To Find Her Place

by Susan Anne Mason

  She undid her coat and pulled it off, draping it over a chair.

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon,” Donald said, a slight frown marring his brow. “Try not to worry.”

  “That’s impossible.” She paced to the fireplace and back.

  Donald came up and laid a warm hand on her shoulder. “Maybe this is a sign.”

  “A sign of what?” Her gaze shot to his face.

  Sympathy shone from his eyes, and one brow rose in a half-apology. “That perhaps the boy is too troubled for us to take on. After all, we have a young child to consider. I worry that Martin and his unpredictable moods may not be good for Patrick.”

  Jane stiffened, all the fear and worry balled up in her chest now aimed at Donald. “That’s not true.” Yet Garrett’s words about Martin’s influence on his nephews echoed through her brain. “I’m sure once Martin feels more secure, his behavior will change. I know it will.” She pressed her lips together.

  “Jane, I wanted to give it more time before I brought this up, but now seems to be the best time.” Donald took her hand and led her to the sofa. “I keep thinking that there must be a reason no family will keep him.”

  “Of course there’s a reason. No one has taken the time to show him unconditional love. Parents don’t just give their child away when he doesn’t behave exactly as they want, or when he has a medical condition that’s inconvenient. A parent loves the child through everything, no matter what life throws at them.”

  The way you should have loved me.

  Angry tears welled in her eyes, but she pushed them back and jumped up to pace the floor again. “Someone has to give Martin a chance and show him his true worth.”

  Donald stood, thrusting out his hands. “Why does that have to be you?”

  She came to an abrupt halt to stare at him. “Why not me? I’ve loved him since I first met him as a bewildered two-year-old returned by his initial foster family. It was right after my first miscarriage, and I wanted us to take him then, but you said you didn’t want to adopt. You wanted to try again for another baby.”

  “He was the child you wanted?” Donald’s brows rose over incredulous eyes.

  She nodded and bit down on her lip. “Not long after my second miscarriage, Martin came back to the shelter again. I brought up the subject of adoption a second time . . .” She trailed off, recalling how nervous she’d been to even ask Donald and the way he’d simply shut down afterward. The next day, he’d packed all his things and left their home.

  “Since then, it’s been one foster family after another. How much rejection can a child take before it breaks his spirit?” Her chin quivered and she turned away, unwilling to fall apart in front of him. Unwilling to let him see how much she still resented him for not allowing Martin to join their family back when they could have made a difference in his life.

  Had Donald really changed since then, or was he only humoring her to obtain a mother for Patrick? Mrs. Hedley’s warning came to mind about Donald acting too fast and about marrying for the wrong reasons. Perhaps Mrs. Hedley had feared the same thing.

  A frantic knock at the door echoed through the house. Jane rushed into the hall to see Mama opening the door and Garrett standing on the porch.

  “Garrett!” she cried. “Did you find him?”

  “Not yet.” His worried eyes told the story as he stepped inside. “I was hoping you’d be home by now and maybe have some idea where he might have gone.”

  She twisted her hands together. “I doubt he’d go back to the shelter, but you never know.”

  “I’ve already tried there. Mrs. Shaughnessy said she’d let us know if he turns up.” He scanned her from head to toe, taking in her silky green dress and high heels. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt your evening?”

  “No, it’s fine. We just got back from dinner.” She paced the foyer as she searched her memory for any place Martin considered special. “He might come here.”

  “That’s what I was hoping,” Garrett said, “but he would have been here by now.”

  “How long has he been missing?”

  “The Blackwoods aren’t entirely sure. At least a couple of hours.”

  More than enough time to make it to their house. “Did anyone call the police?”

  “Mr. Blackwood did, but they said to give it some time. That Martin would likely come home on his own like most runaway children.” Garrett’s eyes snapped with annoyance.

  “Where could he have gone?” She stopped and raised her eyes to Garrett. “Do you think he’d head to the farm?”

  “He might.” His forehead crinkled. “Would he have any idea how to get there, though?”

  “I don’t know, but if the police won’t look for him, we need to keep searching. It’s too cold for him to be out all night.” She raced back into the living room to grab her coat and search for her purse.

  Donald followed her in. “You aren’t going with him, are you?”

  “Of course I am. I can’t just sit here while Martin’s out there all alone.” She moved around him to snatch her purse from an armchair. “I’d ask you to come, but I know you want to get back to Patrick.”

  “I do.” He stared at her, an expression close to hurt on his face. “Don’t forget, Mrs. Hedley leaves tomorrow morning. I need you there to watch Patrick while I work.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” She walked back into the hallway and grabbed her boots by the door. She’d change out of her heels once she was in the car. “Mama, you don’t mind, do you? You’ll be all right for a bit?”

  “Land sakes, of course I don’t mind. You go and find that boy. I’ll be here praying for him all night if that’s what it takes.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, gratitude spilling through her. Then she turned to Donald. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Before he could utter another word, she followed Garrett out to his car.

