
Bruce Westburn had spent last night on Officer Leslieโs pull-out couch, not sleeping, but reading sheet music to stop the nightmares. When he pretended to wake up, Officer Leslie asked who else in Pleasantville he could stay with.
โPastor Al,โ Bruce said.
โHeโs a good man,โ Officer Leslie said, nodding. โHeโll know what to do. Only problem I can see is itโs Sunday morning, kiddo.โ
After Bruce packed his suitcase again, Officer Leslie gave him a bag of crullers and a quart of 2% milk. They drove past the stores and schools on Main Street. So far Bruce hated his freshman year, especially lunch period when he would get teased for being small, shy, and a stutterer of the letter โm.โ But he had a new plan. Heโd mastered every singing drill from the library books. Heโd practiced his favorite ballads. He felt ready for the Pleasantville Community Church choir auditions next week. Pastor Al can help me, Bruce thought. Heโs not just the choir director, heโs an awesome public speaker. If I can stay with him for a few days, Iโll learn so much.
Bruce had never been to the Pleasantville Highlands. The streets werenโt rectangular, and there was no through-traffic, but every property had a long driveway going over a creek of rocks and flowing water. On this sunny morning, men in baseball caps were mowing their big lawns, and women in yoga pants were powerwalking in pairs.
From a cream brick mansion with a white birch tree in front, a woman called down, whooping, โJeez, itโs been too long, Leslie!โ The woman had on a soft pink sleeveless blouse and white pants, with a little girl in tights and pigtails grabbing her leg from behind. โCome on up here!โ
Officer Leslie hollered back, โHow ya doing?โ She then told Bruce, โYou let me do the talking. If I can get them to take you in, Iโll find your mom. I promise.โ
Bruce was done talking. Heโd already been spoken to by his aunt, a homeroom teacher, even a child psychologist, but none of them were willing to talk about his mom leaving for ice cream last night and not returning.
As Officer Leslie and the woman did the usual chitchat, the little girl played in her jungle gym, and Bruce sat beside the raised firepit. A minute later, Vicky came outside in a white V-neck cami, cut-off blue jean shorts, and thong sandals. When bored in church, Bruce had decided, after much thought, that she was both the coolest and hottest girl in town.
And then, unabashedly, Bruce began eavesdropping. He didnโt hear Officer Leslie, but he could hear Vicky. At first, he loved her high-pitched laugh, making everyone smile. But after going on and on, Bruce began to resent her cackling, cackling, cackling, like a hyena.
Instantly something towering from behind cast a shadow over Bruce.
Pastor Al was six-foot-six and a former basketball star. He was sweating in a black button up, blue jeans, and gray gym shoes. He was handsome, but with a shave and buzzcut for his brown hair long overdue, his head looked like an oversized coconut.
Bruce sprang up. After putting down a canoe, Pastor Al gave him a subtle fist bump, like they were part of a special club.
โHey there!โ Officer Leslie said.
โHowโs it going, hon?โ Pastor Al replied with a confident baritone. He lumbered over and pulled Officer Leslie in for a big hug. Bruce noticed his commanding presence, even around a police officer.
โIโm not sure you heard,โ Officer Leslie said, โbut Bruce here needs some help, and you were the first person we thought of.โ
โOf course,โ Pastor Al said. โThatโs what Iโm here for.โ
Officer Leslie gave Bruce a slight push in the back and whispered, โNowโs your chance to talk to Vicky, all right?โ
Bruce got stuck while saying โmeet,โ and then panicked as he thought there was no other word to replace it. When Vicky pulled out her phone, Bruce returned to his chair.
โIโm looking into the boyโs father,โ Officer Leslie said. โHis name is Ray, different last name. Big fella. Hasnโt been in town for a long time. But last night, Ms. Thompkins thinks she saw his mom in the back of a brown van at the gas station on 53rd. Guess who used to have a brown van?โ
My father did, Bruce told himself. I know he did this. Heโs the only person in Pleasantville who would hurt Mom.
โOh no,โ Pastor Al said. โHas anyone found him?โ
โNot yet, but I will,โ Officer Leslie replied.
โIโll pray that you do. Such a cruel man from what I remember.โ
โThatโs why Iโm here, Al. I canโt go find anybody if I have to keep watching over the boy. So I figured, because his father wasnโt a churchgoing man, he wonโt suspect if the boy stays with you.โ
โSure,โ Pastor Al said immediately, as if heโd suspected this request all along. โWhatever you need.โ
โHoney,โ Pastor Alโs wife interrupted, โwe have to go now. That poor boy can come too. Service is starting soon.โ
โOh, itโs only a five-minute drive,โ Pastor Al said. โIโll catch up with you guys once I speak to him one-on-one.โ
โDonโt be late this time, Daddy,โ the little girl begged.
