by Irene Hannon
Molly peered through a crack in the wooden slats and held tight to her blankie. “I don’t know where home is.”
“We ask?”
She couldn’t do that.
Nana and Uncle Logan always said never talk to strangers—and everyone was a stranger.
But there wasn’t anyone around here anyway. Nobody lived in this old shed they’d found in the woods.
Another tear trailed down her cheek.
“You said you wanted to run away too.” Molly sniffed. Elisa didn’t always know all the words she said, but her friend usually understood her.
“I want my Teta.” She hugged her Raggedy Ann doll.
“What about your papa?”
Elisa bit her lower lip. “He be mad.”
Uncle Logan would be too. Running away was naughty.
Maybe, if they did go back, he wouldn’t want her anymore. Nobody liked naughty children.
What if he sent her to an orphan’s home, like the one on that TV show she’d seen, where you had to eat something called gruel for breakfast and sweep floors all day, like Cinderella?
Molly hiccupped a sob.
Uncle Logan wouldn’t do that—would he? He’d always been nice to her. Bought her ribbons, took her to the beach . . . gotten Toby for her. He’d gone to tea at ’Nette’s with her too.
Maybe after he got done being mad, he’d let her stay, even though he hadn’t wanted her in the beginning.
She shivered and wrapped her blankie around her fingers. It would be warmer in the pretty bedroom with the fairy princess bedspread at Uncle Logan’s house. Sleeping there was nice. And it was fun playing on the swing set he’d just put up in the backyard.
Besides, if they left for always, she’d never see Toby or ’Nette or Mrs. Shabo again.
Or Uncle Logan either.
All at once, her stomach felt funny. Kind of like it had after they told her Nana had gone to heaven.
Except . . . Uncle Logan wasn’t in heaven.
He might go, though—like Nana . . . and her daddy . . . and Button.
If that happened, she’d have to live in an orphan’s home.
She wadded up her blankie and squeezed it tight.
But not everybody went to heaven right away. The boys and girls at that place Uncle Logan had taken her to during the day in the big city had mommies and daddies. They weren’t orphans.
Maybe Uncle Logan would be her uncle for a long time before he went to heaven. Maybe until she was a grown-up.
“Molly?” Elisa sounded like she was going to cry again.
“Yes?”
“I miss my Teta.”
She kind of missed Uncle Logan too. He was even better at reading bedtime stories than Nana, especially when he used funny voices for some of the people.
And that night he’d laid down with her when he was sad and lonesome had made her feel special. Like she was important to him.
Molly frowned.
Would he be sad if she was gone?
Would he be more lonesome than before?
Maybe he was used to her now. Maybe he needed her to help him be happy.
Maybe . . . maybe he even loved her.
“Molly.” A shiver ran through Elisa. “I cold.”
“Me too.”
A crack of thunder boomed through the night, and she cringed as rain began to beat against the roof.
“We go home.” Elisa edged closer. It wasn’t a question anymore.
“It’s dark.”
“We go that way.” She pointed in the direction they’d come.
Molly bit her lip.
That might work.
If they got back to the big road over the hill, across the creek, and followed it, they should be able to find their way back. They’d stayed by that road after they turned off Uncle Logan’s street.
But they’d have to be careful if they saw any strangers. Nana and Uncle Logan had told her even people who seemed nice could be bad.
“’Kay. But let’s wait for the rain to stop.”
“I don’t want to stay here all night.”
“The rain might be done soon.”
But walking home in the dark would be very scary.
And what if they got lost?
What if they never got home?
Molly tried not to cry.
Yet as another crack of thunder shook the walls of the shed behind her back, she couldn’t stop the tears that trailed down her cheeks.
Running away had been a big mistake.
A slash of lightning illuminated the entrance to the high school gym and rain began to pummel the roof as Jeannette dashed inside to get her next search assignment, Roark on her heels.
They joined a small group gathered around Jim Gleason, who was on the phone.
“Got it. I’ll pass that along.” He slid the phone back into its holster. “Listen up, folks. That was the chief. The dog is following a trail, and she wants to pursue that approach for the remainder of the night. Since it’s easy to miss an important clue in the dark and rain, she’s suspending the volunteer search until further notice—probably first light. If you’d like to be on the call list should we have to resume, put a check mark next to your name on the sign-up sheet over there.” He motioned toward a table against the wall.
Roark headed that direction, as did many of the others who’d returned to the command center after completing their grid, while Jim fielded questions from a Coos Bay news crew.
Jeannette scanned the crowd, spotting several familiar faces. Tracy and her husband, Michael, from the cranberry farm. Luis Dominguez. BJ, still dressed in her construction attire, and her husband, Eric. Lexie’s husband, Adam.
So many people in the town had turned out to help. Marci and Ben and the two clergymen had also been on the volunteer list, but they must be out working their grids.
Charley walked in the door, lifted a hand in greeting, and crossed to her. “Any updates?”