  34

  Garrett closed Jane’s car door and went around to take his place behind the wheel. The outside temperature had turned decidedly colder, and his breath hung in white puffs before him. Chances were good it would snow tonight.

  All the more urgency for them to find Martin.

  Jane rubbed her bare hands together and blew on them. “Did the Blackwoods say what made Martin run off like that?”

  Garrett started the engine and turned on the heat as well as the car’s headlamps. “Nothing they could pinpoint.” He shrugged. “They did say Martin has been giving them a hard time. ‘Testing their patience,’ I believe is how they put it.”

  “But something must have triggered him to leave. What could it have been?” She started taking off her heels, exchanging them for the pair of winter boots. “You don’t think they were mistreating him, do you?”

  He did his best to ignore her familiar floral scent that drifted over to his side of the car. “I don’t think so. They seemed genuinely distressed.” He released a long breath. “However, anything’s possible.”

  If he were honest, he’d tell Jane she could be right, that perhaps he’d made a mistake giving Martin to the inexperienced Blackwoods. The couple had hinted as much when he went there tonight. Yet it didn’t seem right to add to Jane’s worries right now.

  “Do you have any extra gloves in your car?” she asked.

  “I wish I did.” He glanced over at her. “I forgot mine too. But the heat should kick in soon.” He increased the setting for the car’s heater, then headed out of the city using Lakeshore Boulevard, praying Martin had come in this direction. “This is the route I took to the farm,” he said to Jane. “It’s more scenic by the water. I’m hoping Martin remembered that.”

  “Good thinking. Although I can’t imagine him walking all this way.”

  “He might be riding a bike. The Blackwoods said there was one missing from their yard.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

  “I know. But on a bike, he’d have to stay on the roads rather than veer off onto the grass.
”

  “Still, it’s going to be like looking for a needle in a very dark haystack.” She gave a loud sigh.

  The car’s headlamps illuminated the pavement ahead. Jane was right. It would be a miracle if they found the boy in the dark.

  He shot her a sideways glance, his battered heart drinking in every detail of her. She sat staring out her window, her tweed coat pulled up tight at the neck, her hands clasped around her purse. He’d missed her more than he thought possible. Had it only been twelve days?

  “I take it you and Donald were out on a date,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound like his.

  “It was just dinner.” She scanned the landscape from the side window, then peered at the road in front.

  “Donald didn’t seem overly concerned about Martin’s disappearance,” he said. “And he didn’t seem happy about you coming with me.”

  She remained silent, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

  “Can I ask if you’re any closer to making a decision? About marrying Donald and adopting Martin, I mean.” The two-week trial period she’d mentioned was almost at an end. Judging by her fancy attire, things were moving in the direction he’d dreaded.

  She whirled on him then. “Can we please just focus on trying to find Martin? Nothing else matters right now.”

  He gave a curt nod, regret pooling in his gut. He should be trying to comfort her, not adding to her distress.

  Soon they came to the edge of the city where the streetlights ended, leaving nothing but an inky expanse of road with only the two beams from the car’s lights to guide them.

  Lord, please lead us to Martin. And please keep him safe until we find him.

  Garrett tried to put himself in Martin’s shoes. Where would he have gone if he’d run away? But he couldn’t really compare his life to Martin’s. Martin didn’t have a safe place to run to. No friends or relatives. The one thing he loved was Blackie.

  Who was at the farm.

  Determination filled Garrett, more certain than ever they were on the right track. The problem was the great distance Martin would have to cover to get there.

  “Keep your eyes open for anywhere he might have stopped to rest. A barn or farmhouse, maybe.” He was suddenly grateful for the extra pair of eyes. It was hard enough to drive without trying to search the fields on either side of the road.

  They continued in silence, Garrett’s tension growing as rain began to fall, sliding down the windshield in sheets. He turned on the manual wipers but soon became aware that the precipitation contained more ice than rain, making visibility even worse. He purposely lowered his speed, not wanting to slide on the pavement that was growing slicker by the minute. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his fingers ached from the pressure.

  “I can’t imagine Martin being out in this weather,” Jane said.

  “He’d probably seek shelter of some sort. Keep looking for any place he might have stopped.”

  Several more painstaking miles went by with Garrett straining to keep the car on the road. He didn’t want to alarm Jane, but the worsening weather had him concerned. Pretty soon he’d have no choice but to pull over or turn back.

  The sleet had increased, now starting to coat the windshield and hindering his visibility even more. The car’s heater couldn’t combat the rapidly falling temperatures, causing Garrett’s fingers to stiffen from the cold as much as from tension. There was no way around it. He had to stop. At least long enough to scrape the ice off the windshield.

  He eased his foot onto the brake pedal.

  The car didn’t respond. In fact, their speed seemed to increase.

  Adrenaline poured through his veins. He ground his teeth together and pumped the brakes harder, yet the car seemed determined to thwart his efforts. He turned the wheel to the right, struggling to pull over to the side of the road where the tires might find purchase on the gravel, but when he applied the brake again, it did little to halt their momentum. Instead, the car swerved out of control.

