Family in Hiding

by Valerie Hansen

  That resolution renewed his spirit in spite of the reality in which he was trapped. From now on, his prayers would include a plea for divine guidance and the wisdom to recognize God’s leading when it appeared. The way Dylan saw it, all he had to do was listen and get out of the way.

  “You look like Brandon right after he’s made off with the last cookie on the plate,” Grace remarked lightly.

  Her presence surprised Dylan. “I thought you’d taken the kids over to your side.”

  “I did. I came back because I heard your cell ringing and wondered why you didn’t answer it.”

  “It rang?”

  “Uh-huh.” She held it out to him. “It was your boss. Somebody called in sick and he wanted to know if you were interested in some overtime.”

  Frowning, Dylan palmed the cell phone. “Where was it this time?”

  “On the coffee table in the living room.”

  “Yours or mine?” he asked.

  “Yours. Why?”

  He was shaking his head. “Just wondered. Either I’m more scatterbrained than I thought or that thing can walk on its own. I could have sworn I left it in the kitchen after you called me from the Smithfields’ yesterday. By the way, have you talked to Miranda yet?”

  “No. I will. It’s still a little early in the day.”

  Pausing with the cell phone he asked, “Do you mind if I go in to work? I know it’s Sunday but I hate to pass up an offer of overtime.”

  Grace shrugged. “I don’t mind. It seems like we’ve been together more recently than we were in the five or six months before I filed for divorce.”

  “Not quite. But I do see your point. Okay. I’ll call and tell them I’ll be there ASAP.”

  “Ask what time you’ll be getting off, later, too.”

  “Why? Will you miss me?”

  Although he kept his query from sounding too serious it meant the world to him to hear his wife reply, “Yes. Something awful.”

  That was almost enough to keep him home. If he hadn’t worried about giving his employer and fellow workers a bad impression of his work ethic, he might have lingered with her in spite of appearances.

  Listening to the call go through, Dylan wondered absently if his urge to stay home had been a nudge from his heavenly Father. Was that how God might be guiding him? He didn’t think that premise was nearly as likely as the idea that he’d been offered more work because they truly needed the money. After all, it was a blessing to have a job and be able to support his family. Therefore, it was also his duty to do that job to the best of his ability.

  “How about my taking the van so you don’t have to come get me later?” Dylan asked once he’d firmed up the need to report to work.

  “That’s fine. Do you have your cell in case I want to contact you?”

  He patted his pocket and smiled at her. “Right here. This time I know exactly where it is.” Hesitating, he wondered if she might let him kiss her goodbye.

  Finally he settled for a light brush of his lips on her warm cheek and the enjoyable sight of her blush. Redheads were so fair they showed rosy cheeks at the slightest provocation, a trait Dylan had always found endearing.

  “Stay safe,” he said as he backed away, the key ring jingling as he handled it.

  Although Grace nodded and tried to return his smile he could tell she was uneasy about something.

  “You sure you don’t want to take me to work so you can keep the van?” he asked again.

  “No. It’s fine. I never liked driving that much, anyway. It’ll be nice to have the day off and not have to watch the clock to go pick somebody up on time.”

  She followed him to the front door and onto the porch.

  Dylan frowned when he noticed that he had apparently failed to padlock the door after he’d driven the van. In a hurry to get to work, he shook off feelings of misgivings and opened the garage without help.

  “See?” Dylan called back to Grace. “The arm’s much better. Almost good as new.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She was still waving when he looked back as he drove away, his heart singing regarding their blossoming relationship, his mood so lifted he knew he was beaming.

  The stop sign at the corner caused no problems, nor was there any indication that he was being followed. He accelerated smoothly until he reached the traffic light on Richmond Avenue. Applied the brakes. Felt the pedal give.

  Puzzled, he pushed harder.

  The brakes grabbed, then their effect vanished.

  Dylan gripped the wheel. Saw what was ahead in the intersection. Realized he was in trouble.

  Panicky, he used the horn for a blast of warning.

  One car ahead of him managed to slip around the corner to the right at the last instant, thereby avoiding being hit from behind. A truck crossing in front of him on the green light was not going to be so fortunate.

  Bracing himself for the inevitable, Dylan tried his best to swerve but there was no place to go and no way to bring the van to a stop without hitting something.

  Metal met. Crumpled. Squealed as it ground together.

  The left front corner of the van hit the rear quarter of the passing semitrailer and folded against the truck’s steel bumper like a pleated paper fan.

  The seat belt held. Dylan pitched forward, wishing the vehicle had come equipped with airbags.

  His forehead kissed the top of the steering wheel. Glass shattered. The broken windshield held together but the side windows turned to tiny bits of tinkling crystal that showered him like rain.

  Dylan’s last thought before passing out was, Grace is never going to let me drive again.

