Sugar Pine Trail--A Small-Town Holiday Romance Page 5

“Yes,” Clint said with a meaningful look. “Thank you for the sandwich, Miss Winston. It was very good.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Julia was at a loss as to what to do next. Did she tell the boys she suspected something wasn’t quite right with them? That she wanted to have a talk with their mother to find out a little more about their situation, but she had no idea where they even lived?

  The boys hadn’t left a scrap, Julia realized. They had all but licked the plates clean, poor things.

  She was suddenly ashamed of herself. She had so very much—good friends, a job she loved, a beautiful home that kept her warm in the winter.

  At this time of Thanksgiving, she realized again how very blessed she was. In the four months since her mother died, how much time had she wasted feeling sorry for herself?

  What about the years and years before that?

  The three of them walked out of the library offices together and out into the stacks. Very few patrons remained.

  “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

  “We’ll probably be here tomorrow since we don’t have school,” Davy said.

  Why? She loved libraries as much as the next person. More, probably. Still, what kid with free time would choose to spend every moment of it in one?

  “You know the library closes early tomorrow, right?”

  Clint and Davy looked shocked and rather glum to learn this.

  “What time does it open?” Clinton asked, brow furrowed.

  “We’ll be open from ten to three.”

  “That’s not too bad, I guess. Come on, Davy. Let’s go.”

  Before they walked outside, Clint stopped to zip up his younger brother’s coat and tug down his beanie. It was those small, loving gestures that compelled her to action.

  The wind was howling fiercely, and snowflakes swirled around the pair. She couldn’t possibly let them walk home in those conditions.

  She hurried over to the clerk behind the circulation desk. “Mack, do you think you can close up by yourself? I need to run a little errand.”

  “Sure thing.” Mack Porter gave her a wide smile. “It’s only twenty minutes, and I don’t think too many more people will be showing up tonight. It’s getting ugly out there. Be safe.”

  All the more reason she wanted to follow those boys. “Thanks. Have a great night.”

  “Same to you, my dear.”

  It took her three minutes to grab her coat and purse from her office, shut down her computer, lock her office door and hurry to her Lexus. Had she missed them? She scanned the direction she had seen them take the night before, fretting until she found them about a block away, walking along the lakefront road.

  A cold wind blew off the water, harsh and mean, biting through her clothing with merciless teeth and hurling tiny ice pellets into her skin. She started up her SUV, spent another minute or two brushing off the new snow, then drove out of the parking lot and along the mostly empty road toward them.

  She passed them and pulled off to the side of the road just ahead of them. After opening her door, she turned to face them. She had to raise her voice several decibels to be heard over the howling wind. “Let me give you a ride.”

  “We can walk,” Clint said, that steely stubbornness she had noticed before coming through loud and clear.

  “Y-y-y-es. We’re f-f-fine,” Davy said. His thin coat wasn’t nearly enough protection to fight off that wind.

  “Please. Let me give you a ride. Where do you live?”

  They had reached her vehicle now, trudging through ankle-deep snow. “Can we, Clint?” Davy asked. “My feet are freezing, and we hardly made it a block.”

  The older boy looked undecided, glancing first at her vehicle, then at her, then at the road ahead of them.

  His mouth pursed as he tried to figure out what to do. She gave him another push in the direction she hoped he would take.

  “Come on. Get in.”

  “We’re not supposed to take rides from strangers,” he finally said, though she could hear the clear reluctance in his voice. “Come on, Davy. The faster we go, the faster we’ll be home.”

  They took a few more steps past her vehicle. Davy looked miserable, his nose red and his chin tucked into his chest as he fought to make his way through the cold.

  “I’m not a stranger. I’m the librarian. You see me every day when you come to my library,” she pointed out.

  “She’s right,” Davy said.

  “It’s not safe for you boys to be out here. The roads are icy, and drivers can’t see you very well through the blowing snow, especially now that it’s dark. Please get in.”

  He still looked reluctant, so she tried one more card, playing a hunch. “Would you feel better if I call my friend, Chief Emmett, to give you a ride home in his police car?”

  In the glow from her open door, she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. Julia felt bad for putting it there, but not if it meant the older boy would let her give them a ride home.

  “We can take a ride, I guess,” he finally said.

  She made sure they were buckled safely in the backseat of her vehicle before she pulled slowly onto the road.

  “Where am I going?”

  “Five-fifty Sulfur Hollow Road,” Davy said promptly.

  Traffic was basically nonexistent as she drove with care to their house. The roads were slick enough that she couldn’t go fast. Her hands were tight and clammy on the steering wheel by the time they made it to the address they provided.

  The sight of the small, thin-walled house was not reassuring.

  “Here we are. The lights are off. Where did you say your mom was?”

  “She’s home, I bet,” Clint said. “She’s probably sleeping. She works at night sometimes.”

