3. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Pig Bottom Farm
Mount Joy, Pennsylvania
The phone call came in the middle of the night. It felt that way, anyway. But when Samuel fumbled on the bedside table for his cell phone and turned it on, it was only one minute past midnight. Bedtime came early on the farm.
He didn't recognize the number, but the area code was local. "H-hello?"
On the pillow next to him, his husband, Eddie, grumbled, eyes still closed. Ringo, lying at the foot of the bed, snoozed on.
"Hi. Is this the Youth Rescue line?"
"Ja. How can I help you?" Samuel pushed back the covers and swung his legs out of bed, instantly awake.
"I'm calling about a boy. I gave him your card a few weeks ago, but I don't know if he ever called yous?"
"What's his name?"
"Don't know. I asked him once, and he kinda smiled at me funny. I'm not sure he's all there. Or maybe he's got that trauma thing? Or something."
"No one has called lately." Samuel attempted to hold the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he pulled on a pair of jeans.
"Whassup?" Eddie sat up, blinking blearily.
The lady on the phone sounded nervous. "It's just so cold out tonight. I've been lying here thinking about it, and worrying, and I finally decided to call yous. I don't know if you can help? Sometimes he sleeps near the garbage bins at Kitchen Kettle Village, where I work. I don't know where he stays when he's not there. It's just so bitterly cold. He could die, right?"
Oh Lord. "I'll get him," Samuel said firmly.
"I would have gone to check myself, but I got three kids and my husband's out of town. I can't leave 'em, and I don't wanna drag 'em all outta bed."
"You did right. Just tell me where to find him exactly." Samuel fingered the buttons on his flannel pajama shirt but decided to leave it. He'd just throw on his coat. He felt sick and the blood rushed in his ears louder than the wind howling outside the window.
It was below zero tonight with the wind chill, unusual for Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and unheard of for October. They'd taken care tonight to shut all the animals up in the barn with extra bedding and space heaters. And there was a boy out in this weather?
The woman on the phone rattled off directions, which Samuel stuck in his head since he didn't have a notepad.
"Will you text me when you find him?"
"I will. Thanks for callin'."
"I think he's Amish." These were the lady's last, hushed words before she hung up.
That knot in Samuel's gut tightened a little bit more. An Amish kid living homeless was truly alone in the world. And he ought to know.
Ringo, their senior black lab rescue, jumped off the bed and sat watching Samuel, his tail swishing on the floor anxiously. Eddie was up and pulling on a sweatshirt as Samuel tucked his phone in the pocket of his jeans and buttoned the fly.
"You don't need to go," Samuel told him. "It's late. There's chores at dawn."
"It's dark. You can look while I drive," Eddie said. "Anyway, Jon can handle it."
That was true. Their farmhand would do whatever work was in front of him and never complain. Complaining required talking, after all. Not a Jon thing.
"All right. Thanks." Samuel swept fingers through his thick blond hair to neaten it. He still wore it long because Eddie liked it that way. He limped to the bedroom chair and sat down to pull on his socks and his special boots. The left boot had a thicker sole and inserts designed to minimize his limp and alleviate pain. He'd had surgery on his club foot— talipes equinovarus , the doctors called it—last year. But it would never be one hundred percent. If he'd had corrective measures as a child, the doctor had said, they could have fixed it entirely. But Samuel had been born Amish. And the Amish accepted such things as God's will, so he'd walked on the side of his foot for years, further damaging the bones.
Accepting deformity was their way. Also their way: shunning a child who didn't follow their script, and turning them out, even if it meant they could freeze to death.
Samuel's hands trembled so badly, he couldn't tie the boot. He gave a curse of frustration and shook out his hands, hoping to get his fingers under control.
"I've got it." His husband knelt at his feet and tied the shoelace, his movements efficient and steady as always. Eddie's brown eyes looked up into his. "It's okay, Sam."
Ringo came over to lick Samuel's face, adding his own reassurance.
"I just wanna find him, is all."
"We will."
"You don't know that. What if we don't?"
Eddie finished tying the boot and put his hand on Samuel's knee. "We'll do the best we can. That's all we can ever do. Yeah?"
Samuel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Eddie was right. He always was. "Okay. Let's go."