Boy in the Shadows

Chapter Ten

“I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing


With a broken heart that's still beating


In the pain there is healing


In your name there is meaning


So I'm holdin' on...barely holdin' on to you.”





- Broken, LIFEHOUSE

“About nineteen or twenty, five-ten, five-eleven. Golden blond hair. He's wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Backpack.”


         A solid heartbeat thumped in the center of Adam's forehead. The gas station attendant was in his late thirties with stringy black hair that had a shine to it as if he'd raked greasy fingers through it. A few days worth of beard stubble riddled his jaw and face. He stared down at the ground as he wiped his hands with a grease rag that was more grease than rag.


         “Well.” He rubbed his chin, leaving a smudge of black grease behind. “I can't rightly say if he's been through here, but I've been stuck under a rig till about an hour ago.” He shrugged and looked at Adam with heavy eyes. “He could'a walked right through and I wouldn't of seen him.” He sniffed and raked the back of his hand across his nose then nodded at the building across the street. “Bus came through about an hour ago, just as I was finishing up. Maybe he took it.”


         Adam looked across the street. On the side of the building was a metal Greyhound sign. Could Sam have opted for the bus? If so...would he go home to Braden? Or somewhere else, somewhere Adam would never find him?


         “Thank you.” Adam offered the man and returned to his pickup. He slid in behind the wheel and just sat there, staring at the bus sign across the street. Anxiety twisted his gut. Sam's trail seemed to be growing colder by the moment. He reached in his pocket and took out the empty prescription bottle, held it in his fingertips and stared at the label, reading it over and over. Again, his heartbeat quickened and his head began to pound. He didn't know if the picture forming in his head was the right one...and he didn't know how to feel about it if it was.


         Just let me go, Adam...I'm not the one...I can't be.


         If Adam was putting this together right...then everything that Sam had said to him, everything that had seemed to make no sense...suddenly became rational. Sam's fears were warranted and he now understood why the kid had resisted so hard and finally ran. Had Adam been in his place...wouldn't he have done the same?


         “Sam.” Adam whispered tightly. He stuffed the bottle back in his pocket and started the truck. He drove across the street to the bus stop, but that's all it was – a bus stop. There was no office, no one to ask where the bus was headed.


         Driving home made Adam feel like he was giving up. And he wondered if some part of him was. Finding out what might be wrong with Sam hadn't changed his feelings for the kid on the surface, in his conscious mind...but what about underneath? Subconsciously? Was there a part of him that proved Sam right? And was it that part that was telling him to go home? Would he tell himself that he tried his best to find Sam but the kid was just gone, and leave it at that? Not try anymore...because deep down he didn't really want Sam back?


         Tears were streaming down his face as the questions spun and swirled inside his head, torturing him. Could his love for Sam just turn itself off so suddenly after he'd swore to the kid that nothing could make him stop loving him? Was he any better than Jase?


         Jase.


         Adam's brow tightened as he recalled what little Sam had told him about Jase. But there were pieces of that story that were suddenly looking different in Adam's newfound enlightenment. And if he was on point...then he could only imagine Jase's severe reaction to Sam's revelation. A guy that age, that certain about his love and relationship with Sam...he wouldn't know how to deal with it. And in turn damage Sam on such a deep emotional, mental level that the kid couldn't bring himself to fully trust another man's love again.


         Couldn't make himself believe someone could simply love him as is.


         Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Adam tried to swallow the lump in his throat choking him. Driving home didn't mean he'd given up. It didn't mean he would stop looking for Sam. He just had to re-group, think about it all and figure out what to do next. But most of all, he had to know what he would say to Sam when he found him. And he couldn't falter, or hesitate, or show the slightest uncertainty. These were the things Sam would be on the look out for and he would spot them a mile away.


         And the instant he saw Adam hesitate...he would be gone.


         Lost to Adam forever.











The knock at the door came at noon and was like a dagger stabbing through his heart.