  FOURTEEN

  The sound of sirens in the distance drew Grace to the window. Seeing nothing unusual from inside, she ventured out onto the front porch and stood at the railing so she could scan the neighborhood.

  To her left, traffic on the closest side street was beginning to back up. Her concentration was so complete she jumped when a screen door slammed behind her.

  It was Kyle. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know. Probably an accident. It can’t be far away because cars are already stopped over there. See?”

  “Cool!” He was off the porch, running along the sidewalk, before she could stop him. “Kyle! No!”

  Backpedaling, he kept moving away while waving enthusiastically. “I’ll be right back.”

  Grace started down the steps in pursuit, then realized she didn’t dare leave the younger children. At that moment, if she had been the type of person to use bad language, she certainly might have done so.

  “Beth! Brandon! Get out here,” Grace shouted toward the house.

  The girl was the first to respond. “Mom? Where are you?”

  “Out front. Get Brandon and bring him with you.”

  Trusting her daughter to follow orders, Grace continued to keep an eye on Kyle. As long as he stayed in sight she’d be okay.

  She saw him reach the corner where the line of cars now waited to pass. Several drivers chose to turn off onto their street rather than be stuck in the traffic jam.

  Kyle stopped. Turned to peer down the side street, shading his eyes as he did so. Then he faced her, waved his arms as if practicing doing jumping jacks, wheeled around and took off in the direction of the supposed wreck.

  Grace wanted to scream. She had never been more angry, or more frightened, in her entire life. They were in a new suburb where she had no close friends and had met only a couple of neighbors. She was on foot. Her kids had separated. And the only way to follow Kyle was if they all went.

  She could not permit him to get too far away. If he became disoriented and failed to find his way home, she’d never forgive herself.

  When Beth arrived with Brandon, the toddler was ba
refoot so Grace scooped him up and perched him on her hip as she started off. “Kyle just went this way,” she explained. “We have to follow him. I want you to stick to me like glue, do you understand?”

  Beth nodded soberly. “Why did Kyle leave?”

  “I don’t know. But when I get him home he is so grounded.”

  Seeing the girl begin to smile about her brother’s upcoming punishment helped Grace view the incident in a less dramatic light. “We heard sirens and he went to see what was going on.”

  “How come you let him?”

  Grace grimaced. “I didn’t let him. He just took off before I could stop him.”

  Brandon’s pudgy arms tightened around her neck. “Kyle’s bad, huh?”

  “Yes, honey, Kyle is being very bad.”

  “I’m a good boy.”

  Not slowing her pace, Grace kissed his cheek. “That’s right. You are. You listen to Mommy, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Beth, too.”

  “Yes.” She glanced down at her daughter. “Beth is being good today, too.”

  After the talking-to we gave her yesterday, she’d better have learned her lesson, Grace added to herself. When Dylan had lectured his brood they had all seemed to take it to heart and for that she was extremely thankful. Although one or the other of them could make an impression on the kids most of the time, a united front with both parents in agreement was most successful.

  The fact that Beth had to jog to keep up with Grace’s rapid strides didn’t slow her down. If she had not had to carry Brandon she might have broken into a run, herself.

  They got to the last place Grace had seen Kyle and paused to catch their breath. She didn’t spot the boy but she could see that there had been an accident in the major intersection about a block ahead. Judging by the multitude of flashing lights and the throng of traffic piling up, it must have blocked most of the lanes.

  What to do now? If she turned and went home there was no telling what mischief Kyle would get himself into. If she proceeded up the block toward the site of the crash, they not only might be in the way, her impressionable children might see something that upset them.

  “Hang on tight to my clothes so we don’t get separated,” Grace told the girl. “I’d hold your hand but I need both arms to carry your little brother.”

  “Okay. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. If I tell you to, I want you to close your eyes and not look at it. It might be icky.”

  “Did somebody get hurt?”

  “I think they probably did since I see an ambulance, too. If it wasn’t for Kyle we wouldn’t be doing this. It’s not a good idea to crowd around an accident and get in the way. Understand?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Grace could feel a tug on the hem of her T-shirt as Beth followed her instructions, skipping along beside her.

  They weren’t the only pedestrians headed that direction. By the time Grace got to within a half block of the crash she couldn’t tell where the sidewalk ended and the curb began because the area was blanketed with casual observers. Some even held their cell phones over their heads and pointed them in the direction of the wreck to take pictures of whatever was happening out of their line of sight.

  The white, metal box of a semitrailer rose above the throng and sat broadside, slightly out of square with the traffic lights that marked the corners. Someone had turned those to flashing red, only, and she could see police officers and firemen rerouting vehicles by swinging lit flares or flashlights.

  Beth gave a harder tug. “Eww. What smells?”

  “Gasoline. I imagine some spilled.” She spoke absently while scanning the milling crowd for the red hair of her naughty son. All she’d need was a glimpse to know it was Kyle. The children’s coloring wasn’t that common, so they were usually easy to spot, even from a distance.

