A Father in the Making

by Marta Perry

  A lump formed in Anne’s throat. Emilie didn’t know it, but things weren’t as secure as all that. Anne was the only person standing between her and an uncertain future. She’d never before felt so alone.

  For a few brief moments that afternoon she’d begun to think life didn’t have to be this way. She’d started to believe she really could have the kind of relationship she’d always thought was a mirage—one based on trust and openness. Something very good had begun between her and Mitch.

  And then Mitch let his feelings about his brother spoil everything. Why couldn’t he talk to her about it? He’d been so determined to hold everything inside, so irrationally angry. She didn’t understand, and she probably never would.

  The doorbell rang, suddenly and persistently, breaking the stillness in the old house. Startled, she closed the door to the bedroom gently, then went out into the hallway. She leaned over the stairs. What on earth was going on?

  She saw Kate hurry toward the door. If something was wrong, she shouldn’t let Kate face it alone. She started down the steps as the older woman unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  Mitch erupted into the hallway. “Have you seen Davey?”

  “No, not today.” Kate ushered Mitch in and closed the door. “Why?”

  Heart pounding, Anne hurried down the rest of the stairs. Mitch wouldn’t look like that unless something had happened.

  “Mitch?”

  He looked over Kate’s head toward Anne. “It’s Davey. He’s run away.”

  She barely registered Kate’s exclamations of dismay. She was too occupied with the message Mitch’s dark eyes were sending her.

  Help. For the first time in their relationship, he wanted—needed—her help.

  “What can we do?” Knowing why the boy had run could wait. Finding him—that was the important thing.

  “I thought maybe he’d come over here.” He glanced at Kate.

  “We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.” Kate clasped her hands in front of her. “Poor child. It’s getting cold out, too. He shouldn’t be out there in the cold and the dark. If he goes into the woods—”

  “What do you want us to do?” she asked again. Mitch needed their help, not Kate’s woeful predictions.

  He shook his head. “Not much you can do if he hasn’t come here. I’ll get some people together and start a search.”

  “Maybe he’ll come back on his own. Once he cools off, I mean.”

  “I did that a time or two.” A muscle twitched in Mitch’s jaw. “But I was a teenager then, not a ten-year-old. And it’s supposed to drop below freezing tonight. I don’t think it’s safe to wait.”

  “No.” She shivered, thinking of the lonely mountainous woods that surrounded Bedford Creek. “Let me get a coat. I’ll help look.”

  “You don’t know the area well enough.” His rejection seemed automatic, but she wasn’t going to be left behind to worry.

  “I’m another pair of eyes. I can go with someone who does know.” Like you.

  Mitch gave a curt nod, obviously too intent on the search to argue.

  “I’ll watch the baby.” Kate seemed glad to have something constructive to do. “I’ll put the outside lights on, so he’ll know someone’s home if he wants to come here. And I’ll start the prayer chain, if that’s all right with you.”

  Mitch nodded. He looked at Anne. “Ready?”

  “Right away.” She grabbed her jacket from the coat tree.

  “Let’s get down to the station. I’ll call the search team out from there.”

  She hurried after him down the steps, his anxiety palpable, pulling her along. Hurry, hurry. The cold wind, whistling down the mountain, made her thrust her hands into her pockets.

  “He’ll be all right.” She said it to Mitch’s back. “We’ll find him.”

  He yanked open the cruiser door, and she slid into the passenger seat. When he got in beside her, his face was taut in the glare that spilled from the dome light.

  “I hope so. Looks like I was the wrong choice for the boy.”

  She shook her head. “If you made a mistake, you can fix it. The important thing now is to find him.”

  For a moment longer he stared at her. Then he nodded, and his usual stoic mask seemed to fall into place.

  “Right.” He clasped her hand for an instant. “Thanks.”

  He started the police car, and it lurched forward.

  She peered out the side window as the car spun around the corner. Dark, too dark to see much. She leaned her forehead against the window, hoping against hope that Davey would spring suddenly into view, safe and sound.

  But he didn’t.

  Please, Lord. She stared out into the darkness. Please, Lord. Be with us and guide our search. And be with that poor lost child.

  She hugged herself, shaking a little. A lost child. At the moment it seemed they were all lost children, in one way or another.

  * * *

  “Shall we have a moment of prayer before we start?” Pastor Richie stepped to the front of the group of searchers who’d gathered at the station.

  Anne could sense the urgency seething in Mitch, but he nodded. She clasped her hands in prayer. They needed all the help they could get. Twenty searchers, armed with powerful flashlights, looked like a lot, especially when coupled with those who were already cruising the streets in cars. But it probably wasn’t enough—not when they were looking for one small boy in the dark.

  Pastor Richie lifted his hands. “Loving Father, we come to You in desperate need. One of Your children is lost. Guide our search, that we may restore him to safety. We know You’re watching each of us as a loving father tends his children. We put our search in Your strong hands. In Christ’s name we pray, Amen.”

  Please, Lord.

