Leaving Sharpstone

by Marion Leavens

  "I know, but there will be others. You didn't get much sleep last night and you need to get up for school tomorrow."

  "Next time he plays is Friday. Can I stay to watch all of that game?"

  "I don't see why not."

  "O.K."

  They were almost to the gate when Kyle asked his mother to wait a minute. He ran back to his grandfather, threw his arms around his neck and said, "I love you, Grandpa. Tell Sam I'm sorry to miss the end of his game. 'Night, Scott." With that, he hurried back to his mother and brother and they walked on home.

  Danny was in his crib and asleep minutes after they arrived home. Kyle kneeled beside his bed with his mother to say his prayers, "Dear Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for Mom and Sam, Scott and Danny. And most of all, thank you for Grandpa, and for letting us live with him so I can play baseball. Bless my family, and Bandit and the coach. And look out for my Dad. In Jesus name, Amen."

  He hopped into bed and Emily tucked the covers around him and kissed his forehead. "Sleep well, little one. I love you."

  She turned out the light and went to the front of the house where she washed up the dishes, then turned on the radio and settled down contentedly with her latest quilt top.

  Emily was not the only one feeling good about life at that moment. Eric was humming contentedly as he stepped off the bus at the bus stop around the corner from Pete's house. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and smiled as he thought of how much he had enjoyed his flight. He had amused himself during the trip with tales to his fellow travelers about the mission to Africa on which he was embarking. He had done an amazing job of describing the mission where he would be stationed for the next four years and of the need that he would help to fulfill there. His description came directly from a film that had been shown about six months earlier at the church by some missionaries who were there raising funds to help support the mission where they would be returning when their speaking/fund raising tour was completed. He had left a group of fellow passengers at the airport amid wishes for a successful trip. One elderly lady even shook his hand and with a 'God bless you' slipped $50.00 into his hand. He clasped her hand in both his, "No, dear lady, God bless you. This money will do such good for the poor souls in Africa. The Lord is very pleased with your support of His work." He watched her walk away with a smile on his lips and a murmured, "Dumb broad."

  He spotted Pete’s house and pulled his hat down to partially conceal his face, while strolling by and continuing on around the block until he came to the entrance of the alleyway behind the house. He had seen only two people on his way around, one mowing his lawn and another sitting on the porch reading the paper and he was grateful to note that neither of the two men had paid any attention to him. He walked back to the corner and looked down the street toward the house. Everything on the street was still quiet. He returned to the alley and watched the back of the house for a minute. No sign of life at all. He strolled around the block once more, this time coming from the opposite direction. As he passed the house, he glanced causally at it and noted that all was quiet; the only sign of life was one light burning in the living room. "They must be watching TV,” he decided, “Man, are they ever in for the surprise of their lives."

  He checked his watch. The bus was due back at the corner in exactly four minutes. He had to act now. According to his calculations, he had just enough time to set the charge and get back to the bus-stop before the bus pulled up. Quickly, he walked up to the basement window, unzipped the backpack and removed three sticks of dynamite with the roll of fuse already connected. He sat it on the ledge of one of the basement windows and unrolled the fuse across the yard as he made his way back to the alley. He looked around again, and when he was assured that no one was watching, he bent down and lit the fuse. He had to hurry, for he had timed this whole thing perfectly and he had less than a minute to get out of the alley and get to the corner. He was in his seat and the bus had gone nearly two blocks when the explosion sounded.

  "Yes." He whispered, "That takes care of them."

  Emily was totally unaware of the danger at the back of the house although with afterthought she felt that she might have guessed that something was happening, for Bandit was acting very restless. He had begun whining and pacing back and forth across the room and she had just put down her sewing to get up and let him out when the explosion threw her forward out of her chair. Danny's scream filled the air and she rose to her feet unsteadily from the spot more than three feet in front of where she had been sitting and rushed toward the room were her boys had been sleeping just moments before. The china cabinet lay on its side in front of the bedroom door with broken dishes spewed out across the floor. She pushed it out of the way, struggled to get the door open and, through the air thick with dust, saw the overturned crib. Quickly she scooped up her son and scrambled back through the door, looking for more light to check the screaming child for injuries. Suddenly she stopped. With horror, she realized that there wasn't a sound coming from the other side of the room where her other son had lain peacefully in his bed just moments before. She looked back and in disbelief faced the gloom of late evening in the backyard and realized that a portion of the back wall had toppled onto the bed where the small boy had been sleeping.

  "No," she screamed, "Kyle, baby, are you all right." She picked her way back through the rubble, still holding Danny in her arms and once she was at the spot where she thought the bed should be, she tried with one hand to pull the debris off Kyle. She soon realized that her efforts were futile. She made her way back to the living room and grabbed the phone, realizing that she would need help if she were going to find her son under the pile of debris on the bed. In a state of panic, she stood; phone in hand, trying to think of whom she needed to call. She finally dialed the operator, and only then realized that the phone wasn't working. She was standing there, in shock, wondering what to do, when she heard someone pounding on the front door. Once she managed to get it open, the next-door neighbor, Fred Yateman burst in. "Is everyone all-right?"

