Jesse drew in a slow breath, and a sweet essence filled his nostrils. Somehow he knew in the center of his soul the minister’s words were true. God’s Spirit was here, right in their midst. His stiff shoulders relaxed, and a flood of peace flowed through him as Ernie continued.
“I ask You to endow Jesse with strength and wisdom as he seeks this missing boy. Guide him, Father, in this search and in every other aspect of his life. To You will be all praise and glory when Bud is found and returned to his mother’s arms. Amen.”
Mrs. Savage echoed, “Amen,” and Jesse repeated the closing, his voice breaking slightly with the utterance.
Ernie released Jesse’s hand and turned to his wife. “Lois, get out the church directory and start making calls. We need to get as many men as possible combing the area in and around Buffalo Creek.” She bustled off, and Ernie aimed his serious gaze at Jesse. “While I was praying, I received an image of a dark place, a place that left me feeling hemmed in. I don’t know what it means, whether it pertains to you or to Bud. I intend to spend more time in prayer seeking clarification. But I felt led to share it with you.”
Jesse took a hesitant step backward. “Visions only happened in Bible times.” But being in a dark place, hemmed in, closely described the way he felt whenever he allowed his thoughts to drift to his childhood and youth.
Ernie chuckled softly. “I’m glad you’re familiar enough with the Bible to know what is meant by a vision. I can’t honestly say that’s what I received, but I can tell you that when these images come to me in prayer, they hold meaning.” He put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “It isn’t meant to frighten you—God seeks to save and uplift, not destroy and discourage. So don’t go away filled with worry. Take heart. God is trying to speak to you, Jesse.”
Jesse moved away from the minister’s gentle touch, which seemed to hem him in as effectively as any dark place he could imagine. “Since you’re getting a search team organized, I’m going to lie down for an hour or two. Then I’ll set out in my truck again.” His throat tightened, and he spoke more to himself than the young preacher. “We’ve got to bring that boy home.”
Arthur
The black-and-orange sign Arthur had placed in his store window two days ago to draw people in on Halloween day—“Spooktacular Savings on Halloween!”—was, from all accounts, successful. Not once during the entire morning was the floor empty of shoppers, and sometimes more than one family was browsing at the same time. The best Saturday all month.
Leon grinned as widely as a carved jack-o’-lantern as he helped carry out a slightly damaged arts-and-crafts dining set to the new owner’s waiting wagon. Between trips he whispered excitedly, “Paddin’ your pockets good today, huh, Dad?” Even marked at half price, the set would bring a five-dollar profit. Previously Arthur would have beamed in reply and mentally counted the coins, but somehow the thrill eluded him. He couldn’t tear his mind away from Neva, from Bud, from the desire to protect them both.
Not that he thought Neva was a hothouse flower in need of cosseting. Perhaps the many months of caring for her family and the mercantile without a husband’s presence had built a strength in her that left her capable of functioning on her own. Arthur didn’t wish weakness upon her, yet he wanted her to need someone.
He wanted her to need him, because in the past weeks he had discovered within himself a deep need for a wife. But not just any wife.
A young couple with a crying baby entered the store. He doubted they’d stay long. He gave Leon a little push toward the couple. “See what they need. I’m going to the outhouse.”
He slipped out the back door and moved to the outhouse, but instead of going inside he leaned against its weathered gray siding and let the cool air flow over him. He whispered, “I want Neva. Not for her property. For her companionship.”
With a sigh he aimed his gaze at his emporium. The biggest business on the street, not counting the Oakes Hotel at the far end of Main Street. Such pride he’d always taken in keeping the lap siding painted bright white, his windows sparkling, his sidewalk swept, and the tile foyer with tiny blue squares spelling “FURNITURE” gleaming against a white background. Making the emporium the most successful business in Mitchell County was his biggest dream. And suddenly, inexplicably—even disappointingly—it all seemed so unimportant.
Arthur pushed off from the outhouse wall and returned to the store.
