The Long Ride Home (3 page)

S
kye hurried to the barn, and after she checked on Champ and gave him a big hug, she found Mrs. Chambers in a stall grooming Pepsi.

“Mom,” Skye said, rushing to her foster mother’s side, “Look what Millie gave me.”

Mrs. Chambers poked back her Stetson and wiped her brow. “What do you have there, honey?”

Skye waved the letters in front of Mrs. Chambers. “She gave me real old letters that have some kind of inmate code on them for my dad and Charlie. She said if I write to them, they might write back. That is, if they’re still in prison.”

Mrs. Chambers took the envelopes from Skye and examined both sides. “My, that seems like a very good lead, Skye,” she said. “But what if they’re not there anymore?”

“Millie said that if the prison knows where the released inmates live, it will forward the mail to their new address. I want to write to them the first chance I get. But I’m not sure what to say. Will you help me?”

“Sure, the first chance we get.” Mrs. Chambers handed the letters back to Skye. “Right now we’ve got to bed down these horses, and by then it will be suppertime.”

“Mom,” Skye said, “can we pray about this? If God’s in this, then it will happen, don’t you think?”

“I agree,” Mrs. Chambers said. “And now would be a perfect time to pray about the whole matter.”

As soon as Skye had finished her responsibilities on Monday evening, she and Mrs. Chambers made a beeline to the family’s cabin and attacked the laptop and printer. Mrs. Chambers helped set up at a small table and then decided to crash on her bunk and read a book. Skye prepared to type two letters that she had been “Skye writing” in her brain all day long, and she decided to send her dad one of her school pictures that Mrs. Chambers always carried in her wallet. With Mr. Chambers and Morgan at the barn polishing tack, Skye had some private time with Mrs. Chambers.

Before Skye started to type, she leaned back in the chair and faced Mrs. Chambers. “Mom, I need to know how you feel about all this. Are you okay with it?”

Mrs. Chambers smiled, and her eyes seemed to penetrate into the depths of Skye’s soul and read her very thoughts. She reached toward Skye and patted her hand. “Honey, right up front we want you to know that your dad and I love you very much, as though you were our own daughter, and we only want the best for you. I know that you’ve always needed to know something about your parents so you could come to grips with your past. We have absolutely no problem with your finding your roots. In fact, we’ve been praying about this moment since we took you in.”

Skye stared deep into her foster mother’s eyes, finding complete honesty that she knew was always there. “I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you and Dad,” Skye said. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Mrs. Chambers’ eyes filled with tears as she gave Skye another warm smile. “Skye, I don’t want you to even think that way. You will not hurt us. We’re very glad that God has opened this door for you. Your dad and I have discussed this numerous times, and—well—the possibility of your finding your parents is one reason we’ve been dragging our feet concerning adopting you. By all means we want to do that, but if your parents are in the picture, you might feel differently.”

“I’ll never feel different,” Skye said. “I want to stay with you guys forever.”

“That’s a decision that only you can make,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Over the years, we’ve worked with a lot of kids who had different ideas about their parents. Let’s take Morgan, for example. She really doesn’t want to stay in touch with her mother—or father. And you know she’s told us those rare visits with her mother just bring up all those feelings of being abandoned. Maybe when she’s older, she’ll try to renew her relationship with them, but for now she’s satisfied just living with us.”

“I’m not so sure about that lately,” Skye said.

“What do you mean?”

“I think she’s been acting kinda strange about this whole business with my parents. Maybe she’s thinking more about her own mom and dad these days.”

“I did detect a little distance in her lately. She knows she can call her mother anytime she wants. We’ve encouraged her to do that.”

“Well, at least she knows where her mom is,” Skye said. “That’s a big plus.”

“Yes, and I believe that does make a difference,” Mrs. Chambers said.

“Well, I’d sure like to know where my real mother is,” Skye said, turning back to the computer.

“And, Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said, “about these letters you’re going to write. Just let the Lord take charge. We’ll trust in him and see what happens.”

“Mom,” Skye said, “can I read the letters to you and then you can tell me how they sound?”

“Sure,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Let me know when they’re done.”

After thirty minutes of typing and retyping, Skye asked her foster mother to join her at the table.

“Let’s see these wonderful masterpieces,” Mrs. Chambers said, smiling. Skye let her sit in front of the computer to read:

Dear Jacy,

I am your daughter, Skye Nicholson. I am thirteen years old and in the seventh grade. I’ve always wanted to know where you and Mom are. Just lately, I was given this address.

I live with two nice foster parents, Tom and Eileen Chambers, at Keystone Stables in central PA, a special-needs ranch and foster home. I have one foster sister, Morgan Hendricks. But right now we are near Charleston, SC, volunteering our time at another special-needs ranch. We brought four horses with us, and we are teaching the campers how to ride. My horse is a sorrel Quarter Horse. His name is Champ, and he’s the most beautiful animal in the whole wide world.

