Coming Home (Norris Lake Series) (5 page)

"Don’t let him go!" the sheriff yelled rushing to grab the boy’s arms pulling his wrists behind his back and trying to stay away from the snapping teeth.  George reached to re-capture his hold on the boy’s ankles.  Together they carried him face-up between them to the squad car.  The boy thrashed from side-to-side though not a single sound escaped.  

As they neared the car, they slipped down the hillside their boots sliding in the grass cutting deep rivets in the soft red dirt.  The boy’s struggles weakened.  The sheriff reached through the open widow of the front passenger seat and pushed the rear door open with one hand.  They tossed the boy onto the back seat and slammed the door.  George leaned his back heavily against the car door and wiped the sweat from under his long dark grayish-brown locks.  He could feel the pounding of feet and fists against the reinforced glass.  

“Man, you’re a friend but not this good of a friend,” George panted to the sheriff. 

Sheriff Kane just smiled and leaned against the patrol car’s hood catching his breath.  The twelve year old sat looking at them both.  Had he ran neither of them could’ve touched him.  As it turned out, the boy would come to be glad he didn’t try.

An hour later, the sheriff pulled into the long driveway which led to his house.  At the end of the "u" shaped drive stood a traditional white farm house with red shudders matched the red tin roof and green holly bushes. A shallow green porch about six feet by twenty foot with two steps provided passage to the house’s red front door. 

On either side of the entranceway sat two halved wooden barrels filled with yellow autumn mums.  Huge maples and evergreens shadowed the four-edges of the acre yard.  Through the trees on each side of the yard stood newer two-story homes surrounded by chain-link fences protecting an array of colorful plastic toys. 

In the yard next door, a teenage boy raked a blanket of yellow, red, orange and brown leaves into uneven piles while a rusty trashcan stood nearby a black column of smoke rising from the flames eating the leaves like a ravenous dog.  

As the squad car neared the front porch, an eleven year old young girl burst through the silver storm door, her bare feet pounding loudly down the steps.  Her mother followed her through the door holding a small brown-haired baby.

"Daddy!  Daddy! You’re back!" the young girl laughed with delight as she pulled open the driver’s side door. 

"Hi, pumpkin," he said pulling her into a bear hug and swinging her up off of her feet, so her toes barely touched the ground. 

"Uncle George.  You came too,” Beth yelled running around to hug her father’s best friend. 

"Boy am I glad to see you, Uncle George.  Mr.
Barilla, my history teacher, assigned us a paper to write and you have just got to help me,” she said breathlessly lacing her small white fingers through his weathered brown ones.  

"Whatever you need, young ‘un," George said smiling warmly at his goddaughter. 

"Honey, come here a minute,” the sheriff said gesturing towards his wife, who still stood on the porch.  She set the baby in a nearby carrier and put her hands on the shoulders of her son, Jeremy, as he too wandered out on to the porch. 

Watching the sheriff and his wife, George called to the boy "Hey Jeremy and Beth, come say hello to your best uncle."   The boy ran to take the outstretched hand., Beth grasping his hand on the other side.

"Why don’t you two show me that new puppy your father brought you?" he asked as he walked them towards the yelping puppy who’s chain was wrapped firmly around a nearby tree in the back yard. 

"Honey,” the sheriff said, as his wife walked down the steps to stand at his side.  “Come look at something with me.”  He put an arm around her shoulders and walked her towards rear of the car.  She put her arm around his waist and held him close to her. 

They had met her at a local church potluck when they were both sixteen.  By the time they were eighteen, they were making marriage plans.  He had always loved her dark brown hair although it was starting to gray and the lines under her dark brown eyes were growing deeper as the years passed.  He knew had had fallen in love with her when he first saw her across the common room pouring coffee for parishioners and loved her more now than that day he’d made her his wife, Marie Beth Kane. 

"Honey, I know you won’t understand this completely, but it was something that I had to do.  I want you to be patient and try to understand what I am about to ask of you,”  he said.  "I’ll tell you tonight why it is so important. Just trust me right now, honey."  She looked for a moment into the eyes of the man whom she had placed her trust for the last fifteen years, nodded her head and then stepped forward to look into the back seat of the squad car. 

