My Heart Can't Tell You No

by M. K. Heffner

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Tom asked as he grabbed her arm.

  “Where do you think?!”

  “I think you’re staying right here. You’ve got this baby to think about now. We’ll go out and find him,” Joe told her

  “I can’t just sit here!” Maddie insisted.

  “You will!” Joe felt a tightness spread throughout his chest as he looked at her, a helplessness that tore him down, a fear that had his pulse racing until he felt as if he were going to explode. If he ever doubted his love for that boy, his and Maddie’s oldest son, those doubts were slaughtered by the fears swarming through him. His mind was racing. Where could a kid that age want to go so badly he’d try to battle this weather? The reason he took off was clear to Joe—a thoughtless stunt, done in retaliation against their marriage. He pulled on his gloves and started for the door again.

  “Where are you going?” Tom took a few steps toward him.

  “Where’s Robby?” Joe asked.

  “Up with Mom and Dad.” Tom started closing buttons on his coat. “Wait—I’ll come with you.”

  “There’s no time to wait. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

  “Lew,” Maddie’s voice was choked as she looked over at Joe. “He’s been talking about visiting Lew’s grave.”

  “Well, that’s somewhere to start anyway,” Joe said.

  “Here—take these with you. You’ll need as much protection as you can get.” Maddie gave her scarf and hat to him, then hugged him briefly before releasing him so he could try to find their child.

  “Maddie, does he know where the cemetery is?” Joe held onto her arms.

  “No, not really. He asks and I only tell him it’s in that direction.” She pointed in the opposite direction of the Baker house. “That’s all he knows—unless he remembers seeing the cemetery when we’d pass it on the highway. But I really don’t know if he made the connection.”

  “That means he could have gone any of three ways. The path down here, the road and on up the blacktop, or else that dirt road down by the stop sign.” He looked over at Tom. “Can you drive my truck over the dirt road?”

  “Yeah.” Tom was already on his way to the door, taking the keys Joe offered him.

  “Then let me drive up the black top,” Maddie beseeched Joe.

  “If you don’t see him I want you back here in the house. Do you hear me? I don’t want to be out there worrying about you as well as Jackie,” Joe warned her.

  “I will.”

  “Then I’ll get started up the path. Before you leave, call John and tell him to drive down this road in the other direction, then back over the other highway. Just in case he didn’t head toward the cemetery.”

  “I will,” Maddie called back to him as he started out the door.

  “Joe!” Tom called from the opened window of the truck. “He took the dog and his backpack. They weren’t up at the house after we found out he was missing.”

  “Maddie!” Joe called over his shoulder.

  “I heard—it’s a blue backpack. He’s probably wearing his blue snowsuit too,” she called back as she started for the telephone to call John.

  Joe made his way down the driveway, the ashes and cinders providing even less traction for his feet than they had for his tires. At the end of the driveway, he only had to walk two or three yards to get to the path he had been talking about. It had been the main road that snaked its way through the ravine for about one hundred yards before connecting the blacktop with the rest of the road that traveled past the Bakers’ and his homes. It had been discarded twenty-five years before when the highway department had built a straighter section of road in its place. There were only small patches of macadam left beneath the nearly six inches of snow on the ground, and, by the feel of it, about half an inch of ice. The stones protruding where the macadam had washed away gave him some traction. As he hurried down the road, the steady decline into the wooded valley gave him some protection from the wind, a protection he knew would last for another mile of his journey before he encountered a large clearing where a local gun club had built a man-made pond. God, he thought as his steps gained speed, he had to pray that the boy wouldn’t try to cross that pond. Even if it was frozen over, he might step on a soft spot, and the pond was more than thirty feet deep.