I really want to get to know you. Please write me using the address on the envelope. We’ll be here for twelve more days.

Your daughter Skye

Dear Mr. Hamlock,

I am Skye Nicholson, Jacy Nicholson’s daughter and the niece of Millie Eister. She had written you letters for a while about ten years ago.

I am thirteen years old and am in foster care. I’ve always wanted to know where my parents are. Just lately, I found out that my father might be in the Brentwood prison. I have written him a letter and hope that he will write me back.

If my father is not there, Millie said you might be the only person who can help me find him. I really want to get to know him. I’m also searching for my mother.

If you know anything about either of them, will you please write and tell me what you know? I would be very grateful.

Millie told me that she is going to write to you too. I hope you write back. She’s a nice lady.

Yours truly,
Skye Nicholson

From the time Skye mailed those important letters, she started to get up fifteen minutes earlier so she had time to check the Chambers’ mailbox at the office for a letter from her dad or Charlie Hamlock.

On Thursday, Skye held an envelope addressed to Jacy Nicholson with the words RETURN TO SENDER stamped on the front, and her heart dropped like a rock to the bottom of her feet.

“Another stone wall,” Skye said to Morgan back at the cabin. Mr. and Mrs. Chambers had already left for breakfast. Morgan was sitting at the cabin window, just staring. She didn’t answer Skye.

“Morgan, what’s the matter? You’ve just not been yourself lately.”

“I already told you,” Morgan said. “It’s the same old thing. I want us to be friends forever.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Skye said. “C’mon, tell me what’s bugging you.”

Morgan sniffled, then she forced out a stingy smile. “If you find them, do you want to go and live with them?” Suddenly, Morgan’s eyes released a flood of tears that ran freely down her fiery red face.

“What?” Skye said. “C’mon, spill the beans, Morgan. What’s bugging you?”

Morgan took a few deep, choppy breaths. Again, she wiped her cheeks. In all the time she had known Morgan, Skye had never seen her so upset.

“M-maybe I’m just being selfish,” Morgan gasped, “but I’m going bonkers worrying that you’re going to leave. You and Mr. and Mrs. Chambers are my family now. I don’t want anything to spoil that. If you leave, nothing will ever be the same again at Keystone Stables.”

In disbelief, Skye stared while Morgan just sobbed and sobbed. Without warning, tears burned in Skye’s eyes, too, and her face flushed as she tried to figure out what to say to her very best friend.

“Morgan—”

“Oh, this is so stupid,” Morgan cried. “I’m sorry, but I had to get this out. It’s been bottled up inside me ever since we met Millie.”

“No—no, that’s okay.” Skye took a deep breath. “Best friends tell all, and we’re best friends. I want to know how you feel.”

Morgan released a long, slow sigh. “Oh, Skye, I’m just afraid of losing my—my best friend.”

“Morgan, you’re never going to lose me as your best friend, no matter where I am.”

“What does that mean?” Morgan’s eyebrows peaked.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Skye said. “I just want to find out where my parents are, that’s all. As long as I
can remember, I’ve always wanted to know my roots. To tell you the truth, I have no idea how I’m going to feel if I find them.”

Morgan wiped her eyes and gave Skye her signature smile. “Just so we stay best buds, okay?”

“No problem.” Skye gave Morgan a sincere smile. “I’ll always think of you as my sister, too.”

“I feel a whole lot better,” Morgan said. “A
whole
lot better.”

“Me too,” Skye said. “Now let’s get going. The horses and potatoes aren’t going to wait all day for us.”

With no response from her dad, Skye hoped and prayed all week that she’d hear something from the other inmate. “C’mon, Charlie. You gotta come through for me,” she said before going for the mail every morning.

And Charlie did!

On Friday, Skye pulled a letter from the mailbox with her name and her present address scribbled on the envelope. With no return address anywhere, she tore it open and read a short note that appeared to have been written in a hurry:

Dear Skye, Your father is not here anymore. He was released early because he kept his nose clean. He left here about two years ago. He wrote to me for a while. The last I heard from him, he was living in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Good luck trying to find him.

Charles P. Hamlock

I
n record time, Skye dashed back to the Chambers’ cabin where she knew everyone was probably still sound asleep. She came to a skid stop at the door and glanced at her watch.
Almost six. It’s time for them to get up anyway.
She burst through the doorway with absolutely no thought of restraining her excitement.

