Now, as Morgan read the words on the back, she realized that, once again, Emily was probably right. This “boring-looking book” was the story of a thirteen-year-old girl who had hidden with her family in a small attic space to escape persecution from the Nazis during the war. Judging by the blurb, the evil Nazis probably wanted to kill this girl and her family.
Morgan opened the book to the middle, a little trick she’d learned back in grade school, and began to read. And what she read completely surprised her. She actually sat down on Emily’s bed and continued to read several pages, getting totally caught up in Anne’s story. This teenage girl described the sad conditions of living in a tiny attic with her relatives and not having enough food to eat and having to remain deathly quiet during the daytime. And yet this girl sounded so real and funny and smart. Morgan knew that she would have to read the whole book now, starting from the beginning. Then she and Emily could talk about it. That is if Emily got to come back.
Morgan was about to give up when she heard someone knocking. It sounded like the front door. It was probably Mom, home from work and coming to check on her. She’d probably seen the note Morgan had left on the kitchen table, saying she’d come over here to look around. Maybe Mom wanted to help. Or maybe Mom had some kind of news. Feeling suddenly hopeful, Morgan ran through the house to the front door and was just starting to unlock it when the knocking grew intense. It was more like banging than knocking. She paused with her hand frozen on the doorknob. And just then she heard a man’s voice shouting loudly.
“Let me in, Lisa! I know you’re in there!”
Morgan jerked her hand away from the doorknob, thankful that she had locked it behind her and that it was still locked. Then she stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. There, standing under the porch light, was a soggy and angry-faced man. He was swearing and beating on the door like he meant to break it down.
“I can hear you, Lisa!” He yelled. “I know you’re there. You better open this door right this minute, or I’m going to kick it in.”
With a pounding heart, Morgan slowly backed away from the door. Then she ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone receiver, immediately dialing her own number, but then wishing she’d called 9-1-1 instead. Too late, Grandma had answered. Her calm, soothing voice seemed out of place with the furious sound of banging and yelling from the direction of the front door.
“Grandma!” said Morgan urgently. “I’m at Emily’s house. Someone is trying to break in. Probably Emily’s dad. Call the police right now. I gotta go!”
Then she hung up the phone, dashed down the hallway, and went straight for Emily’s room because it felt the most familiar. But where could she hide? Knowing she couldn’t hide beneath the futon bed, she headed for the closet and went inside. She was just closing the door behind her when she heard a loud crash coming from the living room. Morgan shuddered. Emily’s dad had broken into the house! And right now, he was stomping through the living room!
Dear God, help me, she prayed silently.
chapter five
The rain finally let up, but it was pitch black out now, and Emily wished that Mom would drive a little slower. Still, she didn’t want to say anything, didn’t want to upset Mom any more than she already seemed to be. So Emily just prayed. She prayed and prayed and prayed. The car was silent, and Emily wondered if Kyle had actually fallen asleep. She wished she could fall asleep too. Maybe she would wake up and find out this had all been a bad dream. She also wished that she’d taken the time to use the restroom at McDonald’s.
“I need a bathroom break,” she finally said, interrupting the silence in the darkened car.
“I thought you went back at McDonald’s.”
“I can’t help it if I have to go again,” said Emily. “I think it was something in my cheeseburger.”
Mom made a tired sigh. “Well, I suppose I could get gas in the next town. Can you wait that long?”
“I guess so.”
“Or you can get out along the side of the road and —”
“No thanks,” said Emily. “I can wait.” Besides, she told herself, if Mom stopped at a gas station, there might be a pay phone she could use on her way to the bathroom.
But when they got to the next town, the bathrooms were off to the side and the pay phone was in obvious view of the car. There was no way Emily could use the phone without being seen by Mom. Unless …
“Don’t you guys need to use the restroom too?” Emily asked when she returned to the car.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” said Mom. “It’ll be at least three hours before we get to the motel. Kyle, maybe we should both use the facilities while we’re here.”