Across the seat lay and form of a thin young boy.  His hair was white, his skin pale. He was dressed in grimy black pants and a worn short-sleeved Tennessee Vols jersey covered in mud.  His feet were bare and caked with red clay mud.  His entire body was covered in thin red scratches enveloped by a layer of dirt.  His hair long in the back looked as if it had been hacked with a razor and was full of small green burs.  His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with deep sleep.  

Stooping to peer into the window next to his wife the sheriff said, "I want us to take him in. Only you, George and I will know where he came from.  I know he has no kin and don’t want him persecuted because of his background.  We’ll tell everyone that he was my cousin’s child and has come to live with us, since his parents died.  It is kind of the truth, in a way.”

She looked from the sleeping child to her husband.  "He’s alone now, baby.  This child kin and I am to blame.  I have to make it up to him and to God, somehow."  The sheriff reached for her hand and squeezed. 

"Of course, dear,” she agreed. “He’ll be just like our own.  It was meant to be."  She reached her hand towards the boy and pressed her hand to the window.  The sheriff opened the front passenger door and unlocked the back door. 

"Be careful.  He was terrified of us, and we barely caught him.  Hell, he bit George.  Maybe George and I should carry him inside before you get to know him." 

"Nonsense," she said ignoring his profanity and reaching for the boy’s shoulder shaking it gently to awaken him.  He woke with a start turned his head and opened his eyes, looking at the dark haired woman in panic.  She backed up, startled by the intensity of his stare and his eyes.  

“I have an idea. George, bring the children back over here, ” Marie called.

"Mommy...Mommy, guess what? yelled Beth as she rounded the corner of the house.  "Uncle George said we could ....." She stopped in
mid-sentence as she saw the figure in the back seat. 

A precocious Jeremy, one year younger than his sister Beth, ran towards his mother.  “Slowly children.  Come stand here with me,” she instructed.

"Don’t be scared.  He’s just a boy, no matter what he looks like," Marie cooed at her own brood.

Beth straightened her shoulders and reached a hand towards the boy.  He looked at her through queer eyes and backed up against the opposite car door. 

"Beth, don’t get too close," her mother warned.  Beth, ignoring her mother’s warning, walked directly up to the door and held out her hand to the boy. 

"Come on,
let’s go play,” she said quietly blue eyes smiling warmly.  Her pink painted finger nails and gold charm bracelet shone in the overhead light.  The boy reached his hand toward her bracelet and touched it tentatively. 

"You like that?  Beth asked.  She unhooked the latch with her opposite hand and then wrapped it around the boy’s wrist.  Kneeling on the seat, he twisted his wrist back and forth as if he were listening to it jingle.  He smiled and took Beth’s outstretched hand in his.  She turned from inside the squad car and led him out into the yard.  Her parents backed away from the car for a moment, surprised at their daughter’s ability to soothe the frightened child. 

"Is he going to stay here with us?" Beth asked, as if she already knew the answer and looking for affirmation from her parents.  The two adults looked at each other for a moment. 

Marie spoke, "We adopted him.  He will be living with us from now on." 

"What’s his name?" Beth asked.  The sheriff looked at his wife in panic, searching for an answer. A moment passed. 

"I think his name should be Stephen,”  Beth said.  "He looks like a Stephen." 

"You know, baby.  That just happens to be his name," the sheriff answered.  "His name is Stephen." 

"How did his eyes get to be like that, Daddy?" Beth asked still holding tightly to her new brother’s hand.  "He looks like my bunny, Harvey." 

"I don’t know, baby.  He’s just different.  It isn’t bad.  It’s just different, the same way that you have black hair and your mommy, me, and your brother have brown hair. Not bad. Just different," the sheriff answered, a sigh of relief echoing through his entire body. 

"I love him Daddy, just like I do Harvey.  I don’t think he’s different like you say.  I think he is special."  Beth pulled Stephen’s hand.  "Come on Stephen. Let’s go see the new puppy." 