She repeated what Jim had said. “I understand the logic behind the decision to wait until morning to continue, but it’s not sitting well.”
“I know what you mean. When people we care about are hurting or in need, we want to help in any way we can. And I can see that you care deeply about Molly—and Logan.”
She squinted at him.
Apparently the feelings she’d only acknowledged to herself a handful of hours ago were obvious to others.
Or at least to Charley.
“I may ask Jim if there’s anything else I can do until the search resumes.” She glanced toward the officer.
“Or you could call Logan, see if he could use some moral support.”
“Charley! Can I see you for a minute?” Jim called from across the room where the map with the search grids was displayed on a large board.
“A few prayers wouldn’t hurt, either.” Charley touched her arm and walked away.
Jeannette hesitated.
She could sign up to help with the search in the morning—or she could call Logan, as Charley had suggested, and offer him a hand to hold, an empathetic ear, a reassuring touch.
In other words, she could offer him her heart.
God, what should I do?
An unsettling rumble of thunder was her reply.
She knew what she wanted to do.
But it was risky.
Very risky.
She was already more involved with the duo next door than she’d ever planned to be, and if anything happened to Molly—
Her lungs stalled, and she clutched the back of a folding chair as the truth ricocheted through her.
Whether she backed off now or chose to get closer, it would be Cincinnati all over again if this night didn’t have a positive outcome.
Because a burrowing beagle, an endearing little girl in need of TLC, and a man of character and integrity who honored his promises despite the cost to himself had shattered her defenses.
Jeannette let out a shuddering breath as the safe, predictable world she’d created crumbled
around her.
She shoved her trembling fingers into the pockets of her jacket—and as they brushed the key Charley had found during their walk on the beach, several of his comments replayed in her mind.
“No matter how hard we try to maintain the status quo, the world changes around us . . . and changes our world in the process.”
“Sometimes, while we might only recognize it in hindsight, changes that shake up our world can be positive.”
“Love is the great stabilizer.”
Perhaps their resident sage was right.
Yes, she was more vulnerable now than she’d been six weeks ago, but her life was also richer, more vibrant, and filled with possibilities—if she had the courage to embrace them.
And as she exited into the rain and ran for her car, one final thought from Charley looped through her mind, ramping up the urgency of the decision she faced.
Most doors didn’t stay open forever.
26
It was raining hard now, but Sherlock wasn’t stopping—and neither were they.
Logan turned up the collar of his jacket as he and Thomma followed Lexie, the dog, and his handler.
They had to be at least two miles from the house at this point, past the farthest grid anyone had searched, paralleling 101 away from town, twenty yards back from the shoulder.
How had the girls managed to . . .
“We have something.”
As Mark called out and aimed his flashlight toward a large bush, Logan’s phone began to vibrate.
He ignored it and broke into a jog, as did Lexie and Thomma.
It took him no more than a second to identify the abandoned Disney princess suitcase through the foliage.
“It’s Molly’s.”
Lexie pulled out her phone. “I’ll have one of our officers pick it up. Mark, does the scent end here?”
“No.” Sherlock was already straining at the tracking line. “It continues along the same path.”
Meaning they hadn’t been snatched. They’d simply ditched the suitcase after it became too cumbersome to lug around.
Logan exhaled.
Thank you, God.
“That’s good news,” Lexie confirmed. “I’ll wait here until the officer arrives, then catch up with you.”
Logan and Thomma fell in behind the man and dog again.
Another quarter of a mile down the road, the rain tapered off as the trail veered inland, toward a copse of trees.
The going got rougher, and a hundred feet in the dog alerted again on the edge of a small creek.
“Do either of you recognize this?” The handler called the question over his shoulder.
Logan dashed forward, Thomma at his side.
A limp, bedraggled lavender ribbon was caught in the tall grass.
“Yes. It’s Molly’s.”
“Let’s leave it until the chief arrives. Why don’t you put a couple of those rocks next to it to mark the spot?” The handler motioned to several large stones beside the water.
Logan complied as the dog strained at the leash.
Mark waited for him to finish before letting Sherlock move forward.
The dog splashed through the creek and continued into the trees.
Less than a hundred yards later, he sat.
Mark lifted his flashlight higher.
And there, in the arc of light, stood two dirty, wet little girls holding hands and staring at them with wide, fearful eyes, one clutching a doll, the other clinging to a blanket, a backpack slipping off her shoulder.
Every muscle in Logan’s body went limp.
Thank you again, God.
Mark clicked off the flashlight as Logan and Thomma surged forward.
“It’s me, Molly. Uncle Logan.” His voice was as shaky as his legs.
Thomma spoke too.
Logan dropped to one knee in front of his niece and wrapped her in his arms as tears streamed down his face. “Oh, sweetie. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you. I love you so much.”
Her arms crept around his neck as the words spilled out of his mouth, and he hugged her tighter, this child who’d entered his life out of the blue . . . transformed his world . . . and touched his heart in unexpected ways.
