hand when the boy paused.
His father shifted on the glider as Buster’s tail swatted his knee. “I honestly don’t know what will come of it. I kinda think a little time in the pokey might get his attention, but mother is adamant that he be home until...” Buster moved to Sam to nuzzle his hands, which were clasped now in front of him. “As if he’ll stay home,” Sam said under his breath.
Dylan didn’t know what to say. He too was worried about James and the way he’d been acting, as if a dark wind blew the friendly brother away, and left a brooding, defiant boy in his place. Of course, James wasn’t really a boy anymore, not like Dylan and his friends. James was old enough to drive, certainly old enough not to cry when he got in trouble. And yet, James had been crying today. What was going on?
“I know it’s not my business, but does James ever lay a hand on you in anger?”
Dylan swiveled to look at Sam. “No. Never. We argue some, but that’s it. Why?”
“Chief told me he thinks James and some of his friends might have beaten a boy over Millwood way. A few nights ago. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Dylan sensed he should say more, but he didn’t trust all his thoughts just yet. They seemed to be running in different directions. He wanted to blame his father for coming home and upsetting the ways things were. But James had been angry for longer than just the time Sam had been back. Maybe it had to do with when Nana had told them their mom had passed. Maybe before that.
His father said, almost to himself, “James doesn’t act like he has the sense to know when to lay low. I don’t know this girl of his, but I hear she’s nice. And if he’d just keep his nose clean, he might have some money coming his way from Mr. Thompson’s.”
Dylan nodded, not knowing what to say.
“Lacking the good sense God gave a woodchuck.” Sam smiled without humor. “Remind you of anyone you’ve ever known? Apples don’t fall far from the tree.”
Dylan colored. Sometimes he felt like his father was more honest than was fitting.
Dylan started to rise. “Um, is there anything else?”
His dad looked at Dylan, seemed to ponder something for a moment, and reached over to pat Dylan’s knee. “I don’t want to worry you. Boys will be boys sometimes. If you ever, you know, just want to talk…” Sam’s voice trailed off.
Dylan paused, and turned back to his father. “James can be kind of, I don’t know, moody. But I know he would never beat up some kid just for fun.”
His dad looked up at Dylan over steepled fingers. “I hope you’re right. What makes you say so?”
Dylan thought for a moment. “Because he’s a good fighter. Really good. And he knows it. Most times, guys like that don’t need to prove something. And they don’t just go beating up folks.”
Sam nodded slowly. “I hadn’t considered that,” he said.
13 / Moon Launch
James eased the screen door closed behind him, lifting up the handle to silence the grate of jamb on door edge. The house felt occupied, but not warm. Am I already a visitor here? A distant relative, like—well, like his father was at the beginning of this summer? He felt the tension engulf him. If only… James felt a tiredness he had seldom known. It wasn’t just that dawn was minutes beyond the edge of the horizon. His head swirled with the new plan. Who was he kidding? There hadn’t been an old plan. Just some vague idea about getting out of Crane Ridge, probably by hitchhiking.
Now, the girl he’d thought of mostly for her ability to arouse his passion had pushed him to really look at his life—and admit that he didn’t have a clue. They had not been able to meet often in the last couple of weeks, but each time they did, he felt drained.
Prompt on the heels of her critique of his non-existent plan, she constructed a scheme that left him feeling queasy. One thing was sure. If there were some obstacle to leaving Crane Ridge, it would not be Anne’s ability to think ahead and to make some hard decisions.
“A body doesn’t just walk off into the sunset. That’s ridiculous. We have to have a car.” Anne spoke the last part almost to herself, her soft words mixing with the humming of crickets in the darkness.
The quarter moon shone milk-pale across the river. Anne leaned back thoughtful against James. When the crowd had dispersed last week after the Fourth of July fireworks, Anne and James had cut across the sea of departing townspeople to stand on the edge of the river. The crowd had thinned to a trickle. Officer Munro passed by on foot for the umpteenth time, looking harried and official. They had spread the blanket down on the bank beside the river, and sat motionless, comfortable in the silence, as the crowd’s chatter transitioned to the sounds of summer when the town slept.
Anne had turned to search the darkness, and spoke in a low voice. “Jimmy, I have to get home soon, or daddy will wonder. He already thinks you and I…” James had been watching the water gurgle by, but he looked up at Anne.
“Anyway, we have to talk. A week from tonight, here. Do you have that much time before they...?”
James shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. My father said maybe they’ll have to talk to Scooter, and he’s visiting relatives with his dad ‘til Friday.”
“I’m worried my father will get suspicious, but if I tell him far enough in advance…” Her voice trailed off.
“Tell him what?”
“Leave that to me. I have an idea.” James nodded. He was beginning to suspect Anne had lots of those.
Now in the noisy stillness of the deepening night, James sat enthralled as Anne laid out her plan to leave Crane Ridge—prepared to ensure they were well away before any alarm was sounded.
When she asked about Father Mullenix’s Plymouth, at first James thought she had changed the subject. Sure, he did chores around the rectory. Though Nana didn’t think much of the good Father, he had always gotten along with the priest. That’s why the idea of stealing the pastor’s car was so shocking. While James had a reputation as a hell raiser, he usually went out of his way to play by the golden rule.
“This is our chance,” said Anne. “Maybe our only chance. It only gives us a start. When we can, we can arrange to get the car back, and… fix the rest of it.”
“I still don’t like it,” said James.
“It’s the only car you’ve ever driven. What we need more than anything is a head start. Time.”
Once again, James felt his smoldering anger at his father. This all was his doing. James wouldn’t be in this mess if Sam had just stayed gone. Stayed dead, really. That was the way James had come to view Sam. Lost at sea, or killed in a war far off. He had still burned with humiliation when Scooter had challenged him a few days after Sam’s return. “Thought you said the old man was croaked!” Scooter had shoved his face in James’s, in what passed for a grin.
Anne stroked his shoulder. “We have a chance to be together. But not here. Not in Crane Ridge. Is there anything we forgot? I won’t be able to talk to you again before we leave.”
“I hate
