A Future and a Hope

by David Mathews

  On the third day of his rehab stay, Caleb had another visitor. He’d just completed his afternoon therapy session, and was back in his room, sitting in a wheelchair reading some get well cards that had come in that morning’s mail, when Miss Cora appeared in the doorway.

  “Hello, Caleb,” she greeted him warmly.

  “Miss Cora!” Caleb put down the card he was reading and motioned for her to enter. “Come in. It’s good to see you.” She slowly shuffled into the room, steadying herself with her cane. He noticed she carried a cookie tin in the other hand. He was sure he knew what it contained. Caleb pointed to the chair next to the window. “Please, have a seat, won’t you?”

  Miss Cora set the tin on the small round table between them, and with a grunt plopped into the chair. She leaned her cane against the table and turned toward his wheelchair. “I brought you some gingersnap cookies. I know how much you enjoy them.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure they won’t last long.”

  She inclined toward him. “Now let me have a look at you, young man.” She studied him for a moment. “You look as though you’re doing well. How is your therapy going?”

  “Pretty good, actually. My therapist says I’m making progress. I’m trying to regain my strength. They’ve got me doing stretching and mobility exercises, mostly.” He glanced at his left leg, extended straight out in front of him. “But I should be walking again before too long.”

  “That’s wonderful to hear,” she said with genuine interest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make the trip up to Columbus to visit you in the hospital. I’ve had a flare up of this pesky arthritis lately and I’m afraid it’s kept me close to home.”

  “Oh, that’s quite alright,” Caleb reassured her. “I understand. I haven’t been very mobile myself lately,” he added with a laugh.

  Miss Cora chuckled. “Caleb, you and I are more alike than either one of us would care to admit.” She grew serious. “I hear you’ve had a few visitors since you got back.”

  “That’s an understatement,” he declared.

  “Well then, I’m sure you’ve had to answer the same questions over and over by now, so I’m not going to trouble you to do it again. Your parents have filled me in on everything they know. I just wanted to drop by and let you know that I’m praying for you and Ellie.”

  “Thank you. That really means a lot to me.”

  “Now don’t you get discouraged, young man,” she urged him, tapping a bony finger on the table for emphasis. “I’m convinced that God is not through with either you or Miss Ellie just yet. He has a plan for your lives. This is just a part of it. As difficult and painful as these circumstances must be for you right now, remember that God sees the end from the beginning. You’re in a valley right now.” She stared intently at him. “Do you know what a valley is?” Caleb shook his head, sure that her definition was right around the corner. “A valley is nothing more than a low spot between two high places. You don’t stay in the valley, you walk through it! The psalmist said there may be tears in the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

  Caleb’s eyes grew misty. “Thank you, Miss Cora. Those words are very comforting. I needed that reminder.”

  The elderly woman continued. “Whatever God has planned for you, Caleb, you can rest assured it’s for your good and not your harm. You do have a future and a hope. And it’s going to be wonderful.”

  Before she left, Miss Cora prayed for Caleb and Ellie, and then said her goodbyes. When she reached the door, she turned and addressed him one last time. “I know how much you miss her, Caleb. I miss her, too.”

  Then she hobbled out of the room.

  Caleb wheeled himself around the table and stared out the window. A small yellow and black finch hopped from branch to branch in the courtyard tree a few feet away on the other side of the glass.

  He reflected on the widow’s words of encouragement. “You do have a future and a hope. And it’s going to be wonderful.”

  Caleb bowed his head. “Father, forgive me for not trusting You like I should. I don’t understand what’s going on, or why it’s happened, but I know You mean to use it for our good. Help me not to fear the future. It’s in Your hands. Whatever happens, I’ll trust You. But please take care of Ellie, wherever she is. And help me find her. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Then he began his future by opening the tin of gingersnaps.

  “Hey, I think I might have something!” B.J. exclaimed, leaning over his laptop and staring intently at the screen.

  “Yeah? What is it?” Caleb glanced up from his computer at his friend sitting across the table.

  “I’ve been pulling up newspaper accounts of your accident, beginning with the twentieth of December through the time you left the hospital. Here’s a follow up story in the Columbus Ledger-Inquirer dated December twenty-third. It gives an account of the driver’s arraignment as well as an update on the condition of the two people critically injured in the police chase on the evening of the nineteenth.”

  “What’s it say?”

  B.J. turned his laptop around and pushed it toward Caleb. “Here, read it for yourself. The first part is about the driver. Start about halfway down the column. The part that begins with ‘The two pedestrians struck by the fleeing car . . . ’”

  Caleb pulled the computer to him and scanned the article until he found the paragraph B.J. had mentioned. Tracing the lines of type with his finger, he read the words out loud:

  “The two pedestrians struck by the fleeing car while crossing Chestnut Street on the evening of the 19th remain in critical but stable condition at Good Samaritan Hospital.

  One of the victims, Caleb Sawyer, a 21-year old college student from Baxter, remains in a coma due to head trauma suffered when struck by the speeding car, but a hospital spokesperson stated that his condition has improved slightly, and said that doctors are expressing optimism about his chances for recovery.

