Jared Matthews approached them, a young boy about eight with dark blond hair at his side. Jared nodded a greeting, his blue eyes warm with a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Kathleen. Your return has been all your family has talked about for weeks.” He took the seat next to Hannah, his son plopping down next to him with a pout on his face and his arms folded over his chest. “Thank goodness I found Terry in the nick of time.”
“What happened?” Kathleen asked, marveling at how much Jared’s son looked like him, except for the hair color.
“Let’s just say Terry was being a little too enthusiastic in showing his appreciation for his sister.”
“Dad, what did Terry do?” Exasperation laced each word.
“He was writing your name on the barrel in the playground.”
Terry leaned around his dad, sticking his tongue out at Hannah. “Yeah, with Dylan’s.”
“Dylan?” The girl’s face screwed up into a frown.
“I saw you two talking earlier.” Terry began to chant, “Hannah and Dylan sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First—”
“Dad!”
Everyone in the recreational hall heard Hannah’s protest. Kathleen noticed a few people shift their attention to the girl.
Jared’s face turned red for a few seconds, his eyes round. “We can always leave if you two don’t settle down.”
Kathleen was amazed by Jared’s calm tone. His quiet voice held a firmness, however, that promptly communicated his message to Terry and Hannah. Her sister had told her he was good with children. Kathleen had to agree. She wished she felt that way about her relationship with her son. There was a time when she and Mark had been extremely close. Now she found it hard even to carry on a conversation with him. What had happened these past six months to change everything? Was he just being a typical teenager?
“See why I sit between these two?” Jared said, catching her attention. “There are times I think they live to fight with each other.”
“You should have seen Laura and me when we were growing up. We used to drive our parents crazy.” The lights in the hall dimmed again. “Too bad they’re on vacation. They’ll hate missing my son’s performance. They haven’t seen him play in a while.”
“I didn’t realize he was one of the performers. This will be a treat for us.” Jared settled back to enjoy the show as the curtains opened on the first act.
Mark appeared on stage after the fifth act. Kathleen shifted in the seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. He sat on a stool in front of the mike and adjusted its height, then began to play the Beatles’ song, “Yesterday.” With his gaze fixed on the floor, he made it through the first verse with not one mistake. A constriction in Kathleen’s chest lessened as her son continued playing. Even though he didn’t look at the audience, she saw a glimpse of the old Mark on stage.
Halfway through the second verse Mark stopped playing and shot to his feet. He stared at the people at the back of the recreational hall, his posture ramrod straight as though he would break any second. Silence, thick and heavy, reigned. Transfixed, Kathleen held her breath.
Suddenly Mark raised his Les Paul guitar and smashed it against the floor. Once. Twice. Several people gasped. Mark tossed the fragments toward the back curtain, then spun about and raced from the stage.
Breathe, Kathleen’s mind commanded. She sucked in a deep gulp of air and nearly choked. Her heart pounded against her chest while she continued to draw air into her lungs between coughs. The empty stage and the unearthly silence hammered home what had just happened with her son.
Then all at once people began to talk around her, their voices bombarding her from every side. She had to get to Mark. Bolting to her feet, her chair toppling over, she hurried after her son, faintly aware someone was following her flight from the room.
She scanned the long hall leading to the classrooms. Nothing. The outside door beckoned. She moved toward it. Her sister called out.
Kathleen pivoted. “Please go reassure everyone. I can take care of finding Mark.”
Laura started to say something.
“I’m fine. I’m sure Mark raised a few eyebrows.”
Laura headed back into the recreational hall, leaving Kathleen alone in the lobby. She fought the desire to call her sister back, but Laura was very good at making a situation not seem so bad and she was sure many people had questions about what just happened. She had questions.
Kathleen pushed through the double doors. Heat still hung in the air. Bright oranges and reds streaked the sky, proclaiming a beautiful sunset. Kathleen turned away from its beauty and searched the parking lot. The beating of her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out all sounds of traffic on the road.
Where was Mark? She thought for sure he would be standing by their car. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. Panic gnawed at her insides. She remembered the time he had run away a few months back in Shreveport. It had only been for a day, but—
“Kathleen?”
A hand clasped her shoulder. She twisted about to find Jared Matthews standing right behind her. “I can’t find him!”
“I’ll help you look. He couldn’t have gone far. Maybe he’s still in the building.”
Stepping back, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I—” Words lumped in her throat. Tears misted her eyes, blurring her view of Jared.
He came to her side and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “It’ll be all right. I’ll look in the parking lot and that area beyond. You search the playground and garden. Okay?”
She brushed away a tear that slid down her cheek. “Yes.”
Kathleen hurried toward the playground, suddenly remembering the times her son used to love playing on a jungle gym or swinging on a swing as high as he could go. Years ago. Had she lost him? Why would he smash his Les Paul guitar? He loved it. It had been her son’s most prized possession, cherished even more because it was one of the last things his father had given him before he’d died. It had been John’s guitar when he was growing up.
A deserted playground greeted her. The wind stirred a flag but that was all that moved. When she started for the garden, she caught a glimpse of the barrel that Terry had written on. The sight of Hannah and Dylan’s names brought a faint smile to her mouth that hovered for a second then vanished. She pressed on, wishing she had the time for something frivolous.
In the middle of the garden of tall pine trees from past parishioners’ Christmases, Kathleen located Mark sitting on the ground, propped against a stone bench. He clasped his knees to his chest and stared, unblinking, at a spot a few feet from him.
“Mark?”
He didn’t move.
Kathleen knelt down in front of him and blocked his view, forcing him to look at her. “Mark, what happened back there?”
“I don’t want to play anymore.”
There
