I figured God would forgive us one Sunday, but Dad didn’t see it that way. I put on a scratchy church shirt and some pants, and we were off. The pastor stood at the door of the church, greeting everyone who strolled in. I saw Ray, almost shouted, but then I saw Prater walking ahead of him. I pretended to be looking at something in the opposite direction.
“Newcomers!” the pastor said as we reached the vestibule. He shook our hands and asked Dad where we were from. Dad said New Jersey. When people ask me where I’m from, I say the air force, because we never stay in one place long enough to be from it. Turns out the pastor had once served as a navy chaplain.
“At least you’re working for the same boss,” Dad joked.
The pastor chuckled, then looked serious. “How’s it going? Seems like a hard time to be a recruiter.”
That was an odd statement. The government was drafting guys right out of high school to fight in Vietnam. It sounded like a great time to be a recruiter—you didn’t even have to find guys to join the air force; the government found them for you.
“It doesn’t make me popular,” Dad said. “But I’ve got only two years till retirement.”
“Got any plans?” the pastor asked
“I’m thinking about college,” Dad said. “I’ll be thirty-eight when I retire, probably the oldest freshman on campus, but I’m thinking about it.”
I fidgeted through most of the service, picturing Jack at home waiting for me. The only time my ears pricked was when the pastor mentioned a local boy in Vietnam. “We have good news from the Zimmermans.” He gestured toward them. Heads turned and, looking in that direction, I saw a man put his arm around his wife. She smiled, lips quivering, and wiped her eyes with a tissue at the same time. “Their son Mark is scheduled to come home in July.”
Clapping and people yelling “Thank God!” filled the sanctuary. Mrs. Zimmerman nodded tearfully to the people around her.
After it died down, the pastor spoke again. “We have much to be thankful for. But I also have some bad news.” He paused. “Even though they don’t go to church here, most of us know the Kowalski family.” Murmurs buzzed around the pews. The pastor looked over us, took a breath, and laid his hands on the podium. “Their son David has been reported missing in action.”
A gasp went up. Dad straightened in his seat. I snapped to attention. Missing in action—MIA. That could mean he’d been taken prisoner or had been injured or killed but not found.
“This is a boy we all know. He went to high school with our kids. This family—this mother and father—they are our neighbors.” The pastor gripped the sides of the podium. “This isn’t about politics. This isn’t about your views on the war. This is about a family we know and love.” He let out a deep sigh. “Let’s pray.”
I bowed my head. I’d seen pictures of the war in magazines. Vietnam didn’t look like anywhere I’d been before. It had strange trees and rice paddies and huts. In some photographs, soldiers crouched in grass so tall, all you could see were the tops of their helmets. I saw one photograph of a soldier carrying another guy in his arms. The photo wasn’t in color, so all the blood was black. There was a lot of black in that picture. I didn’t like to think about it.
When we finally got home, I raced Jack upstairs and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. “Dad!” I yelled, bounding downstairs. “We’re going for a ride!”
I almost knocked Dad down in the kitchen.
“What about lunch?” he asked.
Jack danced around by the back door. “He needs to go outside,” I said.
Dad leaned down to pet Jack, but Jack jumped around so much he nearly bashed Dad in the face. “He’s wild!”
I felt pretty wild myself. After almost two hours in church, I needed to move around some. We’d go past Ray’s, see if he was outside. I started out the door, but Dad stopped me.
“Don’t forget this.” He lifted the leash off the hook and tossed it to me.
Frowning, I caught the leash, then Jack and I burst outside.
Dad didn’t know Jack like I did. He didn’t know how fast Jack could run or how Jack stuck to me like glue. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Dad wasn’t looking through the window; I jammed the leash into my back pocket.
If Ray wasn’t out, we’d keep going and see what else there was that way. There might be other kids farther down or on a side road. It was worth checking out; you don’t know which friends are going to work out or not, so it’s good to not count on any one person.
I backed my bike out of the garage. Jack trotted ahead, danced in front of our house, and stopped. His ears turned toward the woods, antennae picking something up. Then he bolted across the side yard.
“Jack!” I threw my bike to the ground. “Jack!”
He slipped into the trees. I tore after him. He leaped over a branch and disappeared. I ran through the woods, following the sound of leaves and twigs snapping ahead of me.
The trees grew denser and the angle sharper. Prickers caught my legs, and I tripped over a log, but I kept climbing up. All I could hear was my own breathing and footsteps. Trees towered over me. My lungs burned and my heart felt like it would burst. I stopped. It looked the same everywhere. Nothing but trees and silence.
He was lost.
I lost him.
The leash was still in my back pocket. “Jack!” I shouted. “Jack!”
A single bark cut through the air. I tramped on the undergrowth, climbing over a steep bank. There stood Jack in a small clearing, his head held high, his chest out, and his legs planted in a stance that looked like he was ready for anything.
I collapsed to my knees, bracing my arms against my thighs. Sweat trickled down my back. My hands and legs were dirty, and blood was smeared on my legs.
Jack trotted over. He licked my face and sniffed around me, tail wagging the whole time. His ears blushed. I pulled him close and hugged him. “Jack, don’t ever run away like that again.” I looked into his eyes. “What were you chasing?” He licked me again. I could hear his heart beat clean and hard as I pressed into him.
I pulled the leash from my pocket. I hesitated for a moment, then snapped it on.
A birch tree stood beside us, its bark hanging off in ripples. I carefully peeled a thin layer; it was crisp and held the curve of the trunk. I wanted to write on it like they did in the old days.
Suddenly Jack lunged at the end of the leash, his nose twitching, his ears erect. Then I heard it—a chuffing sound. Fear prickled my scalp. Jack strained against the leash.
“No, Jack.” My voice came out as a whisper.
I heard it again, then silence. My heart hammered against my chest. I scanned the clearing. Nothing. Tugging on Jack’s leash, I said, “C’mon, Jack, let’s go.”
We sprinted down the mountain, cutting past blueberry bushes, dogwoods, and maples. I remembered the general direction, but Jack seemed to remember every inch we had covered. We came out of the woods at the same spot we entered. My bike lay on the driveway.
A door slammed and Dad stepped out onto the porch. A deep line formed between his eyebrows.
Jack and I raced across the side yard to the porch. “Dad, Dad, there’s a bear up there!”
His eyebrows drew closer together as he jogged down the porch steps. “What?”
“Up in the mountain. Jack chased it!”
“You saw a bear up there?”
“Yeah! We heard it!”
“Wait a second.” Dad shook his head as if to clear it. “You saw a bear, or you heard one?”
“We heard it, and Jack chased it all the way to the top of the mountain.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “You went up the mountain? Alone?”
“I wasn’t alone—Jack was with me.” I stopped. I could see he was deciding if I was in trouble or not.
He looked at my legs and frowned. “You’ve been bleeding.”
“Prickers.”
He crouched and brushed his fingers against my legs. “The bear didn’t do this?”
“No, I told you …”
A little smile played around his mouth. He stood up, leaned against the porch, and crossed his arms. Case closed.
“Dad!”
“What?” Dad shrugged and put on an innocent face.
I crossed my own arms. “You don’t believe me.”
Dad laid his arm across my shoulders and led me onto the porch with Jack. “Listen, kiddo, I believe you heard something, but it could have been anything.” He held open the front door, and Jack and I walked through. “You’re letting your imagination get the best of you. Now get washed up for lunch.”
I frowned and looked away. He was wrong. Something was up there, I was sure of it. Something silent with watchful eyes.