The Silent Gift Page 3

  “Mary! Quit foolin’ around and come home with me,” he called as she saw him start to follow the footprints. He obviously was making the attempt to sound conciliatory. “C’mon, honey, this is crazy. I know you’re confused ’bout the stuff you found in my coat. Let’s go on home and talk about it before poor Jack catches his death of cold out here.”

  Quietly Mary inched her way with Jack and the suitcase toward the back of the house, fervently hoping there wasn’t a watchdog that might give her away.

  “You there!” A man’s voice bellowed from the front of the house. “What’re ya doin’ in my yard?”

  Her heart nearly stopped till she heard Jerry’s smooth answer. “I’m just out looking for my dog. Confounded animal got out, and wouldn’t ya know, my son is crazy for the mutt. If I could just look around in the back—”

  “I don’t give nobody run o’ my yard—not dog or man,” the man said with finality.

  “I’m not looking to stake a claim. Just want to find my dog!” Jerry snapped.

  Mary recognized the change in Jerry’s voice. He’d gone from a reasonable tone to an irritation he couldn’t hide.

  Jack sneezed. Any hope of a stealthy escape dissipated with it. She grabbed him up and ran as fast as she could toward the next backyard, suitcase bumping awkwardly against her legs. She heard Jerry’s stream of curses and the old man’s reprimand about language—and then the car door slammed again. She ran through the last yard on the block and made a dash for the street. The added weight in her arms slowed her steps, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins gave her strength and purpose beyond any she had ever known.

  She didn’t know what direction to head—only that she had to run as if their lives depended on it. The consequences of Jerry catching them gave her another burst of strength. She couldn’t—wouldn’t let him lay a hand on Jack.

  She slid and nearly fell again around an icy corner. But it was cloaked in welcome darkness, and she saw she was at the end of a long street of industrial businesses with loading zones out front. Mary’s legs felt like Jell-O and her side ached. She set Jack back on his feet and tried to catch her breath. The street appeared to be deserted— normal families are home eating their dinner together like they should be flickered through her mind. She felt her lips turn up in a rueful grin. Normal. What do I know about normal?

  Mary pulled Jack toward the first building they came to—Remington’s Auto Body Shop. She tried the door, but it was locked. They ran to the next business just as two headlights rounded the corner at the end of the street. She jerked on the door of Beltway Tractors as the car started toward them. She waited, flat against the building, and watched as the car moved under a streetlamp. A blue Cadillac.

  The Caddy stopped—engine idling, its driver no doubt taking stock of the street. Mary kept a firm hand on her son’s shoulder as they pressed themselves into the shadows and waited to see what Jerry would do. After a moment he started to back up—away from them.

  Her relief was short-lived.

  “Hey, lady! Lady!” Her head snapped around as she looked toward a man in a worn-out overcoat. He carried a brown bag that barely concealed a bottle of whiskey and staggered toward them through a golden puddle of streetlight as if he were wading through butter. “Can ya spare a few bucks for a fella down on his luck?”

  Mary vigorously shook her head and glanced back toward the Cadillac still backing up. “No, please go away,” she said as urgently as she could manage.

  “C’mon, lady. Even two bits’ll help,” the man slurred ingratiatingly. She moved her gaze off the Cadillac. “Leave us alone! Please—I don’t—”

  And then the revved-up pitch of the car’s engine as it made a fast U-turn—and she knew Jerry had spotted them. She reacted in an instant. Holding fast to Jack’s hand she sprinted on.

  Don’t look—just run—run—run! But she couldn’t help herself, and she turned to see the headlights heading straight at them, relentlessly pinning them in Jerry’s sights against the street ahead. No, no, no, no, no, no!

  Frantically she looked right, then left, and realized they were only steps away from the shortcut they’d used earlier that day. Adrenaline once more screamed through her body, and she pulled Jack with her as she scrambled into the alley behind the buildings. The brake lights cast an eerie red glow as the car fishtailed over the icy street, the tires spinning before the vehicle was under control.

