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“I’m not so sure. Obviously it’s a great opportunity for them. I mean, what Minnesotan wouldn’t want two years working in a warm climate with beautiful sand beaches?”
“But she misses her grandkids.” Lois took one last sip of her iced tea, then reached for the check. “I’d better get back to the office. Oh, one other thing I should mention. We did get a call in response to one of Alex’s posters.”
Frannie’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”
“It wasn’t legit. Some kid thinking it was funny to place the call.”
Frannie breathed a relieved sigh. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Caller ID told us it was a call placed in South Minneapolis, not Los Angeles, which is where the kid said he was. Technology can be such a timesaver, can’t it?”
ARLENE’S DEPARTURE was a solemn occasion at the Harper house. Frannie, Alex, Emma and Luke all waved at her as she pulled out of the driveway in her shiny new minivan. Frannie understood the reason for her children’s tears. Even she had to choke back sadness as she said goodbye.
Seeing their faces as Arlene’s van disappeared from sight, Frannie was grateful that there was a summer arts festival going on in a nearby park. It would give them something to take their minds off their grandmother’s absence. As well as arts and crafts, there were street vendors and musical entertainment with a small outdoor stage production.
While she was putting together a picnic lunch for them to take along, the phone rang. She heard Alex call out that he’d answer it. A few minutes later, he came bursting into the kitchen, his eyes wide. In his fist was a slip of paper.
“I got it!”
“Got what?” Frannie asked, as he stood wiggling before her.
“I got the name of the place Dad is!” Frannie was stunned. After six weeks of getting no responses to Alex’s posters, she’d assumed that nothing would come of his efforts.
“Was that Auntie Lois?” she asked weakly.
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. It was some lady. She gave me her name but I didn’t write it down. I think it was Margaret or something with an M…” He trailed off, his face showing his bewilderment.
Frannie took the piece of paper from his hands. On it Alex had printed, “Gran Moray. North Shore. Fishing. Nice, helpful.”
When she didn’t say anything, he added, “It’s where Dad is…in Gran Moray.”
Gran Moray had to be Alex’s spelling of Grand Marais, the small Minnesota town located on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Frannie’s heart hammered relentlessly in her chest.
“The lady said she saw someone who looks just like Dad when they were fishing in one of the streams,” Alex continued. “They talked to him and everything.”
It couldn’t be, Frannie told herself, taking several calming breaths. “Your father doesn’t like to fish,” she told him. “And you heard your grandmother say that she doesn’t think he’s living nearby. It’s not him,” she said with a confidence she wasn’t feeling.
“How do you know? This lady said he looked just like the guy on the poster. It could be him, Mom. It could be.” There was a plea in her son’s voice that tore at Frannie’s heart.
“I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.” Frannie started to walk out of the room, but Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Auntie Lois doesn’t know about this.”
Frannie frowned. “What do you mean she doesn’t know? She must have given that woman our number…”
Guilt made his eyes dart back and forth nervously.
“Alex, you didn’t put up the posters with our phone number on it, did you?”
She could see by the look on his face, that was exactly what he’d done.
“Alex!”
“I wanted to be the one to get the calls, not Auntie Lois. He’s my father,” he said on a note of frustration.
Frannie pushed an errant curl away from her forehead. “Oh, good grief! Our phone number’s out there for all the world to see?”
“You don’t need to get upset. No one’s even called except for this one lady. And she was really nice, Mom.”
Again, pain knifed through Frannie’s heart. She could see how much Alex wanted this strange woman to be the connection to his father. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to find the words to tell her son that the man this woman had seen couldn’t possibly be Dennis.
“It can’t be him, Alex,” she began.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Because I don’t want it to be. She pushed aside that thought and said, “I told you. Your father doesn’t know how to fish.”
“Maybe he learned.”
“He hates cold weather. Why would he live in northern Minnesota?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to go find out. Will you take me?”
Frannie stifled a groan. “I wish you’d let me talk to the woman who called and gave you this information.”
“She said she lives in Minneapolis.”
