Katie's Dream (39 page)

I didn't like the idea. I don't know why. Surely Edward would just get tired and go away on his own. We weren't holding him here. Nothing was holding him.

We tried to get back to the day's activities. I started dinner. Franky slept. Emmie was up and running, pulling dish towels out of the cupboard and throwing them on the floor. Robert and Willy came home, and Samuel told them to stay by the house the rest of the day. He'd promised to work field with George, but he was going to have to ask Barrett Post for the use of his truck and go into town to talk to the sheriff.

He told me a little about the fight. But not much. Not in front of the kids. He didn't say much when I told him how Edward had been. He sat and put his face in his hands. He didn't want to go into town. Not yet. But he didn't think he had a choice now.

We were just finishing up dinner when Joe came running through the timber to our yard. He came straight to the house all out of breath and burst in without knocking. “Did Harry and Berty eat with you?” he asked, looking around quickly.

We all stared up at him. The little boys had gone home with Lizbeth and had not been back. We told him that.

“They was playin'. We figured they was in the shed.” He looked at Samuel. “They didn't come in when Lizbeth rung the bell to eat. We ain't seen 'em since about the time your brother left.”

Those boys. They were so fearless, thinking they were more grown up than they were. More than once I'd thought how easy it would be to lose them in the middle of a day's tumult.

“Where have you looked?” Samuel asked Joe.

“Everywhere over to home. That's why I come here. Can I look in your barn? Maybe they's playin' with Whiskers somewhere.”

We checked everywhere. Samuel took Willy and Joe with him to double-check the path through the timber, the pond, and our creek.

An anxious hour later, Joe was back to tell me Samuel had sent him to get the Posts and the Muellers to help search the woods. There was no trace of the boys.

I prayed. Sarah wanted to go help them look. When I told her she was just too young, she went upstairs to look out all the high windows. Rorey went outside and climbed a tree.

Franky couldn't rest now. His mind was working on the problem of his little brothers. “Maybe they decided to go to the school,” he suggested. “They's anxious to be big enough to go. Or maybe they figgered on walkin' all the way to Georgie Dixon's house. They sure like playin' with him, but the only chance they ever get is on Sunday.”

“I'm sure they'll think of all that,” I told him. “Try to relax.”

“I don't wanna relax. Ain't there somethin' I can do?”

I brought him beans to snap. Seemed silly, but busy hands make for less worry on the mind.

It was hard waiting and not knowing any way to help. Robert was having an especially hard time, because he thought he was big enough to help search, but Samuel had told him to stay with me.

“It's because of Uncle Edward,” he complained. “He's afraid Uncle Edward'll come back stirrin' up more trouble. Maybe he took 'em, even. You think he'd take 'em?”

“Not very likely. They weren't with him when he came by here.”

“Well, maybe he went back over there, Mom. Maybe he done it for spite.”

“Lizbeth or George or somebody'd see him,” I said. “Besides, it's your father who he's spiteful toward. If he was going to do anything, he would do it to one of us.”

“I think he's hateful. The poorest brother I ever heard of. Why can't he just be like normal folks?”

Two hours passed, maybe more. Kirk came by to see if the boys might have showed up at our place. They still weren't home. And they must be getting mighty hungry by now, I figured. I prayed some more.

Mr. Mueller and his son stopped at our well for water and then went back to searching. Samuel hadn't been home. Maybe he wouldn't be until they were found.

“Is this a bad day?” Katie asked me as I was drawing water to wash Emma Grace's diapers.

“I guess it is, compared to most.”

“It was a bad day when Mr. Eddie hit that boy with his car too, wasn't it?”

“Yes. It was. Very bad.”

I lifted the heavy bucket and started back to the house.

“Is most days good days here?”

I had to stop. “Oh, honey. We've had some bad things lately, that's for sure. But it's not always like this. And it won't stay this way. They'll find those little boys soon, and
they'll be just fine. They're a bit big for their britches, that's all, thinking they can do whatever they set their minds to. Took to wandering this time, a little too far, I'm sure. They'll be found.”

She didn't say much more, just looked at me a little uncertainly. Sarah came up beside us and helped me lift the water bucket. Rorey was still in the tree. And Robert was in the barn, busying himself at something.

Suddenly I heard a car.
More searchers,
I thought.
Maybe somebody's found them.

“It's Uncle Edward back,” Sarah said, her face all serious.

“Surely not. Not now.” I looked, hoping to see Barrett or Clement Post or someone else I knew coming to bring us some word.

But Sarah was right. It was Edward again. Katie clung to my skirt in a sudden panic, but Sarah remained strangely calm. “What should we do, Mommy? Should I take Katie in the house and sit with Franky again?”

“Yes. Thank you, honey. You do that.”

I didn't yell for Robert. He was only a boy. And he'd hear soon enough, anyway. I didn't wait for Edward to get his car into our drive. Just seeing him come up the lane made something hard well up inside me. Maybe he wanted to frighten us again. Maybe he enjoyed that. But we had enough to think about. And I didn't want him here, causing my family grief. I'd make him leave. I'd do something.

Seventy times seven.

The words jumped into my skull, but I could hardly bear them.
No, Lord. He's dangerous. Just seeing him's scaring Katie out of her wits.

I ran toward the road, not knowing for sure what I'd say or what I'd do but knowing I had to get him to leave before he troubled the girls any further. And before Robert got out here, because who knew what might happen then.

