“Great. So let’s get you settled in and maybe cleaned up?” Janet said, getting up again. “You definitely could use a shower and by the time you’re finished, your clothes should be ready.”
Derek nodded. Picking up his backpack, he followed her inside. The kitchen was bright and sunny, with oak counters and a small oak table and chairs at one end. The doorway she took him through led to a short hallway. Through the other doorway he could see part of a living room with a large, floral-upholstered sofa. There were stairs to the side of the hall that they took to the second floor. She led him to a room at the far end.
“This was Nolan Junior’s before he moved out,” she said, stepping aside so Derek could enter.
There was a bed, covered with a bright, blue comforter along one wall. Between the two windows opposite the door was a desk, and a long dresser took up most of the third wall.
“The bathroom’s there,” Janet pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “I’ll put out some towels for you and then go put your clothes in the dryer while you settle in.” She crossed to a door next to the dresser. Opening it, she said, “Oh good. I thought I remembered he’d left this behind the last time he came home.” She handed Derek a bathrobe. “I’ll be back with your clothes when they’re dry. And I’ll take the ones you have on later.”
After she left, Derek put the backpack down beside the dresser. He looked at the bed wistfully, wanting to lie down on it, but he knew if he did, he’d probably fall asleep. So he undressed quickly, wrapped the bathrobe around him, and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. For a second, when he stepped into it, he flashed on another one. It was about the same size but painted blue—not yellow like this one—and had a shower stall instead of a tub with a curtain. As quickly as he saw it, the image vanished but somehow he knew it was from the house where he’d grown up.
A good while later, when the water began to turn cool, Derek got out of the shower and dried off. He’d washed his hair three times trying to get it untangled, finally succeeding enough that he could run his fingers through it. There was a comb on the sink, next to a box with a toothbrush. He hoped Janet had left them for him.
Picking up the comb, he looked in the mirror over the sink and froze. The face staring back at him was not the one he remembered. It was his, but much thinner, with long, dark hair surrounding it down to his shoulders.
I look older.
He stepped back so he could see more of himself.
And I have muscles. He flexed one arm. Real muscles. He turned, looking over his shoulder to check his back. There was a scar running down one side from his shoulder to just under his arm. He knew, because Michael had told him, he had had gotten a bad gash on his back from the accident but this was the first time he’d seen the result.
At least my face escaped any major damage. He checked it out again. And that was pretty conceited of me. I should be glad I survived at all.
He ran the comb through his hair, removing the final tangles. Opening the medicine cabinet, he found the toothpaste and brushed his teeth, savoring how clean his mouth felt when he was finished.
I didn’t realize how much I missed the little things.
He had the same thought again a few minutes later when he put on his pants and a shirt that smelled like fresh air. They had obviously seen much better days, but at least they were clean. On top of the pile of his clothes Janet had left on the dresser, there were two pairs of socks he didn’t recognize. He understood why when he saw the only pair he’d given her to wash. They were out in the heels and the toes, barely socks at all now. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put on one of the new pair. Then he looked at his boots and sighed.
“See if these will fit you,” Nolan said from the doorway. He was holding a pair of tennis shoes. “They belonged to Tom. Janet has some of his old clothes stored in the basement. I think—” Nolan chuckled “—you’re going to end up with some of them too before all is said and done. You’re about his size, but thinner.”
After thanking him, Derek tried on the shoes. They were a bit big. Better that than too small.
Nolan looked him over and nodded. “You could do with a haircut maybe, though these days all the teens seem to be wearing it longer than they did in my day. Come on, I’ll take you on a short tour of the town while Janet fixes supper.”
“I can help her,” Derek said, as they went downstairs.
Nolan shook his head. “She prefers doing it all herself. Personally I think she’s crazy but after twenty-plus years, who am I to argue?”
They stopped by the kitchen long enough to tell Janet where they were going then left by the front door. The White’s car was parked in the drive but when Nolan asked, Derek said he’d rather walk. “I can see more that way.”
So they walked, stopping twice so Nolan could chat with neighbors. He introduced Derek as ‘a young friend who is visiting for a couple of days’ and left it at that.
The shops were mainly utilitarian. “We don’t get many tourists through here, thank goodness,” Nolan explained, “so we don’t need all that chi-chi tourist-trap stuff.” There was a garage, a grocery store, a drug store, and a stationary store, which also carried a small selection of books. There were also two restaurants and a soda shop. When Derek asked, Nolan told him the nearest movie theater was in a town about ten miles away.
At the far end of the street, they came to a small, brick building. Nolan stopped, saying, “As long as we’re here, let’s see if the sheriff’s around.”
“On a Sunday?”
Nolan chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone I said so, but I think he comes in to get away from his shrew of a wife. He’s a good man. How he ended up with her is beyond me.”
When they got inside, Nolan asked the woman manning the front desk it the sheriff was around. She nodded, so Nolan led the way through a room filled with desks and a few men in uniform, to a door on one side. After knocking and being told to come in, they did.
A blond-haired, mustached man looked up from what he was doing and smiled. “What brings you to my neck of the woods, Nolan?”
