Silent Fall

It was as if there were an unspoken rule between them.
    He’d never followed any other rules, so why that one? It was interesting that his grandmother had not gotten rid of the photo of his parents at their wedding. Had she forgotten about it? It seemed odd, though, after the fuss his father had made about destroying all evidence of his mother’s existence.
    On impulse he opened the desk drawers, wondering if his grandmother had kept in touch with his mother over the years. Had they had a secret relationship? He vaguely remembered them laughing together. They’d seemed to get along when he was a little kid. Hadn’t they? Or had he just been too young to know?
    Shutting the second drawer, he opened the bottom one. He found a manila envelope filled with cards that his grandmother had received over the years: birthday cards, thank-you notes, condolences for when his grandfather had died. And there at the bottom were several childish hand-drawn notes.
    His heart quickened at the sight of a stick figure holding a brown teddy bear. Slowly he unfolded the paper and read the message.
    Dear Grandma, I feel better now. Thanks for the bear. I love you. Dylan.
    He remembered that bear. He had slept with it in his arms for weeks when he’d been in and out of the hospital with some type of infection. He remembered all the needles, the blood tests, the long nights, and his mother, who had never left his side.
    He swallowed back an unexpected knot of emotion. She’d brought him ice cream and juice and held his hand when he was scared. She’d lain down next to him in the bed, refusing to leave.
    Finally he’d gotten better and gone home. Six months later his mother had left forever.
    How had she changed from devotion to complete and utter abandonment in just a few months? What had happened between his parents?
    He would have to find out. When this was over he would get answers to the questions he should have asked a long time ago.
    Moving back to the couch he settled down, closing his eyes. His mother’s face floated through his brain, her pretty brown hair that always smelled like peaches, her warm brown eyes, and her encouraging smile. It was a long time since he’d seen her image in a picture or in his head. Now he couldn’t seem to shake her loose. The floodgates had opened. He remembered other bits and pieces from his early years: running out for hamburgers when his father worked late, snuggling up in bed with his mother and a book, going to the island in the summer, building sand castles and playing in the waves until August turned into September and school started. Those were the good times, he realized, times when it had been just his mother, Jake, and himself.
    Sighing, he tried to stop thinking altogether. What he needed now was a clear mind and a good night’s sleep. Hopefully when he woke up in the morning, everything would be all right. Erica would turn up. The charges against him would be dropped, and his life would go back to normal.
    Yeah, and he still believed in Santa Claus.
    * * *
    She probably should have stayed on the city streets, but she’d thought the tall trees and the thick bushes of the park would offer her protection, a place to hide. Now she realized how desolate the area was at night. There were no phone booths, no people, no businesses to run into. She was completely on her own.
    She gasped and stopped abruptly as a shadowy figure came out of the undergrowth. Her heart thudded against her chest. The man walked toward her, one hand outstretched. His clothes were old and torn, and his face was covered with a heavy beard. He wore a baseball cap, and carried a backpack slung over one shoulder. He was probably one of the homeless people who set up camp in the park at night. Or maybe not...
    "Hey, baby, give me a kiss," he said in a drunken slur.
    "Leave me alone." She put up a hand to ward him off, but he kept moving forward.
    "I’m just being friendly. Come on now, sweetheart."
    Turning, she ran as fast as she could in the other direction, hearing him call after her. She didn’t know if he was following her or not, and she was too terrified to look, so she left the sidewalk and moved deeper into the park, looking for a little corner in which to hide. Her side was cramping and her feet were soaked. She desperately needed to find some sanctuary. Branches scraped her bare arms and face, but she kept going. It was so dark in the heavy brush that she