  It seemed heaven-sent; the big truck she’d seen earlier that day was still parked halfway down the alley. The back end was wide open to the night and to anyone who might want to clamber inside and hide in the depths of the furniture shrouded in blankets and shadows. There was no sign of the men who’d casually greeted her that afternoon, so she pushed Jack up inside, threw the suitcase behind him, and climbed in herself, all the while listening for the Cadillac and the angry tone of Jerry’s voice.

  She knew he wouldn’t give up easily, knew he was out there searching the streets even as she practically dragged Jack past the maze of furniture toward the wall that abutted the cab of the truck. She set down the suitcase and lifted one of the moving blankets from a settee, then sank into the cushions of an oversized chair and pulled Jack onto her lap. She billowed out the blanket—like a sheet over a bed—and let the weight of the material conceal them both.

  She barely had time to get her ragged, spent breath evened out before she heard the sound of Jerry’s velvety smooth voice.

  “Mary? Are you in here?”

  The blanket plastered itself to her face when she pulled in a heart-stopping breath.

  “Come on now, hon . . . I just want to put this whole ugly misunderstanding behind us. That money is for the rent. I’m taking care of that tomorrow.”

  She felt the truck shift and knew he had climbed inside. His voice grew quieter but sounded just as soothing. “Mary? I’m not mad— really. I know we both want to make sure Jack has a place that’s safe and warm—right?” The soles of his shoes scraped like sandpaper over the accumulated dirt and grit on the metal floor.

  Her heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it, but Mary remained motionless with her son under the blanket. She had no idea what Jack understood of their situation, but for once she was grateful for the long spaces of time when he was as still and quiet as a granite statue.

  She heard Jerry heave what sounded like a long, frustrated sigh, then an expletive followed. “Where are you?” he muttered.

  “You wanna take the first shift—or should I?” A man’s voice carried loudly through the walls of the truck.

  “I’ll do it,” another voice answered.

  “Okay, let’s load ’er up and get going,” the first one said.

  Mary heard the men grunt and then another shift in the truck as something heavy settled on the metal floor. “The chair won’t be ready till seven-thirty . . .” she remembered from the afternoon.

  “Okay, lock it up,” one of the men yelled. The metal door rolled down into place with a thud. Mary peeled back the edge of the blanket and peered out, seeing nothing but inky blackness. She hugged Jack a little closer and hoped he couldn’t feel her tremble as she heard the doors to the truck cab open and then slam closed. She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath, but when the engine started, she slowly exhaled. Jerry must have gotten out—somehow he got out before they saw him. . . .

  “Okay, Mary—last chance,” Jerry’s disembodied voice slipped out of nowhere. She swallowed down the scream in her throat and pressed herself farther back into the cushion of the chair. “If you’re in here, you’d be better off telling me than letting me find you.”

  Quiet, quiet, quiet . . . don’t move. Don’t breathe . . . don’t blink. . . .

  The truck slowly started to move, and Jerry’s curses began somewhere to her left. “I don’t need to see to find you in here, Mary,” he said with a chuckle that frightened her more than his words, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  “I can’t see, Jack
can’t hear—you obviously can’t think straight or you wouldn’t be running away. We’re quite the family—aren’t we?”

  She could hear him cursing when he lost his balance with the truck’s movement and an elbow or shin connected with the furniture. Slapping at the blankets, sweeping his hand over some piece, knocking his fist on a table—the shuffle of his feet grew louder as he moved toward the cab of the truck.

  “This is crazy,” he hissed into the air. “Completely nuts. I hope for your sake you’re not in here or you’ll regret it. You—will—regret—it.” Each word felt like a hammer blow against Mary’s thudding heart.

  Mary could tell by the sounds in the dark truck that Jerry . . . closer . . . was going through the space systematically—moving blankets . . . closer . . . poking at furniture, narrowing down the search . . . closer . . . one square foot at a time. And then she could smell his cologne. He was so close now she felt the air around her move as his hand flailed about to connect with something. It slapped down on the back of the chair just a hairsbreadth from her shoulder. Too close! Too close! Bend down. . . . She curled herself over Jack just as Jerry’s hand again swept through the air above their hiding place. Then the truck suddenly braked, and she heard Jerry crash against something to a long string of expletives. She tightened her hold on Jack as she heard Jerry scrambling to his feet.

