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  I went out the back and pushed open the door to his shop.

  I clicked on the light. The mess startled me. Tools lay strewn across the shelves and pieces of wood, still with nails sticking through them, littered the floor.

  This mess looked like Uncle Howard had made something, smashed it to pieces, and thrown his tools down. Maybe he had gotten angry about losing his job and done this. I sat on the stool and looked around.

  Uncle Howard, so gentle and soft-spoken. This just didn’t seem like him. Is this what drinking led to?

  In the corner, beneath the cradle, the wooden boxes threatened to topple over. An old cloth draped over them, hiding the contents. I walked over and pulled the cloth off. Gin bottles had been thrown into the boxes.

  Empty gin bottles.

  I walked to Aunt Liza’s room, not sure if I was doing the right thing. I knocked on the door, hiding the bottle behind my back.

  “Come in.” Aunt Liza’s voice was hoarse.

  I turned the knob and stepped over the threshold.

  Chapter 31—Finding Michael

  Aunt Liza lay on the bed, a washrag covering her eyes. She lifted a corner to gaze at me before letting it fall back in place. I approached the bed.

  “Aunt Liza, I found something . . . I don’t know if you knew about this . . .”

  “What, child?” She rose on one elbow, letting the rag fall to the bed.

  I held out the gin bottle. She pulled herself up with a visible effort. She let her legs dangle from the bed as her eyes widened.

  “Where did you get that?” She reached out to take it from my hand.

  “Uncle Howard’s shop. In a box.”

  She stared at the bottle in her hand, her eyes unfocused, not speaking.

  Did she not understand Uncle Howard had been drinking? And from the number of bottles, had been drinking a long time? Hadn’t she smelled the gin on him?

  “Aunt Liza,” I said gently. “Don’t you think Uncle Howard is drinking?”

  She looked at me, startled. “Drinking? Howard?” She laughed a sad laugh.

  “Yes. This isn’t the only bottle. The whole corner is filled.” I sat down next to her.

  “The corner?” Her face drooped along with her shoulders.

  “Yes, he’s been drinking a long time.”

  She shook her head. “No. Howard doesn’t drink.”

  “Aunt Liza! All of these bottles? How do you explain that?” I slumped down.

  She raked her fingers through her hair. “I. . .Maybe he found them?” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Okay. I just thought you should know.” I sighed. Why wouldn’t she believe me?

  “Jay, will you just take it back? Put it back where you found it. Just leave me be? Please?”

  She just wasn’t ready to face facts.

  “If you don’t need anything. . .”

  She picked up the rag and held it to her eyes. “No. Go.” She shooed me away with a wave of her hand.

  I sighed and left her.

  I had to find Uncle Howard, convince him to get help. But how? Where could I find someone to help me?

  It was another sweltering day. I tried to imagine where Uncle Howard would have gone. To the church building? It might be one place to start looking. Services were over. Everyone would have left by now, except, maybe the preacher. I could ask him what to do.

  I entered into the coolness of the church. The high-ceilinged building with windows on each side, rising almost the full height of the wall, caught the slightest of breezes. Large oak trees surrounded the outside, keeping it shaded.

  A person knelt at the second pew. His hands lay on the back of the pew in front of him, and his head rested against them.

  I recognized him immediately. Michael. Why was he here in Plainsville instead of at Auburn?

  “What are you doing here?” I exclaimed before I could stop myself.

  He turned his head and looked at me with his liquid brown eyes, rimmed in red.

  “Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

  He didn’t move from where he knelt, didn’t seem embarrassed, just smiled up at me. “Of course nothing’s wrong. Just enjoying the quiet.”

  “I didn’t know you attended church here.” I knew he didn’t. I’d never seen him at services before.

  “I don’t. I don’t go to church anywhere. I was just, um. . .looking for a cool place. What are you doing here?” He finally rose from his knees and seated himself.

  I slid into the pew beside him, twisting my hands together in my lap. “Uncle Howard is missing.”

  “Missing? What do you mean?”

  “He’s gone. We don’t know where he’s at.”

  “Did you go to the police?”

  I shook my head. “No. He took a suitcase with him. He left on his own.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you think . . . Will you help me look for him?”

  “I don’t know, Jay.” He studied me for a second. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “But I’ve got to find him. For Aunt Liza.”

  “Jay, does she want you to find him? Did she send you out to look for him?”

  Warmth flooded my cheeks. “No . . . But I know she wants to know where he’s at.”

  “Did they have a fight?”

  “Uncle Howard lost a wood-working job he had. This is the second one he’s lost. That I know of. Maybe he’s lost more.”

  “I don’t think I need to get involved in a family squabble.” He turned his eyes away from me. “Sorry, Jay.”

  Anger surged through me. Michael was good for nothing. If Daniel were here, he’d help me.

  I climbed to my feet and stumbled down the aisle.

  Michael came after me and caught my arm. “Jay, wait.” He released me and ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe we can just find out where he’s at, and just let your aunt know. Let her take care of it. How’s that sound?”