The couple with the baby were gone. Leon bounded over, his lips twisted into a disgusted scowl. “I showed them six lamps for less’n three dollars apiece, and they didn’t buy any of them. Said they were gonna get one from the Sears and Roebuck catalog.”
Arthur shrugged. “They’ll probably end up paying more than three dollars with the shipping costs, but it’s their choice. We can’t make people buy.”
Leon’s mouth dropped open.
Arthur ignored his son’s stunned response and crossed to the front door, bouncing his fist on the backs of sofas and chairs as he went. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to check on Leroy, make sure he’s following Mrs. Shilling’s instructions.”
Neva
By the end of the day, Neva was glad she had opened the store. The flow of customers kept her mind too busy to wallow in worry. Some visitors to the mercantile didn’t come to make purchases, but she appreciated their presence anyway.
Reverend Savage came in and prayed with her and Belle. Shortly after the preacher left, Mrs. Lafferty arrived and offered to take Charley, Cassie, and Adeline for the day. Charley refused to go, insisting he wanted to help in the mercantile since Bud wasn’t there, and Neva found the courage to meet his gaze when granting her permission.
Mrs. Hood and Mrs. Austin, whose husbands went out in search of Bud, brought in a basket of sandwiches and fruit at lunchtime and then minded the store so she, Belle, Charley, and Leroy could take a break and eat in peace. Even Arthur stopped in to make sure she was holding up. After spending the whole night hunting Bud without success, he had every reason to be grumpy, but his pleasant bearing and kind words warmed her.
Neva learned the true meaning of community on that Halloween Saturday in 1936, a day when her heart ached even more fiercely than it had the first raw days after Warren’s death. People could have been judgmental, could have questioned her parenting or criticized Bud. Instead they showered her with sympathetic understanding. Never would she forget the compassion of her friends and neighbors, and when Bud returned, she would sit down with him and pen notes of thanks to every person who had offered an act of kindness that day.
At six o’clock she locked the door and turned the sign to Closed, but she left the window shades up and the electric lights on. If Bud traipsed into town, he would find a warm glow welcoming him home. She, Belle, and Charley walked together to the Randalls’ house to retrieve Cassie and Adeline from the housekeeper’s care.
Leon answered their knock and led them to the dining room. To Neva’s shock, Arthur and the little girls sat together at the dining room table, drawing with Crayola crayons on large sheets of brown wrapping paper.
Arthur glanced up, and a smile broke over his face. “Well, hello. Is it quitting time?” He pulled his timepiece from the little pocket on his vest, checked its face, then nodded. “Sure enough. After six already.” He slid the gold disc back into his pocket and rose. “I hope you don’t mind. I sent Mrs. Lafferty home when I returned from work. She usually only stays until noon on Saturdays, so I hated to keep her much longer.”
He gestured to the paper and crayons. “Belle, Charley, come over here and help Cassie and Adeline finish their flower garden. Cassie tells me Charley is very good at drawing frogs, which every garden needs to keep the pests away. I’m sure Belle can add some beautiful roses or maybe some butterflies.”
The pair looked at her for permission.
Neva nodded. “Go ahead.” The two slipped into chairs and picked up crayons.
Arthur rounded the table and cupped Neva’s elbow. “Let’s go to the parlor. You
can tell me the latest developments on the search for Bud.”
“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid.” The worry she’d held at bay during her busy day tiptoed in and formed a knot in her throat. “One of the men said he found what appeared to be tufts of wool on some low-hanging branches at a windbreak northeast of town. I’d like to think they came from Bud’s jacket—it has a sheepskin collar and lining. But I’m afraid to get my hopes too high.”
He offered her the same chair she’d sat in yesterday evening, and then he seated himself on the sofa. Elbows on his knees, he fixed a serious look on her. “Would you like me to drive out and search more fervently?”
She smiled despite her deep heartache. Why had she allowed Warren’s opinion of their neighbor to form her judgment? Arthur Randall was a very caring man. “That isn’t necessary. Sheriff Caudel said he would drive out, snoop around, talk to farmers living near the windbreak. If Bud is somewhere in the area, I have to trust the sheriff will find him.”