         The fear that gripped him now had steadily become more and more of a constant companion over the last two to three years. It seemed every second of every day and night, he waited for the fateful call. Or the knock at his door, the other side of which would be standing the cops, telling him the news that would cripple his mind, crush his heart and in so many ways...end his life.


         He rose slowly from the sofa on unsteady legs. The thought of answering the door terrified him. Was his own personal living hell waiting for him there? His steps were slow, resistant. Fear twisted his guts so fiercely he wanted to puke.


         Another knock and it felt like a sledge hammer to his stomach.


         Please, God...I can't handle this. You know I can't. Don't take him away from me.


         He gripped the door handle, clutched it but for a moment couldn't bring himself to open the door. His eyes burned with unshed tears. Rational thoughts tried to regain control. It could be anyone outside his door. Why did he think it was a bearer of bad news? Why now?


         But he knew why the fear was so strong today.


         The fear was present because there had been no answer at the other end of the line. And there was always an answer. Until now.


         A cold sweat clutching him, Braden struggled to prepare himself for his worst nightmare...then opened the door.











The pitchfork stabbed into the pile of soiled hay. Adam gripped the handle with gloved hands and lifted a chunk into the wheel barrow. The metal pitchfork tines scraped across the edge of the wheelbarrow with a grating noise as Adam pulled it free and stabbed it back into the pile on the stall floor. He barely noticed the stench. His mind was far away from there, with Sam.


         Had Sam gone home to Braden? He prayed that was the case. He didn't want Sam out on the road alone. It didn't matter if the kid had spent most of the last two or three years on the road, Adam hadn't known him then. But he did now, and he wanted Sam to be safe. Always safe. And walking the roads alone was not safe.


         Adam finished loading the wheelbarrow with the soiled hay from the stall then wheeled it out into the narrow corridor. Across from him, Ariel nickered. Adam tugged off his gloves and walked over to her. He rubbed her face and ears.


         “I think I know why he left us, girl.” Adam murmured thickly. Every second, it seemed, he had to fight against the tears. It broke his heart that Sam had been so terrified to be honest with him, and yet...what would he have said? Would he have accepted the news without a hitch? Adam shook his head slowly and gazed at Ariel. “Maybe it's better this way.” He whispered through a thickening throat. “Maybe it's better he didn't tell me face to face. What if I had reacted in such a way that would've hurt him? I couldn't bear to hurt him like that.”


         The tears formed despite his resistance. “What do I do, Ariel?” He choked out softly and pressed his head to hers as the tears slid down his cheeks. “I love him. I do. None of this other matters. It doesn't. I just want to be with him.” Adam shuddered with sobs. “I just want him back.”


         Ariel nudged at him with her nose, prodding his pocket. His hand slid down so she could nuzzle his palm and see that there were no treats. His knuckles brushed against his leg and the cell phone tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. Using two fingers, he tugged the phone out and flipped it open, then stared at the picture of himself, encased in hearts. The ache gripping his heart and mind slid around him a little more and squeezed tighter.


         “Sam...” The ache inside him clenched his words, strained his voice. He didn't even have a picture of Sam. And now Sam didn't have this picture of him. He rubbed his eyes and wiped the tears from his face, then cleared his throat. “If you still had your phone...there would be nothing to figure out. You'd just be gone, without a trace.”


         The mare nudged his hand and Adam looked at her, frowning. “What?” He asked thickly. Fresh tears were filling up his eyes. “You think I should call? Well...easier said than done.” Adam shook his head and closed the phone, stuffing it back in his pocket. Maybe he was losing his mind. The mare wasn't 'telling' him anything. She was looking for treats, nothing more mysterious about that.


         Adam tugged his gloves back on and went back to work. It wasn't like he hadn't considered making the call a thousand times over since he realized Sam's trail had gone cold. But when Sam's brother answered...what would he say? If Sam hadn't gone to Braden's...would Adam's call only cause the man to worry that much more about his brother? Especially knowing he didn't have his phone with him? The phone had accumulated numerous voice mails by now and each one was from Braden. He was trying to get in touch with Sam. He had to be sick with worry that he couldn't reach him.