  I turned it over in my mind. At least I’d know Uncle Howard was safe. I didn’t have much of a choice. At least it was something. I shrugged my shoulders. “Okay.”

  We walked to his truck, the sun streaming down. The hot air inside of the truck rushed to meet me.

  Michael turned to me. “Where should we look?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine.”

  “How do you expect me to help you?” He looked at me in exasperation, beating the heels of his hands gently against the steering wheel. “Does he have any other family?”

  “Yeah, he does. He has a brother who lives in Hartfield, Georgia. That’s too far to go, though.”

  “No, no. It’s just about an hour northeast of here. Do you need to tell your aunt?”

  “Yes, I need to let her know. Will you take me by so I can tell her?”

  “All right.” He cranked the truck and pulled from the parking lot.

  I studied Michael’s profile. “You told me you haven’t been going to church.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Reasons.”

  When we pulled into the yard, I gave him a stern look. He simply gazed back, unperturbed. I slammed the truck door with unnecessary force.

  I opened the bedroom door quietly. Aunt Liza still slept. She’d probably been up half the night worrying. I decided not to wake her.

  Instead, I wrote a quick note, telling her I was with Michael and would be back in a few hours. After I put it under the sugar bowl, I hurried back out.

  Chance met me, and I gave him a quick pat on the head before I climbed into the truck.

  Chapter 32—Searching

  Before we’d even pulled into the road, I cleared my throat. “And?”

  “What?” Michael threw a puzzled look at me.

  “Your reasons. Why aren’t you going to church?”

  “Personal reasons.” He clenched his teeth together so tightly that a muscle twitched in his jaw.

  I sighed and turned to the opened window. The wind blew my hair into tangles. I swept i
t back with both hands and tied it with a ribbon from my pocket.

  Michael’s voice startled me. “Why don’t you get your hair cut like the other girls?”

  “You want me to cut my hair?”

  “It’s your hair. I don’t care what you do with it. I just wondered why you don’t cut it like all the other girls I’ve seen.”

  “Would it look better cut?”

  He frowned at me. “How should I know?”

  I smiled. “I happen to like it like this. I don’t have to do what all the other girls do.”

  “No, you don’t.” His face smoothed as he cast a glance at me.

  I made a face at him. “I’m glad you agree.”

  He didn’t answer. A few raindrops splattered on the windshield. I held my head halfway out the window to peer up at the sky.

  “Wow. There’s a dark cloud building right over us.”

  He bent his head for a better view through the windshield. “We’re going to get some heavy rain from that. Unless we’re able to outrun it.”

  “Maybe it’ll cool things off.” I pulled my handkerchief from my belt to wipe the rain from my face. “Why were you in the church?”

  “I told you to cool off. Just looking for a quiet place.”

  I sighed. He wasn’t going to tell me anything.

  We drove twenty more minutes before the rain started coming down in earnest. We rolled up the windows to keep from getting soaked.

  The heavy rain drowned out any attempts at conversation—not that Michael showed any interest in talking anyway. The windshield wipers whished back and forth.

  The fury of the thunderstorm quickly abated, but heavy drops still fell. I rolled down my window an inch or so, glad for the cool air blowing through. I decided to try again. “How’s Sylvia today?”

  “She’s fine as far as I know.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “As far as you know?”

  He sighed heavily. “Miss Nosey Parker, we broke up today.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” So, that’s why he was in Plainsville—breaking up with Sylvia. Did that mean his kissing in the backseat yesterday was just a sham? Or, just from being so drunk he didn’t know or care what he did?

  He rubbed his nose. The rain let up, and the windshield wipers now squealed across the windshield. He switched them off.

  He gave me a sideways glance. “Sylvia and I were too different.”

  I nodded my head.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t understand women. Why would she wear a suit like that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe to get attention?” I kept my voice even.

  “Maybe. Anyway, she got lots of attention from Andrew.” He cut his eyes over to me. “You may not know. Andrew and Marla broke up, too.”

  “You mean Sylvia and Andrew. . .”

  He nodded his head. “Yes.” He kept his eyes glued on the road. “Of course, she really wanted attention from Dan. He wouldn’t play her game, though.”

  “She was trying to get Daniel’s attention?”

  “Yes. You didn’t notice? It’s been going on for a while.”

  “What’s been going on?”

  “She’s been after Daniel since she first met him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Believe me. I know.” He cast another glance my way. “She’s so jealous of you it’s not even funny.”

  “Of me?” She was the popular one, the pretty one, the one with the cute clothes.

  He smiled wryly. “She thought if she dated me she could make Dan jealous. That’s why she. . .”His voice trailed off, and he reddened.

  “Kissed you?” So, she had been the one. Not Michael. But he hadn’t stopped her, had he? I shook my head. “Michael, you’re wrong.”

  He cast me a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

  “Sylvia was after you. She told me y’all dated, the weekend you brought the horses, remember?”

