Summer Camp Adventure (7 page)

T
he next morning in the cafeteria, Skye and Morgan monitored their girls at the Five Ferns table. Caleb had just gotten Morgan her tray and was sitting beside her. Skye sat down at the other end of the table and searched the room, looking for a certain blond young man. At a corner table Chad and Linda sat together, laughing up a storm. Skye just smiled.

At the doorway Tim’s boys came in and headed toward the breakfast line. Skye noticed that worry shrouded Tim’s face. After he scanned the room, he rushed toward her table.

“Skye, have you seen Jonathan?” His voice conveyed raw panic.

“No,” she said, confused. “I only see him this time of the day when he comes in here with your group. And besides, I’m not working with him anymore. At least, not for the time being.” She too quickly scanned the room.

Tim’s rambling words betrayed his growing concern. “I thought maybe he had come in here ahead of our scheduled time. When I woke the boys up this morning, his bed was empty. I thought he was in the bathroom. I
know now that I should have checked. I got so busy I for got about him. Later, after everybody was dressed, I lined up the boys to bring them for breakfast, but he wasn’t there. I checked the bathroom then, but he wasn’t there either. Now I’m really worried.”

“It sounds to me like he might be pulling one of his neat little bathroom tricks again,” Skye said confidently.

“What do you mean?” Tim asked.

“He sits on top of the toilet against the wall and pulls his feet up. Then you can’t see if he’s in any of the stalls.” Skye stood, directing her words to Morgan. “I’ve got to see if Jonathan’s up in his cabin. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Tim asked.

“Nah,” Skye said, already heading toward the door. “You get your boys settled. They need you. I’ll find Jonathan.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said, “our girls are already settled. We’ll be cool, won’t we, girls?”

“Yeah, cool,” they said, one after another.

Skye hurried out of the mess hall and ran past the barn to the boys’ cabins all facing the pool. Rushing into Tim’s cabin, she headed straight to the bathroom. Quickly she went to three stalls and pushed on the doors, fully expecting one to be locked. But all three doors swung open freely.

In a heartbeat, the panic she had seen on Tim’s face raced through her veins like a charge of electricity.

She ran back to the cafeteria where Tim and Mr. Wheaten stood talking near the food line. As soon as Skye hurried in, their anxious looks turned in her direction.

“He’s not there!” Skye said when she joined them.

“Now where could that boy be?” Mr. Wheaten raised his hat and scratched his head. “He seemed all right when we talked to him yesterday.” He glanced at Skye. “All I wanted him to do was apologize to you some time today. That didn’t seem to bother him much at all.”

“Yeah,” Tim added, “and you certainly weren’t mean to him, Mr. Wheaten. But remember, all Jonathan kept saying was ‘Okay.’ Maybe he didn’t really understand what we wanted him to do.”

“It’s awfully hard to tell what a deaf kid really understands,” Skye said. “They nod their heads ‘yes’ all the time, even when they don’t have a clue what we’re talking about. They really have it rough.”

Mr. Wheaten squared his hat on his head and took a deep breath. “Well, we’ve got to find him—and now!” He walked to the sound system and picked up the microphone. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention?”

The room settled to not even a whisper.

Mr. Wheaten continued. “Jonathan Martin did not come in here with his cabin. Has anyone seen him this morning?”

“No!” echoed across the room. Dozens of campers shook their heads.

“All right then,” Mr. Wheaten said. “I’m going to check with the sick bay and the maintenance crew. Maybe somebody has seen him wandering around. If not, staff and volunteers, we need to put Emergency Plan A into action. You who are members of the search team, please meet me in my office in ten minutes.” He placed the microphone down and hurried outside.

As instructed, in ten minutes the search team assembled at Mr. Wheaten’s desk. Skye, Chad, Linda, and Tim were among the eight who eagerly awaited the next orders.

Mr. Wheaten stood under his steer horns with worry plastered all over his face. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, has seen Jonathan today. I want you people to scour these grounds. Leave no rock unturned. And look up in every tree. Kids his size love to climb trees! Linda, you take the swimming pool, slide, and pond area. Tim, you check all the cabins, boys’ and girls’, and the picnic area. Chad, take an ATV and go down to the lower east end
of the camp. Check the playing fields, including all the equipment, and then search the perimeter of the whole camp. It’s gonna take you a while to cover ten acres, but take your time and be thorough. Skye, I want you to check the corral area and barn, including the tack room and hayloft. The rest of you come with me. I’ll take you by truck to the outskirts of the camp. We’ll check each hiking trail leading away from the camp for half a mile or so. I sure hope he hasn’t wandered off into the woods. It’ll be like searching for a penny in a copper mine.”