Then as they made their way to the restrooms, Emily made a fast break for the phone. But to her dismay, it was broken. The receiver was totally ripped off from the phone. “Why do people do things like this?” she said aloud as she walked back to the car.
“Hey, there’s a pay phone in the office too,” the gas guy called out to her.
“Thanks,” she said. She considered running inside to use the phone, but felt too worried that Mom would be coming back and catch her and get mad. “I’m okay,” she told him as she casually walked back to the car. What she really wanted to say was, “Help, I’m being held hostage by a crazy woman,” but she knew that wasn’t really true … or fair. She knew that most of all, Mom was just scared. And Emily also knew that Mom had good reason to be scared. If Dad did find them, he would take out most of his anger on Mom. And after that he’d take it out on Kyle. And, if he was mad enough, he might take the rest of it out on Emily.
The gas guy gave her a friendly nod and said, “Merry Christmas,” before he went back inside to the dry office. He probably just assumed her family was off on a happy road trip, on their way to visit family for the holidays. If only that was the case.
Mom and Kyle returned and piled into the car. Soon they were back on the road again — a twisting, curving, dark, wet road that seemed to lead to nowhere, or worse. Emily kept imagining that they would meet their dad at the end of their travels. He’d be waiting for them in his big blue Ford Explorer. He’d make them all get out of the car, probably making arrangements to have it picked up and towed home, and then he would drive them back to Idaho. More than ever, Emily trusted Morgan’s grandma’s advice. They would be much better off back in Boscoe Bay!
“I still think this is totally crazy,” Emily said to Mom.
“That’s because you’re a child.” Mom’s voice was getting more and more irritated sounding.
“I think it’s crazy too,” said Kyle.
“Well, lucky for you two, I’m the grown-up here, and I’m the one making the decisions for this family’s welfare.”
“But what about what Morgan’s grandma said …” Emily tried to remember exactly what she’d been told. “What would we do if Dad found us out on our own like this? We wouldn’t have any friends or anyone to call for help. We don’t even have a cell phone, Mom.”
“That’s right,” said Kyle. “And if Dad ever does find us, you know he’s going to be furious. Who knows what he might do?”
“That’s exactly why we are making ourselves scarce. My plan is to become invisible.”
“But how do you do that, Mom?” demanded Kyle.
“We’ll go someplace where he won’t find us. We’ll change our names.”
“But you said Dad wouldn’t find us when we came to Boscoe Bay,” persisted Kyle. “And you said by changing our names and living in such a small town, we would be safe.”
“That’s true,” said Emily. “You did tell us that.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I was wrong last time. But I won’t be wrong this time. This time we won’t just change our names, I’ll change my social security number as well. I have a feeling that’s what gave us away. And then we won’t go for a small town this time. That was a mistake. We’ll pick a large town. I think maybe somewhere in southern California … somewhere warm.”
�
�But we won’t have the kind of community that we had in Boscoe Bay,” said Emily, remembering Grandma’s points now. “We won’t have the kinds of friends and neighbors that can be a support system. In a big city, we’ll just be lost in the crowd.”
“Exactly,” said Mom. “That’s the plan — to be lost in the crowd.”
Emily sighed. Maybe that sounded like a good plan to Mom, but it sounded lousy to Emily. She would do anything to get Mom to turn this car around and go back home to Harbor View Mobile-Home Park. It was ironic too, because Emily remembered how she’d felt when they first moved there last spring. She thought the place looked pretty crummy. But then she and her friends had fixed it up. They had their clubhouse. And now it seemed more like home than ever.
“Why don’t you turn on the radio, Kyle?” Mom suggested. “It might help us to get our minds off of … other things.”
But the drone of music didn’t help Emily get her mind off of anything. All she could think was that they were making a big fat mistake. And the idea of Dad finding them out here with no one to stand up for them was truly frightening. Why couldn’t Mom see that?
