The Kindest Lie(90)
A fresh wave of anguish distorted Lena’s features as she locked eyes with Ruth. Mama had told her about Corey’s birth, Ruth knew it. A tight knot lodged at the bottom of her belly.
“The Cunninghams have been out searching for Corey, too . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Dread coursed through Ruth’s blood. Moving away from the others, she walked over to the living room window. Almost instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, where Corey had lived when he was at least physically part of her body. She couldn’t lose him again. Not like this. Mothers everywhere waited up nights for their children to come home after school or by curfew or to return from war. That wait had never been hers until now.
Eli, sensing Ruth’s fear, put his hand on her shoulder.
Still gazing out the window, she said softly, “I’m grateful for what you did that day when you fired your gun. You protected him.”
“I been doing it his whole life. Corey doesn’t really know me, but I’ve got his back. Always.” Squeezing her shoulder, he gently turned her to face him. His eyes bored into hers. Black pupils. Red around the edges from lack of sleep or too much alcohol the night before. Maybe both. “He’s with good people and they take good care of him. But I’m his uncle and I make sure he’s okay. I never let anything happen to him.”
Eli had been her protector from day one. Balled fists making her bullies cower. A sure voice vanquishing the monsters under her bed. And now he had become an invisible shield for her child. His very own superhero. Relief swept over her like a monsoon rain.
She nodded, momentarily unable to speak. When she found her voice again, she asked, “What’s he like?”
“Your kid? Smart. Guess I have to admit he took that after you. Good-looking, though, like me.” He winked.
Resting her head on her brother’s shoulder, Ruth laughed and imagined her son growing up to look like his uncle someday.
“I hear he’s something of a baseball star. Is he really that good?” She glanced up at Eli.
“He’s got a good arm on him. And if he makes it to the major leagues, you best be sure I’ll let him know we blood.”
They laughed at that, and only now did she realize it had been a mistake to stay away so long. Corey should know his family, but what if it was too late? She felt helpless and needed to do something.
Walking back to the kitchen, she said, “All right, let’s make a list of all the spots the boys typically go to hang out, and I can start searching. I know you already hit a bunch of them, Butch. What have we missed?”
“We can split the list,” Eli said. “I’ll drive in my car and look around, too.”
Grabbing a notepad from the kitchen, Ruth began scribbling the names Lena rattled off. Save A Lot, the baseball field, Corner Diner, the McDonald’s behind the old Concord Mall.
According to the thermometer on the windowsill, it was thirty-six degrees, a bit warmer than previous days, but Ruth worried that Midnight’s jacket, the one she had covered him with the other night, was too thin.
She checked her phone to see if he had texted. Nothing. She decided to send him a message.
I’m worried about you. Let me know where you are. I will come right away. I promise.
For more than an hour she drove to the spots on her assigned list, plus every nook and cubbyhole of Ganton she could think of. At each place, she asked, Has Midnight been here? With some people, she had to provide additional details beyond the boy’s nickname, clarifying, Lena’s grandson, Patrick. Butch Boyd’s son. In a small town, people either knew you or at least knew of you. Reluctant to verbalize her deepest fears, she sometimes added, It’s possible he’s with Corey Cunningham.
At one gas station in the center of town, a hulking, bearded man who appeared to be the owner scowled at the mention of the boys. “That little punk. He and his little thug friends haven’t been in here lately. If you ask me, they’re all trouble, and I don’t like trouble.” Ruth flinched at the characterization of her son as a thug. The man’s gaze swept over her in a way that told her he placed her in the same unflattering category.
She left the gas station deflated. Her car moved slowly through Grundy, in the neighborhood where she’d found Midnight wandering aimlessly late at night. At least the heavy snowfall had subsided a couple days ago. Still, she worried for his safety even more now than she had that day.
Her phone buzzed, vibrating beside her on the passenger seat. She pulled over to look and saw it was a text from Midnight. Her heart lurched in relief.
overlook point at wabash river
Wabash River. Why hadn’t she thought of the river before? She considered calling him, asking if Corey was with him, but didn’t want to say anything that might spook him. Overlook Point was about a fifteen-minute drive from the bank where she’d stopped to check her phone. She considered texting Lena to let her know she’d heard from her grandson. But she figured Midnight probably ran away over frustration with Lena’s threats to ship him off to Louisiana. If so, hearing from his grandmother could set him off and send him on the run again. Besides, Lena and Butch were even farther away from Overlook Point than she was right now. Shifting the gear out of neutral, she sped toward the river.
Thirty-Three
Midnight
Daylight came up slowly, like thin veils being lifted. The ice that glazed over the Wabash River had ruptured, and jagged sheets of it floated like puzzle pieces. The blurry fog cleared, and everything was making sense, finally fitting into place. L-Boogie’s jacket swallowed Midnight and he pulled it over his face, breathing in the smell of the leather. Midnight had decided not to run away. If it hadn’t been for L-Boogie, he might have repacked that little red suitcase and thumbed a ride somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t Ganton or Louisiana.