by John Snyder
A smile graced Howard’s face. He shook his head in amusement and said aloud, “Jacob, Jacob, Jacob.”
* * *
A cold wind swept the fallen leaves across the ground at Jacob’s feet. He stood in the middle of a cemetery, looking down at a tombstone with the inscription: FRANK McCALLUM. DIED IN SERVICE TO HIS COUNTRY. Next to Frankie’s grave was a tombstone that read: AMANDA McCALLUM. Jacob was in prison for Amanda’s funeral, and had no idea she and Frankie were buried side by side.
Sadly, he knelt. “Amanda, Frankie…I am so sorry I failed you. Oh, how I wish you were still here with me and could see that I have changed. If you were…It is my prayer that you would forgive me.”
He remained kneeling for quite some time. Before standing, he leaned over and kissed the tombstones under which his wife and son were interred, then spent a moment longer at the gravesites. Over the years since the accident, he’d asked Amanda for her forgiveness, but he never thought she was listening. As the wind whistled through the trees that day, Jacob got the feeling that she finally acknowledged his plea.
Chapter Thirteen
Jacob slung his knapsack over his shoulder and proceeded to the rail yard. He found a freight train bound for Baltimore and jumped aboard an empty boxcar, laying his head on his knapsack and bedding down for a nap.
The trip to Baltimore was uneventful until the train stopped in Pittsburgh. While in the yard, Jacob heard some men talking as they made their way down the rails toward his car. The door slid open, spilling sunlight into the boxcar. Jacob ducked back and hid in a dark corner. The men began erecting a makeshift ramp, failing to notice him. Moments later he heard the bellowing of livestock. One by one, the cattle walked up the ramp and into the boxcar, nine in all.
Just my luck—passengers, he quipped to himself. The door closed, cutting off the light, leaving Jacob alone and in the darkness with his fellow travelers. It wasn’t long before the train whistle sounded, signaling that the next leg of Jacob’s journey was about to begin. Not long out of the yard, he decided to resume his nap, which was interrupted shortly thereafter when he felt something warm and wet lapping at his cheek. Still half snoozing, he dreamed of a beautiful, fair maiden softly bathing his face with a wet cloth. What a pleasant feeling. His eyes eased open and adjusted to the dim light, causing him to recoil at the reality of his dream. There was no fair maiden, just a goofy-looking calf licking the side of his face. As he wiped the cow juice from his cheek with the sleeve of his coat, he couldn’t help laughing. The little fella was as cute as could be. Jacob tried to gently shoo him away, but the calf just kept coming back. Eventually, it lay down next to him on a pile of hay.
“Moe…That’s what I’ll call you…little Moe,” Jacob said as he petted the calf on the forehead. Having company on the trip isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.
It wasn’t fifteen minutes later when Jacob realized there was going to be a problem. Things were getting a bit unpleasant in the odor department. Cow flatulence. What came next was even worse. So much for pleasant company.
It took a while to become accustomed to the smell, but after some time it wasn’t all that bad. The air was getting cold. Moe’s thick fur cast off a wave of comforting heat, so Jacob edged over a little closer. Moe responded by washing Jacob’s face again. He tried, unsuccessfully, to fend him off. Jacob and his friend kept each other warm for the remainder of the trip.
The train began to slow as it approached the Baltimore yard. Jacob stood. So did Moe. “This is where we part ways, little buddy. It’s been nice traveling with you.”
As the train stopped, Jacob jumped to the ground and began his walk into the city. His journey took him through the rough part of town. As he passed a neighborhood tavern, he came upon a group of three young men sitting on a bench outside the front door. He could tell they were drunk, so he crossed to the other side of the street. They crossed over, as well. Jacob knew what was coming next. He had been in similar situations before. Following his instincts, he took off running, but was no match for the fleet-footed young punks. They caught him and began to administer a beating. Jacob was able to get in a few good punches, but he was overpowered and outnumbered by the strapping young men, who robbed him of the small amount of money he carried.
