“We’ve already coordinated a search area with the local guys,” Tom told her. “Don’t worry,” he repeated Merit’s words. “We’ll find him. You can ride with me.”
Rosy relief peered over the horizon of Amalia’s distress. “Thanks, Tom,” she said. “Bunty is just a little boy. He can speak quite a lot of English, but he’s so young. He’s probably afraid…terrified…all alone….” Her voice caught.
Marianne squeezed her waist. Amalia laid her head on her friend’s shoulder and bit her lip.
“We’ll find him, ma’am.” All of Tom’s friends echoed the captain’s sentiment.
SEVENTEEN
Merit went in a search party with two of Tom’s buddies. Armed with cell phones and flashlights, they called into every below-ground window-well, every alley, scaring up only a couple of drunks and a lot of cats. No little boy. Merit shuddered to think of the child alone. When the victory call crackled over his phone, he’d rushed back in time to witness the transfer from a uniformed shoulder to Amalia. Some help he had been, an hour in the wrong direction and a prayer short.
He arrived at the intersection in time to shake Tom’s hand and stand back, watching Amalia and Bunty’s reunion. If anyone would make a good mother, it would be Amalia. Angelic joy glowed on her face as she held fast to the little boy who sobbed in her arms. He stood outside the circle, as weary as if he’d spent a long night tending a patient. He had not been surprised at the adoration Bunty cast on Amalia, or the news that the boy had set out to find her when he thought the move meant he would never see her again.
What would Merit give to be included in that little circle of love?
At last Amalia saw him standing there, waiting. She beckoned, and he went, pulled in by the shine of tears in her eyes.
“We found him.”
Merit touched Bunty’s head, the closest he could allow himself to get to Amalia for now. If he reached for her, he might never let go. “Yes. You did. I’m so relieved. How are you doing? Are you feeling all right?”
And to Bunty he said, “Hey, little guy. You gave us a scare. What happened?”
His mouthful of Nehrangesi came out garbled, all but impossible to comprehend.
“Slow down, fella. Tell me again.”
Amalia began to tremble, so he took Bunty from her. The child seemed to have forgotten all but a few of the English words he had worked so hard to learn. Merit interpreted for him, words of love and fear and thankfulness and shyness at all the people who’d come to help.
The tired troop returned to the Ripe Harvest building where gradually the story came out between yawns and eye-rubbing, big smiles and earnest frowns.
Merit shook his head in combined shock and incredulity at the resourcefulness of the little boy. Bunty had walked over three miles by the time it got dark that afternoon. He hid in dark window wells when he found a rare one that hadn’t been covered with a grate.
“Why did you do that, Bunty? Run away?” Amalia asked him.
“I find you, Maleeya.” He then lapsed back into Nehrangesi.
Merit interpreted. “He heard that they were moving to a new place closer to you,” Merit told Amalia. “He thought he could find you.”
Amalia frowned in confusion. “But not that much closer, sweetheart.”
“He didn’t realize that.” Merit stared at Amalia’s sweet, worried expression as she stroked the little guy’s arms and head. Bunty yawned. Marianne and Tom hovered.
Marianne stooped low. “How about we get you to bed, Bunty? You can see Amalia later.”
Through his protests, Marianne explained Ripe Harvest would keep him and his cousin tonight.
“Can I stay, too?” Amalia asked.
Merit thought it a good idea, but before he could say anything, Tom’s urgent pinch of his shoulder tugged him away. “What, Tom? You don’t have to hang around anymore if you want to get going. Man, how can we thank you? You and the guys?”
Tom scrunched his mouth, managing a sheepish look. “Look, buddy. All this…tonight. Makes me think. You know, about people who’ve been lost?”
Merit studied at his brother-in-law, curious about the nature of Tom’s confession. “Tom, are you sure this is the right time and place?”
