by Chris Fabry
“Why didn’t you give her to someone in some other state?”
Johnson laughed. “You’ve never met June Bug. You have to, Sheriff. I guarantee you, one conversation with her and there’s no way . . .” He looked away for a moment. “No way you could let anybody else take her. She puts a spell on you.”
“So if you’re attached, why come back here? It has to be more than just what’s buried here.”
Johnson nodded. “Part of it was the fellow who’s accused. I couldn’t stand the thought of somebody going to jail for killing someone who wasn’t dead. From what I saw, I have a feeling he didn’t even know she was there.”
“He’s going away but not because of the girl.”
“Fair enough. The other reason was the news reports. When I saw you’d found the car, I knew it was only a matter of time until somebody discovered the truth. And then I saw that grandmother and all the pain she’d been through and how much she believed her little grandbaby was alive. It tore at me the whole way here. The final straw was June Bug herself. She needs more than I can give her now. I know that in my head, but in my heart . . . I guess I know it’s time to do the right thing.”
Preston thought through his next words carefully. “You know I can’t just look the other way on this. But if what you say is corroborated by the girl and the family doesn’t have a problem . . .” He shook his head. “But then there’s the mother.”
“I can’t have her going to someone who’s going to hurt her,” Johnson said.
“I understand. You gave her life back to her.”
“Yeah, and she gave it right back to me.”
“It’d be a shame to go through all you’ve gone through and then have something happen to her. And then there’s the media to deal with.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough to do your job, Sheriff.”
The radio squawked again and Preston stood. “I need to answer that.”
“I’ll keep digging, if that’s okay.”
Preston hurried back to the car. “Sheriff Preston, go ahead.”
The dispatcher sounded agitated. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, Sheriff. Leason Edwards called. They’ve found the girl. She’s alive. Can you believe it? She’s alive!”
Preston glanced at the man working on the parking lot. “Yeah, I believe it.”
30
The grandmother liked to hug the stuffing out of me. It felt good to know I had grandparents. He wasn’t as touchy as the grandmother was, though he did stand there grinning a lot and looking at me like I was some kind of china doll from outer space.
The grandmother bandaged up my arm and sprayed some stuff on my legs that were scraped, and I thought it was going to hurt but it didn’t. Then she went off and phoned somebody while the grandfather asked if I wanted anything to eat, which I did, and he started a pan to heating on this old stove and was going to make me a grilled cheese sandwich. But when the grandmother saw what he was doing, she shooed him out like he was an old fly and took over and made the most toasty and cheesiest sandwich I have ever had. It was like she had been waiting all her life to make me a sandwich and she wasn’t going to have anybody else do it. The grandfather just smiled through it all like this had happened a hundred times.
“How’s the sandwich?” she said.
“Great,” I said, but my mouth was full and they laughed their heads off.
That’s when the grandmother started crying again. She would cry one minute and laugh the next. It was the weirdest thing. And then the grandfather came over and put his hand on her, and I didn’t know what to do except keep eating. Dad says some people cry because of what’s happened and others cry because of what’s not happened, but I figured it was a little bit of both for her.
“How did you find us?” she said after she wiped her face with a paper towel and blew her nose.
I told her about seeing my face on the wall at Walmart. “And when my dad was taking a trip, I thought maybe he’d be coming here, so I hid in the RV, and he didn’t find me until we got to Kansas or Arkansas. I can’t remember which.”
They stared at me and finally the grandmother said, “You have a father?”
“Yeah, we’ve traveled around so many places, the beach and out west and to Civil War battlefields and all kinds of places.”
The grandfather rubbed the back of his neck and turned around.
The grandmother leaned down with a serious look. “Did your dad ever . . . hurt you?”
“You mean spank me? He doesn’t do that because he says all I need is a strong look and I just melt. He’s yelled at me before when I wasn’t looking where I was going in the parking lot.”
The grandfather turned around. “So where’s your daddy now?”
“Over at the reservoir. He had to dig up something and his daddy brought me home.” I jumped up from the table. “I need to tell him where I am.”
“No, no, you sit right there,” the grandmother said. “The sheriff will be here any minute.”
“Sheriff? You called the police?”
“Natalie, it’s important we find out what happened. And who’s responsible for this.”
It was a special thing to hear your real name called and strange at the same time.
“Responsible for what?” I said.
“We’ll talk it through with you later. The important thing now is to get you settled and checked out.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I felt safe, so I didn’t ask more questions.
She got out a glass and poured cold milk in it and cut a slice of cake that looked like it was bigger than me, and we just talked and the grandmother smiled and kept staring at me. It was a perfect meal until there was a commotion outside and the porch was all lit up and the grandfather said a bad word. He looked out and mentioned something about the media.