Blood gushed from a cut on his head as he lay cursing the bullies who’d jumped him then run away like cowards. He picked himself up off the pavement and continued his walk. Blood ran down his forehead, staining his coat. He stopped to get a shirt from his backpack, balled it up, and held it against the cut on his head to stop the bleeding.
Jacob walked around the city for several hours searching for the address to the Salvation Army Mission. Finally he asked a stranger for directions and discovered that he was just a few blocks away from his destination.
Jacob arrived at the mission late that night. A middle-aged man with sandy blond hair, wearing a red and black checkered shirt, sat at the front desk.
“I’m here to see Pastor Bob Parsley.”
“That would be me. How can I help you?”
“My name is Jacob McCallum. Howard Angel, in Chicago, sent me to see you.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been expecting you.”
He stood to shake Jacob’s hand.
“Wow, that’s a nasty gash in your head. What happened?”
“I ran into the official greeting party a while ago. A bunch of thugs who took my money.”
“You certainly got a good greeting. I’m very sorry about that.”
“That’s quite okay. I’ll be fine.”
“We need to get that cut looked at. Appears to me you could use a few stitches. Let’s get you to the hospital.”
“Nah, I’ll be just fine. I’ve had a lot worse than this.”
“All the same, you need to get that thing stitched up.”
Bob called for a cab and accompanied Jacob to the emergency room. Upon arriving, an unsympathetic-looking heavyset nurse handed him a form on a clipboard and Jacob filled out the required information. After completing the form, he took a seat in the waiting room. About thirty minutes later a pleasant-looking nurse came out to get him, taking him back to an empty room.
“You can sit here, sir. The doctor will be in momentarily.”
Jacob took a seat, observing all the equipment in the room, curious as to its purpose.
“Hello, sir,” the doctor said as he entered the room looking at Jacob’s chart. “Let’s see…you’re Mr. McCallum. That’s quite an ugly-looking cut you have there. It says here you were beaten by some strangers.”
“Yeah, I got jumped by a group of young hooligans. There were three of them. In my day, I could have taken them all on.”
“I’ll bet you could have.” The doctor smiled warmly. “I’m Dr. Brown. Mr. McCallum, we need to sew that gash up so it heals properly.”
Dr. Brown dipped a square of gauze into a container and began cleaning Jacob’s wound with some disinfectant, causing him to pull back in discomfort. Jacob watched, apprehensively, as the doctor retrieved a needle and some sutures from the table and brought the needle toward the cut on his head.
“This is going to sting a little,” Dr. Brown warned.
“Ouch! It sure does.”
“Are you from here in Baltimore?”
“No. I just got in from Chicago.”
“What brings you here?”
“Ouch! That hurts!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s a rather long and involved story, but I’m here to find my daughter.”
“Find her?”
“Yes, we’ve been estranged for about seven or eight years. My wish is to find her and make things right. Ouch!” Jacob winced again.
“Well, I’m finished here. I wish you luck in finding your daughter.”
“Thank you, Dr. Brown.”
On the cab ride back to the Salvation Army Mission, Jacob and Bob Parsley became better acquainted.
“Howard Angel is a good friend of mine. We went to school togeth
er.”
“Yeah, he’s a real nice guy. He helped me out a lot.”
“Howard told me you were going through some tough times. He seems to have a real fondness for you.”
“We became pretty good friends while I stayed at his mission in Chicago.”
“He told me you’ve come a long way…stopped drinking and smoking and even renewed your faith.”
“It wasn’t easy, none of it. Kicking my drinking and smoking habits was the easiest part. Renewing my faith was a bit more difficult. I didn’t ever think I would find my faith again, and I worry daily about losing it.”
“That happens to all of us from time to time. The important thing is keeping faith in your heart.”