“Mom, Dad, I got a letter from Charlie!” She rushed to a bottom bunk and shook Mrs. Chambers’ shoulder. “Mom, wake up. I’ve got the best news ever!” She pulled on her foster dad’s arm that was dangling over the top bunk, then rushed to Morgan’s bunk where she poked at Morgan. “Wake up, everybody. I have news about my dad!”

Morgan struggled to open her eyes, her frizzy red hair suffering from what looked like an all-night wrestling match with the pillow. Her wandering eyes finally focused on Skye as she yawned. “What has you going bonkers at this hour of the morning?”

“I heard from Charlie Hamlock,” Skye bubbled, rushing back to the other set of bunks. By now, both Mr.
and Mrs. Chambers were leaning on their elbows, trying to get their wits about them.

“What’s that, honey?” Mrs. Chambers asked. “What about Charlie?”

Mr. Chambers scratched his disheveled brown hair and yawned. “Well, you’re certainly the loudest alarm clock I’ve ever heard.”

“Dad, didn’t you hear me?” Skye shoved the letter under his nose. “I heard from Charlie Hamlock. He said my dad might be living around Gatlinburg, Tennessee!”

“That’s our girl,” Mrs. Chambers chuckled. “Calm, cool, and collected.”

Morgan sat up and looked in Skye’s direction. “The last time I saw you this wound up, you and Champ had just won State in the Western Pleasure Class. Or was it when Chad winked at you last year at the Youth for Truth Christmas party? Cool it, girl.” Morgan’s usual friendly tone had an air of sarcasm.

She almost sounds angry,
Skye thought.
What gives?
“This letter is better than any of that. I might be able to contact my dad.”

Mr. Chambers took the letter in one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. “Skye, we know you’re terribly excited about this. We’re just having a little fun with you. Now let me see what this says.”

Skye’s foster mother wiggled her way out of the bottom bunk. “Let me see this very important note.”

Mr. Chambers handed her the letter, yawned again, and drew his fingers down over his mustache. “This
is
good news, Skye. Now we’ve got something to go on.”

“When can we go to Gatlinburg, Dad? When?” Skye raked her fingers through her hair and chewed her lip.

“Hold your horses, honey.” Mrs. Chambers handed the letter back to Skye. “This calls for a family powwow that will take more time than we have now. We’ve got to
be at breakfast in a half hour and we have a full day of activities ahead for all of us.”

“When can we talk about what to do next?” Skye’s anxiety level had her mind churning like a windmill in a tornado.

Mr. Chambers threw off his sheet, swiveled on the mattress, and dropped to the floor next to his wife. His western pullover top and shorts matched Mrs. Chambers’ outfit to a T. “Eileen, don’t we have a free hour after supper tonight?”

Mrs. Chambers rubbed her eyes and thought for a moment. “Why, yes we do. The hayride doesn’t start until around seven.” Her glance darted from her husband to Skye. “After supper, we can all meet here and discuss this latest development.”

Skye shifted to Morgan who had managed to position herself against the wall so she could watch the show. “Morgan, what are you doing after supper?”

“I’ll be up to my ears in dirty pots and pans. I don’t need to be in this meeting. You can fill me in later.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Skye said. “I keep forgetting that somebody has to clean up the mess in the cafeteria every time we eat. I guess that’s why they call it a ‘mess hall.’”

“And camp critters sure can make messes,” Mr. Chambers said with a sly grin. “Now, about our family meeting. Right after supper, we’ll have our powwow here and see what we can do about Gatlinburg. Right now I could use a shower and a shave.” He rubbed his stubby beard and smiled.

“Skye,” Mrs. Chambers suggested, “if you have any time at all today, go online to that website we searched the other day. Now you can plug in ‘Gatlinburg,’ and it should tell you how many of those Jacy Nicholsons live in that area, if any.”

“I hardly have time to breathe today,” Skye said. “I have a full day of riding lessons right until supper.”

“Well, the laptop will be waiting for you when you get back here then.” Mrs. Chambers slipped her arm around Skye’s shoulders.

“And let’s keep this whole situation a matter of prayer all day long,” Mr. Chambers said. “If God’s in this, and I believe he is, then we’ll find the right Mr. Jacy Nicholson.”

Skye looked deep into her foster parents’ eyes and beamed a broad smile. Then she glanced at Morgan, who had a strange, faraway look.
What is wrong with that girl? I thought everything was okay.

All day Friday Skye and Champ worked their tails off in the squelching heat of the South Carolina sun. Although Skye enjoyed every minute with her horse and the camp kids, no matter how hot it was, her thoughts constantly drifted about 350 miles northwest to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, where she hoped and prayed she’d be able to find her real dad.

