Chapter 4
FOUR
Selah surfaced from sleep to the sound of Amy whimpering. Watery morning light filtered through the motel’s thin curtains, casting shadows on the girl curled in the other double bed, her new teddy bear clutched to her chest.
“Mommy?” Amy’s voice trembled.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Selah eased out of bed, ignoring how her bruised body protested. The wood floor cooled her bare feet as she crossed to Amy’s bed. “Bad dream?”
Tommy stirred next to her, his casted wrist propped on his chest. Poor kid had woken around 3:00 a.m. needing more pain medicine. She’d followed the instructions, administered the pain relief, then sat by him and sang to him until he fell into a deep sleep.
They needed their parents. Or at least their grandparents.
“I want my mommy.” Amy’s fingers dug into the teddy bear’s fur.
“I know, honey.” Selah smoothed the girl’s tangled hair. “I’ll see if I can use the motel phone and call your mom. And we’ll get you to your grandparents as soon as we can, I promise.”
“I dreamed about the train. It was scary.”
“I know.” Selah kept her voice steady, pushing away memories of flames, of screaming, of that horrible moment when the train had lurched and everything had gone sideways. “But you’re safe now.”
The motel room bore the stamps of a budget makeover—white side tables, Ikea art, a round table with molded chairs.
But it was safe. Dry. Clean. A bastion in a storm.
And paid for by James. So maybe she should stop worrying about last night’s news report about the stolen truck that sat in the parking lot.
Wrong truck. Wrong farmer. Everything was fine.
“I’m hungry.” Tommy sat up, wincing as he jostled his wrist. She’d found out last night that he was ten, little Amy seven. Tommy was trying so hard to be brave, to take care of his little sister.
A knock at the door made them all jump.
“Just me.” James’s voice came through the thin door. “Thought you might be ready for breakfast.”
Selah checked through the peephole—habit ingrained from too many hostile countries. He stood in the weak morning sun, looking remarkably put together for someone who’d survived a train crash.
“There’s a diner down the street,” he said when she opened the door. “And then we should return Mr. Anderson’s truck. Poor man’s probably worried sick.”
Right. See? The news often got it wrong.
“Miss Selah?” Amy clutched her bear. “Can Teddy come to breakfast?”
“Of course he can.” Selah helped the girl find her shoes. “Tommy, do you need help with your sweatshirt?”
The boy shook his head, but she saw him struggle as he tried to pull it on, his casted wrist making everything awkward.
James stepped up to help him. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said and held out a fist.
Tommy bumped it, gave him a smile. James smiled back.
Twenty minutes later, they pushed through the door of the Paradise Café.
Bells jingled overhead, and the smell of coffee and bacon wheedled inside and found Selah’s bones.
Oh, she hadn’t realized the depths of her hunger.
The vinyl booths had seen better days, and the linoleum floor bore scuff marks from decades of work boots, but the griddle heat had fogged the windows, and the whole place felt… safe.
“Well, what do we have here?” A waitress with steel-gray hair swept up in a bun approached, coffeepot in hand. Her name tag read Brenda, and smile lines crinkled around her eyes. “Let’s get you folks settled.”
“Can Teddy sit by the window?” Amy asked.
“Best seat in the house.” Brenda winked and slid menus onto the table. “Coffee for the grown-ups?”
James sat next to Tommy. “Large, fully leaded,” James said. He looked at Selah.
“Same.”
“And a couple of OJs for the kids.”
When the waitress walked away, he glanced at Amy with her bear and smiled, as if the sight warmed his heart.
Was he married? Didn’t seem like it. Maybe divorced. But he liked kids, it seemed.
It all suddenly felt weirdly normal. A family eating breakfast, at least to the outside world.
“Chocolate chip pancakes?” Amy’s eyes went wide at the menu picture.
Selah glanced at the prices.
“My treat,” James said, reading her hesitation. “Order whatever you like.”
Tommy got eggs and bacon, carefully cutting everything one-handed. Amy arranged her pancakes to make a face, giggling when Brenda brought extra whipped cream for the hair.
“So,” James said, sipping his coffee. “Tell me about this camp job you’re on your way to.”
The question jarred her. “Oh. Um. Yeah. That seems about a thousand years away.”
“Before the fire and smoke and screaming?” Dark hair fell over the scar on his forehead and he smiled, a warmth in his eyes.
Maybe in a different time, a different place, a world where North didn’t take up all the room in her heart—despite their disastrous end—she could find a place for this man. Not that he’d indicated anything, but…
Aw. She was just tired and sore and wounded and…
And she really missed North.