  She saw Mitch’s hands flex, as if he were trying to relieve the tension. Again she felt the urgency that drove him.

  “Okay,” he said. “You have your assignments. Everybody know what to do?”

  She nodded with the rest. It had already been decided she’d go with Mitch, giving him another pair of eyes to search the blocks around his house.

  “All right. Let’s go find him.”

  The crowd scattered quickly.

  Mitch slid into the car and turned the key in the ignition before she even got the door closed. “I don’t think he’ll have gone far.”

  The streetlights they passed first illuminated his face, then cast it in shadow.

  She clasped her hands. “What if he has some destination in mind?”

  He sent her a sharp glance. “What do you mean? What destination?”

  She didn’t want to say this, but she had to. “Maybe he wants to find his father.”

  “He’s said he doesn’t know where he is. Anyway...” His voice trailed off.

  She thought she could fill in the blanks. Mitch wouldn’t have gone after his own father, or at least that’s what he told himself now. So he didn’t want to believe it of Davey, either.

  Help him, Lord, please. This is really hurting him. It reminds him too much of his own past.

  Mitch pulled to the curb at the end of the block and grabbed a flashlight. “Look, we’ve got to make some assumptions to go on. I don’t think he’s on a wild-goose chase after his dad, but if he is, the team checking the road out of town should spot him. Meanwhile, we’ve got to get on with the search.”

  “I know.” She slid out, grabbing her own flashlight and zipping her jacket against the cold. “I wasn’t trying to second-guess you.”

  He nodded. “Second-guess away, if you want. I know you care about him.”

  “Yes.” And about you. But that was something she’d probably never have a chance to say.

  Mitch swept his light in a wide circle, illuminating shrubs, trees, barren flower beds. “Let’s start with the front. Check under ever
y hedge.”

  She nodded and followed him into the yard, whispering a silent prayer.

  They worked their way through one yard, then a second. Mitch was an organized, meticulous searcher, leaving nothing to chance. For the most part they worked in silence, occasionally consulting in low voices.

  Three houses later she paused after checking under a lilac bush and watched Mitch swing a beam of light through low-hanging branches. “You act as if you’ve done this a lot. Conducted a search, I mean.”

  He bent to direct his light under a porch. “Often enough. We have a pretty well-organized search-and-rescue routine. It’s a lot more difficult when someone’s lost in the woods.”

  He straightened, looking up, and she followed the direction of his gaze. The bulk of the mountain was black against a paler black sky, looming over the town in an almost menacing way.

  She shivered a little. Maybe people who lived here all the time got used to the mountain’s presence. She hadn’t, yet. Often it seemed protective, but tonight she was aware of its dangers.

  “Davey wouldn’t go up there. Would he?”

  The beam of the flashlight showed her the tight line of his mouth. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”

  “Please, Father.” The prayer came out almost involuntarily. “Please be with that child.”

  “You sound like Simon Richie. I’m sure he’s praying and searching at the same time.”

  The strained note in his voice caught her by surprise. “Aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I guess I figure God wants me to get on with my job, not go running to Him every time things get tough.”

  She checked a row of trash cans. Nothing. “Don’t you think the Father wants to hear from His children when they’re in trouble?”

  Mitch swung his light toward her, maybe in surprise. For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then, his voice harsh, he said, “I don’t know. I don’t have much experience with a good father.”

  The undertone of bitterness in his voice startled her. She kept forgetting, God forgive her. She kept forgetting how complicated his feelings were toward his own father. If that had spilled over into his relationship with his Heavenly Father, it wasn’t surprising.

  Be careful, she warned herself. Don’t make things worse.

  “I know what you mean.” She tried to keep it light. “If I believed God was a father like mine, I’d never be able to pray at all.”

  He stopped, the flashlight motionless in his hand. Had she gone too far?

  Then he nodded. “Maybe you’ve got something there.” His hand closed over hers warmly. “Let’s search and pray.”

  * * *

  An hour later they’d completed their grid as best they could. Looked like he’d been wrong about where the kid was likely to be found, Mitch thought. Where was he?

  He slid into the cruiser next to Anne. She was shivering a little, and he started the heater before flipping the radio switch.

  “Wanda. Got anything?”

  “Nothing, Chief, sorry. Most teams have finished their first grid and gone on to their second.” Wanda sounded briskly efficient. “You have anything?”

  “Nada.” His jaw clenched. Where was the kid? “I’ll check in again in an hour.”

  Anne stirred beside him, leaning forward to look down the empty street. “Every house has its porch light on.”

  He nodded. “Word’s spread. People want Davey to know he could walk up to any door in town right now.”

  “I didn’t—” Anne’s voice sounded choked. “I hope he sees. And understands.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Davey, where are you? Where did you run to?

  Where would he run? Mitch tried to look at it rationally. If he were the kid, where might he go?

  Home? But Davey didn’t have a home, not anymore. Flagler had never bothered to provide his son with even minimum security.