  As Joe came to the bend in the old section of road, he started up a single-lane path, a road used so many years ago he couldn’t remember just who had used it or why. It was so deep in the valley that he could hear the wind roaring through the treetops high above his head. The cries of the trees bending to the wind’s will almost seemed to scream in protest. He was no more than ten yards up the slow but steady incline of the decayed road when he spotted the first break in the otherwise untouched snow-drifted sea of whiteness. It was a large indentation, and, as he moved his eyes up the hillside, he could see that something, or someone, had fallen down that last part of the hill and slid onto the level road. A closer look revealed the same footsteps that had angled from the back of Maddie’s house. So, Jackie’s sense of direction was keener than Joe thought. He hadn’t wanted to chance being seen going down the driveway, so he had angled his way through the woods until he came to this road. Joe’s eyes moved back to where Jackie had fallen, seeing the slowly vanishing footsteps that headed up the path toward the gun club. Well, at least he knew he was headed in the right direction. He prayed he’d make it to the boy in time.

  Joe was nearly halfway up the path to the clearing when he saw the huge ditch that the gun club had dug across its width to discourage bikers. There, in the middle of the ditch that ran fifteen feet wide and six feet deep was the backpack Tom had told him to look for. Joe’s hands were shaking almost out of control as he grabbed the pack and tried to open it—he nearly threw it down in frustration before the clasp finally opened to his stiff fingers. Inside he found two pairs of socks, a sweatshirt, sweat pants and another pair of gloves. He closed it, then slinging one strap over his shoulder, he started on his way again. His whole body was shaking from the cold, the tenseness in his back had it aching long ago, and he couldn’t help wondering how his son had managed to make it this far without turning back. His thoughts didn’t help. Considering that Jackie had fallen twice, he would be covered with snow, his own body heat would melt it, but the freezing air would turn it to ice. It was entirely possible the boy’s body temperature had fallen to the point that he wasn’t feeling the coldness at all.

  Joe pushed himself on, his ears past stinging under the hood and hat, his nose numb beneath his scarf. How many trees had he climbed over, their dead trunks having fallen across the path in windstorms past? Two? Three? Seven? Ten? He almost trudged past the scrap of wool, but, at the last moment, his eyes caught a glimpse of its blueness, making him swoop down and pick it up. A snow-covered glove—damn! Didn’t he have the sense to keep his hands covered? If he didn’t find Jackie soon, and, if it wasn’t too late already, Jackie might lose those exposed fingers for such thoughtlessness!

  Another fifty yards and he encountered a small ray of hope. Instead of taking the narrow trail that led directly to the deep end of the pond, the boy had stayed on the wider path. Perhaps he had bypassed the pond altogether. Ten yards farther, and, as Joe push himself through overgrown brush and small trees, he came to the clearing. The only signs of footsteps now were small indentations receding before the wind wiped them away completely. Joe glanced at the darkening sky—only an hour and a half before complete darkness, and he was staring at a blank chalkboard. His fingers and toes were numb now as his eyes scanned the landscape, finally seeing the barn-like structure a hundred yards from where he stood. It was vacant most of the time, used once a month for the gun club meetings then a few weeks here and there during the fall and winter. Dear God—please let the boy have the sense to seek refuge in that building.

  He moved quickly to the double doors, finding the padlock that secured it in place, but as his fingers slid between the doors, he saw that a boy of Jackie�
�s size could have squeezed through at the bottom. A surge of hope flowed through him, warming him, giving him the extra strength he needed to yank one of the doors again and again until the latch finally gave way.

  Joe walked slowly through the empty storerooms, now protecting only the picnic tables the club used during the summer. He inspected every nook and cranny of the dim first floor, his despair growing as his search yielded no clues. He was about to go outside when he stopped at the stairs in the middle of the building. They were covered at the top by a large trap door and he doubted Jackie would have had the strength to lift it. He started up the stairs anyway. He couldn’t leave any stones unturned.

  Surprisingly, the heavy door lifted easily, exposing living quarters that were well kept. It looked as if the club used one side of the building for cooking and dining, and the other side for its sleeping and living quarters. He closed the trapdoor; then, after a quick glance toward the open kitchen and dining area that he found empty, he turned down a hall with three opened doors. Each room contained cots with their mattresses rolled up and tied; but otherwise the rooms were empty. His hopes faded as he returned to the trapdoor. He looked down a shorter hall that went past the rows of bedrooms to a large space that the club probably used for meetings. His first sight in the large room was a brick fireplace about five feet wide, its base hidden by a long couch that stretched in front of it. His eyes traveled to both sides of the room, its emptiness weighing on him heavily. He slowly turned back for the hall, his head throbbing with disappointment, when he noticed a piece of cloth trailing on the floor from one end of the couch. He whirled around again, his long strides carrying him to the other side of the couch where he found a shivering boy huddled inside a blanket as he watched small flames licking at a newspaper in the fireplace.

