The Unfinished Gift (26 page)

The only thing missing was a little boy.

Katherine tried not to worry, but it would be dark in a few hours, and there was still no word about Patrick. At the last report, the captain said they had only twelve houses left to check. He’d said something about working on some new leads, but she was sure he said that just to ease their fears.

“Cheer up, Katherine,” Mrs. Fortini said. “Don’t give up hope.”

Ezra was there now, right beside that stone wall. He saw gravestones of all shapes and sizes, as far as the eye could see. Sure enough, no crosses. But plenty of stars. He looked up and down the street. So far so good. Just a few folk down the road a bit. Kids, mostly, making a snow fort. He walked to the first intersection, remembered Patrick saying it was right around the corner. As he got to it, he read the street sign. “Say, Patrick. Chestnut Street, that sound familiar?”

Patrick lifted his head up through the opening. “I think that’s it. Can I see?”

Ezra looked around. Couldn’t see no harm. “I suppose it’s okay to come out now. Let me unbutton my coat.” He did, and Patrick slid down his legs like a pole.

As soon as he stood up, Patrick said excitedly, “I think this is it. Right around that corner, that’s where Mrs. Fortini lives.”

The road hadn’t been plowed and didn’t look like any cars had come through since the snowfall. “Let me carry you across the street, unless you want to follow behind me.”

“I’ll follow in your footsteps. I can do that.”

Ezra made his way through the snow, eyes looking all about. They made it to the corner; you could only turn right. The sidewalk running the other side of Chestnut looked like it had a path cut through the snow. “Let’s cross this street and walk on the other side,” Ezra said.

Patrick followed behind him. “I think it’s just up ahead, a few more houses.”

Ezra froze. “Hold up, son. Uh-oh, this ain’t good.”

Just up ahead, about four houses down, two big white policemen stepped out from a driveway onto the same sidewalk. Nowhere for Ezra to go. They each took turns looking his way, then started talking, like he didn’t matter. Then the first one stopped and looked back at him.

Now he was staring.

Patrick came out from behind his legs. “What’s wrong, Mr. Jeffries?”

“Hey, you!” one of them yelled. “Stop right there. Hey . . . there’s a boy. He’s got a boy, a white boy.”

“I gotta git, Patrick.” Ezra turned and started to run back toward the cemetery.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick yelled. He turned and followed Ezra. “Where we going?”

Still running, Ezra yelled over his shoulder, “Don’t follow me, Patrick. You go back now, to your Italian lady’s place.”

“Stop . . . now! Stop or we’ll shoot.”

“Don’t shoot, you idiot. You might hit the boy.”

Ezra turned to see the cops gaining on him, but he didn’t see any gun. But Patrick had stopped too. In no time, one of the two cops was on him. He looked so scared. Now they had Patrick, would they still shoot him? He kept running, but his legs were feelin’ so heavy and tired.

“Are you Patrick?” the first cop asked. “I got the boy, go after the kidnapper.”

“I ain’t no kidnapper,” Ezra yelled, still running. “I’s trying to help the boy.” He reached the intersection and looked back just in time to see the fist of the second policeman rise up to meet his face. He collapsed to the ground, and in a flash, the cop was on him. He hit him in the face once more, then spun him over and wrenched his hands behind his back.

“No!” Patrick yelled. “Don’t hit him. Mr. Jeffries!”

“Something’s going on outside,” Katherine said.

“What is it?” asked Collins.

“I don’t know,” she said as she ran to the window. “The two officers by the driveway are gone. They were yelling something, and now they’re gone.”

Mrs. Fortini came in from the kitchen. “What? Did they find him?”

“I don’t know, but I’m putting on my coat.”

Collins didn’t answer, just put on his coat.

“Oh, Lord. Let it be him,” said Mrs. Fortini.

Katherine was out the door, still buttoning her coat, Collins just a few steps behind her.

“Leave him alone!” Patrick yelled.

The policeman who’d punched Ezra now had him handcuffed and yanked him to his feet by his coat collar. His left eye was already starting to swell.

“I’m tellin’ ya, I ain’t hurt the boy. I’m the one found him lost in the snow.”

“Shut up,” the cop said.

The cop holding onto Patrick said, “No, Jack. Let him talk. What do you mean you’re the one who found him?”

“I found him . . . in the middle of the storm. Nobody else around to help, so I brought him home. We took care of him, fed him, and now that the snow let up, I brung him home. That’s all.”

The cop with Patrick said, “Stay here, son, just a minute. Jack, come here.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Patrick said. “He’s the one who saved me.”

“Okay, kid. Hold on.”

The two policemen met in the middle of the street, Patrick and Ezra on opposite sidewalks. “Jack, you hear this kid, right? We bring in this black guy, the story gets out that he saved Patrick, and there goes our reward. You follow?”

Jack nodded. “We gotta let him go.”

“And we gotta do it quick. Let me do the talking.”

Jack walked over to Ezra. “Okay, maybe we had this wrong, maybe not.” He undid his handcuffs. “I’m not gonna arrest you on one condition. You turn around, right now, and go back the way you came.”