Tom hung his head. “Probably not. But a guy’s gotta come clean sometime, right?” Tom slapped him on the shoulder. “If you can spare a day, why don’t you go see Pru? I put a folder in the safe deposit box at the bank for her to look at. And for you, too, I guess. While I finish up at the convention, here, I think you guys should read it. Then…well, who knows? Just don’t be too mad at me, okay?”
Merit watched him take two steps away, then mumble over his shoulder. “I tried, man. I really did.”
“You did good tonight, Tom,” Merit called to his retreating figure.
Tom merely waved.
Merit checked his watch. Not even midnight. Could he do it? He made the mental calculations while he watched Amalia talk to the building director. Six hours, at least to Missouri. He’d have to drive all night. Tom would go home on Sunday. Merit wanted to find out what his brother-in-law had been up to. If he got to Pru’s early enough—Friday morning—he could grab a couple of hours of sleep, hit the bank with his sister, look at the file, then go pick up Amalia and be back home on Saturday night. The sermon could use a few more tweaks, but he could pull it off during the drive time. God made a good captive audience in the passenger seat. Or did he have it the other way around?
He decided to go. Amalia needed an extra day with Bunty, he could see that. He talked to her one more time, quietly, outside of the room where she would sleep next to the one with Bunty.
“I want to stay with you, but Tom told me something tonight…something to do with Justice, I think. I need to go see my sister. You’re okay if I take off and come back to get you Saturday?”
“I understand, Mer—Pastor.” At her white-faced nod, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms.
Merit winced. Feeling as he did about Amalia put him in an awkward position as her pastor, even though he wanted to be much more.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said. “You helped a lot with Bunty.”
“Marianne could have done the same.”
She shook her head. “Not the same—not exactly. I’ll see you Saturday? You’re sure you’re not too tired to drive more?”
“I’ll be fine.” He leaned forward to brush his lips across her cheek, and tried not to feel hurt when she turned away immediately after, went into the room, and shut the door.
Merit steadied himself with a deep breath and went to find a large cup of coffee before he got on the freeway.
He arrived, gritty-eyed, in Pru and Tom’s driveway as white shafts of sunlight began to light up his rearview mirror. Pru left the key to the back garage door in its usual place. He scribbled a quick note for her on the kitchen counter, alerting her to his presence, then sacked out on the sofa in the den, hoping the kids wouldn’t find him first.
Some time later, Merit rolled over and landed with a thump on the floor. “Ouch.”
He heard running footsteps. “What on earth?”
Merit pulled himself upright with a grimace and a hand to his aching backside. “Just me, waking up. Good morning.” He squinted at the light coming through the slats of the blinds. “What time is it?”
“About eleven. Ready for coffee? Or tea?”
Merit ran his fingers through his hair and tugged his shirt straight. He followed Pru, grousing, “I thought I said to wake me by ten.”
“Yeah, well, I got held up, okay? Besides, I heard when you came in, so I figured another hour wouldn’t hurt. Tom called, too. Said you and I were supposed to look in the safe deposit box. I couldn’t decide if I felt nervous, afraid, or mad. So I sent the kids off to school, then did some paperwork.” She held up a long, narrow sheet of paper. “Even made a grocery list. Now, tell me what you know. Am I going to be scared, upset, or shocked? I have to know how to dress for the occasion
.”
Pru’s sardonic side went into overdrive to cover nerves. Merit forgave her. “I don’t know, either. Tom said something about coming to a realization about people who are lost.”
Pru groaned. “Okay, go shower and change, or something. Be quick. We have to do this soon, so we can get home before the kids.”
Merit hugged his sister. “It’ll be all right, Pru.”
“Just like Tom to pull something like this.”
* * *
At the bank, the vice president herself led Merit and Pru into one of the empty conference rooms for privacy. “We’ll let you go in here instead of remaining in the vault. No one will disturb you.” She inserted her key into the box and waited for Pru to produce the other one.
“Thank you,” Merit told her and shut the door. Pru already had the narrow box open.
“Pictures…Merit, who?” Merit watched her paw into the pile of letters and documents, feeling almost as nervous as she acted. He took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer for peace and grace at what he and Prudence were about to discover.