  The metallic taste of fear coated his tongue. “Brace yourself!” he shouted.

  Every muscle in his body stiffened as he threw all his strength into the wheel. But despite his efforts, the car skidded off the edge of the road. Jane’s terrified scream tore through him as they shot over an embankment and crashed through some foliage. The left tires rode up over something, and the car tilted, hanging suspended in midair for several seconds before flipping onto its right side.

  Jane screamed again as they both slid down the bench seat, Garrett’s body thudding helplessly against hers. Pain shot through the side of his head, and the air slammed from his lungs. Stunned, he lay there until at last his chest muscles released enough to allow him to take in some air.

  Jane!

  In his awkward position, he struggled to lift his weight off her.

  “Jane, are you all right?”

  She gave no response, lying much too still for his liking. Wings of panic beat in his throat. In the darkness, his shaking fingers found her face, and he felt for the artery under her jaw.

  A fast but steady pulse beat there.

  The breath he’d been holding leaked out. He fought to ignore his throbbing head and figure out what to do next. The car was sitting at an odd angle, making it difficult to move.

  “I’m going to try to climb out,” Garrett said aloud, even though Jane was most likely unconscious. The fleeting thought about what the jarring from the crash might have done to the shrapnel crossed his mind, but he shoved it aside. He couldn’t worry about that now.

  He squinted in the dark, his vision adjusting enough to make out vague shapes. Though the car headlamps were still on, the light was obscured by whatever they’d hit. He reached into the glove box and felt the cold metal of his flashlight.

  “Please let the batteries work.” He flicked the switch, and when a steady beam appeared, he let out a relieved sigh. Twisting, he aimed the light at Jane. Her eyes were closed, her hair disheveled, and a trickle of blood ran from her forehead. “Jane, can you hear me?”

  She stirred a little and moaned.

  Thank you, Lord!

  Gradually she opened her eyes, but when she moved slightly, another moan escaped.

  “Stay still. You’ve hit your head.” He turned off the flashlight and shoved it in his pocket. Maybe if he was lucky, he could figure out a way to get the car back on the road. But first he’d have to climb out and assess the situation. Working mostly by feel, he grabbed the steering wheel and used it to haul himself upward. He braced one foot against the dashboard, the other against the back of the seat, and managed to roll the window open far enough to pull himself out into the storm’s onslaught.

  Hard pellets instantly stung his face, while icy wetness slid down his neck, making him shiver. He flicked on the flashlight and stood back to stare at the vehicle, his stomach plunging down to his wet shoes. The car was sitting at about a forty-five-degree angle in a deep gulley, its hood almost buried in a bush. There was no way Garrett would be able to right it, never mind get it back on the road.

  And with the car in that severely tilted position, they couldn’t really stay inside. The only other option was to find shelter somewhere until the storm lessened.

  He squinted across the field. In the distance, he could make out a few dark shapes, one of which might be some type of structure. They’d head there first.

  Carefully, he leaned his head through the open driver’s window, making sure not to shine the flashlight in Jane’s face. Thankfully, she seemed to be awake. “Are you able to move?”

  She squinted up at him. “I-I think so.”

  “Good. I’m going to help you climb out.”

  She frowned, but the look she gave him was pure determination. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  He leaned in and stretched his arm toward her. “Grab my hand, and I’ll pull you up.”

  She reached up to place her hand in his but let out a cry of pain.

  “Wait. Are you hurt anywhere?”
He should find out how bad her injuries might be before he attempted to haul her up.

  “My head . . . and my shoulder.”

  Her breathing seemed shallow, and he worried she might be going into shock.

  “All right. We’ll move slowly, then. Use your good arm, and if it gets too much, just tell me to stop.”

  “I’m okay. I-I think it’s only bruised.” She sounded more cognizant now as she tightened her grip on his hand.

  He drew her up as smoothly and steadily as he could, and after a minute she emerged from the window. Once she was safely out, he pulled her against his chest and held her until they both caught their breath. “Thank heaven you’re all right,” he whispered.

  He never would have forgiven himself if she’d been badly injured. Or worse.

  The freezing rain attacked them with renewed vengeance, covering the ground in more layers of ice. Jane pulled her scarf over her head and tied it under her chin.

  He got the flashlight out again and turned it on. “Are you all right to walk?” He trained the beam at her forehead, relieved to see that the wound had stopped bleeding.

  “I think so.”

  He squinted against the pellets to scan the landscape. “Let’s head across that field. I think there’s something out there, possibly a barn. But we’ll have to walk slowly because of the ice.” He shone the light in the direction they were going to head and held out an arm to her. “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Jane shivered, her shoulders scrunched up to her ears, and with her hand firmly wrapped around his arm, they set out.

  35

  Jane pressed her face into the wool of Garrett’s jacket, thankful for his arm around her. The stinging rain pelted her cheeks and eyes, blurring the landscape before her. Her forehead throbbed, as did her shoulder where she’d hit the passenger door, but she soldiered on. When her foot slipped suddenly on the uneven terrain, Garrett pulled her upright.