Linny's Sweet Dream List (23 page)

“Can you please go out to the side door pockets of the truck and pull out the maps. Let's get coordinated here,” he said.

Linny hurried out to the truck, glad to be doing something useful. Moments later, he glanced back and forth from the phone to the map and muttered. “He'd likely go someplace he knows, on roads he knows, but he's not doing anything predictable right now.” Jack frowned, uncapped a highlighter and marked the map in yellow. “I see about ten possible routes between Fairmont, the farm, and both his grandparents' houses . . .”

Linny quietly drew in her breath as she saw the busy thoroughfares and the miles and miles between downtown and where Jack thought the boy might go.

A few moments later, they were in the truck, kicking up gravel as they went flying down the driveway. “What else are Chaz and Vera doing?” Linny asked.

“They're talking with Tyler and his other friends to see if they know anything.”

For a moment, she sat silently, thinking about Neal. “Running away seems so drastic for a boy his age.” Linny turned to him, and asked quietly, “Why would he do it?”

The muscle in Jack's jaw worked as he jerked the wheel to avoid a pothole. “Vera says it came out of the blue, but I don't buy it. The note said something like, ‘Dad isn't a bad parent. I'm not staying with you all the time.' ” He gave her a sidelong glance.

“So he's really mad,” she said slowly.

Jack nodded slowly. “He probably thinks no one cares what he wants. He's mad about the divorce, mad with me for not spending more time with him, and mad at Vera for fighting me.”

Linny felt a pull of sadness for the boy. She jumped when her phone rang but when she glanced at the number, she took the call.

“Hey, Mama.”

Her voice must have sounded strained, because Dottie instantly said, “What's wrong, sweetheart?”

Linny sighed. “You met my friend, Jack, at the party. His son Neal ran away. Jack and I are out looking for him.”

Dottie gave a quiet gasp, and then was all business. “How can I help?”

“You can go by the house and take care of Roy for me. If we don't find him tonight, come to my house tomorrow around sunup, and you can ride and search with me. That'll give us an extra set of eyes.” She looked at Jack who nodded in confirmation.

“I'll be there,” Dottie said without hesitation. “Give Jack a hug for me, and tell him we'll all be praying for him and Neal. We'll have to trust God that everything is going to be all right.”

Linny knew her mother would pray all night, and blinked back tears. “Love you, Mama. See you tomorrow.”

Linny and Jack resumed their search. With eyes straining and necks craning, they completed the first route without a glimpse of Neal. Linny leaned the map on her knee and quietly put an
X
beside the first of the ten routes.

Jack and Chaz talked several times to coordinate their efforts. Though his voice was flinty and the exchanges were terse, Linny thought the two men seemed in sync. Glancing over at him, she said, “You two read each other real well.”

“Chaz was a friend,” Jack reminded her. “He's in the car doing what we're doing, and Vera's sent pictures and descriptions to the county Sheriff's Department, the city police and the Highway Patrol so they're all on the lookout.” His eyes raking the fields that ran on either side of the truck, his words came out in a rush. “Vera is used to being a full-time mom, and Neal's starting to be more independent doesn't sit well with her. She doesn't want to share Neal fifty-fifty with me. Chaz and Neal's relationship is rocky. The boy resents him, and Chaz has the unlucky job of trying to be an instant parent to a pre-teen.” He gave her a grim smile. “Not sure old Chaz knew what he was getting himself into.”

They rode in tense silence, and after the third route turned up nothing, all Linny could think about were the most dire outcomes. She pictured the boy lying bloody and crumpled by the side of the road, hit by a speeding car. Noticing the 103 degrees temperature displayed on the rearview mirror, she pictured the disoriented boy stumbling through the woods and collapsing, pink with heat, and parched. Her stomach gripped as she pictured a genial looking man trying to lure Neal into the car with a tale of a lost puppy. Through the emotional airwaves of the universe, she sent the boy an urgent message.
Don't get in anybody's car, Neal. Stay away from strangers.