  “What kind of bloomin’ idiot parks his car across the end of an alley?” The voice carried clearly from the cab through the walls of the truck.

  At the blare of the horn, Mary jumped.

  “Move!” she heard the driver yelling. “Move the durn car!”

  Jerry was still, and it was completely silent in the back of the truck. The total quiet, the lack of movement nearly undid Mary—he could be standing an inch from her, and she’d never know from under the blanket.

  “Honk again!”

  “I think I’ll just ram it,” the driver said. “That’ll move ’im.”

  “Hang on—” the other man cut in. “I’ll go talk with the guy.” The cab door opened, then slammed.

  “Hey!” she heard the man yell. “There’s no one in the car!”

  “We got a ten-hour drive ahead of us! Move the stupid thing!”

  Jerry swore again, his voice startling her. Way too close. Suddenly he was banging on the tailgate of the truck, pounding on the sides— kicking out at the latch.

  “Open up! Open up!” Jerry yelled.

  The door started to roll up, and Mary pulled the blanket tighter and scrunched down as far as she could with her arms wrapped securely around Jack. Though it had seemed like forever, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since they’d climbed into the truck, but Jack hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “Who the blazes are you?” Mary heard one of the men demand. “And what are you doin’ in there? You a stowaway?”

  “That’s my Cadillac, moron. Why would I need to stow away?”

  “Well, now, that makes sense,” he answered, sarcasm dripping. Then, “Hey, Herb! Call the cops! I think we got us a thief in here.”

  “I’m no thief either,” Jerry said quickly. “I was looking for my handicapped kid. Thought he mighta climbed in here—he’s deaf and dumb.”

  “That right? Then I guess the nut don’t fall too far from the tree, mister. You’re not deaf—but you’re sure ’nough dumb. Now, get outta my truck!”

  “Fine,” Jerry snapped. “I’ve searched the truck, and he’s not in here anyway.”

  “Imagine that? Some kid doesn’t want to climb into a dark truck in the freezing cold? I’m stunned. Now, you gonna move your car, or do we let a tow truck do the honors?”

  “I’m going,” Jerry rasped.

  Though she couldn’t see Jerry leave, Mary could feel just the tiniest of shudders as he leapt off the back end.

  “That was weird,” she heard one of them say. “Didn’t you think that was weird, Herb?”

  “I think I’m cold, and I wanna get on the road,” Herb grumped. Mary pulled back the corner of the blanket in time to see the car’s brake lights disappearing around a corner.

  “Lock it up. Again.”

  The door rumbled down for a second time. This time the darkness was like another blanket—a welcome, comforting relief. She hugged Jack tightly to her breast and kissed his cheek. Her beloved son was safe in her lap. Jerry was on the other side of a locked door, hopefully well on his way to wherever he was going, and she had the money. As the truck swayed its way out of the alley, she had no idea where they were headed—but she was sure it would be better than where they’d been.

  Chapter Four

  SHE STRUGGLED TO OPEN HER EYES against the bright light. A man was silhouetted against a backdrop of sunshine. Trembling from the cold, Mary squinted to try and make out his face, her heart pounding as she tightened her arms around Jack’s body.

  Another man, this one in a fedora, came into view and slapped the first one on the back. “Hate these night runs,” he said. “Takes everything I got to stay awake.”

  “You were snoring pretty darn loud for a guy who was awake,” the other man replied. “Good thing I was driving the last hundred miles.”

  “That wasn’t me. The transmission on this old crate rumbled pretty good.” He chuckled as he reached to grab the leg of the chair nearest the door. “Let’s get this thing unloaded, and I’ll treat ya to some hot cakes.”

  Everything came rushing back in a blur. Running from Jerry the night before, hiding in the truck—the long ride in the cold, dark space.