“What’ll we do if we find him?” Chad asked.

“Bring him right back here, even if you have to drag him.” Mr. Wheaten raised his finger emphatically. “This is no joke, even if he thinks it’s funny. We’ll all meet back here in an hour, with or without him. Oh, and before you all go, let’s have a word of prayer.”

After Mr. Wheaten prayed for the searchers and Jonathan, everyone left the office in a rush.

Skye hurried across the street toward the barn. Sliding the door open, she went inside. First, she checked the hay bales on ground level where twice in as many weeks Jonathan had hidden to pout.

No Jonathan.

She ran to the large tack room at the other end of the barn, searching under and behind barrels, saddles, blankets, and anything large enough to hide a skinny little kid.

No Jonathan.

She ran up the stairs to the hayloft where she looked behind hundreds of bales stacked like gigantic blocks.

No Jonathan.

Down the stairs she flew. She searched every stall on both sides of the long corridor. She glanced at her watch. An hour had just about passed.

“Champ,” she said when she got to her horse’s stall, “I have no time to socialize right now. Jonathan’s on the run—again!”

Champ nickered and nodded as Skye hurried past. She finished checking the rest of the stalls and headed toward the sliding door.

Wait!
Skye stopped dead in her tracks.

“That last stall is Buddy’s stall!” she said. “And it’s empty!”

She hurried back and leaned over the Dutch door, scanning the stall like Buddy just
had
to be in it. A layer of straw bedding and one pile of horse manure were all she saw.

Rushing in, she bent down and touched a lump of manure. Cold and dry. “That means he hasn’t been in here for hours!” she told herself.

She darted out of the stall and ran back down the long corridor. Stopping at the doorway of the tack room, she zeroed in on the far left corner, at the brace and hook where Buddy’s saddle and bridle belonged.

Empty!

“Oh, no!” Skye yelled. “That means—he’s ridden off the campgrounds!”

At 10:00 a.m., Skye sat on Champ outside the barn. Mr. Wheaten and four other staff members were sitting on horseback as well. Every rider held an open map. All the saddles had been equipped with a canteen of water, a first-aid kit, and a blanket rolled up on the back. From each rider’s belt, a cell phone dangled from one side and a megaphone from the other. Mr. Wheaten was giving last-minute instructions to the search team.

“Our job is to comb this immediate area,” he said, his voice ladened with stress. “Caleb and two other men are already searching the main highway and the woods on the other side of the road. I’ve notified the Shamokin Park Rangers, and four of them have started to search
their six hundred acres on ATVs. It’s up to us to cover the north, south, and east woods adjoining the camp. Thank goodness we have blue skies. That will make the job much easier.”

“Do we have to stay in pairs?” Tim asked.

Skye and Chad exchanged smiles.

“Yes, safety first!” Mr. Wheaten answered. “Besides, if Jonathan is hurt, he’ll need all the help he can get. Any other questions before we head out?”

“What about wild animals?” An anxious look swept over Chad’s face. “I mean, could Jonathan be in any danger?”

Mr. Wheaten squared his hat and forced a smile that belied the worry eating away inside. “Bear and cougar have been sighted in these woods. So, yes, I would say there is some concern. However, as long as they’re not provoked, they’d probably run in the opposite direction from any human. Also, the tweeter on your megaphones will do a number on any animal. Set that high-pitched noise off, and they’ll hightail it into the next county. Don’t forget, that whistle will bring Buddy right to you if he’s within hearing range.”

Skye squared her own Stetson and stroked Champ’s neck. “What if we don’t find him? You said yourself that there are hundreds of acres to cover and dozens of hiking trails.”

“We have to find him,” Mr. Wheaten declared, “and God will help us. I’ve already notified the state police, and if we don’t find the boy by nightfall, they’ll activate a missing persons APB at daybreak. In addition to an army of volunteers from nearby towns, the police will use their own search teams and helicopter as well.”

“What about Jonathan’s parents?” another rider asked. “Do they know?”

“I called them about an hour ago,” Mr. Wheaten said. “Of course, they’re frantic. They should arrive here some
time in the late afternoon. I only hope by then Jonathan can greet them.”

“Mr. Wheaten,” Skye asked, “can we pray before we start?”

“By all means, little lady,” he answered. “God knows exactly where Jonathan and Buddy are.”