Emily leaned back into the seat, pulling the plush tiger-striped pillow toward her face. Morgan had helped her to sew this pillow, as well as several others for her bedroom. Then Emily remembered how they’d fixed up their clubhouse in the school bus, sewing pillows and curtains and all sorts of cool things. Tears filled Emily’s eyes to think that she’d never get to go back to the clubhouse again. She would never go to another meeting, another party, or simply just a quiet escape to the bus. Worst of all, she would never see her friends again. Morgan, Carlie, Chelsea, and Amy were the best friends she’d ever had. And after a little more than six months, they were gone. It was so unfair.
She thought about the ski trip that she’d worked so hard to be able to go on, and how she’d actually gotten fairly good at snowboarding with Chelsea during Thanksgiving. And all for what?
Why are you doing this to me? she prayed silently. God, I need you more than ever right now, and it feels like my whole life is just falling apart. Can’t you do something? Can’t you help me? And, despite wanting to be brave like Anne Frank, the tears came pouring down. She pressed her face into the furry pillow to muffle the sound of her sobs. There seemed no point in upsetting Mom any more than she already was. Nothing was going to stop her from getting them far, far away. Life as Emily had known it was not only over and done with, it was out of control.
chapter six
Morgan hunkered down in the corner of Emily’s darkened closet, curled into a tight little ball with her hands wrapped around her head as if that might somehow protect her from the evil force that was now prowling — make that stomping — through Emily’s house. With what felt like a jackhammer pounding away in her chest, Morgan prayed desperately in silence. At least she hoped it was silent. Because what she really wanted to do right now was to yell and scream — and to cry out to God for help.
Morgan stared at the bright strip of light beneath the closed closet door. She wished she’d thought to turn off the overhead light in Emily’s room. Hopefully that wouldn’t lead the wild man directly to her hiding spot. But then she remembered that she’d left all the lights on throughout the house. Hopefully that would deter him for a while, long enough for Grandma to send help. And hopefully Grandma wouldn’t come over here herself. She was under strict doctor’s orders to remain at home, to remain calm. Suddenly Morgan was seriously worried about Grandma. And now she prayed for her. She prayed that Grandma would be sensible and not do anything to harm her health.
Then, for no explainable reason, she thought about what she’d read in that Anne Frank book just a few minutes ago. Somehow, it reminded her of how she felt right this very moment. Perhaps it was this hiding in a small space, the fear of being discovered. She felt helpless, almost less than human — like an animal being hunted. And, as silly as it seemed under her circumstances, she was more determined than ever that she would read that entire book — that is if she ever made it safely out of this closet. Dear God, please help me, she prayed urgently again. Send help soon!
“I know you’re here!” His voice grew louder, as if he was closer now. Morgan guessed that he was in the hallway, probably going through the bedrooms. Maybe searching in the closets. Morgan curled even tighter into her ball, as if she might actually be able to vanish into the wall that was next to her.
“You might as well come out, Lisa! I’ve come for the kids, and I intend to take them with me tonight.” Doors banged open and shut, and the crazy man kept yelling, stomping about, making threats, and using bad language. Morgan eased herself down onto her knees now as she tried to scoot more tightly into the corner, folding herself over into what was a praying position, which seemed entirely appropriate. She felt something spongy with her hand. She gently squeezed it, trying to determine what it was. Then she realized it was one of Emily’s flip-flops, a pair that Morgan had given her last spring. For a distraction from the monster who was still yelling and slamming things around, Morgan tried to recall what color the rubber flip-flops were. It seemed like they were baby blue. Almost the same color as Emily’s eyes or the summer sky. Morgan tried to imagine that exact color and happier times as the sound of Emily’s dad’s footsteps and yelling came closer and closer. She knew he was in Emily’s room now. And, clinging to the flip-flop, Morgan continued to pray in silence.
