[Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm (28 page)

Read [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm Online

Authors: Janette Oke

She cried through another night. This was far more dreadful than she had imagined. She did love him ... in some strange way. In spite of everything, he was so ... so courtly, so sweet when he wanted to be. So free with compliments and generous with his gifts. He had made her feel special. Loved. Desired. And she had dared to believe that she was good for him. Would eventually be able to change the dark moods, make up for what his life had lacked, show him the importance of having God in his life, and, with her patient love, draw him to faith.
How had things gone so wrong? There was only one answer. She hadn’t listened ... and obeyed.
The next morning she prepared herself for work, bleary-eyed and sober. The emptiness of her ring finger was a constant reminder of the emptiness of her heart. When she entered the office, she saw on her desk the largest bouquet she had ever seen—of flaming roses. Boyd’s favorite. The card read,
I love you, Christine. Boyd.
For a moment she felt remorse for what she had done. He was so tender. Sending his love when she had been the one to break the engagement. So considerate. How could she not but forgive, in return, his angry outburst?
In an instant, though, burning anger filled her being. He did not fight fair. He arrogantly assumed he could have whatever he wanted in life—on his terms.
Fortunately no one else had arrived yet, and she ripped the card from the bouquet, threw it in her wastebasket, and carried the bouquet to the little reception table by the wall. She would not smell them; she would not look at them. She would not claim them.
She sat down at her typewriter and began her work with a vengeance. As the day went on, her emotions subsided, and by the end of the day she was thinking more rationally—but no less determined that it was over.
Christine was in her own room when the usual time came for Boyd to pick her up. Mrs. Green knocked on her door to tell her he was waiting for her outside. To avoid a scene, she went down to meet him. She stiffened when she saw him, but he was so subdued, so gentle in his manner, and so handsome as he stood there that she willed herself to be polite.
“I ... I came to get you, Christine. We need to talk.”
His tone was full of care for her. Full of remorse. But she stepped back a pace and shook her head.
“Please, my love ... we need to work this out. Whatever ... your problem, we can sort through it.”
Her problem.
He was going to help her with her problem. Tears stung her eyes.
“It won’t work,” she said as firmly as she could over the lump in her throat. “We should have known it wouldn’t work. We are ... too different. Have different values. Different dreams. I’m sorry. So sorry. It will not work.”
She saw the anger flash in his eyes again. She stepped back another pace. The black moods of this young man frightened her. She had tried to shut her eyes to the truth, to refuse to acknowledge it ... but she had always known the deep-seated anger could threaten to explode at any moment.
“Please,” she said, lifting a hand, palm out, “don’t call again. There is nothing more to say to each other.”
She shut the door, flipped the lock, and leaned back against it, tears streaming down her cheeks. She would need to call her parents. What would they think of her?
But I know they love me
was her next thought. She wouldn’t be needing that wedding dress....
She was called into Mr. Kingsley’s office. She sat in her usual chair, heart pounding.
“This is rather a touchy matter for me,” he began after clearing his throat. “A father doesn’t like to get involved in ... in these matters. Boyd tells me you’ve ... had a little misunderstanding.”
Christine certainly would not have described it that way, but she let it pass.
“Now—whatever this is—I’m sure we can get this worked out....” He paused when he saw Christine was shaking her head.
“We’ve got those wedding invitations that need to get in the mail....”
Like his son, he wasn’t listening.
“Mr. Kingsley, there isn’t going to be a wedding,” she said quietly but firmly.
“Now, Christine, all brides-to-be get the jitters. It’s only natural. You’ll feel—”
“No,” she said, standing up. “No. This isn’t bride’s jitters. I was wrong—totally wrong. I should have seen it. We ... we just... it wouldn’t have worked.”
His brow was furrowing, his eyes narrowing. For a moment he reminded her of his son. “Are you saying you will not even
consider
a reconciliation? That you will not even give my son the benefit of
listening
to his side? He’s heartbroken—the boy. Never even went out last night. Heartbroken—and you won’t even discuss the matter with him.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He rose from his own chair. “I’m sorry too,” he said, his expression menacing. “I had no idea you were so stubborn. Such a ... a fool. Boyd would have been able to give you everything. Everything.”
No ... not everything,
Christine’s heart responded.
Not everything. He was stripping me of my self-respect. My peace of mind. My faith. I would have lived in fear. In subjection...
“Have Miss Stout settle your last paycheck,” the man said briskly.
