19

Claire Bassett

We sat at Molly’s kitchen table. I could see out her French doors to where my rockers sat in her sunroom. She had placed a rose-patterned cushion on the seats and had a knitted throw over the back of one.

“Molly, why didn’t Jason go over to him? Talk or try to help? Why didn’t he bring him home?”

She leaned forward and took my hands. “Honey, Andrew’s an adult. He isn’t there because he has nowhere to go. He’s there because he needed to get away. To think things through. Don’t you think he would have been humiliated if Jason had approached him?”

My shoulders tensed and I lifted my chin. “I’m not worried about his humiliation. I’m worried about getting him home.”

Molly met my sharp tone with her calming words. “We will. And we’ll get him help.”

We were silent for a moment. I reached over to hug her. “I have to go. Thanks for keeping Drew.”

Molly walked me to the door. “Claire, go easy on yourself. It’s a big city.”

~*~

My list had three names of agencies that provided resources for the homeless—Hope House, Three Rivers Missions, and LifeWay. I would start with Hope House. I had my phone picture, but I also printed it in a 5x7 photo. I would show it to everyone I could, hoping for any kind of lead.

I hated city driving, especially during the busy rush hour. I wound around the spiral path of the parking garage until I found an empty space on the third level. My destinations were spread out, but I’d leave my car and walk. If necessary, I’d hop on a bus for a few blocks.

I started with Hope House and got nowhere. The office was tucked between a diner and a cigar shop, only a doorway with lettering.

Inside, a receptionist greeted me.

“I’m hoping you can help me.” I pulled out the flyer and turned it toward her. “I’m looking for this man.”

She took it and examined it. “No. This is not one of our residents. He’s never been here.” She handed it back to me.

“Can you be sure? Do you know them all?”

She leaned back in her chair and nodded. “I know them all. He’s not here.”

“Do you think any of your residents will recognize him? Could I go in and show the picture around?”

She shook her head. “No, ma’am. We protect the identity of our residents.” Then she stood, obviously indicating the end of our meeting.

Three Rivers Mission was five blocks away. Thankful I wore my athletic shoes, I made my way there, only to discover the door locked and a sign indicating it would open at five o’clock, seven hours from now. An alley beside it offered a side door. I knocked. No one answered. Three Rivers Mission would have to wait for another day.

LifeWay had a small office, not an open environment where homeless people came. Two women and one man worked in the close quarters. They shook their heads when I showed the picture.

“We don’t work directly with the men. We work behind the scenes, raising money for healthcare and food lines. We support the people who work with them.”

My shoulders slumped, and I breathed a heavy sigh. Three closed doors.

“Do you have any suggestions for me?”

Their suggestions were already on my list—Hope House and Three Rivers Mission. I thanked them and walked back outside.

My next step would be labor intensive. I began canvasing the city, going to panhandlers and anyone that looked like they might be in that culture. Three hours later, aching and exhausted, I was no closer to finding Andrew.

My throbbing feet carried me back to the parking garage and up to level three. I unlocked my car and sat with my head resting against the steering wheel. What now? I pulled my phone out of my handbag and called off work tomorrow.

Back in the northern suburbs, I turned into my neighbor’s driveway, glancing over to my own home. With leaden legs, I walked to Molly’s front door. I wanted to be in my house across the street, gardening, cooking, and waiting for Andrew to return from work.

I tucked Drew in his car seat, my movements slow and sluggish. Molly stood at her driveway with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed.

“I’m worried about you, Claire. Are you all right to drive?”

“I have to be all right. I have no other choice.” My voice went flat. I had no energy for talking. “I called off work, but I’m going to leave Drew with my parents. I’ll leave the same time as I do every morning, and they’ll think I’m working.”

“OK. I’m getting a sitter and coming with you. Give me the photo, and I’ll get duplicates made.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s not a pleasant task.”

“No arguments, my friend. We can cover twice as much territory. What time will you pick me up?”

~*~

Mom and Isabella were setting the table when I got home. Drew slept in my arms.

“Oh my,” my mother exclaimed. “This is way too late for his nap. That baby won’t sleep tonight.”

“He played himself out. I’m going to let him sleep.”

“But, Claire…”

“Mom, it’s fine.” My voice did nothing to hide my annoyance. She stiffened and returned to placing each piece of silverware on a perfectly folded napkin.

“Sorry, Mom. It’s been a long day.”

No response followed. Now that I’d offended her, I couldn’t ask her to watch the kids. I’d have to take them with me and leave them with one of the neighbors. That meant leaving the city, driving forty-five minutes home and timing it so it would match my work routine, picking up the kids, driving back to Molly’s, and returning to the city. Did I have the energy for that? I didn’t, but that couldn’t deter me. I had to be at Three Rivers Mission for their five o’clock opening.

~*~

The next morning, my mother appeared to have forgotten my offensive retort or perhaps forgiven me. Before leaving for what she thought was work, I asked her if she would mind if I met some friends for dinner and came home late.

Her eyes lit up as she said, “Certainly, dear. Have a nice time.”

Let her assume I would meet Jonathan. It made my day a whole lot easier.

I pulled my car into Molly’s driveway at eight thirty as planned, my eyes avoiding the other side of the street. This morning I couldn’t bear to see someone else living in my home. When she didn’t come right out, I went to the door. Jan opened it, and I heard voices from the kitchen.

“Come on in. We have a slight change in plans.”

Inside, I found Molly, Jan, and Rebecca setting a table with quiche, fresh fruit salad, and muffins.

“Can’t start out without a little energy. We’re going to enjoy some breakfast, and then we’re all going to town.” The aroma of coffee filled the room. Fresh blackberries, strawberries, and kiwi topped the salad. A bowl filled with floating candles and fall blossoms were placed in the center. It presented like a table my mother would set, prim and proper with a little flair. Tears sprung to my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Rebecca stepped up to hug me. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry. He’s never been a match against all of us. When we gang up, he knows we’ll win.”

Despite the party atmosphere, it was a somber day. We finished eating and loaded into Jan’s SUV. We planned to go out two by two, starting with Molly and me, Jan and Rebecca. Streets were divided up by geography. We would meet at noon at The Point to compare notes. We all had cell phones in case by some miracle, we spotted Andrew.

For the second day in a row, my feet ached and my spirit sank.

“No one knows him. The photo is current, the way he looks now, not with him cleaned up and dressed in business clothes. And in the same corner where Jason saw him. What do I do now?”

Molly draped her arm across my slumped shoulders. “Stand firm, Claire. Jason saw him twice. He’ll appear again.

Jan and Rebecca hurried across the intersection before the light changed back to red. Jan waved her notebook for us to see.

“We got a lead,” she called from a distance. When they got close enough, she opened the notebook.

“Two people recognized him. One guy who looked like a businessman of some sort, said he had seen him a few times, always with an older man, but couldn’t remember an exact location. But here’s the big one.”

She motioned to Rebecca to share. “We talked to a man who looked more like a street person. He told us that he saw him at breakfast many times at St. John’s Episcopal Church. We went over to the church and talked with a few people. Seems the City Outreach serves breakfast there every weekday beginning at six o’clock.”

This was Friday. Monday was a workday. Could I arrange something for Monday? I’d already called off today and couldn’t mess up this job.

Andrew had been gone a year. It would have to wait one more day.