The first items to slide from the thick envelope were photographs. Puzzled, Merit flipped through several photographs of a dark-haired girl in various stages of growth. The latest picture had been dated about two months earlier. The young girl looked maybe a year older than Tricia.
Pru held up a paper. “This is a copy of a birth certificate.”
Merit reached to point. “Look. The last name is Campbell.” Click. All the clues fell into place. He’d never believed Tom would hurt Justice, but still, the thought had eddied like a drop of filthy acid rain. The fact loomed. Tom had covered up for the boy. Why, why, why? They were family. Didn’t Tom trust them? Why didn’t Justice?
Pru’s gasp came in a rush of tears. “So it’s not…”
“No. It’s not Tom’s child.”
“Who’s Mary Bloedel?”
Merit shifted so he could see the photograph. The girl’s dark hair and eyes might have been familiar. Did he recognize her? Pru’s voice brought Merit back.
“This is a death certificate.”
A vague memory swirled in Merit’s subconscious. “Maybe you don’t recall, Pru. I think he went with a girl called Mary in high school. We met her, once…oh, no.”
Pru’s hand shook. Merit took the document from her and examined it. Nothing else could shock him after learning of Tom’s betrayal. “What happened? How did she…child birth? Not here, in the States….” Merit heaved a huge sigh. “What else is there?”
Prudence held up another photo. “This little girl, here, is Justice’s daughter. Our niece.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
Merit watched impassively while she scanned the remaining papers. Questions and half-formed threats warred inside. Should I stay and wait for Tom or go back to Fox Falls? Make him tell us where Justice is? They wouldn’t be able to find a substitute in time for Sunday. Amalia could take the bus or call a friend.
“There’s no address, or anything. But here’s bank account information. Merit, why did Tom hide this from us? How could he? I don’t believe it. And…and Justice. I don’t understand.”
Merit went to Pru and held her against his shoulder. “Apparently he must have been more…upset…than we realized when we lost the others. You were married and expecting Tricia. I left for school. I suppose he felt abandoned.”
“He seemed fine living here with Tom and me.” Pru sniffed. “Tom loved him as if they were born brothers. You know Tom grew up feeling like we were his family since he didn’t get along with his mom. I don’t remember hearing about this…Mary. I think maybe I remember meeting her, but everything happened at once. The baby wore me out, we were still grieving for the folks. I should have paid better attention.”
Pru could not go on. He understood her hesitation to give into emotion in a public place. Or maybe she felt guilty, even though so many things were happening all at once and she assumed she’d had all the bases covered. Marianne had said the same thing about Bunty. It didn’t matter if she turned her attention away for a moment or a month. It only takes a flash of time to lose someone.
“The real question is,” Merit said, “why didn’t Tom say anything? He had no right to withhold that information.”
Pru sniffed. “You know Tom—”
“Apparently we don’t. Didn’t. Maybe never did. No brother I know would act like that. Pru, he might not have lied, but he let us down. He should have had the decency to tell us.”
Prudence pulled away from him. Her blue eyes turned steely. “That’s not fair. He’s my husband, Merit, and I won’t have you speak like that. He did what he thought best. And…and there’s a little girl out there who’s family, too. There aren’t enough of us left to fight. Tom will explain everything.” She stuffed papers back into the box. “It’s time to go.”
Merit reeled. Prudence had never spoken so harshly in all her life. She could speak her mind, but always in kindness with a purpose. He followed her to the door. “Hey, I’m sorry. You’re right. Um, wait. Can I take you to a late lunch?”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry. I have to go home.”
Merit got in the passenger side of the minivan silently, gripping the dashboard every time his sister squealed around a corner. They made it back five minutes before the bus.
Lawrence chattered about his spelling words and playground games nonstop while Pru got a snack ready. Tricia looked from her mother to Merit and back again.
“Why are you so mad, Mom? When’s Dad coming home?”
“He said he would be home on Sunday, sweetheart. And what makes you think I’m mad?”