Arthur gave the back of her hand one quick, impersonal pat and then sat up. “I’m sure you’re right.” He yawned behind his hand. “Oh, please forgive me, Neva. The lack of sleep is catching up with me.” He chuckled. “Leon and Leroy have already gone to their rooms. I won’t have to worry about them going out and performing Halloween pranks this year.”
She’d give anything to be worrying about Bud sneaking out to soap windows or turn trash bins on their sides. She rose. “I should go. The children haven’t had their supper yet, and—”
He stood quickly. “I fed the little girls.”
Embarrassment smote Neva. “Did they beg for food?”
“They didn’t have a chance. Mrs. Lafferty told me to give a portion of the brisket and steamed cabbage to them.” He shook his head, wonder lighting his eyes. “Mrs. Lafferty has worked as my housekeeper since the week after Mabel died—over six years now. And she’s spoken more in the past two weeks than in all those six years combined. Do you know why?”
Confused, Neva held out her hands in silent query.
“Because of Adeline. She adores the little girl.” He frowned, his expression pensive. “She never took to Leroy or Leon. Even when they were younger. Maybe they were too rambunctious for her. Or maybe it was my fault. I certainly never encouraged them to develop any kind of relationship with her.” He seemed to drift somewhere inside himself for a few seconds. Then he gave a little jerk and a smile brightened his countenance. “So thank you for letting Adeline spend the school hours with Mrs. Lafferty. It helps you, of course, but I think her presence has been a gift to the lonely older woman.”
A gift…She’d told Bud and Belle the younger children were a gift. Now Arthur said the same thing. Something in Neva’s chest pinched and held. Was it time for her to begin seeing them as her gift, too? “I really should take the children home. Belle and Charley need their supper, and I want to be there if Bud comes back.”
“When Bud comes back,” he corrected, his voice gentle yet firm. “What did Sheriff Caudel tell you? Keep your hope alive, Neva.”
She smiled. “I will. Thank you.”
He glanced out the front window. “Dusk has fallen. Let me get a flashlight and I’ll walk you all across the alley. It is Halloween, and I wouldn’t want any ghosts or goblins to carry you away.”
Now she laughed. Amazing she could find something amusing enough to warrant laughter, but somehow he’d coaxed it from her. Something flickered in his eyes—something she couldn’t define, but it chased any thought of laughing far away. She hurried to the dining room, calling for the children. They all needed to go home.
Jesse
Jesse knocked on the farmhouse door and waited. Between his fingers he held one of the bits of fluff Tim Austin had found caught in some brambles just west of the farm. For Mrs. Shilling’s sake, he hoped the farmer saw a boy wearing a jacket with a fuzzy sheepskin collar.
No one answered, so he knocked again, harder this time, and finally a voice hollered from inside. “All right, all right, don’t break the door down. I’m coming.” It swung open, and a grouchy-looking man wearing trousers and suspenders over grimy long johns glared at Jesse. “Who’re you?”
Jesse tapped his badge with one finger. “Sheriff Caudel from Buffalo Creek. Are you Silas Deering?”
“That’s me. Am I in some kinda trouble?”
“Can I come in?”
The man poked a button next to the doorjamb, and a bulb sputtered to life above their heads. He joined Jesse on the porch. “You out patrolling, looking for Halloween pranksters? They don’t usually come all the way out here. Enough places in town to keep them busy.”
“Actually, I’m looking for a runaway boy.” Jesse held out the puff of creamy wool. “One of the men from town found this in the windbreak at the edge of your property. We think it came from the boy’s jacket. Have you seen him?”
“A boy? Wearing a woolly jacket?” Deering scratched his cheek. His fingernails rasped on his thick whiskers. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Do you mind if I look around a little bit?”
Deering grabbed the rusty handle on the screen door and squeaked it open. “Meander all you want to. Just don’t wake my chickens.” He let the door slam shut and then the light went out.
Jesse released a short huff of laughter. There sure were some interesting characters in the world. He eased off the porch and, beneath the light of a round, bright moon, started around the corner of the house.
