Читать книгу Three Boys and a Baby - Laura Marie Altom - Страница 10

Please, God, let Hank find them all safe.

Ella had said the prayer hundreds of times during the endless night, but now, with the early-morning sun filling the boys’ second-story bedroom, why did her throat ache worse than ever? Why, when Hank had told her to stay put, had she desperately wanted to help with the search?

The living room and kitchen teemed with concerned friends and family. Tables were laden with cold cuts, cookies and cake, as if food could somehow fill the gnawing emptiness that had consumed her since Jackson’s promised thirty minutes had faded into ten hours without her boys.

As a doctor, she’d trained for all sorts of emergencies. Broken arms and legs she could handle, but this not knowing just might be the end of her.

A knock sounded on the boys’ open door. “Your friend Claire said I’d find you up here.”

“Jackson.”

Hugging Owen’s favorite stuffed tiger, she glanced the man’s way. “Any sign of them?”

“A dirty diaper and a few granola-bar wrappers out by the old Hampstead place. Looks as if they may have camped there for the night, but no sign of them now.”

She nodded, willing down the bile rising in her throat. “What’s next?”

“A couple of hours ago, we called in help from Buckhorn County. About fifty National Guardsmen have also joined the search. My…um…ex has connections. She called in favors. It won’t be long till we bring them home.”

“I know,” Ella said, adding a new wish to her litany of prayers—that she wouldn’t break down now. Not in front of this virtual stranger.

“We’ve got tracking dogs. They’re good.”

I miss my boys. Please, God, bring them home safe.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

“I’m thinking thirty more minutes is all it’s going to take. Tops.”

“Y-you said that last time.” Her eyes stung.

“Obviously, I underestimated, but this time—”

“This time, what?” she all but shrieked. “Do you have a crystal ball? Have you also called in a psych—” A sob racked her body. Tears flowed and she looked away, but then Jackson pulled her against him, wrapping her in his strength. As if she’d known him a lifetime, because exhaustion and terror and a sense of unbearable helplessness had taken a toll, she clung to him. “I—I’m so afraid,” she cried. “W-what if you don’t find them? Or, w-worse—”

“Shh…” He held her tightly, cupping his hand to the back of her head, as if sheltering her from the harsh realities of what had become of their world. “We’ll bring them all back safe. If not in thirty minutes, then soon. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Because of the sureness of his tone, his powerful hold made her believe him. The worry gripping her insides refused to let her believe anything else.

Once her cheeks had dried and her labored breathing had returned to normal, Jackson released her with an awkward pat to her back, stepping away.

“I should rejoin the others,” he said, already edging toward the door.

She followed. “I want to go. I can’t stand just sitting here. I feel helpless.”

“Look…” He released a deep sigh. “On the off chance you’re needed, you should stay.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, gaze narrowed. “Needed? Why do I get the feeling you’re trying in a polite way to prepare me for one or more of our boys needing medical attention?”

“All I’m saying is just in case. There’s no sense in you being exhausted. Should the need for first aid—for anyone, be it the boys or the baby or one of the search party—arise.”

Despite knowing Jackson was right in his request for her to stay put, Ella wasn’t sure her heart could withstand one more moment of inactivity. “Please, Jackson, there must be something productive I can do.”

“I suppose making sandwiches is out?”

Shooting him a sarcastic smile, she said, “There are already enough sandwiches downstairs to feed every man, woman and child in the state.”

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“IT STINKS IN HERE,” Owen said, looking up at the storm-drain tunnel’s cobwebbed ceiling, then clutching his backpack tighter. “I’m hungry. Let’s go home.”

“We can’t just go home,” Oliver pointed out. Truthfully, deep inside his belly where the hunger pangs were starting to hurt really bad, he kind of wanted to go home, too. Eat a big plate of his mom’s blueberry pancakes with one of those whipped cream smiley faces she drew on them. After that, he’d play video games, then crawl into his mom’s big bed. She had more pillows than him and Owen. She’d asked if he wanted more pillows, but he’d said no, seeing how having his bed covered in soft stuff wouldn’t be very manly. Since his dad had taken off and Oliver was oldest, that made him man of the house and in charge. He had to set a good example for his little brother, for Dillon and the baby. “If we go home, we’re gonna get grounded and Daffodil’s gonna get sent to jail.”

“I still think that’s a stupid name for a baby,” Owen said, “and they won’t take her to jail, but juvie.”

“You’re both wrong.” Dillon hugged the sleeping infant.

“She’ll go to the big house. I saw it on TV. It’s way worse than just jail or juvie. She’ll probably have to be in a gang and stuff.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “She’s a baby. How’s she gonna be in a gang?”

“Gangs are smart.” Dillon kissed the top of the baby’s head. “My teacher, Mrs. Henseford, says gang leaders like to get their new members young.”

“Please,” Owen whined, “let’s go home.”

“No.” Oliver pitched a rock at a tin can. “We have to get jobs—and a car.”

“Yeah,” Dillon said with a heavy sigh. “But before that, you guys ever come up with what we want to name her?”

“I already told you, Rapunzel,” Owen said.