โNo, please do,โ Vicky said, โthat way we can actually sing something fun for once.โ
The whole family cackled.
After a long goodbye to Officer Leslie, the wife, little girl, and Vicky drove away in a luxury SUV.
Officer Leslie knelt down beside Bruce. โKiddo,โ she said. โI gotta get to work, but if you get scared about anything, you find a phone and call me that instant, all right?โ
โOkay,โ Bruce said.
Officer Leslie gave him a hug. But as she left, she had that same pitiful smile as the aunt, teacher, and psychologist.
A breeze came. Birds chirped from a willow tree. โSon,โ Pastor Al said, โyou ready to see where youโll be staying?โ
โYeah,โ Bruce said.
Pastor Al picked up Bruceโs suitcase and held the front door open for him. Bruce thought he smelled like fish.
The living room was enormous. It had a shiny black grand piano. It had a fireplace mantle with gymnastic medals and cheerleading trophies, an old grandfather clock, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf with Christian fiction and Bible studies, and dozens of photos of the family at charity events, all with Vicky smiling beautifully. There was no TV. What do they do for fun? Bruce wondered. Me and Mom always have on a musical.
โYou need anything?โ Pastor Al said.
โNo,โ Bruce replied.
โWant to talk about something?โ
โNo.โ
โOkay.โ Pastor Al scratched his forehead. โHow about a soda and some of my wifeโs hotdish? Itโs got lots of cheese, ya know?โ
โYeah.โ
โGood. But before we do that, Iโm going to need you to take off your shoes, please.โ
Bruce followed instructions before sitting on the couch. Pastor Al said a prayer for the boy. Once they started eating, a golden retriever came begging and got a few bites from Pastor Al, then Bruce too.
โYou like it?โ Pastor Al said.
โYeah.โ
โUs too. We always fight for the leftovers.โ
After cleaning his plate, Bruceโs eyes and hands went up. โCan I have more, please?โ
โSon, you can have as much you like.โ
Whyโs he being so nice to me? Bruce thought. I never talk in church. I guess itโs cause he feels bad about Mom.
Bruce frowned and Pastor Al smiled.
โDonโt give up on finding your mom,โ Pastor Al said. โLet me tell you, a tough kid like you, after all youโve been through, the last thing you ought to do is quit.โ
โYou think Officer Leslie will find her?โ
โOh, for sure. Everyone loves your mom. Sheโs an honest, pretty woman who never missed a single choir practice, ya know? If someone knows something, theyโll tell Officer Leslie. And you can bet Iโll do everything in my power to help too.โ
Bruce nodded. Now I see why everyone trusts Pastor Al.
โI think my father did it,โ Bruce said.
โDid what?โ
โTook my mom.โ
โWhy do you say that?โ
โShe was always scared heโd come back.โ
โOkay. Any other reason?โ
โOnly someone real strong like him couldโve done it.โ
โHow come?โ
โCause our front door got ripped off like a toy or something. Itโs not even on the hinge anymore.โ
โListen, it sounds to me too like your father did it.โ Pastor Al leaned closer. โBut you sure it couldnโt have been someone else?
โYeah,โ Bruce said unwaveringly. Heโd overheard Officer Leslie say there were no other suspects, no alternative theories, just his father. โHe did it.โ
โWell, howโs that make you feel?โ
โI donโt know. Angry.โ
โHave you ever met him?โ
โNo.โ
โWhat do you want to happen to him?โ
โAfter what he did, heโs got to pay.โ
โThat would be fitting. Isaiah 13:11 says, โI will punish the world for its evil, the wicked for their sins. I will put an end to the arrogance of the haughty and will humble the pride of the ruthless.โโ
Bruce looked down, hung his head low. Pastor Al pulled his face up, gently.
โI am so, so sorry,โ Pastor Al said. โIf you ever need to talk more about this, no matter what itโs about, Iโm there for you, son.โ
โYeah, okay.โ
โNo, no. I mean it. In fact, I wish I couldโve been there sooner for ya. I was on my yacht last night until just now.โ
โTo catch bass?โ Bruce said, feeling proud of himself for paying attention in church.
โThatโs right. Would you believe Iโve been doing it for twenty-seven years?โ Pastor Al closed his eyes and daydreamed. โItโs the only thing I ever do thatโs just for me. Nothing but my yacht and the lake. Being alone like that helps clear the soul, ya know? You ever go fishing?โ
โNo, I donโt go in dark water. I get scared if I canโt see my feet.โ
โWhyโs that?โ
โCause of something bad that happened to m-m-m-me.โ
Bruce paused for a moment.