Mr. Wheaten prayed. Tugging the brim of his hat down, he said, “Remember, stay together, and don’t get lost yourselves. Use your cell phones to keep in touch with one another. If you see any signs that Jonathan has been where you are, let us know. And Skye and Chad, you’ve got a tough job. Along the stream to Oneega Falls, at least a dozen trails shoot off from the main one. The dampness from the stream makes the footing treacherous, even for the horses. Be very careful. Any other questions?”

“No,” everyone responded.

“Then let’s synchronize our watches,” Mr. Wheaten said, glancing at his. “It’s ten fifteen. We’ll meet back here in five hours. Let’s move out.”

F
ive hours later, Skye and Chad joined Tim and the rest of the search team back at the barn. No one had seen a trace of Jonathan. The riders dismounted with heads hung low. Hardly a word was spoken.

Despite her love for riding, Skye was glad to slip off Champ’s back. Her body ached, and she was sure her legs would stay bowed forever. A lather of sweat coated Champ as he huffed from his grueling hike. Skye petted his dilating nose and kissed him on his sweaty cheek. “Good boy, Champ,” she said. “You get double oats for supper tonight.”

Lined up at the corral fence, a new team of six staff members sat on fresh horses. After Skye, Chad, and Tim relinquished their equipment, they joined the rest of their team in the corral to cool down the horses. Mr. Wheaten started to address the fresh riders, ready to search until dark.

“And remember,” he said, his exhausted voice wavering, “start heading back here by eight o’clock. I don’t want anyone else lost in the woods. One is bad enough!”

“Mr. Wheaten!” Skye heard his secretary yell from the doorway of the office across the street. “The Martins are here!”

“Be right there!” he yelled back.

“I’m certainly glad I am not Mr. Wheaten,” Skye said to Chad and Tim as they walked their horses. “How do you tell people that their son is lost in hundreds of acres of woods?”

“That is a tough one,” Chad said. “There’s no easy way to say it. He sure needs our prayers right about now.”

“Especially since it wasn’t his fault. I feel like it’s my fault all the way around. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with that kid. It’s my fault. I know it is.”

“Skye, it’s nobody’s fault but Jonathan’s,” Tim said. “He just needs—well—he needs a lot of love and understanding, but he also has to learn that he can’t have his own way all the time. You were only trying to teach him what is right. Now don’t feel so bad.”

“Skye and Tim!” Mr. Wheaten yelled as the fresh team started moving out. “Would you please come with me? You can explain Jonathan’s behavior over the last two weeks and what led up to his running away.”

“Oh, no,” Skye said to Chad. “It looks like I
am
gonna find out what it’s like to be Mr. Wheaten.”

“I think right now all he needs is some moral support,” Chad said. “Give me Champ. I’ll finish cooling him down. You’ll do fine.”

“Thanks, Chad,” Skye said, handing him the reins. “I just can’t imagine what those parents must be going through.”

Skye and Tim joined Mr. Wheaten, and the three headed toward the office. Mr. Wheaten walked at an obvious slow pace. He squared his hat, tugging it down as though he were in a slow-motion film. His tired face said it all. He dreaded the next few moments.

For once, Skye found it easy to keep up with Mr. Wheaten’s stride. Was it because he walked so slowly or because her heart was pounding like a drum?

What can we possibly say to make Jonathan’s par ents feel better?
Skye pondered.
Nothing
, she concluded.
Nothing at all
.

Inside, Mr. Wheaten made awkward introductions through a veil of fake smiles, and everyone sat in a semi circle in front of his desk. In no mood to flip his Stetson onto the horn, Mr. Wheaten dropped his hat on top of a pile of papers and flopped into his chair.

Skye’s glance darted around the room, focusing at last on Mr. and Mrs. Martin. The woman’s puffy and blood shot eyes exuded pain from her round face, but the man’s thin frame and balding head were fixed in a demeanor of cool indifference. The obvious tension between the two chilled the whole room.

Mr. Wheaten began. “Folks, I’m not going to start by making excuses. We’re just awfully sorry this happened. But I promise you, we will find him. We have a search team out there right now.”

Tears trickled down from Mrs. Martin’s red eyes. “But how could this happen? Don’t your people watch these children all the time?”

Mr. Wheaten pointed at Tim. “Tim was the last one to see Jonathan, last night.”

Tim nodded at the Martins. “When lights went out at 10:00 p.m., Jonathan was in his bed. I made two more checks, at one and at four. He was in bed then too.”

“We figure Jonathan must have slipped out around six, saddled his horse, and then took off before anyone saw him,” Mr. Wheaten said. “I assure you, this has never happened before. I’m sorry to have to say this, but Jonathan has not been very cooperative.”

