by Dan Walsh
Patrick lifted his head up through the opening. “I think that’s it. Can I see?”
Ezra looked around. Couldn’t see no harm. “I suppose it’s okay to come out now. Let me unbutton my coat.” He did, and Patrick slid down his legs like a pole.
As soon as he stood up, Patrick said excitedly, “I think this is it. Right around that corner, that’s where Mrs. Fortini lives.”
The road hadn’t been plowed and didn’t look like any cars had come through since the snowfall. “Let me carry you across the street, unless you want to follow behind me.”
“I’ll follow in your footsteps. I can do that.”
Ezra made his way through the snow, eyes looking all about. They made it to the corner; you could only turn right. The sidewalk running the other side of Chestnut looked like it had a path cut through the snow. “Let’s cross this street and walk on the other side,” Ezra said.
Patrick followed behind him. “I think it’s just up ahead, a few more houses.”
Ezra froze. “Hold up, son. Uh-oh, this ain’t good.”
Just up ahead, about four houses down, two big white policemen stepped out from a driveway onto the same sidewalk. Nowhere for Ezra to go. They each took turns looking his way, then started talking, like he didn’t matter. Then the first one stopped and looked back at him.
Now he was staring.
Patrick came out from behind his legs. “What’s wrong, Mr. Jeffries?”
“Hey, you!” one of them yelled. “Stop right there. Hey . . . there’s a boy. He’s got a boy, a white boy.”
“I gotta git, Patrick.” Ezra turned and started to run back toward the cemetery.
“What’s wrong?” Patrick yelled. He turned and followed Ezra. “Where we going?”
Still running, Ezra yelled over his shoulder, “Don’t follow me, Patrick. You go back now, to your Italian lady’s place.”
“Stop . . . now! Stop or we’ll shoot.”
“Don’t shoot, you idiot. You might hit the boy.”
Ezra turned to see the cops gaining on him, but he didn’t see any gun. But Patrick had stopped too. In no time, one of the two cops was on him. He looked so scared. Now they had Patrick, would they still shoot him? He kept running, but his legs were feelin’ so heavy and tired.
“Are you Patrick?” the first cop asked. “I got the boy, go after the kidnapper.”
“I ain’t no kidnapper,” Ezra yelled, still running. “I’s trying to help the boy.” He reached the intersection and looked back just in time to see the fist of the second policeman rise up to meet his face. He collapsed to the ground, and in a flash, the cop was on him. He hit him in the face once more, then spun him over and wrenched his hands behind his back.
“No!” Patrick yelled. “Don’t hit him. Mr. Jeffries!”
“Something’s going on outside,” Katherine said.
“What is it?” asked Collins.
“I don’t know,” she said as she ran to the window. “The two officers by the driveway are gone. They were yelling something, and now they’re gone.”
Mrs. Fortini came in from the kitchen. “What? Did they find him?”
“I don’t know, but I’m putting on my coat.”
Collins didn’t answer, just put on his coat.
“Oh, Lord. Let it be him,” said Mrs. Fortini.
Katherine was out the door, still buttoning her coat, Collins just a few steps behind her.
“Leave him alone!” Patrick yelled.
The policeman who’d punched Ezra now had him handcuffed and yanked him to his feet by his coat collar. His left eye was already starting to swell.
“I’m tellin’ ya, I ain’t hurt the boy. I’m the one found him lost in the snow.”
“Shut up,” the cop said.
The cop holding onto Patrick said, “No, Jack. Let him talk. What do you mean you’re the one who found him?”
“I found him . . . in the middle of the storm. Nobody else around to help, so I brought him home. We took care of him, fed him, and now that the snow let up, I brung him home. That’s all.”
The cop with Patrick said, “Stay here, son, just a minute. Jack, come here.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Patrick said. “He’s the one who saved me.”
“Okay, kid. Hold on.”
