Clay knew what it was like to be a foster kid who was blamed for everything that happened for miles around. That teenager, Hen, probably wasn’t guilty of this, and Clay couldn’t stand by while a mob of angry men confronted him. If they badgered the boy, Clay didn’t know what would happen.
Unfortunately, they didn’t need to go far to find Hen. He was standing against the panel of the truck he drove, wearing ragged black jeans and a black parka. His legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed in front of him. He was the picture of defiance, right down to the dangling earring that shone in the rising sun and the lit cigarette between his lips.
“Where’s your knife?” Randy demanded as he faced off with the teenager.
“What’s it to you?” Hen answered back with a snarl in his voice.
“Somebody used something sharp to cut through those tarps by the church,” Randy said. “It would take a knife.”
“That was a dumb idea anyway,” Hen said. “What kind of church worries about having flowers for Easter?”
Allie gasped but didn’t say anything.
Clay felt unqualified to answer that question, although he had learned a thing or two from all his readings of the Gospel of Luke.
“The church needs your respect,” Clay finally said. “You’re better off to confess now if you cut those tarps.”
Hen didn’t look convinced, but he did move his glare from Randy to Clay.
“You’re one to talk,” Hen said to Clay as he flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette. “Heard you’re a jailbird. Real bad guy.”
Clay was glad the agent had stayed inside, although the fact that Clay had served time was not a secret.
“Look, just show us the inside of your pickup,” Randy demanded. “We want to see if you have a knife on you.”
Hen smirked and stepped away from the pickup. “Be my guest.”
Clay watched the teenager as Randy, Allie and the ranchers searched the vehicle. Hen stood away from them, glaring as he followed their movements. Hen was trying to look tough, but Clay thought he saw a twitch in the teenager’s face.
“The pickup’s clean,” Randy announced when they’d finished. He looked at Hen speculatively then. “Take that coat off and let’s see if it’s tucked in there.”
“Man, its cold out here,” Hen complained, but he unzipped the parka and took it off. Randy quickly felt the seams and pockets of the coat. Then he handed it back to Hen. “It’s clean.”
One of the ranchers asked Hen to turn around before he put his coat back on so he could see if he had a knife hidden anywhere.
“He’s clean,” the rancher agreed.
The rest of the men looked defeated, but Clay wasn’t convinced Hen was as innocent as he was pretending to be. The ranchers, Randy and Allie started to walk across the street to the church. Clay kept standing where he was.
When the others were far enough away that they couldn’t hear, Clay leaned over to Hen. “Pull up your right pant leg.”
Hen looked scared for the first time this morning. “You got no call to—”
“Pull it up,” Clay repeated.
The teenager still didn’t, so Clay reached down and tugged the jeans up enough that the knife’s sheath was visible.
“They were just some stupid flowers,” Hen said. “It wasn’t like I killed anybody.”
Clay was silent.
“What are you going to do?” Hen finally asked defiantly.
“I’m not going to do anything,” Clay said. “You are. You’re going to go over to the church and tell everyone what you did. Then you’re going to apologize and ask them to forgive you. Then you’re going to do everything you can to make up for what you did.”
“Humph,” Hen said. “Why should I do that? They didn’t even see my knife.”
“I saw it,” Clay said. “And if you want to keep yourself out of jail, you’ll do as I say.”
“Like you’re such an expert,” Hen muttered.
Clay laughed at that. “Frankly, in this situation, I am just about as expert as you’ll find. Now let’s go.”
He was surprised at how easily the boy went with him.
* * *
Allie almost cried when she saw the shredded tarps behind the church. Generations ago, the congregation had chosen this side of the building for the Easter sunrise service because the cemetery stood here. They wanted to share the Resurrection joy of the morning with their beloved ones who lay in this sacred ground. Allie herself always stopped to pray at her mother’s grave on Easter morning.
And now the area where the daffodils had been planted looked devastated. The gravestones were damp. The air was cold. Heavy plastic was lying on top of green shoots, all pushed to the ground by what looked like tire marks.
“Look what they did!” Randy said as he used his arm to sweep the scene of destruction. “There’s no way to save any of the flowers for Easter morning.”
