by Tricia Goyer
He pushed the door open, and saw that the place was empty. It was warm and lighted—a safe place to wait it out. In the back was a vending machine. He thought he’d get something to eat and catch a nap.
The place smelled like Grandma’s laundry room and the stacks of folded clothes he found on his bed every other day. With the scent and that memory, the longing for his own bed stirred, but he pushed that out of his mind.
No looking back. Only ahead. Only to the future …
Looking around for the safest out-of-the-way place to stretch out, Sam wandered to the back and dropped to the floor. Then, with a large yawn, he leaned against his bag and stuck one arm through the straps of his backpack for safety. Then he pulled his hat lower over his eyes, and with thoughts about tomorrow’s meeting filling his mind, he attempted to fall asleep.
“Hey, kid, whatya doing in here?” The sharp words woke Sam just seconds before he felt a firm kick to the bottom of his shoe.
He opened his eyes to find a tall, stocky man looking down on him. About ten feet away a side door opened to an office.
“This ain’t no homeless mission. Get outta here,” the man growled.
“But I’m not homeless …” It was the first thing that popped into his mind. Sam rubbed his eyes and stood, wondering how long he’d been asleep. “I just needed to warm up.”
“Got any place to sleep tonight?” the man asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“No, but—”
The man raised his hands and interrupted Sam’s words. “Like I said, I’m not Mother Teresa. If you ain’t got no place to go then you are homeless. So you need to take your bags and leave my property. I’ll give you thirty seconds.”
Sam eyed the older man, spotting hardness in his gaze, and knew he didn’t want to argue. Jumping to his feet, he hurried out the door into the cold night.
Maybe I can just walk around until morning. Keep my blood circulating. Keep myself warm. He walked a few more blocks, glancing at the street signs and attempting to remember his path. No matter how briskly he walked, he couldn’t get warm. By now his sneakers were wet, as were the bottom of his pants legs. His feet felt frozen solid and he thought about a movie he’d watched about a guy who’d got lost in the wilderness and whose frozen toes snapped off like dry twigs. The thought of it made Sam’s stomach hurt even more.
Resignation overcame him as Sam realized he needed a hotel room, and would have to use his emergency money. Make that Grandma’s grocery money.
He had contemplated for two days whether or not he could take it. He felt horrible stealing from his own flesh and blood, but he finally justified it by telling himself his grandma would want him to have emergency money—which now made no sense because if he thought about it he assumed her first choice would be that both he and the money had stayed put.
Up ahead, Sam spotted a dingy-looking hotel. It looked like it hadn’t been renovated for the last fifty years, but the price in the window encouraged him.
He entered the small lobby, noticing the man behind the counter was sleeping.
“Excuse me. I’d like a room.” His jaw was quivering from the cold.
“Cash only.” The man mumbled, hardly lifting his head.
“Sure, okay.” Sam lifted his backpack off his shoulder and noticed the front pocket where he’d stashed Grandma’s cash was unzipped—and empty. What happened? Where did it go? His stomach clenched in panic. With a dull, sick feeling, he realized he was broke except for the ten bucks he still had in his wallet.
Did the guy at the Laundromat take it? Did it fall out when I was walking? There was no way of knowing now.
“Uh, listen. Someone took my money. Could I just hang out here for a little bit? In the lobby—just for a few hours. I need to find my dad, see?”
“Cash only,” the man repeated, waving Sam away.
Sam had no choice but to trudge back into the cold. He retraced his steps, hoping that the cash would show up, but after a few blocks he knew it was pointless. Since he didn’t have a phone number for his dad, he couldn’t call him. Sam had no idea how to find his house in this huge town. He pictured calling his grandparents, but to do that would be to admit defeat. If he was old enough to run away, he was old enough to take care of himself.
He wasn’t doing a very good job though.
Not knowing what else to do, Sam crossed the street to a small park. Maybe there’s an open restroom or something. He veered toward a small building, and noticed it looked to be some type of maintenance shed. Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked! He turned the knob but it didn’t budge. Dear God, please. He tried again and this time the door moved. He pushed harder and it swung open.
Sam hurried inside. He flipped on the light just for a second to get his bearings. It had bags of salt for icy sidewalks, a few shovels, and a big machine he guessed was a snow blower. It wasn’t heated, but it was warmer than outside, and it protected him from the wind.
Knowing he had to get out of his wet clothes, Sam stripped down and then dressed in all the remaining clothes he brought, layer upon layer.
Then, with an extreme weariness coming over him, Sam curled up in a ball on the concrete floor. His stomach growled, and he couldn’t help but think of his warm bed and Grandma’s cooking. Heck, he knew even the hens slept more comfortably than he was tonight.
Tomorrow. Sam’s chin quivered. Tomorrow it will all be worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sunrise was about to break when the tinny song from the cell phone stirred Charlotte awake. Charlotte grabbed it from the nightstand, then she clicked the button to answer it, putting it to her ear.
“Hello?” she croaked, her voice scratchy from sleep.
“Hello? Mom? Hello, are you there?”
“Oh, Pete. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, are you okay? We tried to call you a few times last night but the call didn’t go through.”