  "Kyle." Emily gasped.

  "Where is he?"

  "In there," she pointed toward the open door. "He's buried under the wall."

  She laid the wailing baby on the couch and followed Fred into the destroyed room, fighting to keep hysteria out of her voice. "He was sleeping on the bed, under there."

  Fred's heart sank, as he looked at the pile of debris on the bed, then upwards to the ceiling that was hanging precariously over them. Regardless of the danger he began as quickly as possible to help his neighbor remove the bricks, boards and plaster, hoping that the emergency people his wife had called would get there soon. They had still not reached Kyle when they gratefully heard sirens approaching the house. He turned to Emily, "Go out there and show them where to come."

  Emily ran to the front of the house just as two policemen came through the open door. "Kyle is in there," she screamed, pointing toward the bedroom. Within minutes an ambulance and a fire engine were on the scene, followed in just moments by Pete, Sam and Scott. One of the ambulance attendants joined the frantic rescue efforts in the bedroom, while another examined Danny, who had a small cut on his shoulder, another on his leg and bruises over his body, including a large bruise and swelling on the side of his head. As he peered into the terrified eyes of the small child, he heard the shout, "We've got him." He handed the sobbing child to one of the firemen and joined his partner who was working feverishly on Kyle, trying desperately to get him breathing and stable enough to transfer to a waiting ambulance. A second had been called to transport Danny and Emily, who, also, had a number of cuts and scrapes. Fred approached Pete, "I'll drive you and the boys to the hospital."

  Outside they were faced with a crowd of neighbors and curious onlookers. The police were keeping the people back from the house and were in the process of putting emergency tape around the area to keep people away. The fire department were in the backyard doing a preliminary investigation as they tried to discover the cause of th
e blast. They would spend the night trying to insure the safety of the neighborhood by ensuring that there was no gas leak, etc., although they already thought that it looked like someone had set off some kind of explosion. In the morning when the sun was up, they would search every inch of the house and yard. Police were assigned to make sure that nothing was disturbed until the investigation could be completed.

  Eric was celebrating with a beer in 'the Corner Pocket' when the TV over the bar caught his attention with a news bulletin. "An explosion tonight has rocked the quiet of a peaceful neighborhood on Toronto's east side, destroying a home occupied by a 34 year old woman, her four children and her father. Two of the children, ages two and six, are in hospital tonight suffering injuries from the blast that shocked this usually quiet residential neighborhood. Hospital spokesman, Dr. Frederick Bowerman, at Sunnybrook Hospital where the children were

  taken, list the younger of the two as stable while his older brother is listed in very critical condition. Fire officials and police are investigating. Northern Gas reports that there are no gas leaks in the area and the house where the explosion occurred did not subscribe to gas. We have a reporter on route to the scene of the explosion and will keep you updated as news becomes available."

  "It can't be...Why were they...Ah...damn." Several heads turned toward him. With hands shaking, he raised the bottle to his lips. "I'd better be careful," he thought. "I could get in a lot of trouble over this. How was I supposed to know that she took the kids there? It's all that blasted woman’s fault. If she had kept them at home where they belonged this would never have happened." He got up and headed for the door. He knew he would find Emily at the hospital. Standing on the sidewalk, he realized the foolhardiness of this. No way could he go there. And he couldn't contact anyone for information. The best thing for him to do would be to go to the airport and get a flight back to Edmonton as soon as possible. Then he would just have to wait for someone to contact him. "What a nightmare."

  "I'm sorry, sir, the last flight to Edmonton left an hour and a half ago. There won't be another flight until 7:45 tomorrow morning."

  "You've got to be kidding. I've got to get to Edmonton tonight."

  "I'm sorry, sir, but there is nothing I can do about it. There are no flights until tomorrow."

  "What about Winnipeg? Could I get there tonight and then catch something from there going to Alberta in the morning?"

  "Sorry, sir. There is just nothing going that way tonight."

  "I can't believe this is happening."

  The girl smiled and shrugged. Eric glared at her but said nothing as he turned away and stalked across to a bench near the airport smoke shop and sat down. After just a couple of minutes he rose and began to pace back and forth, from the bench to the smoke shop and back again. Over and over again he covered the distance between bench and smoke shop, becoming more and more frustrated with every passing minute. He kicked the bench viciously, hurting his foot, then looked into the face of the young cashier in the smoke shop who was watching him out of curiosity as he vented his anger. His rage boiled over and he glared at the young girl and shouted, "I sure hope you’re enjoying the view, sweetheart." She turned away, an embarrassed blush burning her cheeks as he limped to the center of the bench and sat down.

  Chapter 21

  It didn't seem possible that so many machines could be attached to such a small body. Pete watched the respirator breathe for his grandson and shook his head in disbelief. How could this have happened? For the past few hours he had gone over and over in his mind everything that was in the basement and still he could think of nothing down there or at the back of the house that could have blown up. And he heated with oil, not gas, and oil didn’t explode. There was no rational answer for what had happened. The small body on the bed was motionless. He was still heavily sedated from the surgery he had undergone just hours earlier and except for what the machines were doing , there was no sign of life. This little grandson was unconscious and holding on to life by a mere thread. A resident doctor and a nurse were in the room, constantly measuring, checking and adjusting. Pete stayed back, out of their way, watching their efforts to keep Kyle alive. The grave determination on their faces was in some strange way reassuring.

