by Janette Oke
“I can’t believe Arthur Thompson would press charges. He loves those boys.”
“This is a federal offense, miss. The courts will prosecute regardless of Mr. Thompson’s wishes.”
Grace gasped. Her hand rose to cover her heart. “He’s only fourteen.”
“Yes, miss.”
“What can be done for him?” Lillian leaned forward in her seat. “I can call my family attorney, Mr. Wattley. He lives in town.”
“That would probably be wise, miss.”
Grace pressed, “May we see him? Please?”
“Not at this time. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back after ten.”
“Oh dear, is there anything else you can tell us? Is he hurt? Can you give him a message?”
He nodded. “I’m happy to take him a message. But please be assured that he hasn’t been hurt in any way. He’s safe and we’ll take care of his breakfast soon too.”
“Tell him . . . Oh, Lillian, what do we tell him?”
“Tell him we’re near and we’re going to do everything we can to get him out of here. And . . .” She looked fully at the Mountie across from her for the first time. “Please, Officer Hayes,” she implored him, “please tell him we love him. He needs to not lose hope that we’re doing everything we can.”
His face softened. “I’ll tell him. You can count on that.”
“Thank you.”
There was nothing to do but to rise and exit back into the cold night air.
“We’ve got to pray, Lillian. God will work this out for good.”
Lillian slogged along behind. For good? For good! What good can come of this? What on earth is Grace thinking? She prayed silently, Just get him out, please, God. If You don’t do anything else for me ever, please, please, save Lemuel. But she knew she had used the same bargaining chip for Mother, and it hadn’t helped. Oh, holy God, give me hope. Give me a reason to believe that You will make a difference. Once again I’m at a place where I don’t understand why this is happening, but give me the kind of hope in You like Grace has, where I believe first and understand afterward. I know You brought Lemuel to live with us. I do see that You were working in that. It can’t be just to lose him now.
CHAPTER 21
Kin
Grace and Lillian arrived back at the police station promptly at ten. This time they’d engaged the help of Mr. Wattley. However, now the main waiting area was crowded again with curious townsfolk. Mr. Wattley pushed through. They followed along behind him, hoping that no one would notice their presence.
“Miss Bennett, Miss Bennett.”
Lillian hated to linger long enough to discover who had called Grace. However, she was relieved to turn and see Mr. Thompson. He hurried over to them.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Bennett. It’s entirely out of my hands. The federal prosecutor has taken over, but I assure you I’m doing everything I can to help.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I know you are.”
“Please tell Lemuel for me, would you? Tell him I’m working to see he’s cleared.” There was a pathos on his face that broke Lillian’s heart. She knew he’d been gravely troubled for Lemuel’s sake.
“How is your filly?” she asked.
His face darkened further. “Well, she’s ill. I think she has colic. There are very clear signs. Jesse’s with her.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish there were something we could do. I’m just so very sorry.”
He nodded grimly. “I know you are. But the boy is far more important.”
Lillian reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. She wished she could adequately communicate how much his mercy meant to her. There were no words. “I’ll tell him you’re here. We hope to see him soon.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Constable Hayes was at the desk, ready to escort them back. Lillian tried to shut out the other comments from the room, grateful again that Mr. Thompson was there to intercede on Lemuel’s behalf with the general populace.
A short hallway. Another door. Inside was a row of bars, a guard, and a very troubled young man.
“Oh, Lemuel.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Grace. I didn’t know it would be like this.” He approached the bars, grabbed hold of them with his quaking hands.
Lillian reached through to touch his shoulder. Grace placed her hand over his. “We brought Mr. Wattley. He’s a legal counselor. He’s here to help.”
Lemuel’s jaw became set once more. “I can’t talk about it.”
Grace covered his hand with both of hers. “He’s a solicitor, Lemuel. Just tell him everything. He’s on your side. He won’t share anything you don’t want him to share, but you have to tell him everything. He might be able to help you out of this mess.”
“How’s Marisol? I heard someone say she’s sick.”
Grace let go of him, her fingers flying to her face. “Oh, Lemuel . . .”
Lillian tried to sway him, forcing her voice under control. “We just spoke with Mr. Thompson. He’s very worried about you. Do you hear me? He’s worried about you. He loves you, Lemuel. But you know that, don’t you?”
“I thought he did. But he won’t if something happens to the filly.”
“No, Lemuel. That won’t matter. He wants to make you his son.”
“Well, he used to.”
Lillian held up one finger, shook it at the frustrating youth. It was the gesture her mother had used on the rare occasions when she was very angry. Lillian felt as if somehow her mother were speaking through her, the voice in her head coming out now through her lips. “I want you to listen to me. This is important. Mr. Thompson loves you. And we love you. No one is going to abandon you just because of this trouble. But I want you to know that those of us who love you expect you to cooperate with how we’re trying to help you. We just want to help you, Lemuel. We’re even willing to make sacrifices for you.” The finger shrank down slowly and her hand dropped to her side. She pleaded, “Now, you must love us in return by allowing us into your confidence. Please.”
