The Unfinished Gift (23 page)

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just stretching.”

“You want any coffee?”

“No thanks.”

What he wanted to do was just put on his coat and boots and head outside to help. But the police captain had forbidden it. “Besides,” he’d said, “you need to be here to greet Patrick when we bring him home.”

But Collins knew . . . his face was the last face Patrick would want to see if—when—he walked through that door.

Then it came to him. He suddenly knew exactly what face Patrick would want to see.

The wooden soldier.

He would go up right now and get it down from the attic. No . . . better yet, he would stay up in the attic and finish carving the soldier, even paint it.

“Where you going?” Mrs. Fortini asked.

“Something I’ve gotta do,” he replied. “May be upstairs awhile. You keep things running down here for me? Get the men whatever they need?”

“You mean like I’ve been doing since I got here?”

Collins smiled.

So that was the plan. He would finish the wooden soldier in Shawn’s honor and have it done before Patrick came home. And he would give it to Patrick as his Christmas present.

He may not have a way with words, but he knew how to carve right well.

Thirty-Two

Ezra moved more by instinct now than sense. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes, but he could still feel the boy under his coat, and his legs were still pushing through the snow. The streetlights were out on his block, but he found his way by the odd light shining here and there through the tenement windows.

He looked up through the wind and snow and could just see on the left the turnoff to his apartment, an alley much like the one back at Hodgins’s Grocery. ’Cept his alley led up a rickety flight of wooden steps to three rooms and a bathroom they shared with a couple next door.

Ruby would be worried something fierce ’bout now, he figured. Get to that place where he better be dead or she’d kill him for making her fret so. But he reckoned she’d stop being sore soon as she laid eyes on the boy. She might be right proud of him for saving his sorry life.

Man, but he was cold. Every muscle in his legs and arms felt like they might just pop loose any minute. At least the boy wasn’t shaking as bad as when they first started out. Hope he ain’t dead, Ezra thought. He stayed as close to the walls as he could, cut down on the wind. Just a little ways to go now. He sure hoped Ruby got that heat going. That radiator upstairs mooed like a small cow, but it would be music to his ears at this point.

As he rounded the corner into their alley, he looked up at the window overlooking the stairs. There she was, his Ruby staring down at him. Her brown shawl wrapped around her shoulders, arms crossed. Didn’t look like she’d seen him, but she was looking.

The snow was up past the second step. He steadied himself on the rail, trying to clear it with his foot, but his foot felt like a wooden club about now. He stomped down a few times, trying to get some feeling back. Ruby must have heard him. She flung that front door open quick as you please. The wind caught it, and it slammed against the back wall.

“Ezra, that you? Please be you,” she cried.

“It’s me, darlin’, I’m all right. Colder than I ever been in my life, but I’m all right.” She started climbing down to meet him. “Now you get back in the living room, darlin’. You ain’t dressed for this. I’ll be up directly.” She obeyed, and he could hear her crying over the sound of the wind.

“Your daddy’s home, boys. God brung him back just like we prayed.”

Ezra made it to the last step. Just one more deep breath, he told himself, just one more will do it. The next thing he knew he was safe inside. He dropped to his knees and feared he might drop right over, crushing the little boy under his weight. Ruby closed the door. “Open my coat, Ruby, would you please? I can’t even move my arms.”

She was on him in a flash, hugging and holding him tight. So were his two boys, all wrapped around him like a rope. “Daddy, you’re so big,” his youngest, Joseph, said. “You got presents in there for us?” Joseph pointed to his coat. “Christmas presents?”

Ruby started unbuttoning his jacket. “Afraid not,” he said. “But wait till you see—” Before he finished, the little boy plopped out of his coat and fell to the floor.

“Good gracious, Ezra.”

“We gotta get him warmed up right quick,” Ezra said. “Is he breathin’? Check and see if he’s breathin’.”

“Where’d you get him?” she asked as she cradled him in her arms. She put her hand over his chest. “Heart beatin’ all right, nice and strong. What happened? Where’d he come from?”

Ezra’s two boys backed away toward the edge of the room, eyes fixed hard on this little stranger come into their home. “Long story, Ruby. I’ll tell you the whole thing you get me something hot to drink. I need to get him and me over by that radiator.” It wasn’t putting out strong heat, but it felt good as a fireplace right now. He smiled as he heard it moan and hiss.

“Boys, go get the blankets off the bed, put them on your daddy and this little boy.” Ruby walked toward the kitchen. “I already got hot water on the stove, have you some nice hot tea in just a minute. I’m so glad you’re home.”

Ezra leaned his back against the radiator and pulled the boy up on his lap. As soon as his boys returned, he wrapped the boy in the first blanket, then himself. “You boys yank these boots off your daddy? The little boy’s too.”

“Yessir,” they both said, and took to it like a wartime mission.

Ruby came in from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a hot cup of tea. “Okay, Ezra. Now you tell me what’s going on here, and how you come to have this boy.”

He looked to his boys stacking the wet boots by the front door. “I will, Ruby. Just give me a few seconds here to catch my breath. You boys . . . I’m gonna need a few minutes with your mama. You head off to your bedroom, now.”

“We gotta get to bed?” said Willy, the oldest. “Can’t we hear the story?”

“It’s way past your bedtime already,” Ruby said. “I only let you stay up to wait on your daddy. Well, he’s home now, so you go on. I’ll be there in a few minutes to say your prayers.” And off they went.

She picked the two overcoats off the floor. “Now what we got here,” she said, holding his up. “What you got in here?” She started pulling the food out of his pockets. “What in the—”

“I’ll explain, Ruby. Come over here and sit by me. I don’t want the boys hearing what I gotta say.”

