Hannah Grace (34 page)

Dusty turned several circles on the braided rug beside the bed before finding the perfect place to plop his furry brown body. Gabe hadn't wanted to start inviting the dog inside, but it seemed the natural thing to do tonight, in light of Jesse's somber mood. Until tonight, the mutt had been fending for himself outside, and doing a fine job of it, as far as Gabe knew.

"Your dog seems to have made himself right at home," Gabe said, turning down the bedside light before settling in. A harvest moon cast its shadow across the room, giving off enough light for Gabe to make out Jesse's profile-his rumpled hair that called for another trip to the barber, little pug nose, round cheeks, short chin, pouting lips, and wide eyes, gazing up at the ceiling.

Gabe turned on his side and stared at the soundless boy. He could almost see his little mind turning over one troubled thought after another.

Lord, help him trust me enough to tell me his story. What can I say that will draw him out? It's been more than two months. He sighed while sending up the prayer.

Tell him he's a fine boy, and that you care about him.

What? It seemed too simplistic to Gabe's mind, What would that accomplish? Besides, hadn't he said as much by getting him off the streets, providing for his needs, spending all his spare time with him-letting his dog sleep in his house, for Pete's sake?

I once was lost but now am found. Where had he heard it? Oh yes, from Maggie Rose while she was singing her off-key rendition of "Amazing Grace,"

A lost boy needs to know someone loves him, wants him, will never leave him. Don't you remember getting lost in your father's cornfield when you were about Jesse's age? How you started screaming his name, and how he managed to find you after looking a full half hour? Remember your sense of fear? Like it was yesterday. One hot August day, he'd been chasing down field mice, putting them in his pockets while going deeper and deeper into the maze. His banshee-like screams, when he discovered his predicament, put his father on a mission-one he wouldn't have abandoned for the world. To this day, Gabe remembered that blessed relief of falling into Joseph Devlin's strong arms and savoring his words of assurance.

A lost boy needs to know someone values him.

As if he'd been knocked alongside the head, Gabe got it. Sometimes actions weren't enough. Words. Jesse needed words.

Gabe swallowed a hard knot of emotion and raised up on his elbow.

"You're a fine boy, you know that?"

'm nothin' special," Jesse mumbled into the sheets. 'An' I'm gettin' dumb, too, 'cause I been missin' so much school."

"What? You're smart as a whip. Missing a little school isn't going to hurt you any," Gabe quickly countered. "I don't know many boys who can read like you. Shoot, I think you're better at it than me."

Jesse pondered that one. "Did your ma teach you?"

"To read, you mean? No, I think I learned that in school. How'bout you? Did your mama teach you?"

A blanket of silence fell over them, save for the clock ticking on the bedside stand. Jesse pulled his covers up tight around his chin. "I guess. Ma read to me every night until she..."

"What, Jess? Until she what?"

"Died."

If someone had hit him square in the face with a brick, he would not have been more stunned than he was right now. Bit by bit, the wall of secrecy Jesse had built around himself had started crumbling. Lord, I need to tread softly here.

"I'm sorry to hear that, bud. You must have been very sad."

Jesse nodded in the shadows. He pulled out his soldier and looked at it. "Pa died, too," This he said with chilling matter-of-factness.

"Were they-in some sort of accident?"

Jesse shook his head. "My pa was, but not my ma. Pa fell off a horse and hit his head, I guess. I don't remember him very good, 'cause I was just little when he, you know, got kilt. My ma got put in a hospital back in-hmm, I don't know when, but it was startin' to get warm outside. She couldn't breathe good."

Pneumonia, maybe? "You mean last spring?"

"Yeah, springtime."

"So, you were on your own since then?"

No answer, just a slow up and down nod as he handled his special toy soldier.

"Where did you and your ma live-before she got sick?"

"New York,"

"New Y-Jess, how did you wind up in Michigan?"

Silence like a black cloud draped them again. Was he pushing too hard? God, I don't want to blow it. Feeling his pulse thud hard in his gut, Gabe fought to keep his voice at an even keel. He touched a finger to the boy's forehead and rubbed lightly. "I care about you, Jess. Very much. You know you can trust me, right?"

Jesse turned his head and looked at Gabe in the shadows, studying, processing. At last, another slow nod. "Yeah,"

He breathed a sigh. "Then, tell me how you got here."

In the moments that followed, Jesse loosed a slew of words, more than Gabe had dreamed possible-everything from what the crowded little mission was like that he and his ma had lived in, to the city school he'd attended, to the way his mother had looked as she lay dying. Little by little, he got to the part about how he'd come to arrive in Michigan, but the details wound up sketchy, at best. Gabe guessed he'd blocked out a good share of it, and who could blame him? What kid wants to recall nothing but bad memories? The best he could tell, he'd arrived at some children's facility after the death of his mother, lived there for a time, and then left on an orphan train to join a family in the Middle West. That would explain the tag Hannah had found sewn into his shirt. But after that, the story fell apart. What had happened to prevent his moving in with this new family? Had he simply balked at the whole idea and jumped off the train at some remote station? Somehow, the McCurdy gang played into the scenario, but in what way?

"You think you can tell me how you happened to wind up in Holland, you know, the place where you crawled onto the back of my wagon?"

In the shadows, Gabe detected a growing frown. "I thinkI jumped on the back of a train or somethin'. I did that a lot. I don't know. Its hard to remember it all."