He moaned, dropped his gaze. His shoulders hunched. “I can’t.”
“Grace and I are going to leave now. The guard will leave now too. But I want you to speak with Mr. Wattley and tell him everything. He’s a wise man. He knows the law, and he will help you if you let him.”
Lillian turned away. Grace lingered just a moment longer, pressing her forehead against the cold metal bars. She whispered slowly, “Nothing that you’ve done could ever make us love you less.” She touched his hand once more, then turned away.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Lillian paced across the lunchroom they’d been allowed to use as a private waiting room within the station. “Do you think he’ll speak up?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen this side of him—he’s obstinate, unyielding.” Grace rocked forward in her chair. “So we must be even more so. I just wish Miss Tilly were here. We need to pray.”
Lillian muted a groan.
“What was that?”
“It’s nothing. I . . .” Suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. With animated arms Lillian answered Grace’s question. “Fine then, I’ll tell you what that was. It’s just that I’ve been praying. You’ve been praying. Everybody who knows us has been praying. But that boy is still in there. And it all comes down to whether or not he’s willing to tell the truth about what happened.”
Grace stiffened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know how to pray. I’m not sure if I understand why to pray. It seems to me that God is going to do whatever He wants anyway. And He doesn’t always do what I wish He would.”
“Oh, sis, you’re talking about your mother?”
Lillian froze in place. Her chin quivered. “Well, if you mean, did I pray for my mother? Of course I did. Everybody did. And she died anyway.”
“Lillian, I’m so sorry.”
“So you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t understand. . . . What’s the point?”<
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Grace stood and crossed the room, drew Lillian into her embrace. There was no weakness in her shoulders, no hesitancy in her tender words. She whispered, “I’ll tell you what I do when I’m tempted to doubt. I remind myself of the things that God already did for me.”
Lillian remained rigid in Grace’s arms. This sister, having faced so much hardship in her life, was going to explain how God was good? “Like what?”
“Like bringing you back to me, for one. I always knew He would. I had such a peace about it. And then there’s bringing Lemuel to us. Have you thought about the odds of us finding him before we left Lethbridge—right before we left?”
Lillian’s posture began to soften.
Grace continued gently, “Often it’s in the timing of things where I see God’s hand most easily. He brought you back into my life at the very same time when He brought these children to me. He made us a funny little family, just like He promised in His Word—in the Psalms. ‘God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains: but the rebellious dwell in a dry land.’ He did that, Lillian. And He’s perfectly able to release Lemuel from his chains. Today I want to claim that second part of the verse too.”
Letting her head fall onto Grace’s shoulder, Lillian asked slowly, “But why didn’t He save my mother?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. I wish that you did.” She drew in a long breath. “But He gave her such a wonderful gift when He gave her you. God took a terrible situation—losing our parents—and brought good from it. He had the Walshes buy our house, not long before Mama and Papa fell ill. That was His plan. Don’t you see that? And that way, they’d be there for you just when you needed them.”
“No.” Lillian drew away. “He didn’t save us both. God should have let them take you in too. Why wouldn’t He do that?”
“I don’t know. I can’t answer that either. Except to say that I know I’m fulfilling His will by caring for these kids. If that was to be the calling of my life, then God certainly equipped me for it well. Do you see it?”
“Oh, Grace. How can you say . . . ?”
“I’m going to tell you something. Come sit down.” They moved together to the chairs. Grace leaned in closer, her eyes rich with emotion. “I’m going to tell you something you didn’t know about Rolly—about Roland.” She shifted her weight in the seat and lowered her voice. “He asked me to marry him.”
“What?” Oh, Grace, why now?
“Yes. He asked me to marry him when I was still in Lethbridge, and I told him no because of the children. And while he’s been here in Brookfield he’s been badgering me about it again.”
“Badgering?” The word drew a crooked smile despite it all.
“Yes.” Grace frowned. “He keeps saying things like, ‘Grace, you don’t need to work so hard. I can take care of you.’ And I know it’s just because he wants me to be his wife.”
“Well, of course it is.”
“No, you don’t understand what I’m saying. If he loves me as much as he claims, he would want to see me fulfill my calling. He’d try to help me in that.”
“But doesn’t Roland work with the people at the children’s home?”
“Yes, but it’s not the same for him. He’s a good man. He truly loves the kids. But he doesn’t work there for the same reasons that I do. He would never have taken kids into his own home. He’s certainly told me that enough times. So if I were to marry him, what might he stop me from doing?”
“Well . . . but . . .” Lillian stumbled over her words. “Do you love him—like that?”
Grace dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine that I do.” Her fingers twisted the fringe of her sweater. “I do love him. He’s a very kind man—has meant so much to me over the years. But, no, I don’t believe I do love him like that. I don’t think I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I certainly don’t want to leave what I have here in order to be with him.”
Lillian fell back against her chair. “I had no idea.”
A weak smile. “It hardly matters now. Lemuel is far more important. And anyway, you have Walter and I have the children.”
“I have Walter? And you have the children?” Strangely, it seemed the stressful situation had emboldened them both.