Stephen, enraptured by the girl, allowed himself to be pulled along behind her.  As they rounded the corner of the house, the boy looked back at the sheriff and Beth.  Stephen smiled, his white teeth fading into the background of his shocking white hair and pale skin. 

Marie reached over to grasp her husband’s hand and looked at the boy.  With a smile she waved with the other hand.  With a stifled gasp, she squeezed her husband’s hand, her grip growing stronger as her dark brown eyes locked with the boy’s.  With a small gasp, she held her breath, unwilling to be startled by the bright pink of the boy’s albino eyes.  Her husband squeezed her hand in return. 

"You’ll get used to it Marie,” he whispered.  “He’s still just a boy, and he’ll need all the love we can give him.”  Marie said a short prayer under her breath, nodded her head and turned to walk with her husband towards the front door.  They spoke in hushed voices as the sheriff explained how he had decided to return to the old woman’s house and search for the boy.  She winced when she heard him talk about the fire and pursed her lips angrily listening to the part about Tarlington.  She reached one hand up to touch the new growth of whiskers and his tired, yet hopeful eyes. 

"It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?" he asked. 

"Yes John, it was."  She pulled him close and let herself be engulfed in his arms. In the back yard they could hear their two children laughing and George’s deep baritone voice.  Not surprisingly, they heard nothing from their new ward. 

"Does he talk?” Marie asked. 

"In time,” the sheriff, said “Give him time. We’ll never know what he’s capable of unless we give him time."

The boy, Stephen, held tightly to Beth’s hand staring at her in both terror and wonder.  Stephen had never seen another child, only the woman that had been his mother.  There had been old black and white pictures he had found once while he was digging through a worn black trunk.  The pictures were stuck together in little stacks.  When he’d tried to peel them apart some of them had disintegrated into thin paper strips.  Still he’d found a few that weren’t ruined by the moist basement room, but when he had tried to look at them in the barely
discernible light, he couldn’t make out much but small pale white faces staring back at him with large blank eyes.

"Let’s go swing, Beth,” Jeremy said. 

"You want to go swing?" Beth asked Stephen.  He looked at her blankly. 

"He doesn’t speak and I am not sure he can hear you.  I don’t even know if he understands what you are saying.  He hasn’t been around many people, so you two will have to teach him and kind of look after him,” George said. 

"Geez...just what I need.  I don’t want to have to look after some retard,” Jeremy said. 

"Don’t you ever say that again!" Beth snapped.  "He’s not a retard.  He’s just different and now he’s ours.”

"Man, she’s just gonna adopt him just like she does all those other strays she takes care of,”  Jeremy whined. Like father, like daughter, Beth had a passion for taking in strays.  Baby birds, lost cats, abandoned bunnies; she felt compelled to care for displaced, helpless critters.  

"Come on Jeremy, let’s go swing,” George said taking Jeremy’s shoulder and pulling him towards the rope swing.  "Your sister’s right Jeremy.  He’s not a retard.  In fact, he’s very special and just think, once you make him understand you, you’ll have a brother.  You will be able to fish and play ball together.  That’s something you can’t do with a sister,”  George said as Jeremy climbed into the old tire swing.  George grabbed the back of Jeremy’s pants swung him out into the air. 

Stephen stared up at Beth’s black hair and olive skin, a mirror image of his pale whiteness.  She turned to him and smiled.  Her lips moved, but he heard nothing.  She smiled again and pulled him towards a little white wooden house on tall legs.  Wire mesh enclosed the little house and formed a floor next to the little house about three-foot square. 

Beth let go of his hand and opened the door to the little house and reached inside.  She pulled a squiggling white fluffy shape out into the sunlight and held him in her arms.  Cuddling the large rabbit, she petted his ears with one hand and kissed the animal squarely on the nose.  The calmed rabbit, nose twitching, looked at Stephen curiously.  Stephen’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open.  He stood staring at the rabbit and then at Beth.  She reached her hand out, took his and put his hand on the rabbit’s warm fur.  Stephen could feel the animal’s heart beat against his hand.