She reached down and put her hand across the white boy’s forehead. “Don’t feel no fever. What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t opened his eyes or said a word since I found him.”

“He unconscious?”

“I think he’s just sleeping. I think he’ll be okay come morning.”

Ruby sat on the chair closest to the radiator, looked back at the collection of food he brought home on the table, then down at the boy again. “Okay, Ezra. Start talking.”

Ezra knew he’d have to tell her everything. She’d like the hero part, about him finding and saving this here boy. But then he’d have to tell her where he found the boy and where this food came from. Dread filled his heart as he thought about the hardest part of the tale, the part where he lost his job. What an awful night this was for his poor Ruby. She’d gone from fretting something awful to joy at his return. And now he was about to plunge her right back into fretting once again.

And that only two days out from Christmas.

Thirty-Three

Collins awoke disoriented. He was in his bed, had a terrific headache, and was still in his clothes. He was lying on top of the bedspread, not under it. And he was cold, so cold. The amount of light coming in the window suggested midmorning, at least. What was going on? He sat up slowly as the events of the night before began to come together in his mind.

Patrick, where was Patrick?

Then he remembered. He was gone.

He remembered working in the attic until 1:00 a.m. carving the wooden soldier, when the police captain called up to him from the second floor. The captain said they were calling off the search until daylight. His men had covered ten square blocks around the house, but no sign of Patrick. The only thing that made any sense is that someone took Patrick in for the night. Come morning, he’d have the men start going house to house. They were sure he’d turn up. Collins wanted to believe him, but he didn’t sound very convincing.

The captain also informed him two officers had escorted Mrs. Fortini and Miss Townsend next door for the night, and that he’d leave an officer downstairs, in case something unexpected turned up.

After the captain left, Collins had gone back upstairs to finish the wooden soldier. He didn’t know how long he’d been at it, but he worked until it was done. Then he came down and collapsed on his bed.

All he needed now was to go back up and paint it. If they did find Patrick today, Collins wanted the soldier completely finished and waiting by the front door. He put on a fresh shirt and noticed out the window that the storm had stopped. The trees were still, the winds had ceased. The snow had blanketed his entire street, smoothing away all the hard edges.

Directly below he saw deep footprints leading away from the house, but he didn’t see any officers standing or moving around outside. He looked up and down the street; not a soul was in sight. Where the heck are they? he thought. Should be guys all up and down the street, knocking on doors and searching backyards.

As he buttoned his shirt, he made his way downstairs. Someone had better explain why no one was out looking for his grandson.

Katherine Townsend had slept but not well. She never slept well when not in her own bed, but all the more with so much on her mind. Last night, Mrs. Fortini had made her something she called a “hot toddy” to help quiet her nerves. It didn’t work. She saw her make it with brandy and lemon, and wanted to tell her to just give her the brandy, keep the lemon.

She got up from the bed and began changing from a borrowed nightgown to the clothes she’d worn yesterday. A look out the window revealed the storm had ended, but she was shocked at the amount of snow on the ground. It was halfway up her car door. The next shock was that her car was the only car out front, at either house.

Where were the policemen and firemen from last night? The officer who’d helped them over to Mrs. Fortini’s said they’d all be back at first light. She looked at a clock on the nightstand. It was 9:30 already.

All right, don’t get mad, she told herself. Maybe they had already come and were out searching on a different block. But then she looked again. The snow in front of the house and out by the street was undisturbed.

Now she was getting mad.

She took a quick look in the dresser mirror, brushed her hair a few strokes, then heard someone humming softly in the kitchen. “Mrs. Fortini?”

“Oh, there you are, Katherine. Care for some coffee?”

“Huh? Yes, that would be nice. Do you know what’s going on? It’s after 9:30, and I don’t see anything going on out front.”

“Now, you just sit down over there, and I’ll make you a couple of eggs and toast.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can eat. I don’t understand why isn’t anyone out looking for Patrick.”

“In a way, they are,” she said, almost smiling. “I’ve already talked with the police captain almost two hours ago. I decided not to wake you. There really isn’t anything more either of us can do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The captain explained a plan they came up with for this morning, and I had to admit, it sounded like a good plan to me.” She set the cup of coffee down in front of her.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“He said the storm brought way more snow than anyone predicted, and it would take his men the better part of a day just to see the houses within a few blocks of here. The cars are all snowed in. You like your eggs fried or scrambled?”

“What?”

“Fried or scrambled?”

“Scrambled is fine.”

“Anyway, someone had the idea to call everyone. Almost all the homes around here have telephones now. The phone company gave them the numbers of each house, street by street. So he’s put his men on phone duty. The same men who were out searching last night are now calling each house in the neighborhood to see if anyone took Patrick in.”

Katherine smiled. It actually was a good idea. “Did he say how long it would take?”

“He didn’t know; they’ve never done anything like this before. But he sounded very optimistic.”

“Maybe I could help. I’m good on the phone.”

“Katherine, have you looked outside? We’re snowed in. Your car is almost buried, and the streets are completely covered.”

Katherine sighed. “It’s just so hard to sit here doing nothing.”

“We’re not doing nothing. We’re having a nice breakfast together.”

“You seem so . . .” She didn’t want to accuse her of not caring. “Relaxed.”

“In a way, I guess I am. I don’t know what you think about these things, but when I woke up this morning and said my prayers, I got a very strong feeling that everything was going to be okay. I don’t think God is going to take Patrick away from us. He knows how much we can handle, and none of us could handle losing him right now. Least of all Mr. Collins next door.”