“You should have written down her phone number.”
“You can call her. All you have to do is press star sixty-nine, and you can get it.”
Frannie realized he was right. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Because she’d been too upset over the fact that there was even the tiniest of possibilities that the man spotted along the North Shore might be her ex-husband.
The woman who had phoned Alex was named Margaret, just as he’d said. She was also very nice and helpful, as he’d written on the slip of paper. Only, Frannie soon discovered that Alex hadn’t written those adjectives about the woman who’d phoned. They were the words Margaret had used to describe the man she’d seen at the North Shore.
As well as repeating what Alex had already told Frannie, the woman told her that this man didn’t seem like the type to abandon his kids. By the time the phone call ended, she had told Frannie enough about the man’s personality to convince her it couldn’t have been Dennis.
Frannie knew her ex-husband would have no patience for fishing or for helping a couple of senior citizens change a flat tire on their car—which is what the man had done for Margaret and her husband.
“Are we going to go there?” Alex asked as soon as she’d hung up the phone.
Frannie wanted to again say, “It’s not him,” but she stifled the words. “I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.”
Alex groaned. “Do you have to?”
“Yes.” Frannie dialed her sister’s number. As soon as she heard the voice-mail recording, she remembered that her sister was out of town for the weekend. “I forgot. She’s in Chicago and won’t be home until Tuesday.”
“What does that mean? That we have to wait for her to get back before we can do anything?” he asked, obviously hoping that the answer to his question wasn’t yes.
“There’s no point in driving all the way to the North Shore without first investigating whether the possibility exists that it is your father,” Frannie answered patiently. “If—and I say if—there’s a chance it is your father, then it’s up to the authorities to investigate, not us.”
“You mean we’re not going to go?”
Frannie tried not to let the devastation on his face tug on her emotions. It wasn’t easy.
“I’m sorry, but that’s my final word on the subject. We wait until we talk to Auntie Lois before we do anything,” she said firmly.
“Do what?” Emma asked as she entered the kitchen, backpack slung over her shoulder.
“It’s none of your business,” Alex said, stomping out of the room.
“What’s wrong with him? Aren’t we going to the arts festival?” Emma asked.
“Yes, we’re going. Just give me a few minutes,” Frannie replied. “Watch Luke for me, will you?”
Frannie found Alex in his room, lying on his stomach on his bed, his elbows supporting him as he played a video game.
“I know you’re disappointed, Alex, but you don’t need to take it out on Emma.” Her words were met with silence. “Get your stuff together and we’ll go to the arts festival at the park.”
“I don’t want to go,” he grumbled.
Frannie put her hands on her hips. “You wanted to earlier this morning.”
“I changed my mind.”
Frannie could see the stubborn set to his shoulders. If there was one thing she knew about Alex, it was that when he made up his mind about something, he didn’t change it. “Alex, I can’t leave you home alone.”
He sat up then and said, “I’m ten, not two. I’ll keep the door locked and won’t let anybody in. Satisfied?”
She wasn’t. She knew that some parents did leave their kids home alone for short periods of time, but she wasn’t one of them. She didn’t doubt that Alex would be fine on his own for a couple of hours, yet she wasn’t ready to set a precedent. If she left him today, then he’d want to stay home alone the next time she had to go somewhere that was of no interest to him.
“Come on, Mom. I’m almost eleven,” he pleaded. “I’m responsible. Didn’t I prove that to you that time you had the flu and I had to take care of Luke because you couldn’t get out of bed?”
“But I was still in the house.”
“You couldn’t even lift your head off the pillow,” he reminded her. “I did a good job taking care of everything. Even you said so. Please, let me try it just once,” he pleaded. “I won’t answer the door, and if the phone rings I won’t say you’re not here. I’ll say you can’t come to the phone, like I’m supposed to do.”
Frannie could feel her resolve weakening. She knew Alex wouldn’t enjoy the arts festival as much as Emma and Luke would. And then there was that look of devastation on his face when she’d told him they weren’t going to go looking for his father. It tugged at her heart in a way that made her fall back on emotion rather than logic.
