Found and Lost by Amanda G. Stevens Read Free Book Online Page A

know now that usually she was stubborn about the right things. Especially you. She lost you for a few days, the Constabulary took you from your grandparents and she was very stubborn about getting you back. She loved you alot. When you weren’t there, her face was empty, and when she got you back her face filled back up.
    When she saw somebody hurt, she wanted to help them. She helped me a few times.
    She tried this crazy thing to trade herself for you, to save you from the Constabulary. She went through reeducation and knew how bad it was, but she would have went back if it would save you.
    A few other things, less important. She couldn’t flip eggs without breaking them. She liked to clean. She liked to read, and she thought it was really important that kids have books growing up. Maybe you’ll like to read once you learn how. That would have made her happy.
    She died because she wanted you to be safe. I think you were the most important thing in her whole life and she couldn’t lose you again or see you get hurt. She was a brave person and I wish she could see you grow up and you could know her.
    MB
    In the dim overhead light, Clay read the letter twice and tried to ignore his fingers’ itch for a red pen. His inner grammarian cringed, but the misused words weren’t important.
    Elliott was Aubrey Weston’s baby. So Aubrey Weston was dead.
    What the heck happened?
    Of course, he remembered Aubrey. Karlyn Cole’s best friend, a member of the Table for the first half of her pregnancy, until she somehow got herself arrested. Her fate was mostly alluded to at subsequent Table meetings, prayed for and discussed in the most abstract terms. Karlyn alone indulged in the grief. Everyone else seemed to slog through the same mire in which Clay found himself: relief that their first arrest casualty was someone else, guilt at the relief, and of course, fear. Always fear, but heightened now. If the Constabulary would prey on an unassuming pregnant girl, they’d not hesitate to grab a thirty-nine-year-old lit teacher who occasionally rode a yellow street bike to clandestine Christian gatherings.
    A month later, the fear began to go stale, and Aubrey returned, older behind the eyes, more swollen around the middle. And timid for the first time. After only a few meetings, she dropped off the edge of their little world. Each of them bore some fault for that. When Janelle and Abe questioned the wisdom of welcoming Aubrey back after a denial of faith—Janelle not waiting until Aubrey wasn’t around—Clay had tried to remain neutral. Maybe he should have joined Karlyn in fighting for Aubrey.
    How had she died?
    â€œMB” had to be Marcus. The next time Clay saw the man, he’d ask him.
    A second sheet of paper was folded against the letter. A birth certificate. For Elliott … Sobczek. Marcus must have gotten to know some shady people in the last few months.
    The Jeep’s automatic dome light shut off, encasing the garage in darkness. Light from a street lamp shone through the single window. Funny that no one in the house had opened the door. Maybe they hadn’t seen or heard Clay pull in. He retrieved his fugitive’s diaper bag, then the slumbering fugitive himself, and stepped up to rap on the screen door’s wooden frame.
    The door on the other side swung inward to flood the garage with light. Small brown moths fluttered toward the screen door, collided with it, and hung there. A man pushed it open and swiped at the light switch on the wall.
    Two long fluorescent fixtures hung from the rafters with fine chains. They flickered on and buzzed above Clay.
    â€œHere he is,” the man said. Eyes level with Clay’s through bifocals, he stared down at Elliott. He held the door open with one outstretched arm but didn’t motion Clay inside.
    Protocol did not exist for this situation. Clay lifted the baby carrier into his arms and held it out like a postal delivery. Just