  “Jackie!” Joe’s hands tore the scarf from his face and the hood and hat from his head as he moved toward the boy sitting on the floor.

  Jackie’s eyes saw his father, fear flashing through them as he scrambled across the floor, dropping the puppy that was shivering violently. “No! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean to make his dog sick! It followed me! I didn’t know it until I was in the woods! I didn’t mean it!”

  Joe stopped in his tracks, staring at the boy with astonishment. “Jackie, what are you talking about?”

  “The dog! His dog! I didn’t know it followed me! Honest! I didn’t! I tried to keep it warm! I stuck it in my coat! I didn’t mean to make it sick!”

  Joe glanced down at the dog, now standing on the floor, staring at them in confusion. He knelt next to it and picked it up; other than its shivering, it seemed fine. It wasn’t even wet.

  “What do you mean—his dog?” Joe asked.

  “Robby’s! I know you got it for him—but—it just followed me!”

  “Jackie, I got it for both of you. I told you that the night I brought it home.”

  “No you didn’t! Robby asked if it was for him and you said yes.”

  “Well, I did get it for him. Just like I got it for you. It’s for both of you. And it’s not sick—just cold. It’ll be all right after we get it home. You probably saved its life by sticking it in your coat, probably saved your own life as well. Your hands, Jackie, did you stick your hands in your coat too, after you took off your gloves?”

  “They were wet.” His eyes were still frightened. “I’ll buy new ones—I’ll take money out of my bank.”

  “Let me see your hands.” Joe came toward him, but he stopped when the boy backed up against the wall.

  “Why?” He shoved them behind himself. “What are you going to do to them?!”

  “I’m not going to do anything to them. I only want to look at them.” He knelt next to him and waited for him to show his hands, but the boy only stared at him. “Well? Can I look at them?”

  “They’re all right. They’re warm.”

  “May I look anyway?”

  “No, you’ll get mad.” He tried to squirm away from him, but Joe’s hand caught his arm. “Leave me alone!! I was gonna put them back after I got home!!”

  Joe couldn’t have been more shocked by the boy’s tears. What the hell did he think he was going to do? Kill him?

  “Jackie, would you sit still? You’re gonna get a splinter in your butt if ya keep squirming around the floor like that.” His hand moved down the boy’s arm, meeting his reluctant hand. “It’s warm. How’d you manage that?”

  Jackie looked up at him a moment through his tears, then quickly reached into his pocket and slung a pair of gloves at him. “I wasn’t going to keep them. I only wanted to use them.”

  A smile touched Joe’s eyes as he looked down at the triple-layered gloves. God, he hadn’t worn them in years, but then he hadn’t gone out hunting in such weather in years either. He picked them up, looking at the thick thermal interior, the wool center, and the suede exterior.

  “Well, now that I know your hands are all right, and your face seems okay, do you have any objections to my checking your feet?” The uncertain expression that came to the boy’s eyes brought another smile to Joe. “You used my thermal socks too?” Jackie nodded hesitantly. “Are they wet? I saw you took a spill or two on the way here. You might have got snow up your pant legs.”

  “They’re not wet.” He wiped at his nose, making Joe grab his hand and pull it away.

  “No—don’t.” He tore a small piece of cloth from the tattered blanket the boy had found. “Use this. I want you to take off your boots and thermal socks. Take off your coat and snow pants too.”

  “Why?” Jackie blew his nose and wiped his eyes.

  “You’re going to put on more socks and that sweat suit. Then you can replace your clothes, including the socks and gloves, and we’ll get you home. Your mom’s out of her head with worry.” Joe got the extra clothes from the boy’s backpack. “How come you brought these? Were you planning on changing somewhere?”