When he at last eased back, she scrutinized him with her usual solemn expression as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Then she lifted her hand, and with one finger traced the trail of a tear down his cheek.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Her voice was soft. Uncertain.
“But it’s a happy cry, not a sad one, now that we found you and you’re fine. I was so worried, sweetie. It’s very scary when someone you love disappears and could be in trouble.”
She dipped her head and fiddled with the edge of her ratty blanket. “I didn’t know y-you loved me.”
Her statement smacked him in the face.
All these months, he’d done everything he could to demonstrate his love . . . but had he ever said the words?
Not that he could recall.
And while showing was important, maybe actions didn’t always speak louder than words.
Maybe there were times when words were needed too.
“I’m sorry I never told you that.” He brushed a damp strand of hair off her forehead. “But it’s always been in my heart.”
“Excuse me, folks.” Mark drew closer. “I’ve got Lexie on the line and she wants to know if she should dispatch the EMTs.”
“Hang on a minute.” Logan backed off and gave Molly a fast once-over. “Are you hurt anywhere, sweetie? Did you fall or get cut?”
“No.”
“What about Elisa?” He sized up the other girl as Thomma knelt beside her.
“No. But we’re cold—and h-hungry.”
“We can fix both of those fast.” He angled toward Mark. “No EMTs necessary.”
The handler relayed that news and ended the call. “She said to wait by the road. The officer who’s retrieving the suitcase will take her back to the house to get her car, then they’ll come by and pick us up. ETA is less than ten minutes.”
A shiver rippled through Molly, and Logan slipped his arms out of his jacket, wrapped her in it, and swung her up into his arms.
Thomma did the same, pulling out his phone once Elisa was settled against his chest.
“Are you calling Mariam?” Logan retrieved his own phone.
“Yes. She be happy.”
So would Jeannette.
He checked the call he’d ignored a few minutes ago. No message—but it was from his neighbor.
One tap . . . one ring . . . and she was on the line.
“We found them.”
“Oh, Logan . . . ” She expelled a breath. “I’ve been praying.”
“So have I.”
“Are they okay?”
“Cold, wet, tired, scared, hungry—but otherwise no worse for wear. Where are you?”
“Home. They called off the volunteer search until morning. Where are you?”
“Less than three miles away. We should be back in about ten minutes.”
“Be prepared. There’s a news crew from Coos Bay in front of your house.”
“Thanks for the warning. We’ll pull around the back to avoid them. I assume Lexie will make a statement. Do you want to come over?”
“I’d rather not run that gauntlet.”
“Later, maybe?”
She hesitated. “It’s almost ten—and you’ll want to spend some time with Molly before you put her to bed.”
“Tomorrow?”
“That could work. Give her a hug for me in the meantime.”
“Will do.”
After they said their good-byes, Logan weighed the cell in his hand.
Jeannette hadn’t committed to visiting them—surprise, surprise.
Not.
First Button dies, then a child she’s come to care for goes missing.
She was either retreating to the safe world she’d created at the lavender farm—or struggling t
o vanquish the fear that was holding her back from taking another chance on love.
Not much he could do tonight to press his case. Molly had to be his first priority.
But come tomorrow, Jeannette was jumping to the top of his list.
And as their small group trooped back through the woods toward the road to await their ride home, he was going to follow the same rule with her that he’d followed with Molly tonight.
He wasn’t just going to show her how he felt.
He was going to tell her.
Mariam lifted the pot of beans off the stove, pulled open the oven door, and divided the chicken-and-potato casserole into two portions—one for her family, one for Logan and Molly. Usually Logan refused her offers to leave dinner for them after she prepared a meal at his house for her family, but tonight she would insist.
Lunch had been hours ago, and while Logan appeared to be a fine doctor, based on the contents of his refrigerator, he wasn’t much of a chef.
Besides, cooking had kept her hands and mind occupied during the stressful hours until the children had been found, and he might as well benefit from the results.
The beams of headlights illuminated the backyard, and her pulse stuttered.
They were here!
She finished dividing the food and removed her apron as Toby pranced about the room, pinging with excitement.
Hopefully the newspeople waiting in front would stay there and let their two families have some peace.
She hurried to the back door and pulled it open as the two police cruisers came to a stop.
Thomma hadn’t said much on the phone a few minutes ago, nor had she pressed him for details. All that mattered at this moment was the well-being of the two girls.
But if today’s events hadn’t been the wake-up call her son needed to realize how precious Elisa was to him, perhaps there was no hope.
Gripping the edge of the door, she closed her eyes.
Please, God, let this be a turning point for him—and let Elisa respond to his overtures. Please let it not be too late for them to salvage their relationship. You know far better than I how much they need each other.
Logan and Thomma got out of the first cruiser, and the police chief slid from behind the wheel. She spoke to Logan, then strode back down the driveway while the dog and handler exited the second car.
The two men, the girls in their arms, walked over and shook his hand before heading for the house.