“Aha!” His voice softened a little now, as if he was trying to sound like a nice person. “I’ll bet that you’re the one who’s home, Emily. Where are you hiding, Baby Doll? Where’s Daddy’s little girl?” Morgan thought his voice sounded about as genuine as a three-dollar bill, and she felt sorrier than ever for poor Emily. What a beast of a dad!
“I know you’re here, Emily. I could hear you running through the house. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Morgan’s heart was pounding so hard now that she felt certain that half the neighborhood must be able to hear it. She flattened herself down even tighter against the floor and into the corner, wishing more than ever that she could simply disappear. But the footsteps were coming directly to the closet, and then the metal doors squeaked open.
“So there you are, Emily,” said the man. His voice grew stern again. “Why didn’t you answer when I called you? It’s time to quit playing games, little girl. I’m taking you all back with me. Come on, now, Emily. Don’t make me have to yank you by the —”
Without even knowing what hit her, Morgan stood up and turned to face this horrible man, looking him straight in the eyes. “I am not Emily.”
He sort of blinked, and then got a mean-looking smile. “No, you certainly are not. You’re the wrong color.” He swore. “It just figures Lisa would bring my kids to a trashy neighborhood like this.”
Morgan took in a deep breath and considered trying to bolt past this horrible man, although it looked hopeless. Perhaps this was a good time to let out a big, long scream.
“What are you doing in my wife’s house anyway?” He stepped closer. “Did you break in to steal something, you little —”
“Put your hands in the air!” yelled someone from behind Emily’s dad. “NOW!”
Emily’s dad slowly raised his hands above his head. And Morgan slowly released the breath that she had been holding, the one she was going to use to scream for help.
“Now turn around, nice and slow.” Morgan recognized the voice now. She peeked out to see Mr. Greeley with a metal baseball bat held high in the air like a weapon. The look on Mr. Greeley’s face was dead serious and a little bit frightening, although Morgan realized he was here to help her.
“Who the —”
“Never mind who I am,” yelled Mr. Greeley. “Just keep your hands in the air before I knock your stinking head off. Morgan, girl, you get down low. Get yourself back in the corner of that closet, just in case I need to start swinging this thing.”
Morgan did exactly as she was told. And this time she didn’t feel quite a
s frightened.
“Who do you think you are?” demanded Emily’s dad.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” growled Mr. Greeley.
Then Emily’s dad spoke in a somewhat calmer tone. “Look, Mister. I have a legal right to be here. This is my wife’s house. And I’ve come to take her and my kids back home with me. The law’s on my side.”
“We’ll see about that,” barked Mr. Greeley. “In the meantime, you keep your hands up high and you walk nice and slow into the living room.”
“But you can’t just come in here and —”
“And shut your trap!” yelled Mr. Greeley. “Before I start swinging this thing.”
“But you —”
“Move it!” snapped Greeley.
Morgan listened as their feet slowly walked down the hallway and away. Emily’s dad was still trying to reason with Mr. Greeley, his voice seemed to be growing calmer and more persuasive. Almost to the point where Morgan herself might believe him — if she hadn’t seen and heard what he was really like. She just hoped that Mr. Greeley wouldn’t fall for that evil man’s trickery. And she prayed that he’d keep that metal bat handy until the police arrived, which seemed like it should be happening any minute now. Morgan decided to count, hoping that by the time she reached sixty, the police would be here. But she had just said fourteen when she heard the sounds of sirens approaching their neighborhood. And before long she heard more voices and more footsteps. Still, Morgan was afraid to move. What if the police had to use their guns?
“You can come on out now, Morgan,” called Mr. Greeley’s voice.
Morgan slowly stood up, peering out of the closet to see Mr. Greeley standing there. But the baseball bat was gone. “Do the police have him now?” she asked warily.
Mr. Greeley nodded with a slight smile. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much with my tough-guy talk.”
Raising Faith Page 12