 

When her face slumped into the cool glass of the window, Linny was startled into wakefulness. She looked around, bleary eyed. They were at a Gas and Go, and a white-faced Jack was filling the tank. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 1:00 a.m. She had been dozing off and on for the last hour. Slapping her cheeks, held the last mapped route under the globe light and squinted.

Climbing in, Jack rested his hands on the steering wheel, and looked over at her. His voice was weary. “I'm taking you home.”

“I'm not going home,” she said stubbornly.

“Yes, you are. You'll be a bigger help to me later today if you get some sleep.”

Linny thought about it and grudgingly agreed. “All right.” She pointed at the map. “We've retraced every likely route at least three times. What next?” She saw the fatigue and worry etched on his face, and touched his forearm.

“I need to check in with Chaz again, and see where things stand . . .” Jack's phone rang. Glancing at the number, he quickly picked up. “Hello.”

As he listened, she watched his face fall, and her heart contracted.

“Nothing? Okay. Good idea. Call me if you hear anything.” Ending the call, he looked at her, his mouth a thin line. “No word. Vera and a friend logged into his Facebook account, texted every friend in his address book asking for information, and posted on his wall asking people to be on the lookout for him. They also made up flyers with his picture on it. I'm going to swing by their house to pick those up, and start hammering them on telephone poles.”

“Good.” Linny nodded as they drove into the inky night. “Call me later and let me know where you want us to cover tomorrow, I mean today.”

Jack nodded, his grim expression reflected in the dashboard light.

When he pulled into her driveway, Linny leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. She felt him give a ragged sigh, and squeeze his arms around her shoulders.

“Thanks, Linny,” he murmured, his face in her hair.

As she slipped down from the truck, she felt helpless and wished she had it in her power to make things better for him. Trudging to the trailer, Linny unlocked the door and let Roy out for a run. Peeling off her clothes, she slipped on her nightgown. As she took a perfunctory swipe at her face with a cold washcloth, she could hear the puppy in the back yard, yipping determinedly. Maybe the wind had changed and the scent of Margaret's chickens was stronger. If he didn't stop barking, he'd scare the poor things to death. Fervently, she hoped none had escaped. Tonight of all nights, she didn't want Roy running down a helpless creature. She called the dog in and then collapsed into bed.

Her sleep was fitful, and full of crazy, fragmented dreams. When the alarm buzzed at 4:00 a.m., her heart beat wildly. She blinked, and her eyes felt coated with sand paper. Heaving herself from the bed, she threw on clothes, and hurriedly checked for new text or voice mail messages, but there were neither. Placing the phone on the table in front of her, she sat slumped at the kitchen table, cradling a mug of coffee. As she looked out the window, the dark sky began to lighten. She felt dazed, despairing, and as empty as the corn husks that littered the fields.

At 4:45, she couldn't wait any longer and called Jack. “Hey. Any news?”

“None.” He sounded exhausted. “I'm going to stop and talk with every convenience store owner and business out this way. Maybe somebody saw something and didn't think it was important.”

By now, he must be considering the possibility of foul play, and the frightening images that conjured up. Her heart ached for him. Staying focused on the task at hand was the best thing for him to do. Briskly, she asked, “Did you get the flyers up?”

“I put up around seventy and left another hundred in your mailbox. Can you and your mom hand them out or tape them to the outside of mailboxes east of Highway 421?”

“We'll do it. How are Vera and Chaz holding up?” Linny asked.

“Rough. When I went to pick up the flyers, I heard the tail end of a fight. He was reading her the riot act about her part in Neal running away, telling her she needed to let the boy grow up, and stop trying to keep him from me.”

“Good for Chaz.” Maybe some good would come of this frightening event.

“He's been driving nonstop too,” Jack said.

Linny heard the undertone of gratitude in his voice. Chaz was his ally on the front line in this battle. She saw headlights bounce up the driveway. “I need to go. Mama's here.” She paused, not wanting to end the connection. “We're going to find him and he's going to be fine,” she said firmly.