“Miss Selah?” Tommy’s voice pulled her back. “Your eggs are getting cold.”
“Sorry.” Selah forced a smile, pushed the scrambled eggs around her plate.
“The camp job,” James prompted. He’d already finished his Denver omelet, was working on his third cup of coffee. “You never answered.”
“It’s nothing special. Just helping with their summer program.” She helped Amy wipe syrup from her chin. The girl’s teddy bear had a spot of whipped cream on its plush fur. Already breaking the fluffy in. “Something a little calmer than…well, than the past few months.”
“But you’re really a humanitarian aid worker, yes? I’ve known a few. They all have that same look.”
“What look?”
“Like they’ve seen too much but haven’t lost hope.” He smiled, and again, something in it made her want to trust him. “Like they still believe they can change the world.”
Heat crept into her cheeks. “I just want to be the hands and feet of Jesus.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Noble goal.”
“Miss Selah?” Amy tugged her sleeve. “Can I get more hot chocolate?”
“I think we should get moving.”
“First, we need to get you a phone.” James signaled Brenda for the check. “I’m sure your family is anxious to connect with you.”
The electronics store occupied a strip mall on the edge of town, sandwiched between a dollar store and a consignment shop. She should pick up more clothes, maybe.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and the teenager behind the counter looked bored until James started asking about phones.
“Tommy, Amy—stay where I can see you.” Selah watched them drift toward a display of tablets. Tommy’s cast bumped the edge of a shelf, and he winced.
“Time for more medicine?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head, trying to be brave. So much like North that way, pushing through pain because others needed him.
Aw, she didn’t know where that thought came from. Except maybe the dream from last night still lingered, the memories from Mariposa.
She still woke nearly every night to the image of that man—that kid—he’d shot shaking through her.
She pushed the thought away.
“Here.” James appeared with a boxed flip phone. “Simple to add your SIM card. Do you have your information on the cloud?”
“I can’t accept—”
“Please. It’s just a cheap burner phone. Helping you helped me figure out what to do.” His blue eyes landed on hers.
Oh.
While the clerk helped transfer Selah’s information, Amy wandered back. “Miss Selah? I’m tired.”
“We’ll rest at your grandparents’ house.” Selah lifted the girl onto her hip, ignoring how her bruised ribs protested. “Just a little longer.”
The clerk handed her the phone. Her phone came to life, notifications flooding in. Missed calls. Texts. Voicemails.
Most from North. Huh.
“You’ll want to charge it soon. The battery is almost dead,” said the clerk.
She tucked the phone away, throat tight. She’d call once they reached the Hendricksons’. Once she figured out what to say.
They piled into the stolen—oh, don’t think about it!—truck, and James navigated the country roads with easy confidence, handling the truck’s temperamental transmission like he’d driven it for years. Wind rattled the windows, carrying the smell of rain.
The sky opened up about halfway into the trip, the clouds moving south toward Cashmere. The old wipers barely kept up.
“There.” She pointed as they rounded a bend. “That must be it.”
Mrs. Hendrickson burst through the screen door before they’d fully stopped, her silver hair escaping its bun. “Tommy! Amy!”
The kids tumbled out of the truck and ran to the covered porch. Their grandmother gathered them close, tears streaking her weathered face. “Thank God. Thank God. When we heard about the crash—”
“They’re safe now.” Selah had gotten out behind them, running through the rain and up the stairs. “Any news on Grant and Sarah?”
“Grant is in a stable condition. Sarah is with him.” She gave Selah a hug. Tears glazed her eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you. Maybe an early dinner?”
Mr. Hendrickson appeared on the porch, his lined face creased with relief. “Least we can do.”
“We need to return the truck—” James said.
“Nonsense. Food first.” Mrs. Hendrickson shepherded the children inside. “Amy, honey, what a pretty teddy bear.”
Oh. Okay then. Selah glanced at James.
His mouth made a grim, unhappy line.
The rain had settled into a steady rhythm, drumming against the metal roof. Wind stirred the porch chimes, carried the scent of wet earth.
Selah stayed on the porch and pulled out her phone. She’d turned it off for the ride and now powered it on. Yep, nearly dead. She scrolled past North’s messages—the usual—
North
Selah, where are you? Are you okay?
Just a “yes” text might suffice, but…he deserved a call. Except, as she held up her phone, only one bar of service showed up.
She could probably text but not call. Fine. She found Chloe’s number and pulled up the text box. Oy, old-school texting on a flip phone. Hopefully she could remember how to do this.
Selah
I’m OK. Talk soon. XO.