“You mean... ?”
He looked at her. His anger seemed to have drained away, leaving in its place a tired, worn-down old man. “It would be awkward for all of us if you stayed on.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-One
Henry paid little attention to the jangling of the phone. Laray, his left arm still held immobile by a sling, answered it.
“Police. May I help you?” Laray was convinced that if a caller needed an immediate response, it took way too much time to say the full name of the Force.
“Yes. Yes. Yes, ma’am. It’s for you, Sergeant,” Laray said, covering the mouthpiece.
Henry left his desk and moved toward the wall phone.
What now?
A distraught woman’s voice commanded his full attention. He listened for a few moments, not understanding a thing she was saying.
“Excuse me, ma’am. You’re going to have to take a deep breath and start over. I haven’t been able to make out—”
He heard a little sob; then she did take a deep breath. “It’s Danny. He’s... he’s disappeared.”
Danny’s mother is on the line
flashed through his mind, and every muscle in his body was taut. “What do you mean ... disappeared?”
“He’s ... gone.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“A child has just been reported lost,” he said to the two faces turned his way. “Now, I’m sure he’ll turn up at a neighbor’s or at some playground. His mother is ... is very upset. I hope she’s jumping to conclusions. I’m going to go check it out.” All the same, his own stomach was in a knot of fear.
“It was Sam, wasn’t it?” asked Laray, looking stunned.
Henry nodded, already moving toward the door.
“What did she say—?”
“I couldn’t get much information. She’s rather frantic,” he said as he reached for the handle.
“Do you want us to round up a search party?”
“Not yet. Not until I find out a little more. I don’t suppose he’s gone far.”
“If you need that search party—” Rogers was saying as Henry slammed the door and ran to the patrol car.
Henry found her pacing her front porch, her hands clasped together so tightly the knuckles were white. Tears were running down her face as she rushed out to meet him.
“We need to find him,” she gasped.
He took her by the shoulders and gently turned her back toward the house. “We’ll find him.”
“But—” She waved toward the car, indicating her expectation to be whisked away to continue the search.
“First we need to get some information so we’ll know where to look.”
“If I knew where to look, do you think I’d be standing here?” she blurted out.
He didn’t answer but urged her back onto the porch. He motioned to the willow chair, and she understood and sat, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with the palms of her hands. He pulled out his pad and a short stub of a pencil. Not because he needed it, but because it might help her to calm herself enough to think more clearly.
“When did you last see him?”
“This morning... when I walked with him to Mrs. Crane’s.”
“He didn’t say anything—about plans—anything like that?”
“No.”
“When did you find he was no longer at Mrs. Crane’s?”
“She had a doctor’s appointment—in the city. I knew that. She arranged with me to leave Danny with my folks when she left.”
“So Danny was delivered to your parents?”
“Yes. About eleven o’clock.”
“Where was he? In the house? In the yard?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve talked to your folks?”
She was obviously becoming impatient with his questioning. He knew she wouldn’t endure much more.
“Of course I talked to them. My mother called the minute she couldn’t find Danny.”
“And when was that?”
“When she went out to call him for lunch. He was gone. He wasn’t in the yard—or the street. He never does that. Never.”
“Had Danny said anything—?”
“Look—we need to find him. Maybe someone’s taken him. That spooky man might have come....”
“He’s back in prison where he belongs.” Henry hadn’t intended to give out that information, but he had to alleviate some of her fears. She looked relieved.
“Then what—?”
“He’s likely just gone to visit some neighbor kid.”
“Danny doesn’t do that. He never goes off without asking.” She was crying again.
“He might already be back at your folks’.”
“No—the neighbor is there. She said she’d call the minute he returned.”
“Where are your folks?”
“Out looking.”
Henry thought of Mr. Martin with his arthritic knee. He would crawl from house to house if he had to in order to find his grandson.
He stood and tucked away the pad and pencil. “Let’s go take a look.”
She was only too glad to race toward the car.
He drove the streets slowly, assigning her one side. “Watch for Danny—or any other kids. They might know where he is. And if you see your mother or father, I’d like to speak with them.”
It was on the third street that she pointed to a group of kids in a yard. “There’s some. Tony Ambruce is there. He’s one of Danny’s playmates.”
Henry pulled over and got out. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Approaching the little huddle, he put on his friendliest face. “Hi, fellas. Any of you happen to see Danny around?”
There were several heads that shook in a negative reply. Tony Ambruce’s was one of them. Henry was disappointed.
A little girl, sitting on the porch steps with a doll in her arms, spoke up. “I did.”

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