“That’d be fine,” Dillon said, “only she doesn’t have any hair.”

“How ’bout Baldy?”

Dillon wrinkled his nose. “That’s not very pretty. We have to give her a girly name.”

“Fluffy? Kimmy? Cassie?”

“Nah,” Dillon said. “I’m not feeling any of those.”

“Okay, well if you don’t like Daffodil, what about calling her Rose? Roses are pretty, and they smell nice.”

“Yeah,” Dillon said, “but most times, this baby smells bad.”

“That’s just because she poops a lot,” Owen pointed out.

“But she’ll stop that when she’s old.”

“So you want to call her Rose?” Oliver asked.

Dillon gazed down at the baby girl and smiled. “Yeah. Rose…I think that sounds really pretty.”

“THANK YOU,” Ella said. The sincerity in her tone and warmth behind her eyes told Jackson he’d done the right thing in getting her a job manning the phone lines. “This has been good for me.” She sighed. “You know—getting my mind off things for a while.”

“Sure.” Given the gravity of their shared things, he wasn’t sure what else to say.

The police station’s dingy beige lobby hummed with activity.

Phones ringing.

Teletype grunting.

Hank barking orders.

Not since grizzled old Digger Mason had been found dead under the Forked River bridge had Jackson seen such a commotion. Deputies had been called in from three additional counties. Bullock County had just suffered major tornado damage from a sudden spring storm and couldn’t spare the manpower. With all available National Guard members also helping, using the station parking lot as a home base, Jackson had had to park half a block down the street.

A lot of the guys from the fire station had also come down to help with the search. Hank had mentioned that Jackson’s best bud, Vince Calivaris, currently led a crew at the abandoned rock quarry. While Jackson thought it was good of Calivaris to lend a hand, the thought of him finding the boys floating facedown in icy, deep-blue water filled his stomach with cold lead.

“Coffee, Mrs. Garvey?” Deputy Heidi Wesson offered Ella a steaming cup. “Fresh-brewed. Can I get you some cream or sugar?”

“No. But, thank you,” Ella said, accepting the cup, cautiously sipping, then groaning with apparent pleasure. Jackson had never seen a woman take her coffee black. He supposed, what with her being a pediatrician and all, that she’d probably never had time for frivolities like doctoring a cup of joe. He found himself liking that fact about her. Her no-nonsense attitude.

You despise that quality in your all-business ex.

Did he? Or was it the fact that she’d valued efficiency over love?

“How about you?” Heidi asked, offering Jackson a cup, as well.

He murmured his thanks.

“If you’re hungry, the PTA set up an amazing snack table in the break room. I heard it’s being manned by parents from the boys’ school, and that—”

“I—I have to go,” Ella said, her voice faint. “Th-thanks again for the—” She gestured to the cup she’d set on a battered metal folding chair.

“Sure. No problem…” Heidi murmured while Ella ran for the building’s double front doors. She pushed them open as if desperate for air. Hope.

“Want me to check on her?” Heidi asked Jackson. They’d been friends for a while. She’d started with the sheriff’s office the same year he’d taken a full-time position with Firehouse Number 3. The town actually only had two fully manned stations. Number 1 was an honorary title given to the historic red barn holding dive gear for rare underwater rescues.

Shoulders squared, chest aching at the sight of Ella out on the station’s concrete surround, hunched over, bracing her hands on her knees, Jackson said, “Thanks, but let me.”

“Sure? I’m thinking this situation calls for a bit more finesse than your usual growling self.”

“Give me a break,” he said, setting his already emptied cup alongside Ella’s.

“I’m just saying…” His friend held up her hands, flashing a wry smile.

He shook his head.

Outside, the day was fine. Bright and sunny. Not a cloud in the sky. Not at all the kind of day that suited his mood.

He aimed for Ella, but some GI Joe decked out in full-on camo gear beat him to the punch. He’d slipped his arm around Ella’s quaking shoulders, giving her sympathetic pats.

Why, Jackson couldn’t have said, but even from where he stood a good twenty feet away, possessiveness tore through him. He and Ella were going through this godawful ordeal together. He’d be the one to comfort her. See her through it. Guarantee all three of their boys and this baby they’d carted off were safely returned.

Marching to Ella’s side, he cleared his throat and said to the guy still rubbing her back, “I’ll take it from here.”

“I’m good,” the National Guardsman said.

Lowering his voice to the universal back-off tone, Jackson said, “Seriously. She’s with me.”

“Oh.” The guy eyed Ella, then him, then backed away. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Once the Guardsman had left, Jackson shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. He wanted to comfort Ella—damn bad—but something inside him felt broken. As if Julie had taken a chunk of him with her when she’d taken off.

“Look at me,” Ella said with a messy sniffle. “I’m a bona fide wreck.”

“I’d say you have a right to be.”

“You’re not. A mess, that is.”

Wanna bet?

“Here we’ve both been trained to deal with all manner of emergencies, yet I’m falling apart.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but they probably didn’t teach you much in med school about what to do in the event your twins go missing.”

She laughed through more tears, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “You’ve got that right.”