“He'll be grounded 'til he's thirty-five, though,” he said. “I'll call you.”

Linny felt heartened by the tiny glimmer of humor, and ended the call.

 

When her mother stepped from her Buick into the weak morning light, Linny felt a flood of relief. “I'm so glad you're here, Mama.”

“Of course, sugar.” Her mother hugged her.

Linny was comforted by her warm bulk and familiar smell—baby powder, spearmint gum, and Jergens hand cream.

“I got us some biscuits for riding around this morning.” Dottie held up a paper sack.

Her mouth watered, and she remembered she hadn't eaten much lately. “Let me grab some bottles of water.” Her mother followed her inside and in the light, Linny smiled.

Wearing sneakers and a shirtwaist dress, Dottie had oversized binoculars slung around her neck. Clutched in her hand was a long-billed cap with an eighteen-wheeler emblazoned on the front, and a flap that hung down the back of the wearer's neck. Draped on an elastic leash were blue tinted wraparound sunglasses like the NASCAR drivers wore. Her sweet mother probably thought this was a good lady detective ensemble—probably inspired by re-runs of
Murder She Wrote
—but she looked like a hunter headed for a duck blind. Linny started laughing so hard she couldn't speak. It wasn't that funny, she knew, but a combination of nerves and too little sleep made it hard for her to stop.

Dottie got that familiar, defensive look on her face. “What's so funny?”

“You're looking so . . . sporty,” she choked out, “Where did you get . . . the hat?”

Chuckling, Dottie slipped on her shades and pulled the cap over her poufy curls. “Yard sale. Twenty-five cents.”

Fresh paroxysms of laughter bubbled up in Linny, and finally, a few moments later, subsided. Oh, it felt good to laugh.

“I wanted to make sure I could see everything if it got glare-y.” Dottie took off her glasses but kept on the cap, adjusting the brim. “Now, I've been trying to think like an upset young man on a bike . . .” she began.

 

Once they were on the road, Linny and her mother worked out their system. Linny would signal and ease up to mailboxes, while Dottie leaned out the window to tape on the flyers. After they'd distributed most of them, Linny rolled the Volvo through subdivisions and trailer parks. Both women were quiet, intent on keeping their eyes peeled, and not missing a clue. When they saw people working out in their yards, they'd stop and ask, showing them a flyer. One woman had seen a fellow on a bike, but he'd been Hispanic.

Anxiety gnawed at her stomach all morning. Jack finally called at noon to check in, and sounded tired and despondent. “No word, no nothing on this end.”

After she caught him up on what they'd done, he paused. “I'm going to see if I can get hold of a reporter. See if we can get a story on the news.” All business, he rang off. Linny stopped at the old tobacco barns that dotted the countryside, and she and Dottie tromped down to each, calling, “Neal, Neal.” All they heard was the lonesome sound of whirring cicadas and trucks on the interstate in the distance. By late afternoon, Linny's spirits were flagging, and she could see that Dottie—who “rested her eyes” every afternoon about this time—was fading. “Let's take a break, Mama.”

At the house, Linny switched off the ignition, and rubbed her eyes wearily.

“Maybe the others have made headway.” Dottie tried to sound hopeful but kept wringing her hands.

She felt the grip of anxiety, too, knowing that with every passing hour the situation grew more dire. Reaching over, she held her mother's hands to quiet them. Her mother kissed her cheek. “Let me know when you hear anything.”

Linny nodded dispiritedly as she clambered from the car. “I promise.”

A
s she watched the Buick bump down the driveway, Linny felt forlorn and trudged into the house. When she let Roy outside, he took off like he was jet-fueled. Leaning in the doorframe, Linny watched him. After a quick pee, he put his nose to the ground, and barked continually as he snuffled the grass, weaving up and down the property line.

He wanted to eat those darned chickens. “Roy, come. Come,” she called, but he didn't even slow his pace. Finally, she strode to the yard, grabbed his collar and frog-walked him inside. She spooned out his dinner and he ate greedily, but then paced restlessly around the kitchen and pawed at the door.