  He laughed. “Jay, silly girl.” He shook his head at me. “She said that to make you jealous. She thought if she made you jealous enough, you’d come back to me. That you’d dump Dan and concentrate on me.” The muscle twitched in his jaw again. “She didn’t know you actually preferred Dan.”

  “But I didn’t prefer him! You know it wasn’t like that. . .”

  “No, I don’t know. I do know this: Daniel never has eyes for anyone but you.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not true. He really likes Marla.”

  He looked doubtful and shrugged his shoulders. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Do you think I. . .”

  “What?” I clutched my fingers tightly together.

  “Nothing. Forget it.” He stared straight ahead.

  I shifted my position. “Were you going to ask if I think you can stop drinking?”

  He gave me a funny look. “No, that’s not what I was going to say.” He gritted his teeth. “Don’t try to change me, Jay. You used to like me just fine the way I am.”

  I pressed my lips together and looked away.

  Michael sighed. “Dan’s really not a bad guy. He used to be my best friend. I know you two will be happy together.”

  My heart hammered in my chest as I twisted to face him. “Why are you telling me this? Are you blaming me for everything? You broke up with me,” I said accusingly.

  “I could see what was happening between you and Dan. I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “You were wrong.”

  “No. I was right. You proved it.”

  “You pushed me into his arms. You made it happen. Your drinking. . .” My hands shook, and I clasped them together again.

  “No. You chose him over me.”

  “I didn’t! You walked away from me. For what? You prefer drinking to me.”

  “What choice did I have? I can’t compete with Dan. Never could.” He shot me a sorrowful look. “Jay, I can’t talk about this anymore.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.

  “Jay. . .” His voice broke.

  “You want me to break up with Daniel?” I didn’t open my eyes, but I heard him grit his teeth. “And we’ll get back together? But you won’t stop drinking?” I opened my eyes and turned to face him.

  He nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  I shook my head. “No. Not until you stop drinking. Even then. . .” How could I hurt Daniel, after all he had done for me? After he had been so kind?

  “Even if I stopped drinking, you would still choose him?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t know.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Then that settles it.”

  “But, Michael, why do you drink?”

  His face clouded. “Why do you think?”

  “Don’t blame me for your drinking, Michael Hutchinson!”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t blaming you.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his right hand. “Life is hard. Drinking eases the pain.”

  “Do you know the pain I’ve had? And I don’t drink.” I said the words and was sorry. How did I know what pain Michael had endured?

  He glanced at me for a second but did not speak.

  I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, Michael. You’ve never told me about your troubles, and I have no right to assume mine have been worse than yours.”

  He sighed heavily.

  “What?” I asked.

  He grimaced but did not look at me. “Your pain is my pain.” He stared out the windshield at the road.

  My heart constricted. Was it easier to endure suffering or watch someone suffer? Did he love me that much, to hurt when I hurt? To maybe hurt more? I cleared my throat. “Michael, drinking just causes more pain in the long run—for everyone.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Maybe. But I’ve been drinking so long, I don’t know if I can live sober.”

  “Couldn’t you try?”

  He shot me a look. “Why? What’s the point?”

  He wouldn’t even try? My heart broke. I was now sorry I
had talked Michael into this trip. I leaned my head out the window again, letting the air flow over me, cooling my hot cheeks.

  I wanted Michael to fight for me. If not for me, for himself.

  Instead, he was just giving up, drowning in self pity.

  Chapter 33—Michael’s Friend

  Michael remained silent until we reached the bridge that led to Hartfield. “Do you know where your uncle’s brother lives?”

  “No.”

  “Can you remember anything he has said about his brother? Anything?”

  I furrowed my brow and held my head between my palms, massaging my temples. “Flatrock. He mentioned Flatrock. That’s all I know.”

  “We’ll stop and ask someone.”

  We spotted a group of people gathered on a street corner, at a bus stop, and Michael pulled over.

  I stuck my head out of the window. “Do you know where Flatrock is located?”

  The two men shrugged their shoulders. A short woman who was almost as wide as she was tall trotted over to us.

  “Flatrock?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’re looking for Mr. Barnett. He lives in Flatrock.”

  She shook her head. “Never heard of him. There’s no Flatrock in Hartfield that I know of.”

  My heart sank. We’d never find Uncle Howard. This was a wasted trip. In more ways than one.

  The woman leaned her elbows on the car and peered in at us. “But there is a Flatrock outside of New Hope.”

  “Really? Can you tell us how to get there?”

  “Sure. I can draw you a map if you got paper and pencil handy.”

  Michael rummaged among his books in the floorboard and came up with a piece of paper and a stub of a pencil.

  The woman leaned on the hood of the car and placed the pencil lead between her lips to wet it. She laboriously drew a map.

  I gave her a wave as we drove away. I studied the map she had drawn.

  Michael tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as we drove along. “Are you going to help me find the streets she marked?”

  “Yeah. But I may get us lost. I can’t find my way out of a sack.”

  Sure enough, we had to turn around once when I saw the sign too late, but a few twists and turns later, we found the small community of Flatrock.