“Please, Mom?” he begged. “Don’t make me go with you.”
The park was just at the end of the block, and if Alex did have a problem he could call on any one of the neighbors. Finally Frannie caved in. “All right, you can stay home.”
It was a decision that left her feeling uneasy, however, as she wandered later through the various exhibits. It was also the reason why, despite Luke and Emma’s groans of protest, she packed up their things as soon as they’d finished lunch.
A feeling of relief washed over her as she returned home and saw that the house looked exactly as it had when they’d left. The front door was still shut, the drapes closed, the yard empty of kids. Using her key, she let herself in and called out, “Alex, we’re home.”
When there was no answer, she repeated the call. Then Emma handed her a piece of paper. “I found this on the kitchen table.”
Frannie read the note written in her son’s handwriting: “Mom, I’m going to look for Dad. I’m taking the bus. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Alex.”
CHAPTER THREE
ALEX WAS ON A BUS headed for the North Shore!
“Do you think he really found Dad?” Emma’s voice was a pin bursting the bubble of panic that held Frannie motionless.
“No.” She reached for the phone and dialed 911. When she was told her son would be considered a runaway and that a police officer would be sent to her home to ask her more questions, she told the dispatcher, “No, don’t do that. I’ll find him myself.”
“Are you mad at the police?” Emma asked, as Frannie slammed the receiver down.
“No.”
“You look like you’re mad.”
“I’m not. I’m worried.
She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. She couldn’t think. She had to think. She took several more calming breaths, then grabbed the phone book and searched for the number to the bus depot.
She vented her frustration at the faceless person on the other end of the line. “I don’t understand how you could let a ten-year-old on the bus without an adult.”
Frannie didn’t like the answer she received. Alex hadn’t been alone. A woman had purchased the ticket for him, saying he was going to visit his father in Grand Marais and would be met at the bus stop there.
What woman would buy a bus ticket for a ten-year-old boy? Frannie asked herself, as panic again bubbled up in her throat. She closed her eyes momentarily and tried not to think the worst. Alex easily could have cried a bucket of tears and concocted a story that would have had any compassionate woman offering to buy him a ticket.
Frannie couldn’t waste time wondering about what had already happened. Her son was on a bus headed for a small town in search of his father. She needed to be calm and she needed to be rational.
She turned to Emma and said, “We need to go find Alex, so I want you to gather a few things for Luke to play with in the car…some books, his blanky,” she said as she mentally made a list of what she needed to bring along.
With her usual systematic approach, she loaded the car. Bottled water, juice boxes, munchies for the kids, change of clothes for Luke in case he had an accident. Luke was toilet trained most of the time, but whenever she least expected it, an accident occurred.
Frannie couldn’t believe how long it took to pack up two kids and get on the road. By the time her station wagon pulled out of the drive, it was midafternoon, which meant they would be lucky to reach the North Shore before evening.
Once they found Alex, they’d have to eat dinner. And by the time they made the journey home again, they’d be fortunate to get to bed by midnight. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to think about anything but staying calm and finding Alex.
Never had the drive from Minneapolis to Duluth seemed so long. Although Emma read stories and kept Luke entertained for most of the journey, three hours was a long time for any child to spend in the car. Even Emma found it difficult to be still and asked if they could take a break.
“There’s a park down there. Can we go down by the water?” she asked as their journey took them past the harbor.
“You know we can’t stop.”
“But we’ve been in the car forever. And it looks like it’s really fun.” She gazed longingly out the window toward Canal Park.
“I’ll bring you and your brothers back for a visit some other time. Right now we need to get to Grand Marais.”
“Oh, look! That bridge is going up so the boat can get through.” She sighed. “Can’t we stop for just a few minutes?”
Frannie ignored her and continued following the highway along the shoreline of Lake Superior. It being the height of tourist season, traffic moved slowly as motor homes and pickup trucks pulling trailers leisurely made their way to recreational parks.