Slumping at the kitchen table, Linny chewed an energy bar, but her clutching stomach made it hard for her to eat more than a few bites. The wind whistled around the side of the house. Peering out the window, she watched the sky fill with billowing, gray clouds, and the limbs of trees in the yard dance wildly. She shook her head in frustration. The brewing thunderstorm was going to be a doozy—just what a tired, disheartened search party needed. Picturing Neal walking through blinding rain and cowering from lightning strikes, she shuddered. The segment of a long-forgotten childhood prayer came back to her, and she sent it up silently.
God, have your angels fold their wings around him, and guard him with your love.

Propped up on pillows, Linny lay in her bed and listened to the rain. Outside her bedroom window, thunder cracked and lightning flared. Too wired to sleep, but too tired to comprehend the paragraph she'd just read for the third time, Linny gave up trying to read. The lights flickered and went out. Great. Just what she needed. Fumbling her way down the hall and into the kitchen, she rummaged in the junk drawer, and found a flashlight, candles, and a box of wooden matches. Leaving the candles on the counter, she turned on the flashlight and walked back to the bedroom. Pulling Roy into bed with her, she listened to rumbling thunder, and the raindrops splattering hard on the roof. She repeated the prayer she'd remembered, not sure if it was meant for Jack or Neal. She'd say it for the both of them. Finally, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell into a thin, restless sleep.

 

Later, she woke, drenched in sweat. Rain pounded on the roof and the wind howled. Her dream had been vivid. A frightened boy in a wooden closet kept insisting, “I'm right here. I'm right here.” Linny sat straight up in bed, instantly awake. Suddenly, she knew.

Hurriedly, she extricated herself from the bedding. Roy jumped down from the mattress, ready for action. She grabbed the flashlight, and threw a slicker on over her nightgown and pulled on a pair of old cowboy boots. “Let's go, buddy,” she called to Roy.

Unlocking the back door, she ran clumsily through the yard, her flashlight bobbing. She was drenched almost immediately, even with the rain coat. Roy was right on her heels, barking furiously. Branches lashed at her face and briars snagged her legs as she wove her way through the woods to Margaret's, but she plowed on. A lightning bolt hit close and her heart pounded. Finally, she spotted the clearing and the next hair-raising strike illuminated the three outbuildings of the miniature village. Chickens clucked in the General Store and Post Office, but Roy ignored them and raced for the tiny cottage. Thank heavens for the dream and for the realization that the dog had been alerting her to the boy, rather than worrying the chickens. “Neal, Neal. We're coming,” she hollered. The dog ran on ahead and scratched furiously at the wooden door. “Good boy, Roy,” she called, a mix of rain and tears streaming down her face. ‘Neal,” she shouted. “Neal.”

As she held the flashlight under her arm and struggled to pull the warped doors open, Linny heard frightened sobbing. She intensified her efforts, and shouted over the pounding of the rain, “It's all right, Neal. We're coming.”

Finally, she managed to pry the doors open and shone the light over the bushel baskets, the lawn tractor, leaning stacks of rakes and shovels, and . . . a mountain bike. At the sound of piteous wailing, she turned the beam to rest it on the boy, crouched in a corner, wrapped in a plastic tarp.

The boy's face was pinched, and his eyes wild behind cockeyed glasses. His clothes looked wet, and he shivered. Blocking his eyes from the light, he quavered, “Who are you?”

Her knees weak with adrenaline, Linny lowered the light from his face, and her heart went out to him. He must be terrified. She stooped, and in as a gentle a tone as could be heard above the storm, said, “I'm Linny, Neal. I'm a friend of your dad's. We met at his office, remember?”

Tears trickling down his face, he nodded, and cringed at the crackling lightning. Roy rushed to the boy and starting licking his face. The boy gave a tremulous smile, and hugged the wet dog.

“This is Roy, he's the one who found you,” she said.

Still stroking Roy, the boy nodded, and said shakily, “The dog with pancreatitis.”