“Yes, we’re fine. We had to stop last night because of the weather. But I think we’re getting close to Golden—”
“Hold on, Mom, before you fill me in, can you say hello to Emily real quick?”
“Sure. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, she’s okay. She just had a rough night. Here you go.”
“Grandma?” Emily’s voice quivered.
“Yes, Em. It’s us.”
“Did you find Sam yet?”
“No, not yet, but we’re getting close to Golden.”
“Okay.” Emily paused. “Are you and Grandpa okay?”
“We sure are. Do you want to talk to your grandfather?” Charlotte glanced at Bob and noticed him rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She also looked at the clock and noticed it was almost 7:00 AM, which meant she’d set the alarm clock wrong.
“No, it’s okay.” Emily’s voice was full of emotion. “Just call me when you find Sam, okay?”
“Sure, sweetheart. We will.”
“Mom?” It was Pete’s voice again. “I’m back.”
“Have you heard anything from Sam? Or has the deputy called you?”
“Deputy Johnson finally called back just a few minutes ago, which is the main reason why I called. I’m not sure what took so long, except there are all kinds of issues that the weather’s bringing up—power loss, people stuck in ditches. But, I wanted to tell you that Deputy Johnson notified the police in Golden. Of course, he doesn’t know how much they’ll be able to do. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” Pete sounded so together—so professional. And responsible too.
“Sounds like you’ve got things under control.” Charlotte rose and moved to the window. She pulled back the thick shades and was surprised to find the sun had come up. “Did Bill and Anna stay, after all?” she asked.
“No. They left right after you and Dad did. They didn’t seem too happy about it, but they called later to check on things. They said since they were free, they were going to an evening prayer meeting at the church, most likely to pray for their heathen brother, needy parents, an
d wayward nephew. I haven’t heard a peep out of them since.”
“Yes, well, we can all use prayer …” Charlotte said, trying to calm Pete’s frustration. “There’s nothing wrong with turning to God, especially during times like this. But maybe you’re right. After the episode the other day, I’m afraid they have their doubts.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t live here. They don’t see how things work. They don’t know the love and attention you and Dad pour into these kids.” He paused as if surprising himself with his words.
Charlotte placed a hand over her heart, not realizing how much she needed her son’s words. “Thanks, Pete. That makes me feel better. Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Okay, Mom, you do the same.”
Charlotte hung up and relayed the information to Bob, including what Pete said about Bill and Anna.
“They are just that way, Char.” He reached over and patted her hand. “You know Bill. There’s only one right way to do things—his.”
“Yeah, well, to tell you the truth, that sounds a little familiar,” Charlotte said with a smile. “But maybe they have a point. Maybe we should have considered letting the kids live with them. They’re younger. They’re more connected in the community. They live in a town, which might have been easier to adjust to.” Charlotte rose and pulled her fresh clothes from the suitcase.
“Do you really think that, or are you just letting your mouth rattle off?” Bob smiled. “If you think things have been tough around our place, could you imagine all the rules around Bill’s house? I’m certain I’ve never seen a speck of dust. The kids would have more chores than they have now.”
He laughed. “And can you imagine the clothes issue—Anna trying to dress Emily to match Madison and Jennifer? I love those little girls with all my heart, just like I love all my grandkids, but sometimes kids need to be kids, you know?”
Charlotte laughed, trying to imagine it too. She placed her clothes on the bed and then smoothed the covers, even though she knew the maids had to change the sheets. Even though it made no sense, Charlotte couldn’t leave the room with the bed unmade.
“Christopher would have really had a hard time,” she added as she walked to the bathroom. “Can you picture him bringing his ‘treasures’ home in Anna’s house? The sticks and pinecones and rocks? That kid has quite a collection.”
“Maybe Sam would have run away sooner.” Bob shrugged. “Maybe we should be commended that he lasted as long as he did. You know how from the beginning he’d threatened to head back to California.”
“Yes, you’re right.” She rubbed her eyes. “So I think we both agree that we’ve made the best choice for where the kids should be.”
Bob nodded. “Yes, I agree.”
Charlotte took her shower and dressed. Exiting the bathroom, she found Bob sitting on the bed, flipping through the channels. Hearing her exit, Bob turned to her. “You know what yesterday was?”
“No, what?” Charlotte ran her finger through her damp hair.
“The day I was supposed to take Sam to the snowmobile races.”
“Yes, you’re right …” She approached and sat next to Bob. She patted his hand and studied his face. His eyes were fixed on some cooking show on cable, but she could tell he wasn’t really watching it. Instead, she could see sadness on his face. “Maybe you’ll have another chance to go to the races after Sam comes home.”
“Yup. Maybe.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam woke up with a start and wondered where he was. Sunlight streamed through two high windows, and amazingly the chill he felt during the night was gone. He almost felt warm, and he pulled off his socks and checked his toes. They looked pink, and he wiggled them just to make sure.