The two policemen met in the middle of the street, Patrick and Ezra on opposite sidewalks. “Jack, you hear this kid, right? We bring in this black guy, the story gets out that he saved Patrick, and there goes our reward. You follow?”
Jack nodded. “We gotta let him go.”
“And we gotta do it quick. Let me do the talking.”
Jack walked over to Ezra. “Okay, maybe we had this wrong, maybe not.” He undid his handcuffs. “I’m not gonna arrest you on one condition. You turn around, right now, and go back the way you came.”
“You gonna let me go?”
“If you go now.”
“Can I say good-bye?”
“No. Go now. Or I take you in.”
“Tell Patrick something for me?”
“What?”
“Just tell him Mr. Jeffries says Merry Christmas.” Ezra turned and started walking toward the cemetery.
A woman yelled, “Patrick!”
Patrick looked. “Miss Townsend!”
Thirty-Eight
Katherine couldn’t believe her eyes. There he was, safe and well. She ran as fast as she dared on the snowy walk, then scooped him up in her arms and hugged him with all her might. Patrick ran just as hard from the opposite direction. The force of their embrace sent them tumbling into the snow. They lay there, covered in snow, laughing, hugging, and crying.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said. “We’ve been so worried.”
“I was trying to find you, but I got lost in the snow.”
They got up and brushed the snow off their faces. Katherine was kneeling so she could see Patrick at eye level, gently resting her hands on his shoulders. “I thought I lost you for good.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had such a terrible night, and I couldn’t stay there anymore. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t find a telephone.”
“Oh, Patrick . . .” Tears started running down her cheeks. She realized she couldn’t love this little boy any more than if he was her own. She grabbed him and hugged him again.
“Did you hear about my dad?” he said. “They’ve lost him too.”
Katherine pulled back and looked him in the face. “I know, Patrick. I said I would get him back to you as soon as I could. I’m so sorry.” She was crying now, but from a different place.
Now he hugged her. “Don’t cry, Miss Townsend. It’s not your fault. God knows where my daddy is.”
Katherine shook her head, trying to get hold of herself. Here Patrick was, after all he’d been through, trying to comfort her.
He gently pulled back from the hug. “Have you met Mr. Jeffries? The man who rescued me?”
“No, where is he?” By this time the two policemen were standing nearby on the same side of the street. Katherine didn’t see anyone besides them.
Patrick leaned close to her ear and said, “He’s a colored man. He was right here, but the policeman hit him and sent him away. They thought he had done something bad.”
At that Katherine stood right up. “Okay, boys. Where is he?”
“Where is who?” one of them said.
“The man who really rescued Patrick. He says it was a colored man.”
“There was some guy here a minute ago, but he’s gone. Look, lady, we’ve had men out searching for this boy nonstop for two days. What are you trying to do here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She turned to Patrick. “Is this Mr. Jeffries the one who really brought you home?”
Patrick nodded. “He carried me almost the whole way. And his wife fed me, and his two boys played with me. They were all very nice.”
“I think I see what’s going on here, gentlemen. And I’m not going to let you get a
way with it. Which way did he go?”
The policemen looked away, not willing to help.
“Well, I guess it’s obvious. He didn’t run past me. Patrick, you know where he lives? Think you could find his place?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, you stay right here. He couldn’t have gone far. You two, watch him. I’ll be right back.”
“Hey, lady, c’mon now. Don’t do this.”
Katherine didn’t answer or look back. She retraced the steps already made in the snow along the sidewalk, then across the street till she came to the corner. She turned left at Bartram and picked up another set of footsteps in the snow. Just up ahead, about six houses down, a lone figure walked, shoulders hunched over. He wore a brown overcoat and a knit cap. “Excuse me,” she yelled. “Mr. Jeffries?”
The man didn’t stop or turn around.
“Please stop. Are you Mr. Jeffries?” she called out. Still he didn’t stop. “The man who saved Patrick?” He slowed his steps but didn’t stop. “Please, Mr. Jeffries. Please stop. I’m sorry for the way those cops treated you, but his family wants to thank you . . . properly. Patrick wants to thank you too, and at least say good-bye.”
