Second Chance in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad
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wasn’t gaining any points with her—that much was clear. He could feel the protest almost bursting out of her, so he walked a little faster. Besides, he didn’t have time for old high school dreams. He needed to concentrate on the present right now so he could help his daughter.
“Don’t tell me she left the money from the robberies in the car?” Calen said to no one in particular as he got closer to where the sheriff stood. Of course, having the money might be a good thing, he reminded himself. At least Renee could give it back. That might gain her some leniency with the judge when she went to trial. He had heard the news reports about the robberies up north, but it never crossed his mind that Renee might be involved.
Calen set Gracie on the trunk of the car. She didn’t even meet his eyes, and he figured that couldn’t be good. So he looked away and saw Tyler.
“It’s not the money,” Tyler said once he had Calen’s attention.
If Calen hadn’t been in such a hurry, he might have wondered why Tyler’s voice had become softer as he stood there, the door to the backseat open.
Calen moved closer. The overhead light in the car gave off a dim glow, but he had no trouble seeing the beige cloth upholstery. A brown paper bag sat in the far corner with a plastic bread wrapper sticking up. A child’s car seat sat next to a red vinyl suitcase. If he wasn’t mistaken, he smelled fried chicken, likely the kind found at truck stops. He had to lean into the car before he could see the bundle of blankets on the floorboards and, even then, he took another moment to realize what it was.
“A little girl?” Calen whispered, fearful that Renee might have kidnapped a child somewhere in her flight. He wasn’t even sure if it was a girl. All he saw was a swatch of curly blond hair peeking out from the top of the blankets.
But then the keening sounded again and it was decidedly feminine.
“Are you okay?” Calen said then, bending down so he could see further into the car. For a moment, it didn’t matter who the girl was, she was terrified and he wanted to soothe her.
The blankets dipped slightly and he saw two tearful blue eyes peeking out. Calen knew the moment she saw him, as the sound she was making turned to a shriek and the blanket covered her eyes again.
Calen backed out of the car.
“I don’t want to scare her,” he said. Gracie had slid down from the trunk and was standing beside Tyler. Both of them had frowns on their faces. The sheriff had a flashlight and was shining the beam into the front seat of the car.
“I think I have something,” the lawman said as he opened that door.
The sheriff reached inside and pulled out a white envelope, squinting at it in the soft light of the car, and then looked at Calen. “It’s got your name on it.”
The man handed the letter to him. “I hope this gives us some answers. I haven’t received any alerts about missing children, but she might have been snatched tonight and not listed as missing yet.”
“Oh, I can’t believe Renee would kidnap some poor child,” Gracie burst out with a protest and gathered the collar of her robe more tightly around her. “She doesn’t look like she’s much more than a child herself.”
Calen glanced over and gave her a grateful smile before looking down. In her bathrobe, Gracie didn’t look that much older than Renee.
“Here,” he said with a gesture to the open door of the backseat. “You may as well sit inside the car. The child is going to need to talk to someone before long anyway.”
Calen bowed his head, holding the envelope. Father, give me wisdom for anything I read. Be with my daughter and the child in the car. Protect them both. Amen.
As he pulled the envelope flap back, Calen noticed how quiet it was. He glanced into the car again and saw that the girl had crawled up into Gracie’s lap. The little one still had tear streaks on her cheeks, but she looked calm for the first time. Maybe they’d be able to get some answers after all.
The envelope started to feel heavy in his hands. What had Renee wanted to say to him after all these years anyway?
Chapter Three
Gracie felt the girl snuggle as close as she could to her in the backseat of the car. Even then, the poor thing was shivering, and Gracie didn’t think it was from the cold alone because the girl had the blanket wrapped around her when she climbed over to Gracie.
“What’s your name?” Gracie whispered as she put her hand on the child’s head in much the same way as she soothed Rusty. She’d guess the child was two, maybe three years old.
The girl looked up at her, her eyes filling with tears.
Gracie felt her start to tremble more and she drew the little one closer to her. “That’s all right. You don’t need to talk right now. We’ll figure it out later.”
The words soothed the girl and she nestled back against Gracie, drawing the blanket over her head.
Gracie wished, and not for the first time since she had come back to Dry Creek, that she was more accepted in this community. She’d have more to offer this little one if she could call up a neighbor and ask how to help her talk. Her sons thought she needed a husband, but what she really needed was friends. The young mothers at church led their children away when she came near, and conversations stopped when she entered a room. She understood, of course. No one knew what to say to her now that she was an ex-con and, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t seem to make it any better.
Mrs. Hargrove and her husband, Charley, accepted her, of course, but they were more like a kindly aunt and uncle than friends. For almost a year, Gracie had hid from what was happening, just as this little girl was doing now with her blanket. It was time to pull the covering away from her eyes and admit that she might never be accepted in this community. The people here acted like prison was a germ they could catch by being near her, and that was foolish. But they were right that she was different from them in ways they might find impossible to ever accept.
Looking down, she gently wiped the tears off the girl’s cheek. Gracie might not know as much about little girls as the women in the church did, but she knew how this poor child felt. Prison had taught her one thing. She recognized fear when she saw it.
After the child was breathing deeply in sleep, Gracie looked back at the men standing just outside the car. They had been watching her and the girl. Gracie shook her head slightly at them to show she knew nothing more than they did.
After a minute or so had passed in silence, Calen pulled the single sheet of paper out of the envelope and unfolded it.
Gracie could see it was written in pencil, and Calen squinted, probably having a hard time making out the faint letters in the wan light coming from the interior of the car. Then the sheriff stepped over with his flashlight and shone the beam on the letter.
“Oh.” Calen pulled back at the sudden light. Then, he began to read.
“Dad.” He cleared his throat, his voice heavy with an emotion that made Gracie blink back tears. A good parent always wanted to protect their child. She looked down at the little girl she held, thinking of how forlorn her sons must have been when she was in prison. She had missed them. During those years, seeing women grieve for the lost time with their children forged her strongest bond with the others, especially when she realized that their grief, like hers, was filled with guilt as well.
“Dad,” Calen began to read the letter again. “I’m in trouble and I don’t have anyone to take care of Tessie, my daughter—”
Calen broke off reading and looked over to where Gracie held the girl.
“This must be Tessie,” he whispered in wonder.
Gracie nodded. She saw the hope in Calen’s face. His whole face changed when he realized the girl was his daughter’s child. His mouth relaxed, his eyes lifted in a smile.
“Well,