Chapter Four—What Every Parent Fears
It was the scariest night of my life—the night when my oldest son was missing.
My wife and I had just returned home from a pleasant evening out, just the two of us away from our growing brood. We had a lovely drive home after an enjoyable evening visiting with friends.
As we drove up the driveway leading to our house, a peculiar feeling began to stir within me. Drawing closer to the house, I realized why that feeling overtook me—the house was lit up like a Christmas tree from room to room.
"Why in the world is the house lighted up like that?" questioned my wife. "Company must have come."
I glanced sideways at my wife, trying to read her face in the darkness. "Do you suppose everything is alright, Anne-girl?"
"Let us hope so, darling," Anne answered as we pulled up to the house. I quickly hopped down from the buggy and briskly walked around the horse so I could help her out of the buggy. No sooner was Anne's feet on the ground when Susan, our live-in maid, was standing on the threshold of our front door, wringing her hands. Something was indeed wrong.
"Mrs. . . .Dr. . . .dear and Dr. dear," she said in a voice that could not possibly have been hers. "There seems to be somewhat of a problem."
"Susan, whatever is the matter? Are all the children in bed and asleep?" questioned Anne as we walked up the porch steps together.
"Has something happened?" I asked as we faced her on the porch, not hearing a sound come from inside to indicate visitors.
Susan exhaled timidly. "I blame myself entirely, Dr. dear."
"Susan?" Anne asked in confusion as we followed her inside. "What is it?"
Susan sniffed before answering. "It's Little Jem," managed to say. "He has disappeared."
Glancing sideways in my utter horror and confusion, I saw Anne blanch with the same feelings.
"Disappeared!" Anne exclaimed as she stared stupidly at her and grasped my hand in hers. "What do you mean? He can't have disappeared!"
"He has," gasped Susan, wringing her hands. "He was on the side steps when I went to the Glen. I was back before dark . . . and he was not there. At first . . . I was not scared . . . but I could not find him anywhere. I have searched every room in the house . . . he said he was going to run away . . ."
Blinking in confusion, I asked, "He's sure to be about the house or the grounds, don't you think?"
"Yes, Dr. dear, which is why the house is lit up," she replied stoically. "I've searched every inch of this house. I even searched the barn, but he is no where to be found."
"Susan, are you positive you looked everywhere?" Anne asked dazedly.
"I have looked everywhere . . . everywhere. I have combed the grounds and the outhouses. Look at my dress . . . I remembered he always said it would be such fun to sleep in the hay-loft. So I went there . . . and fell through that hole in the corner into one of the mangers in the stable . . . and lit on a nest of eggs. It is a mercy I did not break a leg . . . if anything can be a mercy when Little Jem is lost."
Anne still refused to feel perturbed. "Do you think he could have gone to the Harbour Mouth with the boys, after all, Susan. He has never disobeyed a command before, but . . ."
I had broken away from the women to search the parlor when the telephone rang. Silently groaning inside, I quickly answered it only to find an emergency of the worse kind. After letting out an ejaculation of horror, I left Ingleside in a flash, not even bothering to explain to Anne where I was off to in such a hurry. I quickly hopped into the buggy outside and tore down the lane, my medical bag perched next to me on the seat. A baby from the Harbour Head had been severely burned. On my drive there, I prayed to God that Jem would turn up, and Anne could rest easily knowing our son was safe and sound. Yet it tore me to pieces to know I had to leave her knowing we had not solved the mystery of Little Jem's whereabouts.
But before I could think anymore about Jem, I had arrived to the scene of the accident. After hopping down from the stopped buggy, I grabbed my bag and hurried inside the house to assess the poor dear's condition. It was a bad burn caused by hot scalding water that sat too close to the child. Somehow a pot was knocked over, and it splashed onto the baby's back since it was sitting nearby in a highchair. I quickly applied cool cloths on its back and advised its parents that for the best help, they needed to go to the hospital in Charlottetown. As they quickly assembled things to leave, I made a quick call to Anne.
"Anne, I'm at the Harbour Head. I'll be taking a very badly burned baby to the hospital in town. Don't look for me until morning, alright?"
"Yes Gilbert," she replied over the wire. "Oh and Gil, just to put your mind at ease, Little Jem has been found."
Closing my eyes, relief flowing over me as water flows over the pebbles in a creek, I quietly and happily uttered, "Thank God." Sensing Anne smiling on the opposite end of the line, I added, "Tell me about it in the morning. Good night, Anne."
"I will," she answered. "Godspeed, and good night, Gil."
Hanging up the telephone I gathered my things and headed back out into the night on my way to town. Thoughts fluidly flowed through my mind as I raced to town to save a child's life. I thought of this poor wee child and the accident that unfolded tonight and how I could spare its parents anymore grief.