  “Oh? I thought you said she lost her job. Did she get another one? Where does she work? And who stays with the two of you when she’s working?”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t hear, unhooked his own seat belt, then his brother’s and then practically jumped out of the vehicle, tugging Davy out after him.

  “Thanks for the ride. We have to go. Bye, Miss Winston.”

  “Bye,” Davy said. He beamed at her. “Thanks for the sandwich and the brownie. You’re a good cook.”

  “Um. Thanks.”

  The boys hurried up the walk. Clint pulled a key out of his coat pocket, and before she knew it, they had yanked open the door and rushed inside.

  Julia stood for a moment, watching a pale light go on inside.

  Dropping them off at home had done nothing to ease her concerns. If anything, seeing the small, dingy house gave her fresh reason for concern.

  She was trying to manufacture some plausible reason to go to the door when she suddenly spied something red on the backseat that hadn’t been there before the boys climbed inside.

  One of Davy’s ragged mittens.

  Had he left it there on purpose? She couldn’t be sure, but returning it to its rightful owner seemed exactly the excuse she needed.

  Apprehension settled in her stomach as she made her way through unshoveled snow to the sidewalk. She had no idea what she would encounter on the other side. Was their mother a gorgon? Maybe she was ill, and the boys were staying at the library until all hours to give her some peace and quiet.

  She had to know.

  She knocked, clutching the collar of her coat closed to keep out the vicious wind.

  A moment later, Clint opened the door, his expression pinched and wary. He hadn’t yet taken off his coat, she noticed—probably because the air inside the small house felt every bit as cold as the outside air here on the porch.

  “Davy left one of his mittens in my car.” She held it out.

  “Oh. Thanks. Bye.” He grabbed it from her and started to s
hove the door closed, but she pulled the old trick of shoving her boot in it before he could, and pushed her way inside.

  The house was lit by only a bare bulb here in the hallway. It was clean, but there was a palpable air of neglect.

  She saw a space heater in one corner and a couple of sleeping bags neatly rolled up nearby. Were the boys sleeping in here with the space heater?

  She could hear no sign of their mother, or, indeed, any adult.

  “Clint. I need to talk to your mom. Is she here?”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No. She must be working.”

  “Where does she work? Can you give me her work phone number?”

  He said nothing and she tried again.

  “Does she have a cell phone number I could call?” she asked.

  “You could try, but she’s not answering.”

  His voice broke on the last word, but he clamped his mouth together tightly, as if afraid that once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  Something terrible was going on here. She still didn’t know what, but she suddenly knew she couldn’t stop until she found out.

  She uttered a fervent prayer that she could figure out the best way to reach him. Somehow she sensed he would respond better if she were on his level, so she knelt down and took one of his cold hands in hers.

  “Clinton,” she said softly. “How long since you’ve seen your mother?”

  He hitched in a ragged breath, eyes wide. She could see he didn’t want to answer her, but his fingers curled in hers, and she saw all his bravado begin to crumble. Tears welled up in his eyes, and one trickled down the side of his nose.

  “Friday. She had a doctor’s appointment at the army hospital place in Boise, and she...she didn’t come back. And the furnace is out, and I don’t know how to make it work, and I tried to start a fire, but I couldn’t do that either. It’s cold everywhere except in here with the space heater.”

  “You said she’s not answering her phone?”

  He shook his head. “I tried and tried and tried to call her, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to do so I just took care of Davy the best I could, and we spent the days at school and the library, where it was warm and safe.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  Four days they had been on their own. She couldn’t imagine what he had been going through. He was only eight years old, far too young for that kind of responsibility.

  He sniffled again, and it was too much. Heart breaking, she held out her arms. “Come here. Come here.”

  He sagged against her, as if sharing the burden he had been carrying had left him boneless and exhausted.

  “Please, don’t call the cops. If you do, we’ll go to foster care, and they’ll split us up.”

  “I have to call someone, honey. Children aren’t supposed to be left alone for days at a time.”

  “Please, don’t. Just go.” He slid away from her and stood looking fearful and impossibly young.

  “I can’t do that,” she said softly. “You know I can’t. You need help, and I have a good friend whose job is to help children in just this kind of situation. I’m going to call her, and she’ll fix things.”

  He didn’t look convinced as she hit her speed dial for Wynona Emmett, who used to be a police officer but was now a social worker with the state child welfare agency.

  As she waited for Wyn to answer, Julia had the uncomfortable realization that an hour ago, her biggest problem was a lingering hangover and the stupid crush she had on the neighbor upstairs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “WHAT’S GOING TO happen to them?” Through the kitchen doorway, Julia eyed the two little boys sitting side by side on the tattered, raggedy sofa.

  Since the moment Wynona Emmett showed up, Clinton had been visibly—and audibly—upset, full of accusations and pleas for them to go away. Davy mostly seemed confused, though he took his cues from his brother and sniffed every once in a while.