“You know what I mean.” Grace waved a hand as if dismissing the matter.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Do you think . . . Walter and I, we’re not engaged or anything.”
“Maybe not now, but . . .”
“Grace, please don’t make assumptions about me. If I don’t know how I feel about Walter, there’s no way that you can possibly know.”
“I thought it was rather settled.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s not.”
Tension hung over the room. Lillian rose and paced again for several moments before asking, “Is that why you were upset about him? How you said you misjudged him? When you apologized?”
Grace’s mouth dropped open; then she smiled. “I was apologizing for holding on to you—to my picture of our future. If you married Walter, I wasn’t sure what would become of the children and me. But God let me know He was still in control. And then I was able to be happy for the two of you.”
Lillian’s hands went up to clutch her head. “Oh gracious! We’re as bad as Lemuel about holding on to secrets. And it was just about as successful.”
“Can we pray now, sis? Can we ask God for His will and His timing?”
“I’ll try. But I’m not sure how I’ll ever know that He intervened.”
“Faith, Lillian. Hope that doesn’t yield. We’ll pray God gives you eyes of faith that see, a heart of hope to believe even before the answers unfold.”
It felt strange to wait at the station without knowing exactly what they were waiting for. And yet Lillian knew it would be impossible to leave. Where would they go? What would they do? All their mental energy was focused on Lemuel. If it hadn’t been for Miss Tilly managing without them, they weren’t certain how they would have coped. For the moment, what they desired most was just a quiet room in which to hover, but they knew it must soon come to an end.
Mr. Wattley returned with no new information regarding Lemuel. Walter visited and Constable Hayes came to offer them sandwiches. Apparently Betsy Bukowski had stopped by to deliver them. Still, there was no progress made. At last their door creaked open again.
“I have some people who would like to join you, if that’s acceptable,” Constable Hayes said.
“Of course.”
A line of solemn people entered the room. First came Mr. Wattley and Walter, followed by Roland, then Harrison, with Mr. Thompson just behind. The boy’s face was red, his eyes puffy. Lillian and Grace rushed to him. The constable entered and closed the door behind him.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
“What is it, Harrison?”
He sniffled. “I come ta tell. I already told Mr. Norberg and . . . and ’im.” He gestured toward Mr. Wattley. “They brought me ’ere ’cause I gotta tell the coppers too.”
“Tell what?”
“Tell the truth.”
Four arms reached around him, smothering him with affection. “What is it, son?”
“It was me. I took Marisol.” He was quick to add, “But I didn’t mean ta steal ’er. I was just tryin’ ta save ’er. I was always gonna give ’er back.”
“Oh, Harrison. Save her from what? That was a terrible idea!”
“I know. But I didn’t know it would get Lemmy in such trouble. That’s why I told.”
Lemuel? “Are they releasing him?” Lillian’s eyes searched the faces around her, came to rest on Constable Hayes.
“That will depend, miss. I think you have reason to hope.”
“Thank You, God,” Grace whispered aloud. And then, “But what will you do about Harrison?” She scooped his blond head against her shoulder. “Surely you won’t arrest him instead?”
Mr. Wattley answered quickly. “He’s to
o young—at only ten. I’ve already spoken extensively to the captain. We’ve been able to amend the charges, particularly with the extenuating circumstances. There’ll still likely be a hearing before a judge, but Harrison should be released into your custody for the time being.”
“Miss Grace, will you sit by me, while I tell now? They’re gonna write it down.”
“Of course, dear. Right beside you.”
The constable took a seat at the table, opened a notepad, and prepared to take the boy’s statement. Grace and Lillian sat on either side of Harrison, each holding one of his hands. He began, “It all started on account’a Lemmy ’eard Miss Grace and Miss Lillian saying about Mr. Thompson maybe adoptin’ us—me and Lemmy.”
Grace winced. Lillian held her breath.
“But they said ’e needed money ta do it and so ’e might sell Marisol.”
Lillian sank a little lower in her seat, ashamed of their moment of gossip. Was all of this her own fault as much as anyone else’s?
“I didn’t want ’im to sell ’er. Mr. Thompson loves ’is ’orses—and the baby most of all. Takes such good care of ’er.”
Constable Hayes cleared his throat. “What did you do, lad?”
“I snuck out in the middle of the night. I climbed in by the window of ’is barn and got inta ’er stall.”
Mr. Thompson interrupted, “But the locks, son? How did you open the locks in order to lead her out?”
Harrison scrunched his forehead. “Oh, I can pick most locks, sir.”
All eyes widened just a little. The constable scribbled a note and prompted again. “What did you do once you had the filly out?”
“I locked it all back up. Then I led ’er out the long way ’round. So nobody’d see us from the ’ouse.”
“Did you try to ride her?”
“No, sir.” He was emphatic. “I was careful as I could be. I went slow and didn’t scare ’er. Because I’d never wanna ’arm Marisol.”
“And then?”
“Then I tied ’er in the cabin, and I went and pulled up lotsa grass. I found a bucket and brought up water from the river. I filled the old sink so she ’ad plenty. Then I went ’ome.”