At that, he stopped and slowly turned around. In a few moments, she caught up to him. The poor thing, his left eye was swollen shut, and his lip on the right side was split and bleeding. Can you imagine, she thought. To save a little boy’s life, take care of him, then go out of your way to bring him home, and this is the thanks you get. “I can’t believe what they did to you. I’m so very sorry.”
“The cops said they’d arrest me if I didn’t leave right away.”
“They’ll do no such thing. I’m the lady Patrick was trying to call the night he got lost. I work for Child Services.”
“You Miss Townsend?”
“Yes,” she said, holding out her hand. “But you can call me Katherine.”
He looked at it a moment, then shook it. “I’m Ezra, Ezra Jeffries. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Please call me Katherine.” She started walking back toward Chestnut Street, glad to see him join her. “Patrick’s grandfather’s been worried sick. We’d like to invite you in and hear the whole story.”
Ezra stopped. “Ma’am . . . Katherine. I promised Patrick I would get him back to his Italian lady friend. He say the whole reason he left ’cause of how mean his grandfather treat him.”
“I know all about that. He was awful, and I don’t blame Patrick a bit for wanting to leave. But this thing has changed him somehow. The only thing he seems to want now in life is a chance to make things right with Patrick.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” They had reached the corner. She looked over, glad to see Patrick still standing there next to the two policemen. Next to the men a squad car had just pulled up. She recognized the police captain sitting inside. One of the men walked over and started talking to him, pointing their way as he spoke.
Ezra Jeffries looked very nervous as he surveyed the scene. “You should know, Ezra, you are entitled to a substantial reward for rescuing Patrick.”
He looked startled. “A reward? For helping this boy?”
“I think that’s the real reason the police sent you away. You just stick with me, and I’ll walk you through this. They won’t try to hurt you with me here.”
As he stood by the edge of his driveway, taking in the scene down the street, Ian Collins could not stop the tears streaming down his cheeks, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout Patrick’s name out loud.
But he did none of these things.
It was Miss Townsend whom Patrick wanted to see, and she was the one, by rights, he should see right now. He stepped back a few feet, just behind a fir tree. Patrick was alive, safe and back home, and that’s all that mattered. God had given him a second chance to make things right for Shawn, and Ida, and poor Elizabeth. He was determined not to let anything ruin it.
Miss Townsend would have him back at the house in a few minutes, so he turned around to get things ready. He met Mrs. Fortini halfway, and they hugged. “He looks good. I’m sure he’ll want to see you,” he said.
“He’ll want to see you too, Ian. All you need to do is say you’re sorry.”
“I plan to, but I want to do it right. Will you bring him inside? I want everything to be just right.”
“All right.” She hurried down the driveway and turned in Patrick’s direction. “Patrick,” she yelled. “You’re home.”
Collins closed the front door and surveyed the scene. He straightened a few things, here and there, but he mostly wanted Patrick to see the wooden soldier. Mrs. Fortini had made a big red bow for it, so he pressed it again to make sure it stuck well to the base. Then he plugged in the Christmas tree lights. He walked over to the radio and turned up the volume. He walked to the coffee table so that it stood between him and the front door, and waited.
He could not recall ever feeling so nervous about anything in all his life.
They were all walking back to the house now. Patrick was holding onto Mrs. Fortini’s hand, just behind them Katherine and Ezra Jeffries. Behind them were the two policemen. The captain had showed up and was driving his car slowly beside them.
The captain had tried to draw Katherine into a debate about who had a right to the reward, pointing out all he and his men had done, as well as the firemen who’d volunteered. She’d interrupted him and simply said, “That’s all a matter for Mr. Collins to decide.”
Mrs. Fortini looked down at Patrick and said, “I want to prepare you for something, for seeing your grandfather again.”
