to Judith.”
Fifteen minutes later Emma’s father starts the car, waiting for Emma and her mother to come out with the pie and a jug of fresh sweetened ice tea her mother has made. Her father honks the horn.
“C’mon!”
Emma comes out of her room, where’s she’s been changing clothes. She’s wearing a black dress.
“Emma,” her mother says. “This isn’t a wake. Josh has just gone missing. I doubt he’s dead. Go put on another dress right now.”
“I…” Emma stammers. “Sorry.”
Emma goes back to her room and changes into a light brown dress. She puts on a jacket, gets the pumpkin pie and gets in the car as does her mother, who brings the jug of tea.
Judith and Josh live just a few miles away, and the car is quiet on the ride. The Sand Mountain landscape is a beautiful yet staid mix that only late fall can bring, with green yet dry grass, deep blue sky and trees thinking of adding a hint of color.
They arrive at the house and an elderly woman let’s them in. She says she’s Josh’s great-grandmother.
“Judith is in there,” the lady tells them. “But be warned. I declare. Just a basket case. She’s just a basket case.
“Hard to blame her. You get a good man. You don’t want to lose him. Child seems to think he’s not coming back. I just think he got lost for a spell. He’ll be back.”
They find Judith sitting on a couch, crying, and holding tissues.
“Preacher,” she says, reaching her hand up to Jeremiah's. “Thank you and your family for coming. Thank you all for coming.”
“We’re praying for you, Judith. We’re praying for Josh, too. Praying that he hasn’t gotten lost. Praying that he has fallen in harm’s way. Praying he’s nearby, and will be home soon.
“But you know, Judith. We don’t get to pick when our time comes. We just put our trust in God and deal with the hand he deals us.”
Judith’s crying intensifies, laced with intermittent audible sobs. Her daughter nestles at her feet holding a blanket, seemingly unaware of the drama.
“I don’t understand,” Judith says, “why Josh hasn’t come home. Sunday morning he seemed so happy. Like he had the world by its tail. Like he had something to look forward to. I haven’t seen him so excited in quite some time.
“I said I was going to church. He said he was going out, but would be home soon. He went. Never came back.”
“How did he go?” Emma asks. “I mean, how did he leave? Did he drive?”
“Well, yes, he drove. I think. His truck is gone.”
“What kind of truck did he drive?”
Judith looks at Emma with a furrowed brow.
“What kind was it?” Emma says. “What color was it?”
“A small Ford Ranger. Gray. About 10 years old.”
“Why?”
“Just wondering. The sheriff said they hadn’t found his truck. So we could be on the lookout.”
“The sheriff? You talked to the sheriff?” Judith says, before wailing like somebody had just come up from behind and scared her.
“He came by the house with his deputy, Judith,” Emma’s father says. “He just wanted to tell me so we could comfort you in this time of need. That’s all.”
“We brought you a pie, Judith,” Emma’s mother says. “Emma made it. It’s pumpkin. Fresh out of the oven.”
“Thank you,” Judith says, gathering herself. “You are so kind. Thank you.”
“We’ll get on out of your way,” Emma’s father says. “But let me lead a prayer before we go. Let’s bow our heads.
“Our heavenly father, all knowing, all powerful. The fate of this man is in your hands. The fate is this family is in your hands. The fate of our each and every step is in your hands. We submit to you for answers. Amen.”
“Amen,” say the others, save for Emma, who is looking at a family picture on the end table of Judith, Josh and their baby. She thinks of Michael, wondering what their family picture might look like if they married and had a baby.
Judith stands, and thanks for Mays for coming. She walks them to the
Fifteen minutes later Emma’s father starts the car, waiting for Emma and her mother to come out with the pie and a jug of fresh sweetened ice tea her mother has made. Her father honks the horn.
“C’mon!”
Emma comes out of her room, where’s she’s been changing clothes. She’s wearing a black dress.
“Emma,” her mother says. “This isn’t a wake. Josh has just gone missing. I doubt he’s dead. Go put on another dress right now.”
“I…” Emma stammers. “Sorry.”
Emma goes back to her room and changes into a light brown dress. She puts on a jacket, gets the pumpkin pie and gets in the car as does her mother, who brings the jug of tea.
Judith and Josh live just a few miles away, and the car is quiet on the ride. The Sand Mountain landscape is a beautiful yet staid mix that only late fall can bring, with green yet dry grass, deep blue sky and trees thinking of adding a hint of color.
They arrive at the house and an elderly woman let’s them in. She says she’s Josh’s great-grandmother.
“Judith is in there,” the lady tells them. “But be warned. I declare. Just a basket case. She’s just a basket case.
“Hard to blame her. You get a good man. You don’t want to lose him. Child seems to think he’s not coming back. I just think he got lost for a spell. He’ll be back.”
They find Judith sitting on a couch, crying, and holding tissues.
“Preacher,” she says, reaching her hand up to Jeremiah's. “Thank you and your family for coming. Thank you all for coming.”
“We’re praying for you, Judith. We’re praying for Josh, too. Praying that he hasn’t gotten lost. Praying that he has fallen in harm’s way. Praying he’s nearby, and will be home soon.
“But you know, Judith. We don’t get to pick when our time comes. We just put our trust in God and deal with the hand he deals us.”
Judith’s crying intensifies, laced with intermittent audible sobs. Her daughter nestles at her feet holding a blanket, seemingly unaware of the drama.
“I don’t understand,” Judith says, “why Josh hasn’t come home. Sunday morning he seemed so happy. Like he had the world by its tail. Like he had something to look forward to. I haven’t seen him so excited in quite some time.
“I said I was going to church. He said he was going out, but would be home soon. He went. Never came back.”
“How did he go?” Emma asks. “I mean, how did he leave? Did he drive?”
“Well, yes, he drove. I think. His truck is gone.”
“What kind of truck did he drive?”
Judith looks at Emma with a furrowed brow.
“What kind was it?” Emma says. “What color was it?”
“A small Ford Ranger. Gray. About 10 years old.”
“Why?”
“Just wondering. The sheriff said they hadn’t found his truck. So we could be on the lookout.”
“The sheriff? You talked to the sheriff?” Judith says, before wailing like somebody had just come up from behind and scared her.
“He came by the house with his deputy, Judith,” Emma’s father says. “He just wanted to tell me so we could comfort you in this time of need. That’s all.”
“We brought you a pie, Judith,” Emma’s mother says. “Emma made it. It’s pumpkin. Fresh out of the oven.”
“Thank you,” Judith says, gathering herself. “You are so kind. Thank you.”
“We’ll get on out of your way,” Emma’s father says. “But let me lead a prayer before we go. Let’s bow our heads.
“Our heavenly father, all knowing, all powerful. The fate of this man is in your hands. The fate is this family is in your hands. The fate of our each and every step is in your hands. We submit to you for answers. Amen.”
“Amen,” say the others, save for Emma, who is looking at a family picture on the end table of Judith, Josh and their baby. She thinks of Michael, wondering what their family picture might look like if they married and had a baby.
Judith stands, and thanks for Mays for coming. She walks them to the
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