“You gonna let me go?”

“If you go now.”

“Can I say good-bye?”

“No. Go now. Or I take you in.”

“Tell Patrick something for me?”

“What?”

“Just tell him Mr. Jeffries says Merry Christmas.” Ezra turned and started walking toward the cemetery.

A woman yelled, “Patrick!”

Patrick looked. “Miss Townsend!”

Thirty-Eight

Katherine couldn’t believe her eyes. There he was, safe and well. She ran as fast as she dared on the snowy walk, then scooped him up in her arms and hugged him with all her might. Patrick ran just as hard from the opposite direction. The force of their embrace sent them tumbling into the snow. They lay there, covered in snow, laughing, hugging, and crying.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said. “We’ve been so worried.”

“I was trying to find you, but I got lost in the snow.”

They got up and brushed the snow off their faces. Katherine was kneeling so she could see Patrick at eye level, gently resting her hands on his shoulders. “I thought I lost you for good.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had such a terrible night, and I couldn’t stay there anymore. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t find a telephone.”

“Oh, Patrick . . .” Tears started running down her cheeks. She realized she couldn’t love this little boy any more than if he was her own. She grabbed him and hugged him again.

“Did you hear about my dad?” he said. “They’ve lost him too.”

Katherine pulled back and looked him in the face. “I know, Patrick. I said I would get him back to you as soon as I could. I’m so sorry.” She was crying now, but from a different place.

Now he hugged her. “Don’t cry, Miss Townsend. It’s not your fault. God knows where my daddy is.”

Katherine shook her head, trying to get hold of herself. Here Patrick was, after all he’d been through, trying to comfort her.

He gently pulled back from the hug. “Have you met Mr. Jeffries? The man who rescued me?”

“No, where is he?” By this time the two policemen were standing nearby on the same side of the street. Katherine didn’t see anyone besides them.

Patrick leaned close to her ear and said, “He’s a colored man. He was right here, but the policeman hit him and sent him away. They thought he had done something bad.”

At that Katherine stood right up. “Okay, boys. Where is he?”

“Where is who?” one of them said.

“The man who really rescued Patrick. He says it was a colored man.”

“There was some guy here a minute ago, but he’s gone. Look, lady, we’ve had men out searching for this boy nonstop for two days. What are you trying to do here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She turned to Patrick. “Is this Mr. Jeffries the one who really brought you home?”

Patrick nodded. “He carried me almost the whole way. And his wife fed me, and his two boys played with me. They were all very nice.”

“I think I see what’s going on here, gentlemen. And I’m not going to let you get away with it. Which way did he go?”

The policemen looked away, not willing to help.

“Well, I guess it’s obvious. He didn’t run past me. Patrick, you know where he lives? Think you could find his place?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, you stay right here. He couldn’t have gone far. You two, watch him. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, lady, c’mon now. Don’t do this.”

Katherine didn’t answer or look back. She retraced the steps already made in the snow along the sidewalk, then across the street till she came to the corner. She turned left at Bartram and picked up another set of footsteps in the snow. Just up ahead, about six houses down, a lone figure walked, shoulders hunched over. He wore a brown overcoat and a knit cap. “Excuse me,” she yelled. “Mr. Jeffries?”

The man didn’t stop or turn around.

“Please stop. Are you Mr. Jeffries?” she called out. Still he didn’t stop. “The man who saved Patrick?” He slowed his steps but didn’t stop. “Please, Mr. Jeffries. Please stop. I’m sorry for the way those cops treated you, but his family wants to thank you . . . properly. Patrick wants to thank you too, and at least say good-bye.”

At that, he stopped and slowly turned around. In a few moments, she caught up to him. The poor thing, his left eye was swollen shut, and his lip on the right side was split and bleeding. Can you imagine, she thought. To save a little boy’s life, take care of him, then go out of your way to bring him home, and this is the thanks you get. “I can’t believe what they did to you. I’m so very sorry.”

“The cops said they’d arrest me if I didn’t leave right away.”

“They’ll do no such thing. I’m the lady Patrick was trying to call the night he got lost. I work for Child Services.”

“You Miss Townsend?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out her hand. “But you can call me Katherine.”

He looked at it a moment, then shook it. “I’m Ezra, Ezra Jeffries. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please call me Katherine.” She started walking back toward Chestnut Street, glad to see him join her. “Patrick’s grandfather’s been worried sick. We’d like to invite you in and hear the whole story.”

Ezra stopped. “Ma’am . . . Katherine. I promised Patrick I would get him back to his Italian lady friend. He say the whole reason he left ’cause of how mean his grandfather treat him.”

“I know all about that. He was awful, and I don’t blame Patrick a bit for wanting to leave. But this thing has changed him somehow. The only thing he seems to want now in life is a chance to make things right with Patrick.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” They had reached the corner. She looked over, glad to see Patrick still standing there next to the two policemen. Next to the men a squad car had just pulled up. She recognized the police captain sitting inside. One of the men walked over and started talking to him, pointing their way as he spoke.