Linny smiled. “Right. He's all better now. Let's get you inside where it's warm and dry, okay?” He gave her a nod, and she helped unwrap him from the tarp. He reached for a backpack, and clutched it to him As she threw open the door, he shrank back as another bolt of lightning lit the sky. Grabbing his hand, she sheltered him from the pelting rain as best she could, and stumbled back through the woods toward her trailer.

In the kitchen, she sat him down, and kept up a stream of patter in an effort to calm him. “We are so glad to see you, I can't even tell you. Weren't you smart to think of staying in the little house and using that plastic as a blanket.” His crying subsided, but his shivering intensified. “The power's out. Will you hold this for me?” She handed him the flashlight, lit the candles, and grabbed supplies from the closet. Draping a blanket around Neal's thin shoulders, she rubbed them until his shivering subsided, then took a towel to his hair. Her eyes swept over him appraisingly. “Are you okay, Neal? Are you hurt in any way?”

His chin wobbled, and the drenched eleven-year-old looked like a much younger child. “I'm okay. I'm hungry, though.”

“We can fix that,” she assured him, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Dad and Mom and Chaz are going to be so mad at me.” Neal started to sob. “I don't want to just stay with my mother. I want to be with Dad, too.” Roy came closer and looking anxious, rested his nose on Neal's knee. His eyes still streaming, the boy reached down to stroke the puppy's muzzle.

Linny put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “Neal, no one's going to be mad, and no one can keep you from your father.” She hoped she was telling the truth. “As soon as I call your dad to tell him you are okay, I'm going to fix you a bunch of sandwiches. Do you like peanut butter?”

Neal nodded, his tears slowing, and he stroked Roy's head.

She grabbed her cell. Her hair and bathrobe were dripping and she was shivering, but Linny was soaring.

Pushing in the number for Jack's cell, it rang three times before he answered, sounding strained and exhausted.

“He's here, Jack. He was in Margaret's little cottage near the chicken houses, and he's fine,” she choked out. “Let me put him on the phone.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she handed the phone to Neal.

 

Twenty minutes later, when Jack strode into the room, the candles cast a golden glow on his face, tight with suppressed emotion. Linny's teeth quietly chattered, as the ball of adrenaline in her stomach slowly dissolved. From the couch, she watched Jack embrace the boy and rock him back and forth, murmuring reassurances. Neal's skinny arms wound around his father's neck, and he cried anew as Jack stroked his head. Over the boy's shoulders, Jack's gaze held Linny's, and he gave her a look that conveyed such intense gratitude and relief that her heart caught. Tears brimmed again and trickled down her cheek. She brushed them away, touched and privileged to be a part of this reunion.

“I am so thankful”—Jack paused and steadied his voice—“for your help. I still don't know how you figured it out.”

“Thank Roy,” she murmured, smiling through her tears. “It finally occurred to me that the chickens had been at Margaret's for a while, and Roy hadn't made a fuss over them until the past two days. The penny finally dropped.”

Neal slowly stopped crying, and whispered to his Dad, “I have to use the bathroom.”

“Go ahead, buddy. We'll be right here.” Jack released him, pointed him down the hall, and the boy turned away. Jack's eyes locked on hers. He sat down beside her on the couch. Wordlessly, he buried his fingers in her hair, pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, and folded her into his arms. “Linny,” he murmured.

Nestling into the spot between his neck and shoulders, she felt safe and protected, like she was the one who'd come home after a harrowing journey. She sank into him, and sighed. At the sound of the toilet flushing, she reluctantly pulled away.

Neal padded back in the room, and slid onto the pillows beside Jack. Resting his head on his father's shoulder, he murmured drowsily, “Don't forget my bike.”

Jack put a hand on the back of the boy's head, and said softly, “We'll come back for that, son. Let's get you home and in bed.”

Linny walked them out the door. Jack circled her in his free arm, hugged her and kissed the top of her head. Husky-voiced, he whispered, “Get some sleep, my sweet girl.”