“Can’t I stay with you, Mrs. Fortini? Or Miss Townsend?” He turned to look at her. “You said you’d come get me if I ever needed you. I don’t want to go back there.”
“I know, I did say that,” Katherine said. “And we can talk about that later. But something’s happened to your grandfather since you left the other night. He’s changed. He’s been as worried about you as we were. I think he’s really sorry.”
He didn’t reply.
“And he has a very nice surprise waiting for you at his house,” Katherine added.
“He does?”
Katherine nodded. “So is it okay if we visit him first? And if you want after that, you can come home with me, or go to Mrs. Fortini’s.”
“I guess so.”
They turned into the driveway past the fir tree and walked up the steps into the vestibule. “Mr. Collins, may we come in?” Mrs. Fortini yelled through the door.
“You have Patrick with you?”
“Yes, we do,” said Katherine. “We told him you have a surprise.” She looked down at Patrick. His face was all lit up and smiling. It dawned on Katherine that he was already prepared to forgive this mean old man, even now, before a single word was said.
“Okay, then come in.”
Thirty-Nine
The door opened.
Across the room, Collins’s eyes instantly locked on the face of his grandson. Tears falling once again. He didn’t know what to do, what to say.
Patrick was already smiling, and when their eyes met, he smiled even more. For a moment, neither one moved. He looked down at the wooden soldier, and his eyes got big and wide. “Grandpa, you finished him!” he shouted.
“I did,” said Collins. “Merry Christmas.”
“For me? He’s for me?”
Collins couldn’t speak. He could only nod. He held out his arms.
Patrick ran right past the wooden soldier and jumped straight into them. “Thank you, Grandpa, thank you, thank you.”
They hugged a few moments more, then Collins gently pulled Patrick back. “Patrick,” he said, “can you please forgive a mean old fool? I’ve treated you so badly, and you didn’t deserve it, not any of it. I am so sorry. So very sorry.”
Patrick hugged him tightly and held him a moment as he cried, then said, “That’s all right, Grandpa. I forgive you.”
/> Katherine and Mrs. Fortini had been watching from the doorway, and now walked the rest of the way into the living room, followed by Ezra Jeffries. “Mr. Collins,” Katherine said, wiping her own tears away. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She guided Ezra to the forefront. “This is Mr. Ezra Jeffries, the man who found Patrick the other night in the middle of the storm. He brought him home to his family, took care of him, then brought him home a few minutes ago.”
Just then the two policemen walked in, followed by their captain, in time to hear all this. “Mr. Collins,” the captain said, “my men and I have something to say about this.”
Ian Collins wiped his eyes with a hankie then looked at Ezra. “Mr. Jeffries, what happened to you?”
“Uh . . . there was a misunderstanding,” the captain interrupted. “They thought he was a kidnapper. But about the reward—”
“Please, Captain,” said Collins, holding up his hand. “I’m grateful for all you and your men have done, but right now, I want to hear what my grandson has to say. Patrick, would you come here? Please tell us what happened after you . . . after you left the other night, right up until Mr. Jeffries brought you home just now.”
Patrick looked around the room. “Don’t worry, Patrick,” Katherine said. “You’re not in any trouble. No one’s in trouble. We just want to hear all about your adventure.”
He started slowly, but over the next few minutes Patrick told the whole story.
When he was through, Collins walked right up to Ezra Jeffries and held out his hand. “Sir,” he said, “I owe you a debt I could never properly repay. But I offered a word five thousand dollar reward to whoever found Patrick and brought him safely home. I believe, Mr. Jeffries, that money is rightfully yours.”
Ezra looked as if he might faint dead away at the news. He was speechless.
“Captain, c’mon now,” one of the policemen said.
“Mr. Collins, let’s be reasonable here.”
Collins held his hand up again. “I’m not through, Captain. You and your men have also sacrificed your time, your safety, even most of your Christmas holiday to search for my grandson. And for that I am also grateful. So, I’ve decided to give you an additional five thousand dollars to divide among yourselves however you choose.”