I stood at the head of our drive as he pulled up and stopped, still in the roadway.

“Keep going,” I told him. “You're not touching one of these children again. You're not welcome here.”

He looked strange, but even so, my hard words didn't seem to faze him much. “Where's Samuel?” he asked.

“He's not here,” I said, making sure I was blocking the drive. “Just go.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“No, you don't. You've already talked to him. You've beat him black and blue and spread all kinds of lies. Just go!” I was serious. Furious. But way down in my heart a persistent little voice repeated,
Seventy times seven.

I stood my ground, shaking my head and not budging to give him any opportunity to turn in—unless he drove right through the daylilies.

“You can hate me all you want,” Edward said. “That's fine, and I don't care. But I mean to find Samuel. Where is he?”

Hate him? The words struck me hard. I couldn't really hate him, or anybody. Could I? I didn't want to. It went against all I was taught and all I believed. It went against that still, small voice urging me again and again to forgive.

“I don't hate you,” I said. “I can't. But I'm angry. You've hurt and frightened innocent children. You've attacked my husband when he doesn't deserve it. But God loves you. I know he does. And I can try to do the same, even though I haven't seen you do anything but mock and destroy.”

“Just tell me where Samuel is,” he said in a quieter voice.

“I can't. He's in these woods somewhere, doing his very best to help his neighbors, something I'm not sure you've ever done in your entire life. He's trying to find two lost little boys, and that's what you'd be doing if you cared an ounce for anyone besides yourself!”

“Didn't know nothing about it,” he said without batting an eye. “Besides, there's boys all over this countryside. I wouldn't know which ones you're looking for if they stared me in the face.”

“I don't suppose you'd care to know. I guess that's the way you are. But Samuel's got to help. Because he cares! So he doesn't have time for you to be hitting him again, or for any more of your accusations. If you've got anything new to say, just tell me now, and I'll tell him when he gets home. Whenever that'll be.”

I couldn't help it. Tears were running down my cheeks. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't be stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Robert coming toward us.
Please, God,
I prayed.
Make Edward leave. Make him leave now, before there's any tussle between them. I don't want my little boy hurt.

Edward didn't say anything. Not another word. He looked at me, he nodded just a bit. Then he turned his car around in the road and drove away, on toward the Posts' house. And I didn't care where he went, so long as he was gone.

Robert came up beside me, and I hugged him with a prayer in my heart.
Thank you, God, for helping me tell Edward one more time that you love him. Thank you for helping me, that he left so peacefully. And forgive me, Lord. Because I'm trying to forgive. But I never want to see him again.

TWENTY - SIX

Samuel

I didn't know how long I'd been out, calling and calling those boys' names. I was getting more sore with every step, but I wasn't about to go back and bellyache about it now. I just kept trudging on, circling through our timber and then following the creek beyond it. I'd found one track. One tiny little bare footprint in the creek mud, and that was enough to keep me going this direction.

I knew how Harry loved to play Indian. Maybe he'd just taken it a little too far and decided to make camp in the trees somewhere. I could relate to that, though when I was a boy the woods where we played had been barely a fraction of the size of this one.

Strange how the memories circled through my mind as I walked. Dewey and I balancing branches against a low-hanging limb to make ourselves a little lean-to. We'd made a ring of rocks and filled it with sticks too, though
we never managed to get a real fire going. I'd pretended to really live there. I'd pretended we were Wampanoag Indians with a bear paws symbol. And nobody could find us if they didn't understand our password and the way we marked a trail. A child's foolishness. A child's escape.

A flock of birds burst into flight in front of me, but I went on, wishing that all of us had ways of letting each other know if we found anything significant. The Posts had had their hunting rifles with them, and Joe Hammond had grabbed his squirrel rifle too. They would fire a shot in the air if the boys were found. But I didn't own a gun, to the amusement of some of my neighbors.

I kept walking, past where our Blackberry Creek joined into Curtis Creek and kept going. I remembered the time Edward had come looking for me; he was none too impressed with our little camp. He seemed angry as usual, kicking our ring of rocks in all directions and calling me stupid for not going home when it started to get dark. That was when he'd shared the pickle loaf. It was too bad there was so much strain between Edward and me now. Just that memory, of him caring just that much, might have been enough to help us move on together.

“Harry!” I yelled. “Berty!”

I wondered how George was faring, and where he was right now.
Why all this struggle, Lord? One Hammond boy's laid up with a broken leg, and now this!

I thought I heard something in the distance. A motor vehicle, and then it was gone. “Harry!” I yelled again.

After two more twists in the creek, I found a cloth ball soaking in the water. Berty's ball. I knew it. Julia had made it for him for Christmas. I picked it up, squeezed the water out over my head, and crammed it down into my shirt pocket. The sudden coolness felt good.

And I'd needed that sign. I was headed upstream, so they had to be somewhere ahead of me. Had to be.

I hurried, calling their names some more. Finally, I heard
a muffled little sound ahead of me that sounded like crying. I called, but nobody answered. I rushed forward, pushing my way through a bramble bush. And there I found Berty, sitting at the base of a tree in tears. First he jumped, as though I'd scared him, but then he leaped to his little feet and ran at me. I scooped him up, thrilled to find him safe and sound. “Where's Harry?” I asked the little boy, real worry churning inside me. But Berty only sniffed and pointed up. Harry sat above us, high on a limb, looking all around like he himself was one of the searchers.

“Come down,” I told him. “And tell me what it is you're doing out here.”