Allie looked over at the faces of the five ranchers who had followed Randy over here. They were among the churchgoers who had made the decision to hold the Easter sunrise service here years ago. Half of them had wives or children buried in this cemetery. They understood the joy of Resurrection Sunday. They knew faith held families together, and this was their one day to celebrate that fact. The daffodils were their gift to God in thanks for what He’d given them. One of the men had plowed the land last fall so it would be ready for planting. Another had come with his two grandsons to put the stakes in to hold up the tarps. Yet another had taken care of buying the daffodil bulbs.
Now they were shocked and angry.
All of their eyes turned to look as Clay and that boy, Hen, came walking around the side of the church to where they stood.
The storm wasn’t the only thing responsible for the chill that hung in the air. No one greeted the newcomers. The silence was long and tense.
Finally, Clay spoke. “Hen, here, has something to say.”
The teenager swallowed. His face was pale. Allie could see he was terrified.
“It’s time to tell the truth,” Clay said to the boy. “It might be hard, but a man isn’t much if he can’t be honest. It’s what makes you who you are.”
Allie blinked. Oh, my, she thought. She suddenly understood why it was so important to Clay that people believe him when he said he didn’t plan that robbery. He believed with all his heart that everything that he was demanded he be truthful.
She stared at him. He was so focused on the boy that he didn’t see her, but Allie knew she needed to sit down with him later today and tell him that she believed him. She had no choice. She could see that Clay wouldn’t lie. She let the knowledge sink into her heart. That meant robbing the gas station had been all Mark’s doing. And Clay had been sent to prison for something he hadn’t done.
She heard Hen clear his throat. “I—I’m the one who did this.”
Hen held up a knife he had gotten from somewhere. “I’m guilty.”
The ranchers stared at the boy, unmoved by his confession.
“But why?” one of them finally asked. “Why would you do this?”
“I—” the boy started and then stopped to look at Clay.
“Go on,” Clay encouraged him. “You’re not done here yet, so you may as well answer the question.”
“Everyone was so perfect inside there,” Hen said as he jerked his head in the direction of the church. “There’s no one like me there. So I just did it. I’m sorry.”
The boy’s words had been raw when he spoke them, his voice low and hoarse. Allie thought he might be on the verge of tears.
She wasn’t sure how the ranchers managed to communicate, but she saw them shift as one and she knew that a decision had been made.
“I’ve failed at more things than you can possibly know, boy,” one of the ranchers said. “I’ve been an alcoholic. A liar. I’m not as perfect as you might think.”
“I have a terrible temper,” another one offered. “Ask anyone. I do battle with myself almost every day.”
“I cheated on my wife,” another one said. “It was many years ago—before I became a Christian—but I thank God every day that she forgave me. I don’t stack up better than any man.”
“Elmer and me,” one of the last two men said as nodded to the man beside him, “we’ve been swindled so bad we almost lost everything. One of those pyramid schemes with a buy-in that was supposed to pay off big-time. Greed, you know. That’s our downfall.”
Elmer nodded. “None of us are perfect in that church. We’re all just forgiven. God loves us and He loves you.”
Tears were streaming down the boy’s face by now. Allie could see he was touched and embarrassed by his emotions.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” Hen mumbled.
The ranchers nodded in unison.
“And—” Clay prompted the boy.
“And I plan to do anything I can to make things better,” Hen pledged.
Allie had tears in her eyes, too. She wished the community had gathered around Clay all those years ago like they were doing with this boy. “I plan to make things better, too,” Allie said as she went over and stood by Clay.
She watched him, standing there looking satisfied that Hen had confessed and been forgiven.
“You’re a good man,” she said to Clay, soft enough that only he could hear.
He seemed startled at her words, turning to study her.
“Everyone knows that,” she added, feeling self-conscious. “Even if they haven’t admitted it yet.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “I’m just glad that you know it.”
Allie smiled back. “Me, too.”
She hadn’t felt so happy in years. And then she remembered the daffodils. Easter wasn’t going to be the same in Dry Creek without the daffodils.