  The other person involved, Elinor Thompson, 22, also from Baxter, was admitted with similar injuries, but at the time of this report, no update was immediately available. A hospital spokesperson said he was unable to comment on her condition, and declined to give a reason. An attempt was made to speak with a relative of the injured woman, but he declined to comment as well.”

  “Did you catch that?” B.J. blurted out. “He saw this relative of hers, Caleb. He actually talked to the man.”

  “I’ve gotta get a hold of this reporter.” Energized with renewed hope, Caleb grabbed a pen and wrote down the name of the article’s author and the phone number of the newspaper. “Maybe he was able to get a name, or find out who he is. At least he can give us a description.”

  “Do you think it’s Ellie’s father?” B.J. asked.

  “I don’t know. If he’s still around, he’d be her closest living relative. But I have no idea why he’d show up now. Or why he’d want to move her and not let us know where. In any case, this is the only lead we have at the moment, and I’m going to pursue it as far as I can.”

  He grabbed his cell phone and punched in the number for the main desk of the Ledger-Inquirer. After listening to several automated options, he selected one and waited for someone to answer.

  “Yes, my name is Caleb Sawyer, and I need to speak with uh . . . with Jim McCready please. I believe he’s one of your reporters.” He paused as the person on the other end said something. “Well, he wrote an article that involved me in the December twenty-third edition of your paper, and I need to talk to him about it. It’s rather urgent that I speak with him as soon as possible.” Again he listened for a moment. “Do you have any idea when he might be able to return my call?” After a short pause, he was transferred to the newspaper’s voice mail system where he left his number and a brief message for the reporter.

  Caleb kept his phone within arm’s reach the rest of the day, eagerly awaiting the call that was sure to come at any moment. The wait seemed like an eternity. Several times his phone rang, but the calls turned out to be friends checking in on him.
By bedtime he was in such an anxious state that he knew sleep would be difficult. Picking up his Bible, he read a few chapters until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer.

  The next day he clung to his phone even during the morning rehab session. He was just finishing lunch back in his room when the call came. As soon as he saw the caller’s number, his heart began to pound. This was it. With trembling hands he took the call.

  “Hello, this is Caleb.”

  “Caleb Sawyer? This is Jim McCready returning your call. I appreciate you contacting me. How are you doing?”

  “Well, I’m making some progress. Slower than I’d like, but rehab’s going well.”

  Instead of asking why he’d called, Mr. McCready began questioning him about the accident and what he remembered. Caleb responded politely, although somewhat impatiently, to his questions.

  When the reporter asked how Ellie was doing, he was surprised to learn that she had been removed from the hospital without so much as a word to Caleb or his family. After asking a ton of questions about her disappearance, and how the family was coping with the situation, he said he wanted to do a follow up human interest article on their plight.

  “Well, I don’t know.” Caleb hesitated. “I’m not so sure I want all the details made available to the public. We’re kind of a private family. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Sure it is.” Undaunted, the reporter pressed him. “Look at it another way. It’s bound to generate a lot of interest and sympathy, right? And that might lead to some new information about Ellie. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course.” He gave it a momentary thought. “All right. I guess you can go ahead with the article.” He hoped he was making the right decision.

  “Great. You won’t regret it.” The man launched into the possible responses to his story with all the enthusiasm of an adman pitching his brainchild to a CEO. Finally, Caleb was able to get around to explaining the purpose for his call.

  “Mr. McCready, the reason I called is that your previous article mentioned that you spoke to one of Ellie’s relatives. I was hoping you could give me some details about him.”

  “Sure. I’ll tell you all I know, but it’s not much. While I was at the hospital gathering information, I passed one of the doctors talking to this man in the hallway. From what little I overheard, he was related to Ellie somehow. As soon as the doctor left, I approached him and asked for an update on her condition. At first he looked startled, but then he scowled and issued a no comment. He hurried away but I followed him and kept asking more questions. He ignored me all the way to the main lobby. That’s when he got in my face. ‘If you don’t stop harassing me, I’m gonna have you arrested!’ Those were his exact words . . . give or take a few. Then he walked out the front door.”

  “Can you describe him?” Caleb asked eagerly.

  “Well, I’d say he was in his mid-forties, about five-ten to six feet tall, short brown curly hair, and . . . oh, maybe weighed about two twenty to two forty.”

  “How was he dressed?”

  “He had on a dark blue sport coat, a light blue shirt, and a bluish-gray tie. Paisley print, I think. With tan pants and brown loafers.”

  “Did he have any unusual features? Scars. Tattoos. Anything like that?”

  “Not that I noticed. But I do recall that he had a small diamond stud earring in each ear.”

  “Thanks for the information. You’ve been a big help, Mr. McCready,” Caleb acknowledged.

  “No problem. I hope it makes a difference. I’ll send you a link to the follow up story once it’s released. Let’s keep in touch, okay? I wish you well, Caleb.”

  Over the next three days, Caleb continued to focus on his rehab, which was progressing well, and on his search for Ellie, which wasn’t.

