“No thanks to you,” Bill said dryly.
Russell grabbed Bill’s arm. “Did he say what happened?”
Bill drew his arm from Russell’s grasp. “Just that you fell asleep and he wandered off into the woods.” He looked at Russell sternly. “I wanted to hold you for kidnapping, but Kate wants me to let you go.”
“As long as Jesse’s all right,” Russell said softly.
The blow came from out of nowhere, and he felt his stomach cave in around Bill’s clenched fist.
“Don’t come back here,” Bill warned. “Ever.”
Owen kept his eyes on Jacob as he dropped the coins into the diner’s only pay phone. He was sitting alone in the booth, staring out at the desert, his eyes curiously lightless, his body as motionless as if he were already dead.
“Marty, we should be there by tonight,” he said.
Marty’s voice was strained. “Your wife called,” he said. “She told me Sam had gotten hurt and she needed to know where you were.”
“And you told her?”
“I thought she needed to…”
“Listen to me,” Owen snarled. “Get over to my house and see if the kids are okay. If they are, start shopping for a very warm jacket.”
He slammed the phone into its cradle and strode back to the booth.
Jacob was still staring out the diner window, the hamburger and fries untouched on his plate.
“You should eat something,” Owen told him. “You’re going to need your strength.”
Jacob slowly turned his eyes on Owen. “Mr. Crawford,” he said. “Look at me.”
Seconds later, Jacob could still hear the man screaming as he left the diner and began to make his way back home. He knew the man in the diner would never look for him again, never want to look in his eyes, see what he had seen there. One thing was certain, he was safe from Owen Crawford, and he always would be.
And so he walked determinedly along the side of the road until, later that afternoon, he saw his brother’s car slow as it approached him, then Becky’s welcoming smile.
“Oh, Jacob,” she said and she rushed toward him. “We were so worried.”
It was night before they reached Lubbock. Sally rushed out of the house and gathered Jacob into her arms, kissed him over and over, holding him tightly all the while. Then released him and told him to go inside.
He did as he was told, but even from inside the house he could hear his mother’s frantic whisper.
“Jacob can’t stay here,” she told Tom desperately. “I want him to go to that school.”
Tom nodded. “All right,” he said.
She walked back into the house, took Jacob by the hand and led him back out to where Tom and Becky waited by the car.
“You have to go, Jacob,” she said. She opened the door of Tom’s car and ushered him inside.
“I want you to have this,” she told him. She placed the lone star pendant around his neck. “Keep this safe for me, will you?” She touched his hair. “Will you think about me once in a while?”
He saw how much she loved him, and with what cost she was giving him up. Very slowly, a smile broke over his face. “Every day and twice on Sundays,” he said.
The driver pulled over and Russell gathered up his duffel bag.
“You sure you want to be dumped off like this?” the driver asked. “All you can see out here is the stars.”
“That’s the idea,” Russell said as he opened the door and stepped out into the night.
He walked away from the truck without looking back, turned off the road and headed out into an open field. He lowered the duffel bag, opened it and drew out a sextant and his topographical map. Then he spread the map out across the ground, plotting a course, then another and another, his rage building with each failed attempt until there was nothing left but rage, and he stood up and faced the sky, his head raised defiantly. “Take me,” he cried. “Take me, but leave my son alone.”
PART THREE. High Hopes
Chapter One
As he made his way to home plate, Jacob Clarke knew what the other kids were thinking, that he was an easy strikeout.
He picked up the bat. It felt tremendously heavy in his hands, as if it were made of steel. He placed the bat on his shoulder and looked at the pitcher. For a moment he felt too weak to swing, his pale fingers barely able to hold the bat in place.
“You all right?” the coach asked.
Jacob nodded.
The pitcher wound up and threw a fastball. Jacob watched the ball whiz past him. He didn’t move.
Strike.
A second ball cut past him in a straight line across his chest.
Strike two.
Jacob noted the cocky smile on the catchers face. He squinted slightly, focusing his concentration, stared the pitcher right in the eye, and for an instant, the pitcher seemed captured in his gaze.
The ball came hurtling toward home plate and Jacob felt a terrible strength gather in his arms. He swung hard and fast, the bat cracking loudly as it connected to the ball.
Kids were yelling at him madly now, but their voices were distant, and he stood in place, unable to move as the ball lifted in a wide arc over the field, soaring higher and higher, the earth tilting oddly as it rose… or so it seemed to Jacob as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. The next thing he knew, he was in the school infirmary, lying on a hospital bed, light streaming through the window, bright and engulfing, but a different light than the one before, mere ordinary sunlight rather than… some other kind.
“Jacob, do you know who I am?”
Jacob opened his eyes to see a man standing before him. He was dressed like a doctor, but his eyes were black pools, intense and unlighted.
“You have certain capabilities, Jacob,” the man said. “But you shouldn’t use them again. They’re making you weak.”
“I’m sorry,” Jacob whispered.
“We’ll find another way,” the man told him.
As if on command, Jacob closed his eyes.
“Jack! Jack!”
Jacob opened his eyes, and everything had changed. Time had gone by. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps an age. Now a different doctor was at his side, with different eyes, soft and full of care.
“I’m Dr. Benson. I’m sorry it took so long to get to you.” He smiled warmly. “Now, let’s take a look at you,” he said.