  Some people thought they didn’t have homeless people in Bedford Creek. He knew better. Maybe they didn’t have people sleeping on the streets, but there were those who didn’t have a safe place to live.

  Home. The word kept coming to him, refusing to go away. Home.

  Are you trying to tell me something, Lord?

  He glanced at Anne. That was the kind of conversation she probably had with God all the time. He hadn’t realized, until tonight, that it was lacking in his own life. Or why.

  He started the engine, and Anne looked at him.

  “Where do we go next?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve got a feeling. Let’s go down to River Street and have a look at the place where Davey used to live.”

  A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a dilapidated house. It was dark and appeared empty. Still, something inside Mitch kept driving him. He had to check it out.

  He approached the front door and tried it, sensing Anne coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder. A brand-new padlock glinted in the light from his flash. Looked like the landlord hadn’t been taking any chances. But there might be another way in, a way a kid would know.

  “I’ll check the back. Why don’t you stay here?”

  She nodded, rubbing her arms against the chill, and he stepped off the creaky porch.

  He prowled around the house, checking windows. The side door, too, bore a shiny new padlock. No sign anyone could have gotten in, not even a skinny kid.

  He stopped at the back of the house, shining his light along the black windows. Nothing. This had turned into been a wild-goose chase. He’d better get back to his assigned grid and stop following hunches. One of the other searchers would cruise this neighborhood, anyway.

  As he turned, his light flickered across the dirt-bare space stretching between the house and the river. He stopped. The light touched a decrepit building sagging into itself at the edge of the river.

  Check it. The voice in his mind was insistent. Check it.

  He stalked toward the building—little more than a shed, really. There were plenty of other places that would be warmer and drier for a kid out in the night.

  Still, something drove Mitch. He had to look. He grabbed the sagging door. It stuck tight, and for a moment he thought it was locked.

  He rattled it, putting his shoulder into it. The door popped open.

  He took a step forward, flashing the beam of light around the interior. Nothing. Some battered boxes, a stack of lumber on one side, broken glass littering the floor.

  “Davey!” His voice echoed in the cold darkness. Futile. The kid wasn’t here.

  He turned away, stepping through the open doorway. Then just as he started to shut the door, something creaked behind him. He froze.

  His hand tightened on the door frame, and he swung the light toward the lumber pile. There might be—could be—just enough room behind it for one small body.

  “Davey?” He reached the stack, moved to the side of it and peered along the wall. “Davey? You there?”

  “Go away!” The boy’s voice was shrill. “Go away! I hate you!”

  Chapter 14

  “Davey, listen to me.”

  Behind him, Mitch could hear Anne’s running feet. She must have heard. He held out a warning hand. No use spooking the boy by having too many people around. From the corner of his eye he saw her stop.

  “No!” A scrabbling noise accented Davey’s answer. The kid was trying to get around him to the door.

  “Come on, Davey, I just want to talk.”

  This time Davey didn’t bother with a verbal answer. He just spurted past.

  Mitch grabbed, caught the sleeve of a windbreaker, and pulled the boy toward him. He wrapped both arms around the kid, trying to still his frantic struggles.

  “Let me go! I don’t wanna be with you. Let me go!”

  “Davey—” Mitch clamped his arms tighter �
�—you have to let me talk to you. To tell you I’m sorry.”

  The slightest pause in the boy’s flailing encouraged him to continue. “Listen, I was wrong. I was mad about something else, and I snapped at you instead.” Just like my father used to do. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. “I was wrong.”

  “Yeah, you were.” Davey sounded angry, but he stopped struggling. “That stupid history—”

  “Hey, I wasn’t wrong about that. You still have to do your homework.” He eased the pressure of his grip. He could sense Anne moving closer, but kept his focus on Davey. “That’s part of the bargain. But I should have helped you, not yelled at you.”

  “Yeah.” The boy’s voice was muffled. “I thought maybe you...”

  He put his hand gently on the kid’s head. “What did you think?”

  “I figured you were going to tell me to get out.” The words came out defiantly, but Mitch could hear the fear underneath. “So I just figured I’d go before you got around to it.”

  Pain was an icy hand around his heart. Lord, give me the right words. Please. It was the kind of prayer he’d never felt comfortable with, but it came out so naturally now, warming him.

  “Hey, we have a deal, remember? I don’t go back on a deal.” He held the boy a little away from him, so he could see his face in the dim light. “You’re going to stay with me until your dad comes back. Right?”

  Davey nodded, then looked down at his toes. “What if I do something you don’t like?”

  “Then I might yell. But I wouldn’t tell you to go. No way.” That was what he’d always wanted, but never had—the assurance that someone was there, whatever he did, no matter what. Just always there. “You’ve got my word on it.”

  Holding his breath, he released the boy. “We okay now?”

  Davey peered up at him. Apparently whatever he saw satisfied him. He nodded.

  Some of the tension slipped away. “All right. Let’s get you home.”

  “Okay.”

  Davey took a step away. Then he stopped, waiting while Mitch shut the rickety door. He fell into step beside him as they walked to the patrol car.