Wings of a Dream (22 page)

Frank might arrive tomorrow. Or next week. Almost surely by next month. I chewed my thumbnail down past the round tip of flesh. I paused to listen to the still night, hoping the audible voice of God suddenly would give me clear direction. But only a whippoorwill called in the distance.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back tears of despair. My coming here had been God’s doing. I never once doubted that. But now it seemed He’d made a mockery of all my dreams. I’d asked for a fish and He’d given me a snake.

I sank back into my bed, pulling the quilt close around me and wondered what advice Irene would give if I asked. A foolish question, really. I already knew how she’d answer. She’d ask if I’d heard from the Lord on the matter.

Pulling my braid over my shoulder, I stroked the tail end, wrapping and unwrapping the curl of hair around my index finger. She’d likely tell me to be patient, to stay still until I knew which way the Lord said to go. At least that’s what I’d heard her tell another woman at church. Another directionless woman—only that one had been widowed by influenza.

I flopped onto my back and yanked the covers over my head, wishing all my problems would just vanish, that the Lord would whisk me away to another place, like He did with Phillip after he’d baptized the Ethiopian eunuch in the book of Acts. I huffed and curled onto my side, pulling my knees to my chest. There was more chance that Arthur would land his plane in the cotton field and take me away than that.

Did I need to search the Scriptures more diligently? Pray more earnestly? I’d done so much thinking and planning, planning and thinking in the past year that maybe Irene was right: Maybe I needed to just be patient and listen.

The words of Frank’s first letter to me drifted to mind, his belief that even in something as grievous as death the Lord had a plan for good. I wanted to believe that with more than just my head, but I didn’t understand why Aunt Adabelle had to die or why Mama and Will had to get sick or why Arthur didn’t keep his promises. But perhaps understanding didn’t matter as much as I imagined. Perhaps that was the true definition of faith.

Ollie stood beside me, shaking my shoulder in the sunshine-flooded room. “Rebekah, wake up. I can’t find James anywhere.”

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and sat up, her words barely making sense to my befuddled brain. Then they crystallized. I stretched my arms over my head, unconcerned.

“I’m sure he’s in the privy or in the barn with Ol’ Bob. You know he thinks he can milk her all by himself.”

Ollie’s mouth turned downward. “He’s not either of those places. I looked.”

My feet hit the floor as I rubbed my face. “I’m sure you just missed him. You went to one place while he was in the other.”

“I don’t think so.”

I patted her hand and stood. “Let me get dressed. I wager he’ll turn up when he smells breakfast cooking.”

But even the smell of bacon didn’t draw him out. Worry tangled itself around my heart like climbing roses on a trellis. Where had that boy gotten to now? I served breakfast to the other three, trying to restrain my concern. Maybe he’d crawled up in the barn loft and fallen asleep. Or maybe he’d gone to the creek. Alone. I sucked in a breath as I let a prayer run through my head.
Please God, let him be safe. Just let him be safe.

“Ollie, keep Janie here. Dan and I are going to find your brother.”

She gave me a wary look as she wiped—or tried to wipe—Janie’s gravy-smeared face. “What about school?”

“I’m sure we’ll be back by the time you need to leave.” I grabbed Dan by the hand. “I think your brother is playing a game of hide-and-seek.”

“I could eat up his bacon from breakfast, you know,” Dan said.

“I’m sure you could, big boy, but why don’t we wait just a while longer. In fact, why don’t we go find James now? I’m sure you know all his best hiding places.”

“C’mon.” He pulled. I stumbled after him, still hanging on to his hand, a smile tugging at my lips. See? No cause to worry. Dan would lead me directly to James.

Two hours later, Dan scratched his head as I tried to rub feeling into my frozen nose.

“Are you sure those are all the good hiding places you know?” I asked for the thousandth time.

“I’m sure.” His little face screwed up in concentration.

Worry choked me, but anger started pruning it back. Where was that boy? When I found him, I’d tan his hide for scaring me like this, not to mention wasting a whole morning and keeping Ollie from going to school.

I stared into the distance, wishing I knew which way to go. A half mile to the east and we’d come to the Latham’s house. Two miles west and we’d end up in town.

“James!” I called as loud as I could. “James Gresham, you get home this instant!”

What if he was home? My shoulders drooped. No matter which direction we searched next, we’d have to tromp back to the house first and see if he was there.

“Let’s go, Dan.” This time I pulled him, his feet dragging, his head sagging.

Still no sign of James back at the house. Ollie’s big eyes revealed her fright. I took Janie from her, knowing the baby needed a nap, but knowing also that Ollie needed my presence. We’d have to search together now, in spite of the littler ones’ exhaustion.

Town would be the best option, I decided. More people to fan out and search if we didn’t find him there. But he had to be there. He just had to. Fear and worry wove themselves around each other like two colors of yarn knitted into a blanket.