And then my thoughts rippled onto Jem, my own beloved son; mine and Anne's first son—our first child to live. How he had brought us such joy that year in the House o' Dreams. He was the perfect blend of the both of us. I smiled as I recalled some of my favorite memories of him—his first word ,"dada"; his first Christmas; his first steps—well maybe they were his fifteenth attempt, but he still toddled his way from Anne to me outside in the garden, his arms outstretched and a big grin beaming across his face; his first time in the ocean; his first time picking Mayflowers for Anne with me; his first birthday—how he enjoyed "eating" his cake, his little fists covered in icing and cake, not to mention his mouth and nose were too; or his first time playing baseball with me—I taught him how to catch, throw, swing the bat, and run around the bases. I sighed as I recounted each and every blessed memory I had of him. Something told me that he would end up just like me someday. I smiled at the thought of it as we pulled into town. My thoughts quickly reversed back to the matter at hand, and I prayed that someday this little tyke's parents could make some precious memories of their own all together.
I sighed as I remembered that; how scared we were then. I'd give anything to go back in time to that moment and relive it. Of course we laughed over the foolishness of the overlooked window seat (and I never did let my dear lovely wife forget it), but how much things have changed since then. Dearest Jem has since grown up into a fine young man; a man who cut short his education to become a doctor like his old man so he could serve his nation and commonwealth to live out his childhood dream.
He was the first Glen boy to enlist after hearing the news of war. We were worried, but hopeful then. Maybe just maybe this silly little scuffle would be over by Christmas. How wishful we all were then! Instead, three Christmases came and went, and our other two boys enlisted as well. Only Walter, our second eldest son, will never see this picturesque island again. Shirley was a flying ace, which concerned us all, but at least he wasn't living in the trenches as the two eldest had.
Yes the scariest day of a parent's life is the day word comes that your child is missing. Such shock and utter horror we felt the day word came of Jem's disappearance that May. We were too astonished and numbed by that news, that none of us knew how to react. Days went by; weeks did too, even months. If only word would come of Jem, but little Dog Monday had faith and his faith kept ours alive. Yes Dog Monday never reacted when word came of Jem's missing. Susan knew as we all did that Jem wasn't dead. If he was Dog Monday would know, just as he did when Walter died. So we all plucked up what faith we had left in us and put towards that loving loyal little dog down at the Glen station.
Every day more memories of Jem flooded my mind as they past. Every day I would pick a memory of him and replay every tiny detail about it until I went to sleep at night. I recalled again his birth, his first birthday, his first day of school, his first book he read, the first fish he caught in the creek down in Rainbow Valley, the first Mayflowers he picked for Anne and her reaction to it, his first homerun, his first A+ on a report he wrote, his entrance exams to Queens, his graduation from Queens, his first day of teaching and his last, his first day at Redmond; so many memories and yet so many emotions. It pained me that Anne wasn't quite the same after Walter died, but with Jem missing in action, it was even harder to bear. Jem was the first; he was our proudest accomplishment. Not that the others weren't, but to have a child that lived after our first attempt was something we cherished deeply.
Examining a patient one late September night in the Upper Glen, I sat there listening to the child's heartbeat trying to determine his fate. The child had broken the fever and his heartbeat was back to its regular rhythm. Smiling somewhat dreamily for a moment as I watched him sleep, a peculiar feeling engulfed me like a wave from the sea. I felt immediately at peace and perhaps subconsciously knew Jem was all right. Just then, the child's mother entered the room.
"Dr. Blythe, there's a telephone call for you," she said quietly. "It's your wife."
Concern washed over me as I stood up from my seat near the bed. "Thank you," I returned. "Let James sleep. He seems to have broken his fever and his breathing is back to normal. He should have a bit of an appetite in the morning," I said before leaving the room.
Downstairs I picked up the receiver and talked to Anne. "Anne?"
"Gil. We've news from Jem. He's in Holland and he's quite well. He'll be writing us soon," she said softly with relief.
"Thank the Lord," I whispered back as tears stung my eyes.
"Will you be home soon?" she asked after a moment and I could tell that she had so much to say and preferred to do so in person.
"I'm on my way, darling," I reassured her.
"Then I'll see when you get home. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I returned before hanging up the receiver. Turning to James's parents, I informed them to keep an eye on him and to call me if his condition changed. Walking out of the house, I felt the old spring in my step bounce into action; something I hadn't felt in a long time and it felt good.
Hopping into my car, I quickly turned the ignition and drove away, out of the Upper Glen heading for Ingleside where the house was lit up. I thanked God that my boy was safe and hoped that this godforsaken war would soon end, bringing home the numerous boys who had left their families and sweethearts to serve their countries in honor. And I prayed for those who, like Walter, had met their untimely fates for their countries, hoping that perhaps they were at peace now that they were out of the gloom and ugliness of war. Pulling up to the barn, I parked the car and headed for the house. On the porch stood Anne her eyes shining with relief and hope and love. "Oh Gil," she barely spoke as she embraced me. We held onto each other for quite some time, silently shedding tears of joy that our boy was safe and sound. Being the kindred spirits we still were, silently we said what we wanted to say. Standing in the moonlight on our porch, I kissed the top of her sweet red gold head and quietly whispered as I closed my eyes, "God's in His heaven, and all's right with the world, Anne-girl. He's all right."
AN: This was just a little one-shot I had written last spring as a chapter for a forum's group story. I reread it tonight and thought "Why not post this as a one-shot?" So I did. Anyway, thanks for reading, now don't forget to review:)