  “Do you see Kyle?” she asked Brandon.

  “Nope. I see Daddy.”

  “Where?” Her heart began to hammer, her knees threatened to give way.

  The toddler pointed. “Over there.”

  That was when Grace noticed the nondescript brown color of a smaller vehicle that was also blocking traffic. Their van! Dylan was here. Was he hurt?

  Too shocked to weep, she began to shoulder her way through the gaggle of onlookers that had gathered outside the barrier police and firefighters had established to cordon off the scene.

  The first man she reached was dressed in firefighting gear and had his arms outstretched to block her passage.

  “That van. It’s my husband’s. Please, let me through.”

  He stayed where he was, speaking into a handheld radio to report her arrival and ask permission to let her through the line around the accident scene.

  Seconds seemed like hours before he got the official okay, turned back to her and nodded. “You can pass. But watch the glass and debris and be sure you keep those kids with you. They can get hurt running around out here.”

  “Yes, yes. I will.” She dodged past him and made a beeline for the wrecked van, positive that was where Kyle, too, would head, but found it empty. The vehicle had been damaged so badly that it was no longer rectangular and every window was smashed, as if an angry giant had taken a hammer to them.

  “Dylan!” Her voice carried over the hum of the crowd and the beeping of a wrecker that was backing up to the rear of the van.

  She tried again. “Dylan! Where are you?”

  A police officer took her elbow to restrain her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You can’t be out here.”

  “But my husband...”

  “You must be mistaken. There’s no Dylan involved.”

  What had she done! Not only had she left the house when she wasn’t supposed to, she’d just shouted a name she was told to never use in public.

  “That’s his middle name,” Grace said while her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. “He’s John Appleby. That has to be his van. He’d left for work a little before I started to hear sirens.”

  “In that case, come with me.”

  Although her immediate concern was her husband, Grace didn’t forget her original reason for showing up at the accident scene, either. “I have another son. Kyle. He’s ten and has red hair just like these two. Have you seen him?”

  “Was he in the car with your husband?”

  “No. He was with me. When we came outside to see what was going on, he took off on his own.” She swallowed hard. “He must be around here somewhere.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” the officer said. He accompanied Grace and her two youngest to the ambulance where their husband and father was being treated, then excused himself and went back to work.

  Although the EMTs had Dylan’s head, shoulders and legs strapped to a gurney he managed to reach out to Grace the moment he spied her.

  Teary-eyed, she held Brandon aside and bent over her husband’s prone figure. “What happened?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Dylan said softly. He crooked a finger to bring her closer. “Call the emergency number for the marshal’s office. Tell them what happened and make sure they understand that the brakes failed.”

  “They what?”

  She watched him grit his teeth as a medic probed his ribs with a gloved hand.

  “When I tried to stop for a red light there were no brakes,” he explained. “None. The pedal went clear to the floor.”

  “They worked fine when I drove it Saturday.”

  Dylan’s eyes narrowed. He took her hand and squeezed before he said, “Exactly. But the garage wasn’t locked this morning like it was supposed to be. Make that call.”

  It was then that Grace realized she had left the house without her purse. “What happened to your cell after the accident? I can use it instead of going all the way home
for mine.”

  “It’s in my shirt pocket.”

  She patted him gently and frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

  “It was. I know I picked it up.”

  “Maybe it fell out during the crash,” Grace said. “I’ll go look as soon as I’m sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. This ambulance ride is just a precaution.”

  “But...you said you didn’t want to have any medical records.”

  “That can’t be helped this time.”

  She gently cradled his cheek while an EMT took his blood pressure again.

  “We have doctor’s orders to transport,” the medic said. “You’ll need to step back, ma’am.”

  “No! I want to go with him.”

  “We can’t take children aboard,” he countered. “We’re headed for Memorial Hospital. You can join your husband there.”

  How? Grace wondered, feeling lost and at her wit’s end. I have no transportation and my eldest child is still missing. I’m not leaving here without Kyle.

  Watching Dylan being loaded into the back of the ambulance was tearing her apart, breaking her heart. She blinked away her tears until the doors closed and Dylan could no longer see her. Then she brushed them away before reaching for Beth’s hand.

  The girl resisted. “Where’s Daddy going?”

  “To the hospital.”

  By this time the children were both sniffling. That was almost enough to make Grace break down, too. If it had not been for her annoyance and worry about Kyle she might have given her sorrow free rein.

  Thinking that Dylan’s missing phone might still be in the van she headed in that direction. A tow truck driver was beginning to winch the damaged vehicle aboard his flatbed truck.

  “Wait,” she shouted. “I need to look for something inside before you haul it off.”

  Although the driver did stop the power winch and glance at her, he was not agreeable. “No can do, lady. The cops said nobody is to touch it until they’re through.” He eyed the two children. “I did catch a kid who looked like those two messing around it.”