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. His movements were awkward, landing his knuckles against her thigh before fumbling for the tear-dampened fingers of her left hand. But once he had hold of her, he held on for all he was worth. “I’m meeting up with my ex in a little while, but for the moment, it looks like we’re just in the way here. There’s somewhere I think you should go.”

“Just me?” Trailing beside him, her red-rimmed eyes were trusting, yet at the same time, wary.

“Well…” He squeezed her hand. “Obviously, we’re both going. I’ve got my cell should there be any news.”

“Good news,” she said.

“Absolutely.”

“Because that’s the only kind we’ll accept, right?”

Lord, how Jackson missed the days back when he used to be filled with hope. When he used to believe prayer really worked. Back before Julie had left for greener pastures. He’d already lost his marriage. If he ended up losing his son, as well…

“Right, Jackson? Good news is all we’ll take?”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Uh-huh.”

“HOW DID YOU EVER find this?” Ella whispered, oddly afraid to speak in her full voice, almost as if the wondrous place’s spell might be broken.

“Accident,” Jackson said with a shrug. “Long story short, we were working a three-car pile-up alongside the highway, and I needed to take a leak.”

The answer was so unexpectedly honest—not to mention inappropriate—that she burst out laughing.

“What?”

“You. You’re not exactly brimming with social graces, are you?”

“That a problem?”

“Considering what we’re going through, not at all. However, once our boys are safely home, and we’re back to our old routines, if you ever get a hankering to ask out Deputy Heidi, you may wish to bone up on your suave skills.”

At that, he was the one laughing. “Thanks. It’s been years since I’ve had that good a laugh.”

“Let me guess. You’ve never exactly been brimming with suaveness, either?”

“Ding, ding, ding. You win the prize.” He lifted a pine bough for her to step under.

No, judging by the present view, they’d both won.

They’d walked maybe a mile to where the small town faded to forest. To where historic brick homes eventually led the way to thousands of acres of farmland and sky. But here, in a secret glade time had forgotten, Ella stood gaping at the ghostly form of a paddle wheeler. Though the decades hadn’t been kind, the iron behemoth was still elegant in its sea of stately oaks and pine. Listing slightly to the right, as if weary, like her.

“Jackson…It’s amazing. Why…? How?”

“You mean what’s it doing here?” he asked, flashing her a sad half grin. “A buddy of mine who’s a history buff said back before the river was diverted, it used to run through this little valley. There’s been talk of somehow salvaging her—turning her into a museum, but the amount of cash involved would be…” He whistled.

“Still—to think this has been here all this time. There should at least be a proper path leading to it.”

He shrugged. “Probably that’d only encourage teens coming out here to drink and do miscellaneous other dirty deeds.”

“Yeah…You’re probably right.”

For a few moments they quieted, absorbing the forest’s tranquility. A woodpecker hammered a nearby tree, breaking the stillness.

“Why’d you bring me here?” Ella asked.

He crammed his hands in his pockets, looking away.

“When my wife—well, when she asked for a divorce…”

“This place brought you solace? You thought it might do the same for me?”

He glanced down, then up. His dark eyes were wet.

He didn’t deny her assumption.

Many times, when Julie and Jackson had struggled to save their marriage, Dillon had stayed with Ella, Todd and the twins. Ella’s had been the shoulder Dillon had cried upon, meaning she knew far more about the end of Jackson’s marriage than he would probably feel comfortable with.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, taking a seat on a moss-covered fallen tree.

“For what?” She approached the boat, staring up in wonder.

“Being there. For Dillon.” He cleared his throat. “That kind of hostile environment. I’m sure you know it’s no place for a kid. He was just a little guy back then.”

“He still is,” she said, stepping up beside the shell of a man Jackson had become. She had few memories of him from before his divorce. A couple of neighborhood picnics with Dillon riding on his shoulders and Julie trailing behind, chatting on her cell. Upon ending her call, she’d run laughing to catch up, taking Jackson’s hand, grinning up at him with what Ella had always assumed was love. They’d had their differences, but from the outside it had seemed like a sweet family.

Not that Jackson and Dillon weren’t still a family, but not nearly as idyllic. As happy.

When Jackson remained silent, she gave him a slight nudge. “He’s still just a little boy, Jackson.”

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was hoarse.

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean that as a critique of your parenting skills. It was just an observation. At times—when Dillon thinks no one’s looking—he seems…I don’t know—crushingly lonely.”

“Yeah, well, aren’t we all?” Pushing to his feet, Jackson said, “I’m heading back. Stay as long as you like, and if I hear anything, I’ll—”

“I’m coming with you.” She was on her feet, as well.

“You don’t have to.”

“Of course, I do. For better or worse, we’re in this together and—”

“Don’t…ever…say…that.” Though he didn’t turn to face her, he squared his shoulders as if readying for a fight.

“Say what? We’re in this together?”

He took off walking. His long-legged stride was tough to keep up with, but not impossible.

“Damn you,” she said, snagging the sleeve of his navy polo.

“What’s the matter with you? You act like a walking shell. You can’t just throw something like that out there without—”

Jackson’s cell rang.