God,” my husband chanted, “bless Your name.”

  “Yes, Lord,” I backed him up.

  With Stelson having grown up in the Assemblies of God and my roots in the COGIC, our posture was nothing more than a picture of one of the good old-fashioned prayer meetings the older saints used to have. No agenda. Just petitions, praise, and thanksgiving because He is both able and worthy.

  Though we were both pooped beyond words, I snuggled up to Stelson and apologized for letting fear cause me to doubt his leadership.

  He kissed me. “We’re not perfect.”

  “Yeah. I know. But sometimes I feel like you’re pretty close, Babe.” I thumped his chest.

  “On that note, let me drift off to dreamland because that’s about the only place I’ll ever be perfect.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Chapter 15