Makin' Miracles (13 page)

He scowled. “I don't think I'm going to be of any help here, Zola.”

She led him over to a big boulder by the trail. “Here, sit down with me. I'll tell you what I see and then you've got to pray to know the rest. Otherwise, we can't go find him.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Why can't we just hike out and tell the rangers what you've seen, Zola? I've got a cell phone in the car. We can call this in.”

She gave him a small, patient smile. “Rangers and police like facts, Spencer, not what they call ‘speculation.' They don't put a lot of credence in the spiritual for answers to practical matters. Think about it and you'll see why that probably isn't a good idea.”

He considered it. “Yeah, I guess you're probably right. Even I have to admit the whole thing sounds kind of nutty and I know you.”

She shook her head. “We have to go find him, Spencer. He isn't too far away for us to get to. I know that for sure. And he's praying for help.”

Spencer heaved a big sigh. “So tell me what you know.”

“He didn't mean to get lost. He thought he was taking a little shortcut over this hill back to the shelter where they were staying. Only it didn't work out like he planned.”

“People need to stay on the maintained trails in the Smokies.” Spencer kicked at a stick below the rock they were sitting on. “They always get in trouble when they get off the trails.”

Zola put a hand on his leg. “He didn't mean to get lost, Spencer, and he's truly sorry now that he tried that shortcut.”

“You said earlier you saw he was hurt.”

She nodded. “He wandered for a long time trying to find his way back. He must have gone deeper into the woods instead.” She closed her eyes again. “I think he found a stream at some point and thought if he followed that it would be good.”

“You learn that in Scouts,” he put in, “that if you follow a stream it will usually lead you out, keep you from going around in circles. It also gives you something to drink if you get really thirsty.”

She put her hand in his, continuing on. “About dark he found a trail. He got excited, thought maybe it would take him back. But he soon realized he was in a different place.” She paused. “He kept following the trail and the stream, because he didn't know what else to do. Then he stepped in a hole—or something—and fell.”

Zola winced as if she felt the pain. “That's when he hurt his foot. He hobbled on in the dark, scared at all the night sounds, until he came to a place he thought would be safe to stay.”

She looked at him with dark eyes. “This is the part I can't see well. It's by the creek but there seems to be a wide place by the trail. I see two creeks and two trails nearby. The trail he was walking on was steep, going downhill.”

Zola stopped, shrugging. “That's all I have.”

He frowned at her. “That could be anywhere, Zola. Half the trails in the Smokies follow streams and there are hundreds of places where trails intersect.”

She gave him a stubborn look. “Well, that's where he is, Spencer. It can't be too far from here or we wouldn't have been given the knowledge to find him.”

Spencer stood up, restless now. “There's no ‘we' in this, Zola. You're the one who's been given this to see.”

“Let's both pray,” she said, giving him an imploring look. “Maybe we'll get some more. We need to find him.”

Watching her drop her head and seeing her lips start to move, Spencer felt convinced enough to offer up his own silent prayers, too. He prayed she would see enough that if it were possible for them to find this child, that he would know where he was more clearly.

“Do you see anything more?” he asked at last.

She shook her head.

“Tell me anything else you saw before.” He propped a foot on the boulder where she sat. “Anything, no matter how insignificant it seems.”

She closed her eyes in focus. “The trail the boy came down before he got to the place I saw had some rough creek crossings. He felt scared getting across. There was a sort of broken-down bridge at one point but he was afraid to try to walk on it.”

Spencer tried hard to think if he'd ever been on a trail that looked like this. He shook his head in frustration. “Did you see anything else, Zola? About where he is now. Anything odd or unusual.”

She wrinkled her nose. “There is some sort of sign about being careful about bears.”

Spencer's head snapped up. “I think I know where he might be.” He felt adrenalin rush through his system. “There's a campsite farther up on the Little River Trail. It's about a mile and a half to two miles from here. The rangers have posted a warning sign there because there's been so much bear activity. There wouldn't be a sign like that at any place except at a recognized campground.”

She grabbed his hand to squeeze it as he talked.

He looked up the trail thoughtfully. “It would seem more likely that he wandered out along the Appalachian Trail or down Sugarland Mountain Trail below the Mount Collins shelter where he started out. It wouldn't seem logical he would have found his way over the ridges and down to the back end of the Little River Trail. Not many people hike the trail to its upper end because of all the rough stream crossings.” He searched his memory. “I think there is an old rotted-out bridge toward the end of the trail, too. I walked up there hoping to photograph hawks one day.”

Spencer turned to look at Zola's now-hopeful face. “I've only hiked that way once, Zola. My memory might not be right. I haven't received a vision or anything. It just seems likely from what you are telling me.”

“I think what you're getting is right,” she said, jumping off the rock to take his hand. “Let's hurry. He needs help and he's frightened.”

Spencer led the way, and they began to follow the trail as it climbed higher into the Smokies. He noticed scaly sycamore trees along the way and wished, for a moment, he had time to stop and take a few photographs. It was a beautiful area. The river tumbled along to the right of the trail, and the sound of the cascades often filled the air.

After a mile, they came to a trail intersection. Zola gave Spencer a questioning look then. It gave Spencer an odd pleasure to tell her they needed to continue on straight. He estimated the campsite he knew about was probably a half mile farther up the trail.

“Do you know this child's name?” he asked, curious about the depth of her gifts.

“Eddie,” she said with certainty. “It's Eddie.”

He shook his head in amazement at her as they walked on.

They crossed a bridge over another stream—pouring in from the left—and then rock-hopped over several other sections of the Little River as it split out. Spencer pointed to their right as the campsite came into view.

Zola took Spencer's hand in a tight grip as they scanned the area. They saw no sign of a child.

“Eddie!” Spencer called in a loud voice.