“Your eyebrows are all scrunched.”
Merit stepped in. “There’s nothing wrong, Tricia. We found out some news today, and we’re not sure what to do.”
“Daddy says we should pray when we don’t know what to do,” Lawrence piped up. “God knows us better than us, and we’re too stupid to ask him for advice. Most of the time.”
“Don’t say ‘stupid.’” Pru’s voice sounded sharp.
“Daddy says ‘stupid’ all the time.”
Pru turned away. “Lawrence, drink your milk. Merit, you’re staying tonight, aren’t you?”
“Sure. I can get an early start in the morning, I guess.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday.” Lawrence hopped off his chair. “I want you to stay and come to my soccer game.”
“I wish I could, buddy, but I have to go do my job back in Fox Falls. Tell you what, when I have a vacation, I’ll come and watch you, I promise.”
That answer seemed to satisfy Merit’s young nephew.
“Do you two have homework?” Prudence asked. “You should get to it now, before supper.”
Merit grinned at their chorused, glum “Okays.”
“I’m going to call Tom.” Pru’s inner outrage surfaced again.
“Maybe you should wait, Pru. Wait until you can talk to him face-to-face. You know how hard it is to listen when you’re angry.”
“When I’m angry?”
“So, you’re not?”
Pru slammed some ground beef in a skillet and viciously twisted the burner knob. “Of course I am. And of course you’re right.” She sighed. “This is so hard.”
“I know.”
“We’ve waited this long, what’s another few days?”
“Tom wanted us to know now,” Merit said. “He had his reasons. Which I hope he’ll explain.”
“Yeah, from a safe distance. There isn’t any way you can be here for that revelation, is there?”
Merit shook his head. “Not on Sunday.”
“There goes weekends for the rest of our lives.” Pru reached for the onions hung on a hook in the pantry. She returned to the counter and took a big knife from a drawer and applied it with wicked zeal to the poor onion.
“It’s a good thing there are several other days in the week.”
Pru looked up at him, her eyes stream
ing from chopping onions. She laughed. “I really am a grouch. Boo.”
Merit laughed, too.
“I am so proud of you, you know,” Pru said, snuffling.
“Thanks. I had good role models. I’m proud of my big sister, you know. You’re an amazing woman.”
She sniffed again and scraped the onions into the sizzling pan. After washing her hands, she picked up the lid to the pot. “Speaking of amazing women…what’s going on with you and Amalia?”
Merit shook his head. “My turn to be a grouch. Nothing. I don’t know what to do.”
“She’s not marrying the funeral guy, is she?”
“She said no. But that doesn’t mean anything since she told him yes when he begged her before. After yesterday, I realize that she definitely deserves better than me, someone perfect for her.”
“You can’t be the perfect husband?” Pru shook her head. “You of all people should remember only one perfect person lived on earth. No one deserves anything without the grace of God.” She held up the cover of the pot like a stop sign. “I know, I’m biased, but I happen to think you’re a pretty good guy.”
“But I—”
“You remember what Lawrence said?”
“We should pray when we don’t know what to do?”
Pru stirred the meat then replaced the lid. “Not to act stupid.”
* * *
Yeah, but how to start? Stupid is as stupid… It’s not as if she didn’t like him. She had even left a message on his phone saying she’d gone home on the bus, so don’t go out of the way to come pick her up in Chicago. He’d missed another chance to talk to her. The discussion could have turned funky, so he had been ashamedly relieved not to spend awkward hours in her company before he’d organized his thoughts. And his heart.
Merit looked out over his congregation during the closing hymn. He wasn’t completely certain he made all the points he’d wanted to in the message, but after the weekend he’d had, who could blame him?
At the start of the last chorus, he strode up the aisle to position himself at the door so he could shake hands. All the while he kept track of Amalia out of the corner of his eye. She lingered, picking up left-behind bulletins and straightening hymnals in the racks, until only Mr. and Mrs. Weaver were left, cleaning up after coffee.
The Last Detail Page 17