  “It was in case I got too cold. But I couldn’t keep hold of it while holding the pup and covering my face at the same time.” He stood up and began removing his coat and snow pants with shivering hands as Joe unlaced his stiff boot laces.

  “Here. Now pull your foot out—easy. There. Now the socks.” Joe removed the thermal socks before looking at Jackie’s cold toes and feet that looked like his own. Poor kid—that means size eleven eventually. As Jackie stripped of his snow pants, Joe pulled out the extra socks then fitted them on the boy’s feet and the thermal socks over them. “Here—put these on. Where did you find the newspaper you burned? And how did you light it?”

  “It was just lying there, but I couldn’t find any more. There was a lighter under the couch.” Over his jeans, Jackie pulled on the sweat pants Joe handed him, then the snow pants, then the boots.

  “Okay—now the gloves,” he said, but when the boy hesitated he looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking about these gloves, ya know. Come on—stick your hand in—I want to get home. I’m cold.” Jackie pushed a hand inside. “I think they’re too small for my hands now. It looks like you’re going to have hands about my size someday, so until then—do you want them?”

  “Me? You’re giving them to me?”

  “There isn’t anyone else in this building I don’t know about, is there?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Okay, now your coat. Put these on too.” Joe pulled Maddie’s hat down over the boy’s ears and wrapped the scarf around his face, then pulled up his hood, tying it securely. Picking up the discarded blanket and taking out his pocketknife, Joe cut a strip from it six inches wide, then a larger piece about two square feet. He took the other pair of socks from the backpack and cut a large hole in the toe, then four smaller holes along the sole. He picked up the shivering puppy and shoved it inside the sock, pulling its legs through the smaller holes and its head through the larger one, then after nesting the larger piece of blanket in the backpack, he settled the puppy inside with it. “Here, you carry it. It’s your dog.”

  “I will,” Jackie said flatly as
Joe adjusted the backpack on the boy’s shoulders then started for the trapdoor with the smaller strip of blanket. “Why did you put this over my nose?”

  “The scarf?” Joe held up the door and watched Jackie go downstairs, pulling it closed as he followed. “Frostbite. Your ears and nose are just as—if not more—susceptible than fingers and toes. Well—you ready?”

  “For what? Are you going to punish me now?” Jackie stopped at the large double doors and watched as Joe wrapped the strip of blanket around his face like a scarf.

  “No, I wasn’t planning on it. Do you plan on trying to walk to Lew’s grave again?”

  “No.” Jackie shifted his glance to the ground.

  “Do you understand this little escapade was very dangerous? We’ll be lucky to get home without getting frostbite. If you had fallen and really hurt yourself and hadn’t got to this building when you did—you could have died in this cold.”

  “Yeah. I won’t go out in it again.”

  “Then I’ll take you at your word. Now, let’s get home where we can get some warm blankets around us and some warm soup in us.” Joe went through the doors into a gust of wind that chilled his bones, telling him the temperature had dropped another five or ten degrees since he had entered the building. The dimming sky told him that if they didn’t get home soon, it would be completely dark and another ten degrees colder. “Let’s go. That pup needs a warm bed as bad as we do.”

  “I’m coming,” Jackie answered, but when he stepped into the wind he turned away.

  “Here!” Joe called above the wind as he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and pulled him close until they were side by side and Joe’s body was blocking most of the wind from his son. “Walk on this side of me until we get into the trees!”

  Joe strode as fast as he could without making them breathe harder. He kept his hand on his son’s shoulder. He had to keep the boy moving, even though he knew the thought of the trek ahead of them probably seemed impossible to the child. As they reached the path, the wall of the hillside gave some shelter, but Joe’s face was stinging terribly. The idea of Maddie’s house was the only thing that kept him going, knowing each step was bringing him closer. The path was downhill—thank God. It made the trudging through the snow easier and faster. Joe helped Jackie over the fallen tree trunks, and, when they finally came to the ditch, he lifted him and carried him on the precarious path that got them down one side and over the other.