  Julia felt horrible about the whole situation. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten involved, should have simply looked the other way.

  How could she have, though? Any person with an ounce of compassion would have done the same thing she had, called in the state’s department of child welfare. If ever two children’s welfare needed looking after, it was Clint’s and Davy’s.

  The boys couldn’t stay here in this cold, cheerless house. Their mother was nowhere in evidence, and it looked as if they hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

  “I don’t know what will happen to them,” Wynona admitted. Her eyes were soft with compassion as she looked through the doorway at the boys. “They’ll go into foster care, definitely, probably a short-term facility in Boise for now, until we can find a longer-term placement.”

  “So they’ll have to leave their friends and their teachers? While we were waiting for you, Clinton was so pleased to tell me about how well he’s doing in school.”

  “I wish I could find something closer to Haven Point. Believe me, there’s nothing I would love more. It would be better, all the way around. But local foster families are in short supply, especially this time of year when the need outpaces the available resources. There is a chance I could place one of them in the area, but not both.”

  Out in the living room, Clint put an arm around his brother, who had started to sob—whether from fear or exhaustion, she didn’t know.

  “You’ll have to split them up?”

  “Most likely,” Wyn admitted. Julia could tell she wasn’t any happier about that idea than Julia. Wyn’s expression plainly conveyed her frustration with the situation.

  “Any idea where the mother might be?”

  “We’ve put out a BOLO on her. Be on the lookout. Sorry. I forget not everybody knows cop-speak.”

  “I watch TV occasionally,” Julia said. “I know what a BOLO means.”

  “She never showed up for her appointment at the VA. We’ve been able to figure that much out.”

  Wyn gave a careful look toward the boys, then turned her body away and spoke in a low voice. “I really hope we can locate her. Her counselor at the VA couldn’t tell us much because of privacy laws. Reading between the lines, though, it sounds like Mikaela Slater has been struggling the last few weeks.”

  “Oh, I hope she’s okay. They’ve already lost their father. I hate thinking they might lose their mother, too. What about extended family? Clint told me the boys lived with an aunt and uncle while their parents were both deployed.”

  “It might take us some time to track them down. Clinton says they’re working in a country that starts with an A or an I. He couldn’t remember which one. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

  In the other room, Davy sobbed, and Clint patted his back and said something to him.

  Julia’s distress must have shown on her features. Wyn reached out and squeezed her arm. “You did the right thing, honey. You know you had no choice. I’ll see the boys find a good placement.”

  “You’ll let me know what happens?”

  “Absolutely. I won’t know anything definite until tomorrow anyway. Tonight they’ll go to the temporary facility in Shelter Springs, where they’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wyn squeezed her arm again, and Julia recognized the gesture as one of both comfort and dismissal. Wyn had more important things to do than allay her concerns.

  Feeling helpless and superfluous, Julia walked out into the living room to say goodbye to the boys.

  Before she could open her mouth, Clinton threw her a look of deep mistrust.

  “This is your fault,” he said, voice vibrating with anger and his eyes dark with betrayal. “We should never have let you give us a ride. No, we shouldn’t have gone to the library in the first place.”


  “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “We were doing just fine. I heard what the lady said. Now they’re probably going to split us up.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. The words seemed wholly inadequate.

  “We thought you were our friend, but you’re not. You’re just a big...poopie,” Davy cried. That was probably the worst word he could come up with. Right now, it felt pretty accurate.

  “Just go,” Clint said.

  Julia wanted to gather both boys close to offer what little comfort she could, but she knew they wouldn’t welcome the gesture right now.

  Oh, she hoped Wyn was able to find their mother—and soon. She couldn’t bear considering the alternative.

  Her heart felt as cold and heavy as the wind blowing through Sulfur Hollow as she walked out to her car.

  * * *

  ALL HE WANTED was a lousy shower. Was that too much to ask?

  Jamie knocked hard again on his landlady’s door, willing her to answer, even though all the evidence indicated the woman wasn’t home.

  He had made two trips to California that day, transporting Caine Tech employees who had family there home for Thanksgiving. The last one had been through a vicious storm.

  Okay, he wanted a shower and a beer, maybe, and his nice, warm bed.

  He knocked one more time, though he already knew it was futile. Inside, he could hear a couple of cats meowing at him, but no approaching footsteps.

  She wasn’t home, which meant he wouldn’t have hot water.

  Okay. No hot shower. He could either suck it up and have a cold one or heat up some water in the microwave so he could at least wash up.

  He had been deployed to the Middle East twice. He had survived much worse conditions.

  He turned away from the door and was about to head up the stairs to his apartment when he noticed headlights pulling into the driveway and into the detached garage on the property.

  A moment later, the front door opened, and Julia Winston walked in, moving slowly, as if her bones weighed more than she could support. Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he could be so confident when he barely knew the woman, but he knew it at a glance.