         Each time the phone went off, Adam contemplated answering it. But each time he just let it go to voice mail. He wished he knew the PIN. Maybe Braden's messages would give Adam a feel for the man, how to approach him about Sam.


         The calls were coming in fairly steady all night and that morning, but had suddenly stopped after about eleven-thirty. If Sam had caught the bus about eight or nine last night, surely he could've been there by now. Was that why Braden had stopped calling...because Sam was home with him?


         “Please, God.” Adam whispered. “Please let him be safe at his brother's place.”











Braden's heart shuddered and nearly stopped cold in his chest, then kicked into overdrive.


         “Sam.” He trembled, a dizzying rush of relief flooding over him at the sight of the young man standing at his door.


         Sam didn't speak, just stared back at him. His clear eyes resonated a pain unlike any Braden had ever seen in them before, then filled with tears and spilled down his cheeks. Braden's heart began to come apart inside him as he watched his little brother falling to pieces before his eyes.


         The pack slipped off Sam's shoulder like a burden. Braden grabbed him and pulled him into his arms, hugging him tight. Sam clung to him like his only lifeline and broke, his cries ripping through Braden and shredding his heart.


         “Oh Sam.” Braden whispered tightly, holding him in the security of his arms.


         The strength went out of Sam and the two sank to the floor, leaning against the door. Sam's fingers dug into Braden's back as he cried against his shoulder.


         Tears streaked Braden's face as he pressed his lips to Sam's hair. “It's okay, Sammy.” He choked out softly. “You're home now.” He stroked the kid's hair and kissed his head. “Everything is gonna be okay.”


         Sam clutched him in a death grip. “It hurts.” The force of his cries clenched his body and pressed him against Braden. “It hurts so much...make it stop...please make it stop.” He was shaking in Braden's tight embrace. “It hurts too much.” Sam choked on hard sobs as they burst


out of him. “I want to die...I don't want to hurt anymore...please...make it stop.”


         Braden buried his face in Sam's soft hair and cried with the boy, hugging him close and wishing with all his body, heart and soul he had the power to heal the pain tearing his brother apart. But all he could do was hold him tighter and promise him that everything would be okay.


         But would it ever really be okay for Sam?


         Braden knew what Sam needed, what would truly heal him. But Braden couldn't give it to him. His love might bring him a measure of comfort and safety...but it wouldn't heal him.


         Someone out there had somehow gotten to Sam, broken through the wall Sam had so carefully constructed around his heart. And now that wall was coming apart and crashing down hard, crushing Sam in the debris.


         Who are you? Braden wondered as he held his crying brother. How did you get in...and what did you do to him once you were there?


         Braden squeezed Sam in his arms as the young man's pain and anguish resonated out of him and into Braden.


         Did you even love Sam at all?











A very minimal amount of food had touched Adam's stomach since Sam had left, and it was groaning for sustenance. But the thought of eating made Adam queasy. Or maybe some of the queasiness was due to not eating. Either way, he bypassed the kitchen and walked down the hall. As he always did, he paused outside Sam's bedroom and just stood for a moment, staring at the empty bed. He could still see Sam laying there. Could still feel him in his arms as they laid on the bed together. Still taste his kiss.


         Nothing could make those memories go away, or sour them. Nothing.


         Adam sighed, rubbed his hand over his mouth and moved on down the hall.


         He tugged the phone from his pocket and sat on the end of the bed, turning it over and over in his hands. He caressed the smooth hard plastic casing with his thumbs, then pressed the phone to his lips and closed his eyes.


         Was he afraid to call because Sam might not be there?


         Or because he might be...and wouldn't want to have anything to do with Adam?