“There’s where I have trouble. Things happen in my life and I lose faith. Howard was good at reminding me that faith is imperative. I’ll need a lot of it to find my daughter and make peace with her.”
Pastor Bob let Jacob sleep in his room that night, offering Jacob the opportunity for some privacy and the prospect of a good night’s rest.
* * *
Jacob woke up the next morning with a terrible headache. He reached up and felt the large knot on the top of his head, recalling the incident that was to blame for all of this.
“Darn, that hurts.”
Sitting up in bed, Jacob took in his surroundings. As he attempted to rise, the pain in his head intensified, causing him to sit back down on the edge of the bed. Pastor Bob poked his head in the door and greeted him.
“How’d you sleep last night?”
“Pretty good, but it felt much better going to sleep than waking up.” Jacob pointed to his bandaged head.
“How is your head this morning?”
“Pounding like a drum.”
“I’ll bet it is. You took a good thumping yesterday. Want some coffee?”
“You don’t know how bad I need a cup of coffee right now.”
“Come and join me in the dining hall. We’ll get you some coffee and I’ll introduce you to some of the guys.”
Jacob followed Pastor Bob to a table where a group of men were seated.
“Good morning, Bob,” shouted a man at the table.
“Good morning, John. I’d like to introduce you all to a friend of mine. This is Jacob McCallum. He joined us last night. Came all the way from Chicago.”
“Nice to meet you,” John said as he got up from his chair to shake Jacob’s hand. “This is Mitch and Bill. Those two over there are Jim and Steven.” John pointed.
“Nice to meet all of you.”
“Have a seat.”
Bob and Jacob sat down with the group.
“These gentlemen head up our bell ringing committee.”
“Bell ringing committee?”
“Yes. You have heard of the Salvation Army Bell Ringers, haven’t you? They ring Christmas bells on the street corners during the holiday season to raise money for our mission.”
“We can always use extra bell ringers, Jacob. Are you interested in joining us?” John asked.
“Well…that’s something I need to think about.”
“I’ve been doing it for three years,” Jim boasted. “It really gets you into the spirit of Christmas.”
“Let me know as soon as you can. We’re organizing the bell ringing project next week,” John told him.
“I’ll think about it and let you know. But I’m here to find my daughter. That’s the most important thing to me right now.”
Jacob and Bob remained at the table and ate breakfast with the group.
* * *
Sitting at the kitchen table, Dr. Nathaniel Brown read the morning newspaper. His wife placed a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and dark toast in front of him. Taking a sip of his coffee, he said, “I met an interesting gentleman last night at the hospital.”
“Oh, really?”
“Pastor Bob brought him in. He had just arrived in Baltimore and was jumped by a gang of young men who put a nasty gash on his head.”
“That’s terrible. What was so interesting about him?”
“I don’t know. He just seemed like a very nice old fellow who has lost his way. He said he was here to locate his daughter. They’ve been estranged for years.”
“Ah, that’s so sad. Why are they estranged?”
“He didn’t say. But it is sad, indeed.”
Chapter Fourteen
By now, Jacob had settled in comfortably at the mission. He made new friends and was becoming involved in the mission’s resources to help him stay on the straight and narrow. He even joined the Alcoholics Anonymous group. Jacob quickly realized why Howard Angel spoke so highly of Bob Parsley. In his short time at the mission, he and Pastor Bob struck up a close relationship. Jacob relished the camaraderie and felt as though he was part of something good. His journey of faith continued to flourish, too.
One evening while sitting on his cot, Jacob started a conversation with Frankie. “Frankie…I wish you could see me now. I think you’d be proud of your ol’ papa. I’m so sorry for all the things that I did and for how my life turned out, and yours. I know you are looking down on me and that you can see the changes I have made in my life. I also believe that you have forgiven me, as has your mom.”
Truth was, Jacob was extremely proud of himself. Still troubled by his less than successful reunion with Tom, it was with renewed hope that he would begin his search for Emma. Coming to terms with the fact that he could do nothing about his past, he considered the future with more optimistic prospects.