  Pete prayed. He had stopped praying for a while after his wife's death but after a while the habit, for so many years a part of his existence, seemed to naturally return. His prayers for Angie had not been enough to keep her alive and yet now, reminiscent of those terrible days at his wife’s bedside, there was nothing else that he could do. He felt the frustration of needing to do something and having the power to do anything completely out of his hands. All he could do for his young grandson was to plead for his life.

  Danny had been admitted for observation although fortunately, there were no serious injuries. Aside from cuts and bruises, he was suffering primarily from a bad headache. "No,” he had sobbed as the emergency doctor attempted to remove his little hands from before his face and eyes, "Hurt." After some gentle coaxing he allowed the doctor to check his eyes, which were very light sensitive and causing him pain. There was no evidence of concussion but Dr. Jackson knew that if nothing else the child would have a severe headache as a result of the explosion and he had him admitted to the pediatrics floor, explaining to Emily that it was merely a precaution - he would be kept under observation. Now his mother sat by his bedside, caressing his little hand until he finally fell asleep. She lay her head against the metal rails of the bed and, for the first time since the explosion, let the tears flow. A nurse came into the room, and then slipped quietly out again. This mother, she knew, would benefit from a good cry and heaven knows, she deserved it. After a few minutes, Emily wiped her eyes, rose, and collected Sam and Scott from the playroom where they nervously waited with Helen and the four made their way back to the Intensive Care Unit.

  A tall, stocky, red headed policeman with kind eyes and a ruddy complexion stood when she came into the room. "Are you Mrs. Thompson?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “I’m Jim Walsh from the Toronto Police. I’m sorry to bother you. I know this is a bad time but I need to ask you a few questions."

  "Can I check on my son first?"

  "Sure, no hurry. Go ahead."

  A different doctor was busy in the room injecting medicine into the I.V. solution and when asked, explained to her that nothing had changed. Pete held out his arms to her and she gratefully walked into the comfort of them. They stood together for a moment, gaining strength and comfort from one another, until Emily remembered the policeman waiting for her in the waiting room. She pulled away from her father, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She returned to the waiting room.

  Jim Walsh had been a police officer for 18 years and during those years had seen enough tragedy to be convinced that he had seen it all. If there was any way to hurt a fellow human being, the after-effects had been paraded in front of him. He had first hand knowledge of the sordid side of life, and of the greed and the hate that simmered under the surface of city life. Yet, as he looked into the pain-filled face of the woman who had seated herself across from him, and thought of the two small boys who had been brought here just hours earlier, anger at the injustice of it stirred in him and he determined that if this explosion had been deliberately set, as it appeared it had, he would find the person responsible, no matter what was involved. He opened his notepad. "I'm sorry to have to ask you these questions at such a terrible time but we’re just trying to figure out what happened tonight and the sooner we get at it the better. Now, I want you to tell me exactly what you remember. Go back as far as you like and tell me everything - every little detail that you can think of, whether you think it might be important or not."

  Emily began with the ball game, then told of walking the boys home, putting them in bed, doing the dishes, and finally sitting in the living-room, working on her quilt."

  "Did you see anything out of the ordinary while you were walking home?"

  "
No. Why."

  "We're quite sure that this wasn't an accident. It appears that dynamite was used on the back of the house."

  "What? No, that's not possible."

  "Until we find out differently, we are assuming this was deliberate."

  "Who on earth would want to hurt us?"

  "That's what we are trying to determine. Now, please think carefully. Was there a car driving slower than it should have past the house or past you and the children when you were walking home? Or the same car passing by a couple of times? Someone carrying a gym bag, or a parcel? Someone you hadn't seen around before? Or someone who has been hanging around a lot the last few days? Anything at all different?"

  She thought for a couple of minutes, and then shook her head. "Nothing. The dog was restless for a few minutes before the explosion, just pacing back and forth and whining. I wish I had let him out. Maybe he would have chased whoever was out there away. But it never crossed my mind that we could be in any kind of danger."

  "Is there anyone you can think of who might have some grudge against you or your father."

  "No, of course not."

  "Have either of you had a problem with a neighbor, a boyfriend or with anyone who might be angry?"

  "No. This is crazy. I don’t have a boyfriend. Nobody would..." she hesitated, the color draining from her face for a second before she shook her head and said, "No, it's impossible."

  "You thought of something."

  "I recently left my husband," she glanced at Sam and Scott who were watching the questioning intently, "but there is no way he would hurt the children. I'm sure he wouldn't do that."

  "Tell me about him. His name, where he lives, and why you thought of him in connection with this."

  Quickly Emily sketched a scene of the life she and the boys had lived with her husband and explained about the separation. “I couldn’t live with him any longer. He was very violent and the last time he beat me, he broke my nose and a couple of ribs. I called my Dad and he came out to Alberta to get us. I haven’t heard from Eric or spoken to him since we left there.”