Skye crossed her legs and tried to relax, but her voice squeaked with stress. “I’ve been working with Jonathan for
two weeks, and he just wouldn’t listen. Everything I tried to show him in the riding corral, he did the opposite.”

“You’re telling me!” Mr. Martin said. “He won’t listen to a thing I say to him.”

Mrs. Martin dabbed a tissue at her cheeks and looked straight ahead, almost away from her husband. “Maybe that’s because you don’t talk to him. You’ve never even learned sign language. How do you think that makes Jonathan feel?”

“I don’t need to know sign language. You can do all that. I’m his father, and all I need to do is provide for the boy. And I have done that above and beyond the call of duty. He has everything a kid his age would want.”

Mr. Wheaten leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. “Mr. Martin, your son is a troubled child, but not because he’s deaf. He needs you. He needs you to love and understand him.”

“I do,” Mr. Martin said unconvincingly.

Mrs. Martin turned and stared her husband square in the eye. “Oh, really? So you love and understand him? When’s the last time you took him on a trip—or to a park? You’ve never even taken him for an ice-cream cone. He’s your son too!”

Mr. Martin’s face turned bright red. He pursed his lips, ready to lash out at his wife. Instead, he stood abruptly and walked around to the back of his chair, then leaned on it. “Maybe that’s because you never let him out of your sight,” he said sternly. “It’s a miracle you ever agreed to send him to school or away to this camp for the summer.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Martin—please!” Mr. Wheaten said. “Your child is lost out there in the woods. This is no time to be airing family differences. We all need to band together for Jonathan.”

As Skye sat staring at these two people doing battle, her heart sank to the bottoms of her feet.
Their son is
missing
, she thought as her eyes flooded with tears,
and all they can do is fight? They could have so much more. I must tell them
.

“Mr. Wheaten”—Skye raised her finger—“could I please say something?”

“Sure, little lady,” Mr. Wheaten said, sliding back into his chair and folding his arms. “Go right ahead.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Martin, it’s very clear that you’re not together at all on how to help Jonathan. I think that’s what’s bothering him. He can’t hear what you’re saying at home, but he sure can see your faces and how you act toward each other. He probably thinks it’s all his fault.”

Mr. Martin’s face reddened again. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of his chair tighter. “Young lady, I don’t believe that’s any concern of yours.”

“Oh, but Skye knows where she’s comin’ from,” Mr. Wheaten said. “She’s been through an awful lot in her thirteen years.”

Tim leaned forward in his chair. “Yeah, I think she really knows how Jonathan feels.”

“How can she know?” Mr. Martin said in a sarcastic tone. “She’s not deaf!”

“No,” Skye said, “but I’ve been in at least a dozen foster homes, and I think I know where Jonathan’s coming from. Some foster parents gave me all kinds of things, but they never gave me the love I wanted—needed. In a few other foster homes, I just felt like I was in the way. All I wanted to do was run.”

“But then she met Tom and Eileen Chambers, her foster parents now,” Mr. Wheaten said.

“And I also met Christ,” Skye said, her teary eyes darting back and forth between the Martins. “When Mom and Dad Chambers shared the love of God with me, it changed me. I don’t want to run anymore. Have you shared the love of God with your son?”

Silence.

Tears trickled down Mrs. Martin’s face. She hung her head and dabbed at her eyes and nose.

Skye looked at Mr. Martin, who was staring back as though someone had just punched him in the nose. In deep thought, he slowly sat down next to his wife. He looked at Skye, his eyes turning red and watery. “No, I haven’t,” he whispered. “I haven’t shared much of anything with my son, least of all God or myself.”

“Well, folks,” Mr. Wheaten said, “we’re trusting in God that it’s not too late, for your son or you. Somewhere out there is a mighty lonely little kid. He needs you two, now more than ever. He needs undivided attention from you, sir, and discipline from you, ma’am. Together, you and God can turn this boy around.”

Mr. Martin turned to his wife. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“I am too,” Mrs. Martin said, sobbing. “I hope it’s not too late.”

Standing, Mr. Wheaten picked up the phone. “Let’s get you two settled in one of our guesthouses. But before we do, let’s have a word of prayer. God
is
in charge over this whole situation, and he can make it right.”

Mr. Martin wiped the corners of his eyes like he was flicking away dirt. “I don’t know why it took me so long to realize how I had hurt my boy. Thanks, Skye, for sharing your story. If God gives me another chance with my son, things will be different.” With a smile, he reached toward Skye and warmly shook her hand.

Mrs. Martin looked up, tears streaming down her face. “Things will be different with me too.” Reaching over toward her husband, she smiled and grasped his open hand.