The grandmother took me into a bedroom down the hall and took my shoes off and told me to snuggle under the covers and stay there. Then she brought me the prettiest doll I have ever seen with a fancy hat and hair that just swirled down the doll’s back. It was a sight; I’ll tell you that.
I listened to the commotion, and a little later a car pulled up with a siren on and there were these lights, blue and white, dancing on the wall across from me. The front door opened and closed, and there were voices low and whispered. I sat up to listen but I couldn’t understand what they were saying, except I did hear the grandmother start into crying again.
Then the floor creaked outside in the hall and the grandmother came in, smiling and trying to hide her red eyes. Behind her was this giant of a man in a uniform. He had his hat in his hand and was looking at me like he had never seen red hair in his life. He just stood there looking.
I glanced from one to the other and said, “What?”
That set them to laughing.
“It’s just so good to see you; that’s all,” the man said. “I’m Sheriff Preston.”
I recognized him from the TV and when he held out a hand I shook it and he seemed surprised at how strong I was. My dad always told me not to hand anybody a dead fish.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
“How do you like your new place?” he said.
“What new place?”
“This house. This is where you’re going to be living.”
I sat up in the bed. “What do you mean? What about my dad?”
“He’ll be all right,” the sheriff said. “He’s fine.”
“Do you know where he is?” I said.
“Sure I do. I met him over at the reservoir. Nice fellow. We’re just trying to work this whole thing out.”
I had a queasy feeling in my stomach and I jumped out of the bed and headed for the door, but the sheriff caught me and said I shouldn’t go outside until the media was done with whatever they were going to do.
“I want my dad!”
“Let’s settle down now,” the grandmother said.
“I want my dad!”
“Natalie,” the grandmot
her said in a stern voice that let me know she meant business.
The sheriff got down on one knee, and I could tell by the way he winced and the thing cracked that it wasn’t the best position for him. He looked me straight in the eyes, and I could see that he was sorry for me.
“I want my dad,” I said, this time the room getting cloudy with tears.
“I know, honey. And he knows too. We’re going to work everything out, okay?”
“Can he stay here?”
The sheriff turned his head and rubbed his chin with a big hand. Then, as if he knew I wanted somebody to look me in the eye, he did. “It’s June Bug, right?”
I nodded.
“June Bug, I’m known as a straight shooter. Do you know what that means?”
“That you don’t beat around the bush with your words?”
“Exactly. And for any other little kid, I would probably pat their head and tell them to get back in bed and stay there. But you’re not just any little kid. You’ve been through a lot. So I’m going to tell you the truth.”
“Okay.”
“Your dad is a good man. It appears he did something when you were little that saved your life, and he’s been taking care of you ever since. Do you know about that?”
I felt my chin puckering and shook my head.
“Well, if what he’s saying is true, you two have had a life together on the road. And it’s been fun. But he knows it’s time for you to be with your real family.” He pointed a thumb at the grandmother. “This lady here has been watching and praying for you for seven years. She never gave up hope.”
The grandmother’s eyes were red again, and she took off her glasses and wiped at them with the paper towel. The grandfather took her in his arms and patted her back, and the old lady just went to bawling.
I couldn’t stop looking the sheriff in the eyes. It seemed to me he was one of those people who knows a lot more than he lets on. “Will I get to see him again?” I said, and one of those lonely tears rolled down my cheek and hung there, like a balloon that’s had most of the helium taken out.
Sheriff Preston reached over with a big hand, all wrinkled and gnarly, and took the tear from me with just a finger. I think that’s about the kindest thing a person can do for another one and it surprised me.
“If your grandmother thinks it’s okay, I think we can work that out. But we have to be quiet about all this. Those media people out there get hold of your dad, and he’ll be gone.”
“When can I see him?”
“June Bug, look at me. I promise you’ll see him again. I can’t tell you right now when that will be. But I promise it will happen, okay?”
I nodded, still looking into his eyes. And then another tear came and my whole face felt like it was going to shrivel up. “But he needs me. And I need him.”
That big old sheriff pulled me close and hugged me, and I got his shirt wet. I could picture my dad out there at the reservoir all alone, digging up that box he was looking for and then wondering where I was. Just walking around calling my name, reaching out a hand. I kept thinking about Colorado and Sheila and all the places we’d been. And then Dad letting me go swimming.
“You promise?” I said into the sheriff’s uniform.
The sheriff patted my head, and I could hear his voice kind of shaking. “I promise, June Bug.”
* * *
I was beginning to think that old sheriff wasn’t a man of his word because a few days went by, and there was no talk of my dad. On the news they kept showing our house and the sheriff talking to reporters. The grandmother didn’t let me watch any of it, but I found a newspaper in the trash basket and read the story.
There was something about a man named Graham Walker who had been charged with shooting at a sheriff’s deputy and that he was somehow involved in my disappearance. I didn’t understand much of it, but the important thing was that they didn’t write a word about my dad. It was like it was our secret and nobody could know and I think it was because if they did, my dad would have to be dragged in front of the cameras or something, and I know he wouldn’t like that. And you couldn’t drag that stuff out of me if you tied a hundred horses to me and tried.