Pastor Bob quietly opened the door to check in on Jacob. Seeing him in conversation with Frankie, he paused at the door and listened.
“I’m proud of you, son. You died a hero fighting for your country. I’m sure your mom is proud of you, too. Give her a big hug and kiss for me, will you?”
Sensing Jacob was through, Bob made his entrance. As he walked down the row of cots in the room, he called: “Jacob?”
“Oh, hi, Bob.”
“Sorry for intruding. Can I join you?”
“Sure, have a seat.”
Bob took a seat on the cot across from Jacob.
“I’ve been sitting here for hours. Just got finished praying and having a little talk with Frankie. I think I finally get it.”
“Get what?”
“All the things Howard told me. At least some of them. I didn’t understand at the time, but once he said, “It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody, including yourself.” Finally, I have managed to do just that…forgive myself.”
“Forgiveness comes from those who are strong, Jacob. It is the weak who seem to have difficulty with forgiveness.”
“That makes sense to me now. It just came to me when I was sitting here talking to Frankie.”
Jacob’s mouth opened with a broad smile, and the deep creases on his forehead gave way to cheerful wrinkles at the sides of his eyes, accentuating his grin. And though the twinkle in his eyes was from tears, they were happy tears.
Bob leaned toward Jacob and firmly patted him on the leg. “Why don’t you come out and join us in the dining hall. John’s playing the guitar and all the guys are gathered around singing some old songs. We could use another strong voice.”
“Mine’s strong…just a little off-key, that’s all.”
They sang until late into the night…old folk songs, hymns, and they even tried out some favorite Christmas tunes to practice for the approaching holiday before turning in.
Jacob laughed with his friends as they ate their morning meal. He was finally fitting in. After breakfast he began his morning chores around the mission. As he mopped the floor, he couldn’t stop thinking about Emma. Where is she? Is she still here in Baltimore? He felt a deep yearning to find her. As he plunged the mop into a pail of water, he came to the undeniable conclusion that his desire to find his daughter was overpowering his ability to do anything else. Leaning the wet mop against the wall, he abandoned his task and went in search of Bob.
> Knocking on Bob’s office door, he entered without even waiting for a response. Bob was working at his desk, shuffling through some papers. The intrusion caught him off guard, startling him a little.
“Pastor Bob!”
“What is it, Jacob?”
“I need to go and try to find Emma.”
Bob looked somewhat surprised. “Now?”
“Yes. Today. Just as soon as I can. Will you help me?”
“Do you think you’re ready to make this journey?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Well…let me finish up here. Come back in about fifteen minutes and we’ll make a plan.”
Jacob grinned widely. The expression on his face told Bob that it was time…time to help his friend accomplish his goal and the final leg of his voyage for forgiveness. Jacob turned and cheerfully walked out the door.
“Jacob, wait!”
He poked his head back through the doorway, eyebrows raised.
“I can do this paperwork later. Let’s get started. Come on back in and sit down.”
Jacob took a seat in front of Bob’s desk, where they devised a strategy. Then they headed to the courthouse, where they began their search. They plowed through volumes of city directories and tax records, looking through dozens of books. “There sure are a lot of Browns here,” Jacob observed.
Bob laughed. “Be thankful her name’s not Smith.”
After a few hours, Jacob, his eyes strained, looked up at Bob and said with disappointment, “Well, Bob—no luck here. Looks like we came up empty.”
“That’s all right. We just need to move on and look elsewhere.”
Next they went from church to church, checking the registers to see if she was a member.
“Emma Brown…that doesn’t ring a bell.” They heard that repeated a number of times throughout the day. Running out of places to search, they resorted to asking strangers on the street if they knew of her. Their search was futile.
The day ended much less optimistically than it had begun, and Jacob was far less enthusiastic at dinner. Unusually quiet, he sat staring down at his plate while he ate.