Sweet girl, she thought dreamily, as she locked the door. His sweet girl. She floated to her bed, pulled in the puppy, and fell into a deep sleep.

 

After the night's raging storms, morning dawned clear and golden, and sunlight spilled like honey over the fields. Linny rubbed her eyes and put on the coffee. Gazing out the window at the clean, clear morning, she sighed, still filled with gratitude about so many things, and a buzzing of excitement about new possibilities.

After leaving a voice mail for her mother, Linny glanced at the time, and gulped her last sips from the mug. She needed to get ready and step on it. Had her phone not dinged a reminder, she'd have forgotten this morning's meeting with Lil at Earth and Sea.

Keys in hand, she hugged the dog, and rubbed the back of the Lucky Duck. “Help this meeting go well,” she called, and turned to go.

 

At the store, Lil gave her a handshake and a warm smile. “Morning, Linny. Let's find us a quiet spot.” She led her to the back of the coffee shop, and patted the seat beside her. “So tell me what you are thinking.”

The idea that had been percolating in her mind had finally become crystal clear to her. “I'd like to run a management development program for small business owners here at your store. No matter what kind of small business you own, you run into the same kinds of problems—how to hire the right employees, teach them to treat customers well, and manage performance problems.” She explained her ideas for the evening classes.

When she'd finished, Lil nodded so enthusiastically that her curls bounced. “Count us in. If Frankie says, ‘Let's fire 'em all' one more time, I'll strangle him.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Let's talk through the details . . .”

 

As she tooled down the two-lane road back toward home, Linny sang along to a song on the oldies station, waved at the farmer driving by on a tractor, and lowered the window to let in the cool morning air. The pieces of her Sweet Dream List were finally starting to fall into place. Work couldn't get much sweeter than a job helping smart people run their businesses better. On the personal front, there was Jack. She tingled at the remembrance of last night's embrace.

As she drew closer to the farm, she saw several neon yellow, hand-lettered posters that read H
UGE
Y
ARD
S
ALE ON
S
ATURDAY
—B
ARGAINS
G
ALORE
!!! Linny shook her head, hoping that, by some miracle, Dottie wouldn't see them.

Bumping down the road to the farm, she braked hard, spewing gravel. She threw the car in reverse. Had she read the sign correctly? The arrow looked like it pointed down their road. Craning her neck, she saw she'd read it right. Puzzled, she continued down the road, trying to figure it out. When she spotted another yellow sign directing yard sale shoppers into her mother's driveway, Linny turned the car in behind the carport. Her mother's Buick was there, and parked behind it at an angle, was Dessie's Lincoln.

Linny rapped on the screen door. “Mama?” she called.

“I'm coming. Hold your horses.” Dottie flipped the hook on the door. Her hair was tied up in a kerchief and her face had smudges of dirt on it. “Hey, sugar,” she said, with a Cheshire cat smile.

Linny tilted her head. “What's going on? What's the story with the signs?”

Her mother beckoned, leading Linny back to the living room. The blinds were pulled open, and warm sunlight filled the room. Her mother's yard sale finds were separated into distinct piles, and Dessie and Ruby chattered as they affixed bright orange price tags to items. They smiled and waved at Linny as she stopped, gaping. “What . . .” she sputtered. She turned to her mother. “Don't tell me . . .”

Dottie grinned broadly at her. “Yes ma'am. We're having a big yard sale. Everything must go.” She held out her hands and waved them around the room.

Linny shook her head, afraid to believe the news. “What . . . what brought this on?”

Giving Linny a look that begged her not to judge, her mother said softly, “I think I'm . . . feeling things again. Last two nights, I was scared about that lost child. I prayed so hard, and felt flat-out joy when you found him.” Dottie shook her head. “I haven't felt any of those feelings in a long time, because I was hunkered down in this cocoon.” She gestured around the room. “Things started with me telling the truth to you girls, and picked up steam when I told my girlfriends, and found that sweet pea dog.” She made a smooching sound and sent Curtis a finger wave. Lowering her voice confidentially, she added, “I even told The Sisters of Dorcas.”