“This young man. His name’s Derek and he has a question for you, Art.”
“Pull up a chair and ask,” Sheriff Thompson said.
Derek hesitated then sat, feeling tongue-tied. When the sheriff cocked an eyebrow, Derek began telling him about the accident. He finished by saying, “I don’t know where we were when it happened—just somewhere in the mountains where the road ran along a cliff.”
“There aren’t too many places around here like that,” the sheriff commented.
“Well, it might not have been too near here. The man who found me lived pretty far from where it happened, he said, and a long way from here.”
“Whereabouts exactly?”
“I don’t know. I mean it’s somewhere in that direction—” Derek pointed “—and there’s nothing around his cabin but trees and mountains.”
“What’s his name? Maybe I know him—or know of him.”
“Michael. That’s all he told me.” He thought perhaps he shouldn’t let the sheriff know Michael’s full name—the name on the discharge papers. Not until I know more about why he was murdered.
The sheriff shook his head. “It’s a common enough name, but it doesn’t ring any bells. My deputies haven’t reported about any accidents where a car went over a cliff but I can check with the State Highway Patrol to see if they’ve heard anything. About when did this happen?”
Derek blew out a long breath. “Maybe two months ago?”
“That’s a long while ago. How come it took so long for you to report it?” Derek told him the short version. The sheriff seemed to accept it, asking, “What are your parent’s names. Maybe we can work backwards from there. Find out if they told anyone where you all were headed. It would narrow things down.”
“Small problem with that,” Nolan replied, when Derek hesitated, wondering if the sheriff would believe him or if he’d believed anything he was saying. “Derek hit his he
ad when he was thrown free of the car. He doesn’t even remember his own name. Derek was just what this Michael person tagged him with.”
“I see,” the sheriff replied slowly. “So we’re looking for a car that went over a cliff, according to what Michael told you, Derek, sometime in the last few months. Do you remember the make and color?”
Derek tried to picture it then shook his head. “It was blue inside.”
“Not much to go on. Okay, I’ll check around. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know, but don’t get your hopes up. It could be sitting at the bottom of the cliff with enough trees around to hide it from anyone unless they were searching for it—especially after all this time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The sheriff held out his hand when Derek got up. “Nice to have met you, young man. Where are you staying so I can get hold of you?”
Shaking the sheriff’s hand, Derek said, “With Mr. White.”
The sheriff chuckled. “Should have figured that one, since you’re with him. Okay, as I said, I’ll let you know what I find out—or don’t find out.”
Derek thanked him again then he and Nolan left.
* * * *
Two days later, the sheriff came by the White’s house to see Derek. In the interim, Derek helped Janet around the place as much as she would let him while Nolan was at work. In the evenings, after supper, they went out in back where he and Nolan worked on the garden then the three of them sat on the porch, drinking iced tea or lemonade, until it was time for bed.
“I have some news for you,” the sheriff said, after Janet let him inside and called for Derek to join them. “A burned out car was found by a hiker about a month ago just a few miles west of Jefferson, which is a town a good sixty miles south of here, as the crow flies—a hell of a lot longer by road. Anyway, the hiker reported it to the State Highway Patrol and they checked it out.”
“And?” Derek asked, leaning forward, his gaze locked on the sheriff.
“Between the damage from going over the cliff and the resulting fire, there’s no way to identify who was in the car or who owned it. The only thing they could tell me was they found a partially destroyed license plate a few yards away. Presuming it belonged to the car—and there’s no reason to think it didn’t, since the rear one was missing—the first two letters on it, AF, tell us it was licensed in Denver County. I did check missing person’s reports there, but so far nothing has turned up.”
“That’s it? Just Denver?”
“Yep. They found the VIN number—or more to the point, they found where it should have been—but it had been obliterated, and not by the fire. Someone made certain it was unreadable.”
Derek frowned in question. “Why?”
“Several possibilities. The car was stolen, either by whoever your parents bought it from or by them—or, they had a reason they didn’t want anyone to know who owned it, or who the previous owner was.” The sheriff shrugged. “Chances are, if they bought it secondhand, it was stolen before they got their hands on it.”
“That has to be it,” Derek said adamantly. “No way would Dad have stolen a car.” He realized as he said that, he really didn’t know if that was true. He remembered nothing about his father other than the last few seconds before the accident.
“Let’s hope that’s the case. Unfortunately, no matter the reason, there’s no way to trace the owner, whether it was legitimately your father or someone else.”
Derek nodded. “Well, thank you for at least telling me what you do know—or don’t—I suppose.”
“What are you going to do now? By law, I should….”
“He can stay with us,” Janet put in immediately. “It’s not like we don’t have the room.”
“He’s only sixteen, Janet. You’d have to file to be his foster parents. I’m willing to give you time to do that, rather than turning him over to state custody right now.”
“That’s not a problem, as far as we’re concerned,” Janet replied. “That is, if you want to stay with us, Derek.”
“You’d let me?”
“Of course!”