"I know, I know, but..." He swallowed hard and prayed for just the right words. "You saw something, Jess, something that scared you plenty. Do you think-now that you know you're safe with me-do you think you could tell me what you saw?"

The boy sucked up most of the air in the twelve-by-twelve bedroom, then slowly let it back out. "I-don't like guns."

It seemed a random thing to say, but it held a great deal of meaning. Gabe whistled through his teeth, "Boy, I know what you mean. I don't either."

Jesse jerked his head in Gabe's direction. "How come you wear one, then?"

"Well, it goes with my job, buddy. People see me wearing it, and they know they have to tow the line. It represents justice, and it gives them a sense of security knowing I'm watching over them. Guns are dangerous, yes, but they can serve a good purpose. In some ways, they help to keep a place peaceful. I don't like having to wear one, but I wouldn't want to be caught in a bad situation without it."

"'Cause you might have to kill somebody?" Jesse asked.

The words slammed against Gabe with intense power. He'd managed to block out the worst of the memory of that day he'd confronted Smiley Joe Hamilton, but every so often, it came back with force. It did so now.

"Only when absolutely necessary, such as in cases of selfdefense or if I believe another's life is in grave danger. Usually a cop aims to injure, not kill." He believed the best approach with Jesse was the straightforward one.

"Did you ever have to kill any bad guys?"

"Once." He swallowed down a bitter taste. `And I didn't like it. I hope I never have to do it again."

Jesse thought on that while he played with his toy soldier, tipping it at different angles in the moon's shadows. It took great self-discipline on Gabe's part not to prod him into talking, knowing it best to let him move at his own pace.

"Sometimes soldiers have to kill if it's for a good cause,"

"Well, yes, that's very true,"

"Like in the Civil War. Ma said my grandpap had to fight in that war. He was on the South's side, but his side didn't win. Ma says he died of drinkin' too much after the war ended. He probably had to kill somebody, huh?"

"It's possible."

Still propped on his elbow, Gabe watched the boy with interest, shocked by his sudden impulse to talk.

"It's a sin to kill people just 'cause you want to, but it's not a sin if you're a cop or a soldier, and y' have to do it,"

"See, I told you that you were smart,"

The ticking clock and Dusty's low-throated snores filled up the next minute or so.

Outside, a dog barked, the wind rustled the dead leaves around, and someone on a late-night journey galloped past the house, the horse's hooves pounding on the pebbled street.

Jesse took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Those people what wanted to adopt me was murdered by bad guys," he said with surprising calm. Gabe's heart pounded out of control. "I know, 'cause I saw 'em do it,"

"Jesse."

"I watched through the window. There was four of'em, an old guy and three younger ones. The old guy, that one I saw in the newspaper, he shot 'em both. I didn't really want to live with them two people, but I didn't want to see 'em get shot, neither."

"Of course you didn't," Gabe answered in a breathy murmur.

"They met me at the train station in South Bend where that agent lady left me, and they were pretty nice." Gabe listened with heart-stopping intentness, praying God would give him the right choice of words when it came time to speak. "They took me to their house. It was way far out from the town, and there was a barn with two horses, and some cows and pigs." He grew quiet, contemplative. The clock ticked, and Gabe stopped breathing. "But I only stayed there two nights," he continued. "'Cause they got, you know, shot dead. I never saw blood before that day. My ma didn't bleed when she died, but that one lady in South Bend had blood comin' out o' her nose an' ears. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all,"

Erratic shivers ran through Jesse's body, so much so that the blanket covering them started quivering.

"Oh, Jesse, I'm so sorry you had to witness that," He brushed his hand over the lad's forehead and found it damp with perspiration.

"That one guy saw me and started yellin'. That's when I runned like there was no end t' the day. I mean I runned even faster than a train, I think. And I think-I think-I'm still runnin:"

Gabe's heart pooled like a melting block of ice in July. "No, buddy, you're not running. Not now, and not ever again. You're with me, and nothing is going to happen to you, do you hear me? Nothing." Without forethought, he took the small-framed boy into his arms, pulled him close to his chest, and felt the tremors travel clear to his heels. Squeezing shut his burning eyes to hold their moistness at bay, he rested his chin on Jesse's matted head of hair and rubbed his bony shoulders.

All at once, as if a river's dam had broken loose, its powerful waters surging the banks, Jesse started sobbing, deep-throated sobs that spilled and spewed, wracking his body, making him go limp from exhaustion.

"It's okay, Jesse," Gabe crooned. "You've been holding in that river for too long. Time to let it out."

A loud, hiccupping sigh tumbled out of Jesse, followed by several minutes' worth of earth-shaking wails, some so pitifully dismal Gabe thought his own heart would split in two.

There is was-finally. The truth. And, oh, how it did pain a soul to come out after hiding for so long. And yet how absolutely freeing.

He clutched Jesse so tight he feared he might be cutting off his air supply, but then another pathetic, high-pitched howl pushed out, and he knew his oxygen intake was adequate. Dusty got up from the floor to investigate, sticking his wet nose in Gabe's back and then padding around to Jesse's side of the bed. When it looked like things were under control, the mutt turned several circles and plopped back down again, this time next to Jesse. Gabe raised a hand to dab at his own watery eyes. Shoot! He couldn't remember the last time he'd shed tears, unless it was when his grandfather went to be with the Lord five years ago.