A small shape hobbled out from behind a group of trees, holding to a stick with one hand and to the tree trunk with the other. “Here!” he called, waving a hand. “Over here!”

Relief surged through Spencer at sight of the boy.

After a happy moment of rescue, and some tears the boy tried hard to brush away, Spencer settled Eddie down on a fallen log so they could examine his foot.

“There are no breaks I can discern,” Spencer said, after running his hands over Eddie's ankle and foot. “My guess is that you've got a severe strain, maybe even a torn piece of ligament.”

He dug in his backpack to locate an Ace bandage and began to wrap Eddie's ankle in a figure-eight design.

“Nice work.” Zola watched. “How did you learn to do that?”

“I was an Eagle Scout. Scouts learn a lot of things they might need to know in an emergency.”

Eddie hung his head. “I was dumb and tried to take a shortcut over a hill back to the shelter. I thought I'd seen Garrett go that way. He was my buddy and we were supposed to stay together, but I must have gotten confused. I didn't realize I was lost for a while and then I didn't know what to do. I called out a lot and thought someone would hear me, and answer, but no one did. I turned around and tried to go back the way I came, but I must have screwed up or something. The woods got really dense and thick.”

He winced as Spencer finished his bandage. “I walked for a long time and then about twilight I found a stream. I remembered in my Scout book that if you get lost you should find a stream and follow it.”

Spencer smiled at Zola. He'd told her that.

“I came to this trail later and I got real excited then, thinking it would lead back to our shelter, but it didn't. Uphill led me to a campsite and the end of the trail, so I started back down the trail then, hoping I would find someone. I was really glad to get out of the woods and all that underbrush and stuff.” He brushed at scratches on his arms and face.

Spencer started cleaning up the scratches with water and a clean cloth. He handed Zola a tube of ointment to spread over them.

“I was doing all right, I guess, for a kid, until it got dark. Then I couldn't see and it was really creepy and scary.” He made a face.

“I kept going but then I tripped and fell in this hole or something. Man, my ankle hurt when I tried to walk. I managed to get down the trail a little more using a stick and I found this campsite area.”

His voice broke. “I knew I couldn't go on.” He pointed. “I slept over there under that rock overhang. And I put leaves all over me to stay warm.”

“That was smart,” Spencer commented.

Eddie grinned. “I saw it on this TV show once.” Less cocky now, he added, “I thought maybe wild stuff wouldn't find me hidden under the leaves, either.”

“Seeing the bear sign probably didn't give you a lot of comfort.”

Eddie's eyes widened. “I didn't see that until this morning. I was real glad I didn't see it last night.”

Spencer laughed, in spite of himself. “Are you hungry, Eddie? Zola and I brought lunch. You can eat a little with us and then I'm going to piggyback you out of here.” He looked at Zola. “Do you think you could carry my pack and camera tripod if I carry Eddie?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him.

“I'm really glad you came,” Eddie said. “How'd you know my name and where to find me?”

“Weren't you praying?” Zola laid a hand over his.

Eddie dropped his eyes. “Yeah. Big time.”

“Well, God heard and He sent us.”

Eddie looked amazed. “No kidding? How'd He do that?”

“I saw a picture of you in my mind, and Spencer helped me know where the picture was from the times he's hiked in the mountains around here taking photographs.”

“Cool.” Eddie looked from Zola to Spencer with an awed expression. “Did God tell you my name, too?”

“He did. He was really concerned about you.”

“Wow. I'm going to tell my granddad that. He's our minister as well as my granddad. He always told me God answers prayer and to never forget to pray. He was, like, really right, wasn't he?”

Zola smiled. “Yes, he was really right.” She handed him a half sandwich. “Here, eat this. There are some chips and sugar cookies, too.”

Eddie gobbled down lunch, and Spencer, after eating some of his own, took photos of Eddie before they started back down the mountain.

It was a three-and-a-half-mile hike down from the campsite, but, fortunately, they ran into some other hikers at the Huskey Gap Trail intersection. The two men took turns piggybacking Eddie down to the trailhead. One of the men carried a cell phone with him, and as soon as they got in range of the campground, he was able to call in to let the ranger station know Eddie had been found.

“What's your last name?” one of the men asked.

“DeLozier,” he said. “Eddie DeLozier. I'm with Scout Troop 284 out of Knoxville, and our leader's name is Mr. Warren.” He bit his lip. “It's not Mr. Warren's fault I got lost. You tell them that.”

Spencer smiled at Zola over this comment.

Shortly before they got to the end of the trail, Zola laid a hand on Eddie's cheek. “I'm real glad you're all right, Eddie. But I'd appreciate it if you only told the rangers Spencer and I found you when hiking up the Little River Trail taking photographs.”

She smiled at him. “Of course, you can tell your granddad and your family about God hearing your prayers, but I think it might be good if you didn't tell the rangers and the people from the press all of that. I'm sure there will be photographers and reporters from the newspapers when we get to the end of the trail—all glad to report to the media that you're okay. Everyone has been worried, you know.”

The child nodded wisely. “Newspapers sometimes make God-stuff sound dumb. I've heard my granddad and my dad say that. My dad told me it's because God-stuff isn't very factual. He says newspapers like factual stuff.”

“That's it, Eddie.” She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The man carrying Eddie laughed then. “When all those media people get to heaven, they're sure going to get a surprise about what's really factual, aren't they, lady?”

“Yes, they are,” Zola said, laughing with him. “They certainly are.”

Despite Eddie's efforts at cover-up, Spencer and Zola still ended up in the newspaper for finding and rescuing Eddie. It made a good story, after all. Even the two men hikers ended up pictured in the newspaper for their part in helping to bring Eddie down the trail safely.

A little over a week later, Spencer received a note in the mail from Eddie. He called Zola to tell her about it that evening.