  He’d subscribed to a number of “people locator” search websites, most claiming to be able to find anyone anywhere. But he was greatly disappointed with the results.

  Four days after his phone conversation with Jim McCready, the reporter sent him an email containing a link to the follow up story. Caleb immediately opened it and devoured its contents.

  Jim had piled on the pathos this time, playing heavily on the sympathies of the reader. In the article, he wrote:

  What makes this an unusual tragedy is that the two young victims had just become engaged moments before the accident. They were returning from Ellerbee Park, where Mr. Sawyer had proposed to Miss Thompson, and were only a block from their destination when the fleeing vehicle struck them down.

  But what makes this an unthinkable tragedy is the heart-wrenching fact that the two are now, by another cruel twist of fate, unable to find one other. One minute they are united with the glowing prospect of a life together, the next, violently torn apart without so much as a single word or clue of explanation. The burning questions of ‘why?’, ‘who?’, and ‘where?’ remain unanswered. Why did this happen? Who is responsible for her disappearance? And where is Ellie Thompson?

  Put yourself in Caleb Sawyer’s shoes for a moment. Imagine how he feels right now. He and his family desperately need your help. That is the purpose of this article. I ask you, I beg you, I implore you, if you have any information, no matter how insignificant, that might help reunite this hapless couple, please contact this reporter at the links below or call this newspaper, anonymously if necessary. Any person who is capable of reading this sad story without developing a deep sense of sympathy and compassion for this young couple’s plight must be a cold and heartless individual indeed. Let’s bring Caleb and Ellie back together again.

  A week after the story was published in the Columbus Ledger-Inquirer, Jim McCready called Caleb with an update. He sounded very upbeat.

  “The article is generating a huge response from the public,” he told him. “In fact, there’s been an avalanche of calls from people voicing their prayers and support for you, or offering to help locate Ellie. We’ve received a lot of tips on who’s responsible for her disappearance, or where she might have been taken, or how she might be found. Most of those leads have been investigated, but so far they’ve turned out to be dead ends. But one person left me a voice message I thought should be passed along to you.”

  Caleb’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you think it’s legit?” he asked.

  The reporter cautioned him. “Well, I can’t verify anything this caller said. She didn’t give her name, and her call back number was blocked, so I was unable to identify the source or substantiate the information. But I thought you ought to hear it for yourself. Maybe it will help.”

  The journalist placed Caleb on speaker phone so he could listen to the message. The female caller sounded hesitant, as though she were nervous or unsure about making the call.

  “Hello? This call is for Jim McCready. It has to do with his article in Wednesday’s paper. I have some information that may help Caleb Sawyer in the search for his fiancée. I’m afraid I can’t give my name or number, because that could jeopardize my job. This may be nothing, but I want to help if I can. I know for certain that the person who ordered Ellie Thompson’s transfer is her father. I can’t tell you how I learned this, and I’m sorry I couldn’t find out his name or where he took her. I know it’s not much, but I hope it helps.” The voice paused for a few seconds. “One more thing. Please don’t try to trace this call. If you do, I’ll have to deny everything.”

  “So, what do you think?” Jim asked him, after playing back the message.

  Caleb didn’t recognize the caller’s voice. But it sounded familiar. “It’s not much to go on,” he replied. “Like you said, there’s no way to verify the source. But if it’s true, it confirms some of my suspicions. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

  “No problem. Glad to help.”

  After thanking the reporter again, Caleb ended the call. He felt a glimmer of hope. If the information provided by the anonymous caller was correct, then he should concentrate on locating Ellie’s biological fathe
r. He and B.J. had explored that possibility earlier as part of their overall search, but now he would make the man his focus.

  As he lay in the bed at the rehab center that night, Caleb replayed the woman’s message over and over in his head. He was sure he’d heard her voice before. Sometime fairly recently. But where?

  He was almost asleep when it hit him. He’d heard that voice while he was in the hospital. It was the nurse who’d said she couldn’t tell him anything about Ellie.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DETECTIVES AND DONUTS

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING CALEB devoted himself to his rehab with renewed enthusiasm. The sooner he was able to reach the goals set by his therapist, the sooner he’d get to go home. And the sooner he got home, the sooner he’d be free to expand his efforts to locate Ellie’s father, and ultimately, Ellie herself. In the meantime, he spent every free moment searching for online information. Every possible lead was followed up with a phone call. But each call ended in disappointment.

  The next day, his last at the rehab center, Caleb unearthed another piece to the puzzle. As he was eating lunch he had a sudden inspiration. Ellie’s birth announcement. Publications often printed a list of births, including the birth date, the baby’s name, and the names of the baby’s parents. Perhaps her father’s name was on file in the Hickory, Virginia, newspaper.

  A quick online search produced a website for the Hickory County Courier. It stated that the paper was published three times a week, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. It didn’t offer much in the way of information, but it did provide a phone number. He hoped he wouldn’t have to suffer the agony of playing phone tag again.

  He called the number listed. To his mild surprise, it was answered on the third ring by a live person.

  “Hickory County Courier.” The woman’s voice had a pleasant tone to it, and a slight accent.