         Even if he could convince Sam to talk to him, what would he say? This wasn't something that could be discussed over the phone. And what if he was wrong? What if the conclusion he had arrived at...was desperately off the mark? After arriving home last night, he'd spent most of the remaining night on the internet, researching his theory. It all fit. Sam's actions, the things he'd said. Everything. All the pieces fit and fell into place, forming an all new picture that still looked the same, yet possessed more depth, more feeling.


         And now Adam didn't know how to let Sam know that it wasn't the canvas that made the painting, or even the colors of the paint...but the love and care of each brush stroke, the love and passion within the artist, the creator.


         Sam was God's unique work of art. Each stroke of the brush applied with care.


         He wasn't a mistake, or a creation gone wrong. He was the exact image God had been going for.


         Sam was perfect. Picture perfect.











Sam laid down on the twin size bed facing the wall, his back to Braden, and hugged his pillow tight. The tears wouldn't stop. His body trembled and shook beneath his sobs. It felt like someone had stabbed a jagged, rusty knife into his chest and was slowly twisting it back and forth. It hurt to think, to move, to breathe. It hurt to be alive.


         Braden sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Sam's shoulder, gently rubbing up and down his upper arm. Braden had always shared his pain, and he pitied him for that now more than ever. Sam didn't wish this pain on anyone, and especially not Braden. But when you loved someone...how could you not feel their pain? And Braden had always loved him, always stuck by him, took care of him...even when their parents turned their backs on Sam and forsook him.


         “Try to rest, Sammy.” Braden said softly, the pain inside him tightening his words. “We'll get through this. I promise.” He leaned over and kissed Sam's shoulder with affection. “You'll be okay, little brother. I know it hurts right now, but it won't hurt forever.”


         Braden stood to his feet and Sam could feel his eyes on him. He hadn't told Braden about Adam. Hadn't even spoken his name. He was afraid to. If he started talking about Adam, heard his name out loud...it would rip apart what little was left of his heart. Braden didn't have to know the details, and he wouldn't force Sam to tell him. He didn't know what Braden would think of Adam, but Sam had an idea. And if Braden began urging him to reconnect with Adam...he didn't know if he could fight it. Not when everything inside of him was crying and screaming for Adam, to be near him again, to feel his touch, to hear him say he loved him.


         Burying his face in his pillow, a strangled cry tore its way up Sam's throat. His arm wrapped around his waist and his body curled in on itself as his cries intensified, cutting off his air.


         God...just let me die...please let me die...it hurts too much...I can't do this...please...











At best, Adam forced down a half a can of peaches then returned to his room and laid on the bed. There was plenty more work he could be doing, that he should be doing, but it seemed his legs would barely carry him from one room to the next. He wanted to get out, do something, anything to distract his thoughts. But nothing worked. And now he just felt drained from thinking too much, worrying too much...missing Sam so damn much.


         His eyes closed and he let his thoughts go. He had tried to force himself not to think about Sam, not to dwell on the few memories he had of the kid. But he was too tired, too emotionally weak to fight it anymore.


         A strange kind of peace flowed through him as he let his mind replay every second from the moment he'd picked up Sam on the road. It was like watching a movie that had been previously viewed in another language, where the actor's words made no sense, and because their words couldn't be understood...their actions were puzzling and confusing. But now the movie was playing in a language he knew, and suddenly the story unfolding before him no longer confused him. And as he watched it play through his head...it didn't fill him uncertainties or make him wonder if he could take this road with Sam.


         Watching the replay of the events in a language he understood...it only made him love Sam that much more. Gave him insight into how much strength and resilience the kid truly possessed. The beauty he'd seen in Sam from the start only magnified and brightened in this new light.


         Adam loved Sam. And there wasn't so much as a shadow of doubt in his heart.


         His pulse racing and tears burning his eyes, Adam grabbed the cell phone off the stand next to the bed and flipped it open.


         He loved Sam. Loved him with everything he possessed inside. And he wouldn't give up.


         He wouldn't let him go without a fight.