Margaret Daley - The Courage To Dream and The Power Of Love

She sat in the chair by the crib and began to rock. After she’d sung two lullabies, Josh closed his eyes and relaxed.

Rebecca heard her grandmother approaching the bedroom. She looked up to find Granny standing in the doorway. “I hope my singing didn’t awaken you.”

“Never. I love hearing you sing. I had to go to the bathroom, heard you up and thought I would check to see if Josh was asleep yet.”

“Yes.” Rebecca pushed to her feet and carefully laid her son in his crib. “I think tonight he’ll sleep through to morning once again. At least I hope so.” She came into the hallway.

“Peter didn’t say anything at dinner about going to Gabriel’s. Did he say anything afterwards?”

“He said something about a dog with puppies, then grumbled about pulling weeds at the church. That’s all I got out of him.” Rebecca sighed, remembering the one-word answers she had received from her eldest at the dinner table. The only time he had been a part of the family that day was when he had worked with Josh after supper.

“I’m glad he was at the church today. Gabriel usually works there on Saturdays, along with some of the young people. I hope Peter met some kids he could be friends with. That’s what he needs, church and friends.”

“He needs a father who will care about him. Craig hasn’t called him in the two weeks we have been here. His birthday is coming up, and I know Peter will want his dad here to help him celebrate. What should I do?”

“Have you talked with Craig lately?”

“No, not since our move.”

“Call him and let him know the importance of Peter’s birthday to the child.”

Rebecca rolled her shoulders and kneaded the tight cords of her neck. “I’m not sure my call would help the situation, but I’ll try.” She started for Peter’s bedroom. “Peter’s been unusually quiet this evening. No loud music from his room.”

Rebecca opened the door and peered into the darkened bedroom. The window was up, allowing a soft breeze to stir the curtains, the scent of the outdoors to fill the room. A shaft of moonlight streamed through the opening and across Peter’s empty bed.

“He’s not here.” Rebecca flipped on the overhead light and scanned the area. “Oh, no. He sneaked out again.”

“He might be downstairs. Check the house first before you get too upset.”

Rebecca inhaled deeply, but nothing alleviated the tension building inside. “You’re probably right. He’s downstairs watching television as we speak.”

She made her way to the first floor and went from room to room. Finally, ten minutes later, she had to acknowledge that Peter wasn’t in the house. She checked the front porch then the yard, and there was no sign of her son.

Granny appeared in the kitchen. “Gone?”

Rebecca nodded, her throat tight with suppressed emotion. She was scared. What kind of trouble was her eldest getting into at this very moment? Where was he? She sank onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. She felt so alone.

Her grandmother put her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Call Gabriel. He’ll help.”

She remembered Gabriel’s suspicion about Peter vandalizing the field house. “But he’s the police chief. What if—” Rebecca couldn’t voice her fear that Peter was getting into trouble, the kind of trouble the law would be interested in.

“Gabriel is a friend of this family. Ask him to help.”

She hated asking anyone for help, but fear compelled her to reach for the phone. Her hands trembling, Rebecca dialed the police chief’s number. In less than twenty-four hours this man had become part of her new life.

Gabriel climbed into his squad car and gripped the steering wheel. Staring out the windshield, he tried to come up with another place Peter might go. The boy hadn’t been at the usual hangouts or behind the store where Gabriel had first seen him.

Gabriel closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, please help me find Peter. He’s hurting, and I want to help.”

As he turned the key in the ignition, he suddenly knew where to find Rebecca’s son. He backed out of the parking space at the rodeo grounds and headed for the high school baseball field. When he pulled into the lot next to the stands, he saw someone sitting in the bleachers, his head buried in his hands, the slump of his shoulders emphasizing his dejection.

Gabriel switched off his headlights and quietly climbed the stands. He hung back until his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see who the person was. Relieved at finally finding the boy, Gabriel made his way toward Peter.

Gabriel hated sneaking up on someone but knew the boy would run if given the chance. He laid his hand on Peter’s shoulder. The child gasped and turned.

“Easy, Peter. It’s just me, Chief Stone.” He kept his voice even, calm.

Peter started scrambling away. Gabriel’s grip on his shoulder strengthened.

“Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, for starters, son, you’re trespassing.”

“I’m not your son!” Peter twisted and finally managed to slip from Gabriel’s grasp.

The defensive anger in Peter’s voice tore at Gabriel. “Don’t make this any worse. Come on. Let’s go to my car.”

“No! I didn’t do anything wrong,” Peter shouted, so loudly Gabriel was sure the people who lived nearby heard him. “This baseball field belongs to the public, and I am part of the public.”

Gabriel decided to change tactics. “Okay. If you want to stay, I’ll stay.” He sat down and waited, resting his elbows on his knees and loosely clasping his hands.

In the dim moonlight Gabriel saw the boy’s mouth twist into a deep frown, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Finally Peter took a seat and tried to ignore Gabriel. That was all right with him. He knew dealing with Peter would call upon his patience, and thankfully God had given him a huge reserve. Peter slumped and rested his chin in his palms.

“Your mom’s worried about you,” Gabriel said a few minutes later.

Peter stiffened, bringing his head up.

“Don’t you think we should at least give her a call and let her know you’re all right?”

“She doesn’t care about me.”

“Well, she certainly had me fooled earlier on the phone. I could have sworn I heard her crying.”

Peter remained silent, leaning forward, his chin on his fist, as though settling in for the night. He fixed his gaze on the baseball field, illuminated by the three-quarter moon.

Gabriel retrieved his cell phone from his shirt pocket and dialed Rebecca’s number. “Peter’s okay,” he said when Rebecca answered on the first ring, and quickly filled her in on where he’d found Peter.

There was a moment’s hesitation, then she asked, “Is there—did he cause any problems?”

“No,” Gabriel said, not sure if Peter had vandalized the field house or not. His brief inspection on his way to the stands had revealed nothing wrong. “I’ll bring him home soon.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. I don’t…” Her voice trailed into silence.

“You’re welcome, Rebecca. Peter and I will see you in a while.”

“Is she mad?”

Gabriel remembered the silence at the end, a vulnerable pause in her sentence while she tried to gather her composure. “She’s more worried than anything.”

“She’s always worried.”

“What about?” Gabriel asked, wanting to keep the fragile conversation going but realizing he wanted to know so much more about Rebecca Michaels than he did.

“Josh, Granny, money—me.”

“I find that moms worry a lot. I think that’s part of being a mother. Mine still worries about me, and I’m thirty-six years old and have been away from home for seventeen years.”