I had to go to a doctor and get checked out, and he asked me all kinds of personal questions. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Then after a couple days they let me go into the backyard and play because most of the news cameras had left. A few days later the grandfather took me on the hill on his tractor, and he even let me drive it. It was about the most fun thing I’d ever done.
We came up to the big water tower that had Dogwood written on it and we stopped and the grandfather let me down. There was a man standing at the bottom of the tower, and I recognized him right away and started running toward him.
My daddy. I know he wasn’t my real daddy. But he was my daddy. And I was giggling just to see him. He moved toward me and then got down on one knee and took something from behind him and put it on the ground. I just about died because it was the prettiest little white puppy I had ever seen.
I fell on the ground and that little puppy came over and licked me on the face and then we rolled around on the ground and the fresh-cut grass got in my hair and it was just about the closest thing to heaven this side of the pearly gates.
I jumped up and grabbed Dad around the neck and hung on. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Sometimes that’s the only thing you can say to your daddy.
“I told you when the time was right, you could have a dog,” he said. “Time’s right.”
“I love him,” I said. “What’s his name?”
“It’s a her. She doesn’t have one. They say the person who loves a thing the most is the one who should name it. So go ahead.”
The puppy had waddled over to the grandfather and was gnawing on his shoe and both of us laughed at that. I threw out a bunch of dog names like Shep and Whitey, but none of them seemed to fit.
“Take your time,” Dad said. “You don’t have to decide right now. Noodle on it.”
I turned back to him. He was kneeling on the ground, and though he had always looked a little sad to me, he looked really sad and happy at the same time. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“Why can’t you stay? They’ve got a lot of room.”
He took me in his arms and hugged me so tight I thought I was going to bust. Then he pushed me back so I could see into his eyes. “Remember when I told you about when I was a kid and we’d tie a string on the leg of a june bug?”
I nodded and the tears started.
“I knew someday I’d need to let the string go. I did the best I could, and we had a lot of fun out on the road. But it’s time for you to fly, little girl. These people here love you a lot and they’ll take care of you. You can go to school. Have sleepovers with your friends—”
“I don’t want sleepovers. I want you!” I buried my face in his chest.
He patted me on the back again and again. “I know you do and I want to stay. You don’t know how hard it is. But I won’t be gone, really. You have me in your heart. And I have you. I’ll always have you in my heart, June Bug. Don’t you forget that.”
I tried to stop my crying, but it was too hard. It wasn’t until that puppy came over to me and started licking at my bare leg that I laughed through the tears.
We played a little more, and the grandfather asked him a few questions about the sheriff and what they’d worked out with the law. And then I knew it was time. Dad stood up and shook the hand of the grandfather.
“I want to thank you for what you did,” the grandfather said.
“Thank you for loaning me your granddaughter,” Dad said. “She did more for me than I ever did for her.”
“Where will you go?” I said.
He looked off into the distance at the interstate that snaked through the valley. “I don’t know. I was thinking of heading west.”
He got this big grin on his face, and I knew who he was thinking about. “Why don’t
you take me with you? It’s not fair.”
“June Bug, there’s a lot of things I don’t understand about life. Why one person dies and the other lives. Why people do hurtful things to innocent people. If I could keep you with me the rest of my life, I would do it. But in my heart I know this is the best, and you’re just going to have to trust me.”
I nodded because in my heart I knew he was right, but sometimes your heart and the rest of you don’t go in the same direction.
He picked me up in his arms one last time and swung me around so that my hair flew out and the puppy started barking and the world started spinning and it felt like home. It just felt like home.
The grandfather put me on the tractor and we drove away with that puppy in my arms and the best dad anyone ever had standing on the hill. We moved into the trees and I lost sight of him, and when we got down to the clearing, I looked back and he was gone. Just like that.
* * *
About a week later, I went to the mailbox with Papaw. There was a box sitting on the ground with my name on it and we carried it back to the house and opened it. Inside were all my journals and stuff from the RV and about everything I ever had of any value. Along with it was a picture of the two of us standing in the sand by the ocean, smiling. And packed up inside the box were a bunch of medals. I didn’t know what they were for, but I thought they were pretty.
There was also a letter inside addressed to Leason and Mae Edwards. When Mamaw opened it, she grabbed her mouth and said, “Have mercy.”
“What is it?” I said.
“John sent a letter and a check. He says it’s for you to go to college.”
“That’s enough to buy a college,” Papaw said, and he laughed and shook his head.
I took the letter and looked at his handwriting. It was my dad’s, no doubt. I wondered how he had gotten all that money and if it came from the box under the parking lot at the reservoir.
* * *