I picked up three teacakes, one for each child, and changed Janie’s diaper before we took off again. The trip seemed to take hours as the sun rose higher in the sky. My anger popped and sizzled like butter in a hot skillet as my stomach rumbled with hunger. I’d send him to his room for a week. Make him do extra chores, even help in the kitchen with the cooking and the dishes. Hold him tight and never let go.

If only I could find him.

S
heriff Jeffries sat on the corner of his desk, two men I didn’t know standing near him, hands in their pockets. The conversation stopped when he stood and looked my way.

The moment I saw his face, my mad dissolved into terror. “I need help.”

In two strides he stood before me, his lips pressed into a tight line, concern visible in his eyes. He laid gentle hands on my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t find James anywhere. We’ve been searching all morning.” Desperation streaked each word. Dan hid himself behind my skirt. Ollie and Janie both began to cry. I wanted to join them, but I forced myself to calm.

He nodded once. “Come with me.” He took my hand and led us to Mr. Crenshaw’s store.

After just a few words from the sheriff, Mr. Crenshaw removed his apron and called into the storeroom. “Ruth? James Gresham has gone missing. I’m going to help search.”

Three men in the store volunteered to help before Mrs. Crenshaw appeared from the back room. “Go on.” She lifted Janie out of my arms. “I’ll watch the other children.”

I chased the men to the end of the sidewalk. And that’s when a movement in the churchyard near us drew my attention. I peered across the expanse, trying to sort the immovable gray gravestones from the fleeting shadow that had caught my eye. Sheriff Jeffries corralled the men gathering in the street. Mr. Crenshaw entered the tiny newspaper office. I hurried down the steps, past the knot of men, and over the worn track through tall grasses, my gaze intent on that shadow.

The wraith bent above one of the graves, an older one, the weather having already tamped down the mounded dirt. My hand closed on the small gate. It creaked open. James looked over at me, his face a lump of anguish.

“I had to tell Mama that Daddy would be home soon.” His lips twisted, his face puckered. He threw himself at me with the hiccup of a long-held sob.

“Oh, baby.” I slid to my knees, my face next to his. His arms curled around my shoulders as I stroked his hair and wept with him.

These little ones had been through so much these past months. Some days I wondered if the younger ones even remembered their mother, or if they only remembered the idea of her. And now the daddy they hadn’t seen in over a year would return, bringing yet another change. My presence offered almost the only consistency they remembered in their short lives.

Voices sounded in the distance. I looked up to find a group of men walking in our direction.

“I found him!” I picked up James and waved one arm high in the air. “It’s okay. I’ve found him.” I trotted toward them as fast as I could, James lying like a lump against my shoulder, his arms circling my neck. By the time I reached the buildings of town, my breath came in gasps and my side ached.

Sheriff Jeffries pried James from my arms. I rested my hands on my knees and gulped in air. “He was in the churchyard.” I glanced sideways at the impish little face. “Visiting his mother.” I straightened, my breathing returning to normal. “Thank you for your willingness to help. I’m sorry to have called you away from your work.”

Heat crept over my throat as the men tipped their hats and scattered. All but the sheriff. He looked as if he might embrace me, right then and there. Now
I
wanted to run. But I didn’t dare. Instead, I reached for James’s hand and led him back to Mr. Crenshaw’s store. Yet Sheriff Jeffries didn’t leave my side.

A bell jangled above the door as we entered. Dan threw himself into his big brother’s arms the way James had thrown himself in mine.

“Safe and sound, I see.” Mrs. Crenshaw smiled from where the bolts of cloth lined the shelves, farther down.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sheriff Jeffries answered for me, his hat in his hands again. Its spinning made me dizzy.

I glanced around the open room. “Where are my girls?”

Mrs. Crenshaw straightened a confusion of machine-made lace on a large spool. “Back at my house. I didn’t know how long you’d be and I’ve learned from experience that minding a baby and a store at the same time doesn’t work real well.”

It made sense. Janie wanted to explore everything right now.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Mrs. Crenshaw nodded toward the boys, who still clung to one another.

My heart swelled as full as a corncrib after harvest. I didn’t think about the sheriff or Mama or Will or Arthur in that moment. I only knew that, for better or worse, these children held a permanent place in my heart, a place that would ache without them nearby. They needed me. And in some funny, confusing, awful way, I’d come to need them.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad when Mr. Gresham gets home. I daresay a young, pretty thing like you will be glad to get this brood off your hands and get back to parties and young men.” She sighed and rested her chin in her hands, her eyes staring off in the distance. “Of course, I didn’t have much of that myself. Spent most of my days planting and hoeing and picking cotton. But Mr. Crenshaw rescued me from all that.”

She turned her attention back to me. “Or maybe you’re waiting on a Doughboy of your own?” She raised her eyebrows.

My back stiffened. “No.” I placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder, feeling suddenly protective of them.

Mrs. Crenshaw shrugged. “Just as well. But you’ll still be glad to give the children back to their father, I’m sure.”