  The men hefted the chair out to the ground, and Mary watched carefully until they’d disappeared from view. She grabbed the suitcase and hurried Jack between furniture to the wide-open end of the truck. She jumped down, turned to swing her son into her arms, and paused only a moment to look around at their new life.

  Hugging the corner of a brick building, body rigid with nerves, Mary looked over the area near the truck that had carried them away from their small town. She kept a hand on Jack at all times while she scanned about for Jerry or his blue Cadillac. But after only a few minutes she felt herself relaxing just a little.

  “You know what I think, Jack?” she said softly into the cold air. “I don’t think your dad followed us. I think if he believed we were in that truck, he wouldn’t have gotten off without his money.”

  With the thought of the money, she shoved her hand into her pocket and felt the envelope of cash with a rush of relief. It wasn’t all a dream—it was real. She’d left her husband. Left a man who over the years had proven time and time again that he didn’t care about anything or anyone—except himself. She’d left a man who only last week had proven he would strike his only child when frustrated if she hadn’t been there to stop him. Jerry had been planning to leave them penniless, leave them without a roof over their heads or even a means of provision. But I left before he could do that to us. . . . Mary knelt in front of Jack so he could see right into her eyes, and she smiled. “We’re going to be okay, buddy. From now on, everything is going to be okay.”

  She slowly came to her feet. The enormity of what she’d done was gradually becoming real. She stood there amazed at her own courage—and uncharacteristic good luck. All the things that had unfolded, one on top of another, to get her to this place. If the weather hadn’t turned cold, she never would have taken the shortcut through the alley and seen the truck. Was that a conscious thing or was something else leading me to that spot? And having our sweaters on because of the old furnace . . . ?

  She shook her head at her own reflections—knowing in her heart that it had to be luck because it couldn’t be God. She was sure He’d written her off years ago, was ashamed of her on so many levels. I was due for a break—that’s all. Finally it was my turn for some good luck. . . .

  A blast of cold wind sliced through her coat and pulled her back from her ruminations. Jack shivered against her, and she wrapped her arms around him as she looked beyond the truck to once more take in their surroundings.

&n
bsp; Jerry’s not the only one who doesn’t know where we are, she told herself as she watched two more trucks pull into what looked to be a warehouse district. She looked up at the building where they stood, noting it was over ten stories high. The clamor from the city seeped into her consciousness—a train whistle blasting in the distance against a background din of cars, trucks, and horns. Another gust of icy air sliced across her cheeks, and she knew they needed to get to someplace warm. “Hot cakes are on me. . . .” Her own stomach was growling, and she was sure Jack must be hungry.

  Mary took one more careful look around, then stepped away from the building. “C’mon, sweetie, there must be at least a couple diners in this town,” she said, snugging his mittened hand into her own. They moved around the building and down an alley, and then stepped onto a sidewalk parallel to a busy street. Make that hundreds of diners in this city, she corrected herself as they blended into the flow of pedestrians and moved along with the tide. In spite of the cold—and the unknown—she felt a ripple of excitement. All the years of waiting and watching and gauging Jerry’s moods, trying to anticipate his next one so it wouldn’t include those humiliating slaps, saving pennies at a time in case she and Jack needed to escape—but inevitably having to spend the money for food, heat, or a doctor’s visit.

  Now, somehow, she’d managed to turn the tables. Jerry’s escape money turned into our escape money, she told herself. The irony hit her squarely between the eyes, and she laughed out loud on the crowded sidewalk. For once I did something to make things change!

  Chapter Five

  Chicago, Illinois

  “YOU KNOW WHAT’U BEST about today, Jack?” Mary asked as she stirred the last stubborn bit of a Hershey’s bar until it too melted into the pan of chocolate on the hot plate. “The best thing about today is that we’ve got each other.” She turned from her task, standing at the end of a long bureau, and looked across the small room at her son. Jack stood with his eyes fixed on rows of tiny pink roses that ran up and down the wallpaper.