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“Did he...did he look okay?”
The long-retired minister and she had been neighbors for years, ever since she and the kids had moved here after Jason died, and he knew Adam very well.
His faded blue eyes filled with sympathy. “He came at dusk, so I didn’t see much. But he did seem...well, agitated. I tried to call you then, too. Now I know why you didn’t call me back.”
Guilt and worry crowded out all other thoughts.Whyhad she ever left? Just to chase a foolish dream of finally seeing Hawaii?
“If you see anything again, please let me know.”
She took the plastic tub from Harry’s hands and set it on the oak settee by the door to paw through the contents. She held up a small box and could have wept with sheer relief. “It’s here! The phone came.”
“Good. It just started sleeting outside, so I’ll bring over your other boxes in the morning. Let me know if I can help with anything. Anything at all.”
Harry paused on his way out, his hand on the doorknob. “And let me know about your boy. I’ll sure be praying that everything is all right.”
She gave him a quick hug. “Thanks. You’re the best friend I’ve got.”
She took the plastic tub to her home office, fired up her desktop computer, then opened the cell phone box and read the directions on how to set up the new phone and access her phone directory.
While that was running, she checked through her email, looked through the rest of her snail mail, then sat back in her chair, her frustration growing.
Once her new cell phone was activated it began chiming over and over as texts poured in.
Nothing from Adam. Nothing from his closest friends letting her know something was wrong—which was a relief. None from a hospital. And none from the drug addiction center he’d been at more than once. So where could he be?
There were so many phone messages that the count had gone over the limit of what could be stored, and her heart sank as she scrolled through the final messages, listened, and deleted them. What had she missed?
She almost automatically hit the delete icon once again. Then froze, her fingertip hovering just above it. It was a message from a vaguely familiar number.
She’d never received a greater gift than the moment she heard his voice.
“Mom, I’m so sorry...I forgot where you went. But I need you...I was so bad I went to the emergency room. There was a lot of talk, then I got sent back to that addiction place again. Iwantedto go. Butplease come...”
Lucy sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.
He must have called from a phone at the facility. The last two times, they’d taken his cell phone away.
But he was safe. He was alive. And praise the Lord, he was back in the right place where he could be helped. If only he would stay this time and see it through.
If only he would stop pushing her away.
* * * *
SHE TRIED CALLING THEtreatment center twice, then paced the floor and tried again.
The evening staff person who finally answered the phone politely turned her away. “Privacy policy, ma’am. I can’t confirm whether your son is here or not unless he has signed a HIPAA waiver.”
“But he’s been in your facilitytwicebefore this.Therewasa signed waiver. Unless my son revoked it, it should be good indefinitely. Or has the law changed?”
“No, ma’am. The law has not changed.” There was a long pause. “If the person in question is here—and I am not saying he is or isn’t—then I can promise you that there’s no signed waiver in place.”
“He called and left a message for me, saying heisin your facility. Iknowhe is.” Lucy clenched her hand around her phone. “Can someone at leastaskhim about the waiver?Please?”
“All of our residents are asked that at admission.”
Lucy dropped into her desk chair and rested her forehead on her clenched fist. “When he isn’t doing well, he’s often angry and rebellious—especially toward me because I’ve tried so hard to help him. But in his message, hepleadedwith me to come. Please—just tell him I called.”
* * * *