An automobile—the banker’s Bentley if Jesse’s tired eyes were seeing things correctly—bounced along the road, stirring dust in its wake. The driver hit the horn repeatedly. Jesse changed direction and trotted to the road. The vehicle pulled to a stop next to Jesse.
Samuel Griggs cranked down his window and reached out for Jesse’s sleeve. “Sheriff, we need you in town. Some blasted kids started a fire in a barrel behind the hotel. Matt Oakes caught them and has them corralled in the hotel’s washroom. He’s threatening to put their clothes through his wringer washer. With the kids still in them.”
Jesse considered telling Griggs to let the hotel owner do whatever he wanted to the mischief makers, but if the banker drove all the way out here to fetch him, he should probably go. He back-pedaled toward his truck. “Go back to town, Samuel, and see if you can convince Matt to wait until I get there.”
“I will. You better hurry. When Matt gets upset about something, he’s worse than a raging bull.” The Bentley’s tires screeched in protest with the banker’s three-point turn, and then the car chugged toward town.
Jesse sent one look across the Deerings’ property, torn between rescuing Matt—or, more accurately, the kids from Matt’s wrath—and looking for Bud. But as sheriff he owed more than one resident his attention. The search for Bud would have to wait.
Bud
A car horn’s nasally meep! meep! pulled Bud to wakefulness. He opened his eyes, cringing against the gritty feeling when his eyelids scraped over his eyeballs. Way above him velvety black and three wavering dots—stars—filled the little circle where, between long snatches of restless sleep, he’d watched the sky change color. It was night again. He could sneak out.
He stiffened his back muscles and tried to dig his fingers into the dirt walls. His hands didn’t respond. Confused, he tried again. Nothing happened. He couldn’t feel his hands. Or his arms. Not at all. Panic rolled through him. Had his arms fallen off while he slept?
He squinted through the darkness and made out the shape of his deathly white fingers draping above his head. Relieved, he let his head sag back and he closed his eyes. He still had arms. And hands. But for some reason they were useless.
Bud popped his eyes open and gritted his teeth. So he’d have to push himself out with his feet. When he was little, Ma teasingly said he was half monkey because he could walk his way up the wall all the way to the ceiling by bracing his feet on opposite sides of the narrow bedroom hallway. He hadn’t done his wall climbing for a long time, but he remembered how to
do it. He would monkey-climb out of this hole.
When he’d landed, his legs had ended up one on top of the other, with his right foot flat and his left toe pointing down. He’d wriggled enough earlier in the day to get his feet side by side, which relieved the deep pressure in his hips. He twisted again, hissing against the pain that shot across his lower back, working to plant his feet on the sides of the wall.
He struggled, squirming, grunting, willing his soles to catch hold. His body shifted, but instead of working his way up, he slid several inches down. He froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. How deep was this hole? Could he fall all the way to the center of the earth, where the teacher said a ball of red-hot lava always boiled?
A sob broke from his chest. He’d gotten stuck in things before. Under his bed, up in a tree, even on the roof of the barn one time. And every time Pop had rescued him. Bud choked out, “Pop…I need you, Pop. I need you.”
But Pop was dead. He couldn’t rescue Bud this time. He’d die down in this hole.
Even though the racking sobs hurt his back something fierce, Bud surrendered to the need to cry. Between bouts of helpless crying, he whispered Pop’s name, begging Pop to come, to pull him out, to help him. He wanted his pop so bad. And in the middle of his crying, he remembered what Ma had told him and Belle. “We’ll miss y-your father. But God will give us strength.”
Pop was dead and gone. He couldn’t help Bud anymore. But Reverend Savage and Bud’s Sunday school teacher and Ma said God was always there.
“God, help me. Oh, please, God, help me.” His weak cries gained strength, and even though speaking was like dragging nails across his dry throat, he called out at the top of his voice, “Help me! Help me!”
Eyes open and gaze fixed on the tiny patch of star-studded heavens, Bud petitioned the Father with his whole heart and the entire strength of his lungs. “Help! Help me! Help!”
Room for Hope Page 22