Blake’s and Jeremy’s parents arrived before Caleb had even gotten off the phone with Lilly. When the officer came to the cell and removed them, the boys left without so much as a backward glance in Caleb’s direction.
When the iron door slammed shut again, enclosing him in the bare, cold room, Caleb wondered if he’d ever felt so low.
He had truly made a huge mistake.
He hadn’t known the boys very well, and what little he did know of them, he hadn’t liked that much. What was worse was that they seemed to instinctively know that and used his feelings to their benefit.
Their seemingly good-natured teasing about his clothes and long hair had been expected. But then, when they gave him a beer…and then a shot of whiskey…and then another shot…and then expected him to give them money for it all, Caleb knew he was in a very bad situation, indeed.
He’d given them ten dollars in one-dollar bills he’d earned in tips working at the store last Saturday. His parents didn’t like him accepting tip money for carrying groceries and such to Englischers’ cars, but Caleb hadn’t thought there’d been any great harm in taking the money.
Most of the people’s wallets had been full of paper money and Caleb believed they wouldn’t feel the loss much. While he, on the other hand, appreciated having some spending money of his own.
Of course, now it was all gone.
The door leading into the main part of the police station opened again and the same man who had escorted Blake and Jeremy approached.
Caleb stood up.
To his surprise, the man almost smiled. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“I heard you threw up.”
Oh, he had. Right in the back of Blake’s car when they’d crashed. Blake had sworn at him, but Caleb had been too green around the gills to care. “I’m better now.”
The officer—his name was Ferguson—shook his head. “Drinking and joyriding isn’t a good way to spend your extra time, son.”
“I know that.”
“Now.”
Caleb nodded, thoroughly miserable. “Yes. Now.”
“Blake Reamy, he’s been here before. He’s got a wild streak about a mile wide. You two friends now?”
Caleb wasn’t sure where the conversation was going, but he was so afraid of sitting in the room all alone, he didn’t care. Anything was better than being alone with just his regrets. “No.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“I made a mistake.”
“Uh-hum?”
Because the officer sounded so sympathetic, Caleb spoke a little more. “See, I’ve been wondering what to do with my life. I’ve thought that maybe I should become English. Leave my family. Leave Sugarcreek.”
“I know some Amish kids do that.”
“A friend took me to Cleveland to meet some of her English friends. They were real nice. But they’re far away. I started thinking maybe I could get along with some English kids here.”
“Ah.”
“That’s not the whole truth. Part of me just wanted to rebel a little.”
“You did that. Do you have a taste for it?”
“Not at all.” Because Officer Ferguson didn’t look like he’d mind, Caleb took his seat again back on the hard plastic mattress on the cot. “Now I just want to go home.”
The man looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know if this helps, but I will tell you that you’re sure not the first person to ever try walking on the wild side and regretting it. We’ve all done it.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.” He grinned, showing perfect white teeth.
“Now, that doesn’t mean what I did was right, because it wasn’t. I learned that I like being where it’s comfortable. And being around people who know and love me.”
A hard rap on the door behind them made the officer turn. “Yes?”
A lady with short red hair poked her head down the hall. “The boy’s parents are here. A Mr. and Mrs. Graber.”
“Good. I think Caleb’s ready to see them. Give them the paperwork, Janice. We’ll be right out.” Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out his keys. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah. How mad do you think my folks are going to be?”
“On a scale of one to ten? I’d say an eleven or twelve. Parents don’t like fishing their kids out of jail, Caleb.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Officer Ferguson placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re going to be okay, though. You seem like a nice kid, and the nice ones always come from nice parents.”
Officer Ferguson was tall. Caleb tilted his head up to meet his gaze. “This sounds weird, but thanks for coming back here and talking to me.”
He winked. “This sounds weird, but I’m kind of glad you came in today. We don’t get too many kids like you.”
“Amish?”
“Good kids. You’re going to be just fine, Caleb Graber. But—and I mean this in the best way—I hope I never see you again.”
Feeling like each foot weighed a hundred pounds, Caleb slowly followed Officer Ferguson down the dim hallway. He braced himself for a torrent of tears from his mother and a litany of retorts from his father when the officer opened the door and directed Caleb to step out into the bright lobby.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling more embarrassed than when he forced himself to face his family. His head pounded when, one by one, each of his four siblings, his parents, and Lilly turned and looked at him, each one more agitated than the last.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Knowing how insignificant his apology sounded.
After a long moment, his father stepped forward. “Oh, Caleb,” he murmured, then hugged him close. Right there in front of everyone.
Caleb closed his eyes and gave thanks. Gave thanks for everything. Even the bad stuff.