“May I have time to think about it?” Derek replied. “It’s…it’s a big step and…”
“I understand.” Janet patted his arm before asking the sheriff, “Is that all right?”
“As far as I’m concerned, it is.” He smiled slightly. “What the state doesn’t know won’t hurt them.” He returned his attention to Derek. “If you remember anything more that could help us find out who you are, give me a call,” he said as he stood up.
“I will. I promise.”
As soon as the sheriff was gone, Janet said, “I meant it. You’re more than welcome to stay here. We’ll file to be your foster parents, if you want that, and get you into school. Until you make up your mind, you can help around here, meet people, make some friends. It’s not a bad place to grow up—or finish growing up in.”
“I’ll…think about it. I just don’t know yet what I want to do. What I need to do.”
“I understand. Take all the time necessary. School doesn’t start for another month. You can get used to things. Like I said, you can meet the kids who live around here.”
“Thanks.” Derek smiled then said, “I should probably go pull weeds. Again. What vegetable do you want me to pick for supper?”
Janet looked at him then gave him a quick hug. “Just like my boys, evade a question with another question. For now, I’ll let you. How about snap beans?”
“You bet.” Derek practically dashed out of the living room. He needed to think, and he couldn’t do that when she was around because even in the short few days since he’d been there, he was beginning to really like her—and Nolan. So he had a decision to make. Stay and let them become his foster parents, or move on and try to find out his real roots—the ones he couldn’t remember but needed to.
* * * *
It took a week, but Derek finally made up his mind what he had to do. So, late one night when the Whites were asleep and the house was silent, he packed up his few belongings. Most of them were new, or at least secondhand new, since Janet had insisted he could have some of the clothes that had belonged to her younger son, Tom. For the most part, they fit just fine once she had hemmed the jeans up an inch, Tom having been that much taller than Derek.
He looked around the bedroom he had almost come to think of as his own. Then he sat down at the desk and wrote a note to them, explaining that he really, really liked them and the town, but he had to find out who he was and where he came from. When he finished it, he crept on tiptoe from the bedroom downstairs, avoiding the two squeaky steps on the staircase. He left the note on the kitchen table where they would be certain to find it and left the house by the back door.
After putting on his shoes, he moved swiftly along behind the houses, not wanting to be on the sidewalks where someone, most likely one of the sheriff’s deputies, might see him and ask what he was doing.
When he got to the far end of town, he followed the two-lane highway, which would eventually lead him to the Interstate. He had a picture of the map of the area in his head and knew once he got to the Interstate, it wasn’t too far, at least by car, to Denver. Once he got to the city…
Well I’ll figure out what to do when that happens. He fingered Michael’s Saint Christopher medal, saying a brief prayer for his guidance. I do have money, the money Michael had in the box. It should last me for at least a little while. I hope.
He hadn’t ever counted it, but he had the feeling there was quite a lot. He had three twenties in his pocket. The rest was still in the box at the bottom of his backpack, along with the gun, and all the papers. The only thing he had left behind was the bow. Somehow he had a feeling he’d raise a few eyebrows if he went into the city with it slung over his shoulder.
He walked through the rest of the night, staying well to the side of the highway, so the few passing cars couldn’t see him. He suspected he’d be safer walking during the day when there was more traffic.<
br />
Someone might even give me a ride, if I ask.
With that thought in mind, when daylight appeared, he kept his eyes open for some sort of diner or truck stop. Aside from the fact he was hungry, he figured he’d stand a better chance of finding someone who would be willing to take him at least part of the way to the Interstate than he would just hitchhiking with his thumb out.
He found what he wanted after a few more miles, a small gas station with a diner. There was an empty seat at the counter, which he took, setting his pack down on the floor in front of him with one foot on it. He didn’t want to take any chance someone might try to steal it. After ordering eggs and sausage, he looked around the room. There were two families with kids. He was sure they wouldn’t be willing to give him a ride. A couple of the men at the counter sounded like locals from what they were discussing. There were two other men, one at the counter, one in a booth. Derek studied them while he waited for his breakfast, trying to decide if they’d be safe to ask for a ride. The man at the table left just as Derek’s meal arrived, so he was out. That left the one at the counter.
Derek ate quickly, keeping an eye on the man, who seemed to be flirting with the waitress. The minute he finished eating, Derek put a twenty on the counter, wanting to pay before the man got up to leave. The waitress picked up the money, returning a minute later with his change. Then she leaned her hands on the counter, asking, “Are you looking for a ride? I saw you watching everyone, so I figured maybe you were.” She grinned a bit. “I’ve seen that look before.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied hopefully.
“How far you going?”
“The Interstate?”
“Good. Joe there—” she nodded to the man she’d been talking to “—is heading up to Idaho Springs. That work for you?”
“It’s on the Interstate?”
She chuckled. “Sure is. Let me ask if he’ll take you.” She moved down the counter, said a few words to the man, and came back. “He’s willing.”
Derek sighed with relief. The man, Joe, got up and came over, introducing himself. When Derek told him who he was, Joe asked, “Are you ready to go?”
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