Mad About You

suddenly."
    "Did you check to see if his duffel bag is missing?"
    "It's still in the laundry room with his camping stuff in it."
    "Did he have any money?"
    "I gave him twenty dollars before he went camping—I don't know if he had any left over. And Mom or Dad might have given him some." She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense that he would run away. Besides, his skateboard... oh, Bailey"—her voice rose in panic—"it's happening again—"
    "Hey." He snuggled her against his chest. "We don't know that. He's a big boy now, not a helpless infant." And still prey for all kinds of sickos, he thought, his gut twisting.
    "What are we going to do?" she whispered desperately.
    "Wait," he said firmly, squeezing her. "We'll wait together."
    "But what if someone has him—"
    He cut her off. "We can't think about that."
    "What if we never see him again?"
    "We will," he assured her. "And we still have each other."
    She smiled through her tears and touched her finger to his mouth lovingly.
    He kissed the tip of her finger, then wrapped his arms around her and squeezed hard. "I know this isn't the best time to propose, and I don't want you to give me an answer now"—he pulled back and brushed a strand of hair out of her wide eyes—"but if the worst has happened and we never see our son again"—he choked, his voice resuming a rusty tone—"I couldn't bear to go on if you're not with me."
    She pressed her lips together tightly, her eyes spilling over again, then lay her head against his chest. She clung to him like a lifeline, and they stood pressed together for several minutes, filling up on each other's love.
    Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Pulling back, he said, "Ginny, where's the one place you would go if you were Chad?"
    She started to shake her head, then her eyes widened. "Shenoway! But it’s so far—how would he get there?"
    "He’s a smart kid—too smart for his own good."
    Bailey pulled out his phone and called Rita, talked for a few seconds, then disconnected the call. "She hasn't seen him, but I don't think he'd knock on the front door. I’m going over there."
    "I'm going with you," she said. "I can't stand just sitting here."
    As they sped toward the farm, he prayed his intuition was right. In fact, he wouldn't allow himself to think otherwise.
    The moon was in its early cycle, so the meadow lay darkly shadowed when they topped the crest, each carrying a flashlight. Immediately, however, Bailey breathed a sigh of relief. A faint beam of light shone from the back of the meadow, from his tree, the mammoth oak his father had planted. They trotted to it as fast as Ginny could move through the tall, wet grass, then stopped underneath, panting.
    The small flashlight beam had been extinguished. Bailey cleared his throat and said, "Chad, we've been worried sick about you."
    There was a scrape on one of the lower branches, but no response.
    "Why did you run away, son?" he asked gently.
    Silence.

    Virginia felt strength returning to her weak limbs, and laid a hand on Bailey's arm when he started to speak again. "Chad," she said, "if you won't come down here, then we're coming up there."
    She shone her light overhead until she saw him, his hand thrown up to shield his eyes. Her heart shivered in relief to see he was okay. She motioned and Bailey hoisted her up first, then pulled himself up into the nearly room-sized opening the tree's lower branches provided. Using their flashlights, they carefully picked their way over to where Chad sat, crying softly.
    "Hey." Virginia sat down close to him and squeezed his shoulders.
    He didn't look at them, only cried harder.
    "If you don't tell us what's wrong," Bailey said, sitting on the other side of him, "we can't fix it."
    Chad studied the flashlight he clenched in his hands. "I did something real bad, and I didn't want you to find out, so I ran away."
    "Nothing could be that bad." Virginia covered one of his hands with her own.
    He glanced up, then down again. "It is, it's terrible, and you're going to hate me." He started crying again, but Virginia patted his hand, her heart turning over for her son.
    "We could never hate you, Chad," she said quietly. "You're our boy—we love you, no matter what. Just tell us."
    "I s-stole your l-locket," he said, "and th-threw it in the p-pond with my s-slingshot."
    Anguish barbed through her chest at the loss, but she didn’t react.
    "What's this about your locket?"