She began to worry for him as he drove. Unexpectedly, she heard him cry, “Oh God, no!” his voice raising a full octave in pitch, then…silence.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” she cried in his ear.
“I’m fine—I’ll call you in just a minute,” he stammered, as he ended the call and dropped his phone to the seat of his car. There was a state trooper’s car in the driveway of Billy’s home. I’m too late, his mind screamed in desperate fear.
He parked his car across the street and walked slowly to the front door. There was an officer standing outside the door in a heavy coat, sipping coffee.
“Are you family?” the trooper asked.
“No, I’m…uh, an old friend. The boy—Billy—used to come to my church.”
The officer’s expression changed suddenly. “I guess you’ve heard about the boyfriend’s death,” he replied. “Just wait here for a minute.”
Without an explanation, he opened the door and quietly stepped into the house, closing the door silently behind him.
What could I have done differently? His mind raced. Could I have prevented this? A moment later, the trooper returned.
“You can go in. The boy and his mother could use a friend right now.”
“What—they’re both inside?” He felt the air pulled from his chest. He was afraid to hope. The trooper’s expression flashed with suspicion.
“Look—are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he answered the trooper, walking swiftly past him, into the house.
The house was sparsely furnished, though there was a large, flat panel television hanging on the living room wall, and a small dorm-style fridge beside the couch. Inside, Billy’s mother was seated at the kitchen table, across from another trooper. Billy was standing behind his mother, holding her tightly. All of them wore heavy coats, and their breath showed in puffs when they spoke. To the surprise of Johnny’s father, Billy ran to him and embraced him. He hugged the boy back. His mother looked up from the table, and she smiled weakly in recognition. Johnny’s father recognized her too…she had visited their church often with a baby, years ago. He never realized that baby was Billy.
After a minute, Billy awkwardly left him and returned to his mother. “Can he stay?” Billy asked the trooper.
“I’m afraid not, son. We’re going to be here a while, making our reports.” The officer nodded toward Johnny’s father and added,” I thought maybe you might want to go to a friend’s house until we’re done.
Johnny’s father quickly pulled out an old business card from his wallet and tore it in half. He wrote his phone number and address on both pieces. He handed one half to Billy’s mother, and kept the other in his hand.
“Johnny can spend the day with us,” he began, and Billy’s mother quickly gave him a small, appreciative nod before she began crying again. “Come to our house when you’re finished, we want you to stay for dinner.”
“Hurry over, Mom,” Billy said. He kissed her on the cheek, then walked back to Johnny’s father.
As he walked out of the house, he looked down at the old business card he’d torn in half. He didn’t recognize it at first, then he read the lettering on the remaining half.
…& Sons
…Heating Repair
The card showed half the name of a business, and in the lower right corner, their phone number was listed. It was the company that fixed his air conditioning system last summer, Richards and Sons A/C and Heating Repair. He smiled, silently thanking God for the hint, as he entered the number into his cell phone and saved it. As he closed the door, he handed the half-card to the officer waiting outside.
“Please drive her to my house when you’re done,” he said politely. “Billy will be with us, and…his mother doesn’t need to be alone right now.” He didn’t know how he could confer his request with any more urgency, but the officer was already nodding. The officer stared knowingly into his eyes, and he knew the officer understood.
“Now then,” he said to Billy when they were in his car, “we’ll get you back to my house, and get something warm to eat. We’ll be there soon; I just need to make a phone call on the way.”
After he’d called the heating repairman, Billy looked worried.
“I don’t think my mom can pay to fix the heater,” he said anxiously.
“Don’t worry,” Johnny’s father answered with a smile, “I’ll take care of it”. He knew the bonus he was expecting from work wouldn’t be spent as he’d planned. He looked back to Billy, but found his expression hadn’t changed.
“What’s worrying you, Billy?”
“Well,” he began sheepishly, “I haven’t been…very nice to Johnny. Do you think he’ll forgive me?”
“I bet he will. Maybe you should ask him when he wakes up. I think he’ll be a true friend—if you treat him like one.” He pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine. Still, Billy didn’t seem relieved—if anything, he looked frightened.
“Do you think…” he stopped. Johnny’s father waited patiently. Billy didn’t look ready to leave the car; in fact, he was nearly in tears. “I’ve been asking Him to…but—do you think God will forgive me?
“In God’s eyes,” Johnny’s father answered with a confident smile, “He already has."
The End
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Chris M. Hibbard was born in the suburbs of New Jersey, the second of three brothers. His family soon moved to Alaska, where he grew up scrambling over the mountains and beaches of a remote village wedged between thickly wooded peaks and deep fjords. His childhood shaped in him an early love for family and of the outdoors, and inspired such hobbies as wildlife photography, grafting fruit trees, and hiking.
His first novel began as a collection of stories he invented to entertain his children. He, his wife and four children make their home in the Piney Woods of Texas.
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