Oakdale, Illinois, Old Towne, 2019
The brakes on the bus squealed loudly as it came to a stop, waking Leo up. The area of window where his head had rested was fogged from the heat and sweat pouring off him. His brain was fuzzy, too.
Where am I?
"Oakdale?" the driver called over the intercom. "Anybody for Oakdale? This is your stop."
"Yeah…" Leo croaked with a throat sleep-tightened and groggy.
"One over here driver," the kindly lady seated next to him shouted down the central aisle; standing to enable Leo to scoot out from the two seats.
"Thank you," he said.
"You okay, Darlin'?" she asked in concern, actually reaching up to hold her palm over his forehead and clucking in a motherly fashion. "You look like you're burnin' up somethin' rotten!"
Leo blinked at her; his responses slowed by the fever. He looked out the window at the small town, slowly darkening but somewhat hallowed in the late afternoon sun. In the far distance, he could see endless green and yellow fields interspersed with clumps of forest that seemed to stretch on forever.
"I'll be fine," he assured her. "I'm home now."
He turned and somehow made it off the bus without stumbling.
Once the large vehicle pulled out of the depot, he collapsed on a bench in the bus shelter. He let out a groan of pain he'd been holding back the entire journey and leaned forward over his knees; gritting his teeth.
Boy… this is the shittiest week ever!
Luckily there weren't very many people around and he was blessedly bestowed the few minutes he needed to wake himself up.
Taking a chance he wouldn't pass out, he stood on tentative legs and started walking with a small feeling of certainty, like a tiny sun rising warm beneath his ribs. He still felt wet and cold and battered; a rock flung this way and that in a raging torrent. But he'd made it here. To the place his fathers called home. That hadto mean something.
He didn't know where he was going, but following the general interest signs for Historical Old Towne Center seemed as good a direction as any.
He reached a huge and highly decorative wrought iron arch with 1839 proudly displayed on its crown. This arch marked the entrance to a pedestrian-only shopping area. Tiny independent shops populated the space, making modern use of the quaint historical timber-framed buildings.
Leo followed the tight alley ways that criss-crossed the space; all lined with the same red brickwork.
Locals hurried through on their way home from work to start dinner, shopping bags gripped in hands or under arms. A few of them eyed Leo curiously, but most seemed too busy to worry over the young stranger.
With a population of less than 500 (if you excluded the university students), strangers were easily picked out in a town like Oakdale. That's what Leo's pop always used to say anyway.
He saw his reflection clearly in the window of a coffee shop and almost didn't recognize himself. His face was flushed and wide-eyed.
I can't meet them like this!
He spat on the bottom corner of his shirt and lifted it up to clean the dirt smears from his face. As he did so, he noticed for the first time that the stitches on his wound must have bust open. The gauze across one side of his waist was stained in blood.
Nothing much I can do about that now.
He pulled his T-shirt down over the stain and ran his fingers through his hair; trying to achieve the messy look his pop carried so well. Unfortunately, he had his dad's thick straight hair and the action simply succeeded in looking like his head hadn't been combed in weeks. He gave up on that and instead tried to flatten the frizzy mess back off his forehead as much as he could.
Oh fuck it!
The whole business of lifting his arms to try and look presentable had done nothing for his looks but totally stolen the last dregs of energy he had left. He turned around looking for something to stabilize himself on; and mercifully spotted a bench, situated only a few feet away in the center of the square.
Perfect!
He collapsed breathless onto it; swallowing the wave of nausea that once again threatened to knock him out. He was close now. He only had a short way to go. He just needed to rest for a moment.
Truthfully, he had no idea what to expect once he found Snyder Farm. For all he knew, they'd tell him to shove it and call him on bringing danger to their door. It wasn't like he was a blood relative after all.
But as the evening lamps in the square came on, he pushed those doubts away, closed his eyes and breathed deeply; in and out, in and out.
Think positive!
When he opened them again, he spotted a man standing near the entrance to a hardware store. He was of medium build; muscular like he did a lot of hard labor rather than from working out in a gym. He had dark chestnut hair, long and wavy over his ears, making him appear young. Although on closer inspection, Leo could tell this man was older than either of his fathers.
The man appeared to have stopped in his tracks on the way out the store. His grey-blue eyes were regarding Leo with a faraway kind of longing.
Leo's breath caught in his throat as their eyes met.
The man blinked; face coming over all embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," the man said across the space between them. "I didn't mean to stare at you. It's just… you remind me of somebody I once knew…"
The man cocked his head at Leo, staring again with a deep sadness Leo had seen in his pop's eyes.