His next thought was of his dad. Sam glanced at his watch and was surprised to see it was only 7:00 AM. It was the first time he’d been able to sleep late for months and still he got up early. If he was back in Bedford he’d be heading to school. But he wasn’t. When morning roll call was taken, his seat would be empty. It would be all too evident to everyone that he was gone. Soon, the other kids would know about him running away. Were they talking about him? Glad he was gone? Waiting for his safe return? Were his grandparents trying to find him?
“I don’t need to be saved,” he mumbled as he rose and stood. Then again … he looked around at the small space that just happened to be unlocked, and he realized that perhaps some of his grandparents’ prayers had already been answered.
Sam straightened his clothes the best he could, wishing he had a mirror and a razor. He hoped he could find a bathroom somewhere to brush his teeth and wash up before he hunted down his father’s address. It would be the first time his dad had seen him in ten years. He wanted to look decent.
Sam left the small building, looking around to make sure no one saw him. The park was mostly empty, and the street was too. Only one car passed by. More snow had fallen as he’d slept, and for the most part it looked undisturbed.
He found his way back to the road and noticed he wasn’t far from the bus station. All that walking, and I got back almost to where I started.
Beyond the bus station he noticed a fast-food joint. He hurried his pace, knowing that food—and a restroom—were close. His stomach growled as he walked through the door. First, he used the facilities, and then he scanned the menu. Pancakes. Grandma made them many mornings—including the day he left—and he couldn’t think of anything that sounded better.
He ordered them, and then sat at a table in the corner and took a big bite. “Ugh.” He nearly spit it out. “How do people eat this stuff?” he mumbled to himself. The pancakes tasted like Styrofoam. He realized how much things had changed since he’d started living on the farm. Like his taste in food. He remembered that this pancake breakfast used to be his favorite—a real treat when his mom could take him out. Not anymore.
He choked down the pancakes the best he could, then drank the small milk that also tasted like the carton, trying not to think of the fresh cow’s milk in Grandma’s fridge. He comforted himself with the thought that he would see his dad soon.
Sam realized he needed to find a map of the area. He walked down the sidewalk with his backpack slung over his shoulder and checked out the businesses he passed, hoping one of them had some type of visitor’s information booth. He thought about asking for directions from a cashier or something, but after all the “help” he got last night he didn’t know how much help store clerks would be.
“You looking for the youth center?” A woman paused in front of him. She had dark fuzzy hair that stuck out from under a colorful stocking cap; she was walking a large dog on a leash.
“Uh, no. Thanks. Just walking.” He kept moving forward, refusing to meet her gaze.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
This caused him to pause. Sam glanced back at her.
“I don’t know, but I think I will. I’m here looking for someone.” Sam scratched his head.
“Well, if you’re looking for the teen center, it’s right around the corner and down the street. I have some bunk beds in a back room. It’s warm and there’s food in the fridge.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again. The woman looked nice enough, but then again so did most mass murderers.
The woman nodded as if reading his mind. “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a stranger either. But if I’m guessing correctly you just left home recently but haven’t really found what you were looking for.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ll be okay, really.”
She shrugged. “Okay, but if you need a place—later. I’ve helped a lot of people.”
Sam turned, and then he thought of something. He turned back and wasn’t surprised that the woman was still standing there. Both she and her dog were looking at Sam with big, brown concerned eyes.
“Uh, I was wondering if you could give me directions. I’m looking for 437 Maple, apartment numbe
r nine.”
“Maple? Yeah, I know where that is. It’s on the other side of town—at least ten miles away. Is that where your friend lives?”
“Yup, my friend.”
“Well, I could give you a ride if you’d like. I was just going to get some breakfast. Maybe we should eat first. You hungry?”
Sam had eaten all the Styrofoam pancakes, but they didn’t come close to filling him up. “A little.”
“Okay, let me call my friend. We were supposed to meet for lunch but I’ll reschedule.”
Sam nodded and watched as the woman walked a few feet away and then made a call on her cell phone. He could hear her say something about finding a kid who needed help and would have to take a raincheck—as if this type of thing happened every day.
The dog moved to the end of his leash, toward Sam, and the woman released the leash. The dog approached Sam and sat at his feet.
“Hey, fella.” Sam leaned over and scratched the dog’s ear. “You’re a nice boy.” Sam felt a peace come over him, and he didn’t realize until then how much he’d hated being alone. And now this woman and her dog were going to help him. The woman ended her call and approached, grabbing the leash again.
“Okay, thanks for waiting. I’m Maggie, by the way.” She stretched out her gloved hand and he shook it. “We’re heading to that little café right across the street. It has the best food in town.”
Sam told her his name and followed her in while the dog waited outside.
“Hi, Maggie, can you believe winter’s not letting go?” The short, round waitress led them to a table by the window.
“It will have to soon. Winter doesn’t last forever.” Maggie chuckled.
Through the window of the small café, Sam could see a sign that read, “Howdy, Folks. Welcome to Golden.” He could also see Maggie’s dog sitting patiently outside the door. A few people walked up and down the streets, and Sam watched them, wondering if one of them could be his dad. He also questioned if he was doing the right thing. Wouldn’t it be easier to just head across town myself? I could see my dad now. What am I waiting for?