At suppertime, she gobbled down her hot dog and fries and made a mad dash to the family chalet. As she set up the laptop at the small table and went online, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers came in and joined her. As the three sat gawking at the screen, Skye typed in her real dad’s name in the family and friends search engine. Three Jacy Nicholsons popped up for the Gatlinburg area along with their addresses, but only one had a phone number listed.

“Wow,” Skye said, “there are three in or near that town. But only one has a phone number. Why don’t the others list their phone numbers?”

“Skye,” Mr. Chambers said, “the Internet has become very intrusive in people’s personal lives. It’s enough that the site posts people’s addresses. Some folks would rather not even have that out there as common knowledge. My guess is that they want their phone numbers unlisted.”

“Or maybe they have cell phones and don’t want that number shared,” Skye reasoned.

“What surprises me is that there are three men in that same area with such an unusual name,” Mrs. Chambers said. “That’s amazing.”

“Are there any websites where we could find more information about any of them?” Skye wrote down the one phone number and then sat poised, her fingers ready to type.

“Well,” Mr. Chambers said, “why don’t you plug ‘Jacy Nicholson’ in a few search engines and see what happens. The men might have businesses or sell products that they’re advertising on their own websites.”

“Good idea, Dad,” Skye said as she started to type.

In seconds, the screen displayed “No Match.”

“Well,” Skye said, “Besides three addresses, I have this one phone number. Could I call this guy right now? He just might be my father.”

“Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said, “have you thought at all about what you plan to say? You can’t call and just blurt out, ‘Hello, this is your long-lost daughter. Can we talk?’”

Skye pursed her lips and folded her arms. “I see what you mean. That would definitely be a total shock.”

“Why don’t you think about it awhile,” Mr. Chambers said. “The first words you say will be very important. And if he has voice mail, would you want to leave a message? That’s something else that’s very important to think about.”

Skye slumped back in her chair and sighed. “You’re right, Dad. Can I try calling in an hour?”

“Whenever you feel that you’re ready,” Mr. Chambers said gently.

“I probably shouldn’t leave a message,” Skye said. “If it would be the wrong Jacy, he wouldn’t know what in the world I’m talking about. And even if it would be the right one, I’d rather talk to him directly.”

“A wise decision,” Mr. Chambers said.

Mrs. Chambers swiveled her chair to the side of the table and faced her husband. “Tom, you don’t have anything pressing back home next week, do you?”

Mr. Chambers sat, still staring at the screen. With his chin resting on clenched fists, his thoughts were far away.

“Dad?” Skye poked the man’s shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Just thinking,” Mr. Chambers finally said. “I didn’t schedule any appointments for my computer business for the whole week after this trek. It takes me that long to get back into the groove of ‘life’ again after any trip, no matter where we go. So, if you’re asking if we can go to Gatlinburg next week, the answer is yes.”

“Do you really mean it?” Skye’s voice reached its highest octave. “We can actually try to find my father?”

Mrs. Chambers gave Skye a warm smile. “Honey, we can do this. We have the time.”

“And I think we might be able to mix some business with pleasure, if you know what I mean,” Mr. Chambers said.

“Tom, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

Mr. Chambers gave his wife one of his sly grins. “Skye, plug in ‘AQHA’ and see if the American Quarter Horse Association is sponsoring any horse shows in the Gatlinburg area.”

“Horse shows?” Skye asked and paused. “Oh, I get it,” she said, starting to type.

Mr. Chambers relaxed in his chair and folded his arms. “If there are any horse shows in that part of Tennessee—and I’m sure there are this time of the year—we can register ASAP and compete. When we get to Gatlinburg, we can’t be looking for Jacy Nicholson twenty-four/seven, so if we enter a horse show or two, we might win some prize money to help us with our expenses. And I’m sure our four equines don’t want to face a week of nothing but munching hay and snoozing.”

“Tom, that’s an excellent idea,” Mrs. Chambers said. “We can check out the KOA campgrounds with accommodations for large pets. Some of those campsites have makeshift barns for fur-friends like ours. When we find a suitable camp, we’ll drive down our stakes there for as long as necessary.” She glanced at Skye, who was engrossed with the information on the screen. “And although it looks like our gal isn’t into the tourist mode at the moment, Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge have some very nice attractions that we might be able to check out.”

“We’d have to call Chad and ask if he’ll stay at Keystone Stables a few more days. Wait until he hears about my father.” Skye was totally oblivious to Mrs. Chambers’ last words. “Look here. There are two western AQHA shows right in the Gatlinburg area next week.”

“Then it’s settled,” Mr. Chambers said. “Come Sunday after church, we’re on our way to Tennessee.”

Skye held up the piece of paper with the phone number. “And if this isn’t my father, the first thing I’m going to do is find a new phone book and see if the other Jacys might be listed,” Skye said. “The locator website just might be outdated.”