"I'm sorry…" the man said again, obviously annoyed with himself for continuing to stare. He turned to make his way out of the square.
A shocked Leo sat for a moment watching the man leave. It was quickly sinking in who this man might be. Only he never imaged running into him like this.
Finding his voice from somewhere and taking a chance, Leo sprang to his feet and called loudly, "Noah Mayer?"
Leo knew he was right when just those two words brought the older man to an instant stop.
The man turned slowly; his hands starting to shake so badly the paper bag he held dropped forgotten to the ground. But his blue eyes trained on Leo; burning so steadily Leo thought he felt a physical heat from it.
Holden Snyder moved forward until all that remained between them was a foot of air; his disbelieving gaze flittering over Leo's face. A tremor ran down a blue vein in the man's muscular throat.
He had a broad, good-humored kind of face with soft blue eyes and a wide mouth that curled at the ends; like he was on the verge of smiling. It made you want to both like and be liked by him straight away.
Leo stood stock still, trying to swallow the cotton-wool-like clumps clogging his throat. This was the man his pop called Dad; the man largely responsible for the kind of person Luke was.
Most of all, Leo stood hoping that all the feelings bubbling up inside of him were right. Tears slipped down his cheeks, only to soak the man's shirt as Leo found himself pulled roughly into an unexpected hug. He gasped in surprise but pretty soon was returning the embrace.
Holden smelled like hay and wind and oak; with an understated dab of aftershave. Being in these arms felt like safety and relief, like Leo could let go and be a kid again.
"How is this possible?" the man gasped.
Leo's fingers dug into the linen of Holden's shirt, as though he were afraid Holden would disappear, unless physically held in place by a boy's desperate fear.
"Are they alive?" Holden tearfully whispered. He sounded afraid to even ask.
Still unable to find voice, Leo nodded against Holden's chest and he felt the man's entire body loosen; as though dropping a 100-pound weight he'd been carrying for far too long.
Holden suddenly grasped Leo by the shoulders, pushing him back; and holding him away so that he could stare earnestly into Leo's face.
"At least… they were yesterday," Leo nervously babbled. "We… um… we got separated… and… and… I didn't know where else to go... and... and..."
"It's okay," Holden assured him; watery eyes open and honest. "You came to the right place, Kid."
Leo loudly sniffed and Holden smiled at him, knuckling the tears away from the boy's eyes, seemingly unable to stop staring at him. "You look so much like-"
"Yeah… yeah… I know… I look just like my dad," Leo shyly sang, like he was bored with people saying it when really it was something he held dear.
"That may be so," Holden agreed. "But you've definitely picked up on Luke's attitude!"
"Sorry," Leo blushed, ashamed of himself.
"No!" Holden burst out quickly in a grin. "No! It's… It's wonderful!"
Leo felt a sense of mingled shyness and intimacy. It felt comfortable being with this man, like he'd known Holden his whole life. In a way, he supposed he had, what with all the stories Luke told him.
"What's your name?" Holden asked.
It seemed so strange to Leo that this man, who was already looking at him with love, should even need to ask such a simple question about him. "It's Leo."
"Leo, ha?" Holden smiled, eyes filled with a million questions. "Well... what do you say we go home, Leo?"
"Okay…" Luke uncertainly replied. The shot of adrenaline he'd had on meeting his grandfather was fading and his legs felt wobbly. "But…"
"What is it? Why are you so…?"
Leo lifted his shirt so Holden could see the dressing.
"Oh my, God! Is that a-"
"Yeah," Leo confirmed. "I was in the hospital. But they wanted to put me in a foster home and… I… I wanted to be here…"
"You left the hospital…?" a concerned Holden asked, "...without being discharged?"
Leo nodded.
"Well we have to take you to Memorial Hospital right away then-"
"No!" Leo almost screamed. "I can't go there! They'll ask questions and then… then they'll find me… They'll take me away! Please… please…"
Holden's arm came protectively around Leo's shoulders and he urged the boy to lean on him, "Okay. Don't you worry, we'll head to the farm for now… Till we've had time to talk. Okay?"
"Okay," Leo weakly replied; and they started to move together toward the parking lot.
As they walked, Holden pulled his cell from the back pocket of his jeans. He flipped the screen one-handed and punched a number with his thumb. "Meg? Can you meet me at the farm right away? I need your help with something. It's pretty important."