โYou donโt have to tell me, son.โ
โNo, I want to.โ Bruce took a deep breath. โI almost drowned. It happened when I was little, maybe six or seven, at Lake Michigan. Mom was reading on the beach and I was playing in the water. I couldnโt swim that good but it was easy, so I went farther out. When the water was at my neck, I turned around to head back, but a big wave hit me. If that had happened earlier, I wouldโve just kicked my feet around until I felt the bottom. But I was too deep. I couldnโt see anything except the dark waves. I tried screaming for Mom, but every time I opened my mouth, I swallowed water. I thought I was gonna die. But eventually Mom got me.
โI try not to think about it much now. But I still do. In pools, I donโt go in the deep end, but Mom makes sure she can always see me.
โShe said it was the worst thing that ever happened to me and her. Sometimes sheโd have nightmares. Iโd hear her screaming and Iโd rush into her room and tell her it was okay. But it didnโt help. Cause she just kept shaking and telling me to go back to bed. Mom never forgot.โ
โWow, I didnโt mean to bring you down even more, son,โ Pastor Al said while shaking his head.
โItโs okay. Itโs not your fault.โ
Pastor Al nodded and looked around. Then he rested his heavy hand on Bruceโs shoulder and said, โSay, I got an idea. Cโmon.โ
Pastor Al led him into a basement storage room. He grabbed a baseball glove laying on a bucket.
โI bought this before my wife got pregnant,โ Pastor Al said. โI was hoping for a boy, both times. But now itโs just collecting dust. Want to see if it fits you?โ
Bruce didnโt take the glove.
โOr maybe thereโs another sport you like?โ Pastor Al said.
โNo sports.โ
โOkay, youโre not a fan. Thatโs fine. I can learn whatever hobby youโre into and then embarrass myself doing that. Itโs what my girls enjoy the most about me, anyway.โ
Bruce chuckled.
โThat reminds me,โ Pastor Al said, โLeslie said youโre thinking about trying out for choir. That true?โ
Bruce nodded.
โWell, how about you show me what you got upstairs?โ
โYes! I mean, yes, please.โ
โGood. Let me get the air mattress and stuff for ya first. Itโll only take a minute.โ
Pastor Al gave Bruce a wink and went into another room.
He really likes me, Bruce thought. Heโs obviously nice, but this is so awesome. Maybe, if Iโm lucky, Iโll stay friends with him after Mom returns.
While waiting Bruce browsed the industrial shelves storing old life jackets, flares, fire extinguishers, and first aid kits. Then he noticed something shiny, something that looked like it didnโt belong. He picked it up. It was a sterling silver necklace of a crescent moon singing.
Itโs identical to Momโs, he thought. But it canโt be. She never took it off.
Whenever Bruce stuttered, she would sing out of the corner of her mouth and gyrate the necklace back and forth, like it was the one singing. Sometimes it helped.
Bruce flipped the necklace over.
Oh god, no! Itโs got my initials! And Pastor Al has it! What do I do?
โIโm all set,โ Pastor Al announced.
โGreat,โ Bruce replied, as casually as he could, while sliding the necklace into his pocket.
โReady for a trial run?โ Pastor Al said.
โAh, yeah.โ
Pastor Al threw the air mattress onto his wide shoulder and turned off the lights. Bruceโs bare feet felt cold on the stone floor. On his walk upstairs, he shivered at every heavy footstep behind him.
In the living room, Bruce couldnโt see anyone through the window. He turned around and found Pastor Al looking down at him.
โWell, we donโt have all day, ya know?โ
Pastor Alโs cheeks looked red, like heโd been sunburned. He sounded strange too. In church, he had preached with a booming monotone. But now his voice was deeper, more guttural, raw.
Pastor Al pointed at the piano bench. Bruce sat.
โYour mom could really belt one out, which you know, of course, considering she was in the choir,โ Pastor Al said, and Bruce noticed he was speaking in past tense. โBut over the years, Iโd like to think I helped her with the mental side. You know what that means?โ
Bruce shook his head.
โSee,โ Pastor Al said, โthe most important thing to do during an audition, or life in general, is to be confident. Itโs not the physical stuff that matters. You can have all the talent and know every song in the world, but if you donโt believe in yourself, your environment will crush you.โ
Pastor Al sat on the bench. โFor instance,โ he said, โwhat if you get so nervous you lose your voice and it feels like youโre running out of air? Then what, hmm?โ
Bruce felt Pastor Alโs breaths on his forearm.
Pastor Al scooted closer. โSing as loudly as you can.โ
Bruce started singing.
Pastor Al covered Bruceโs sternum with his right hand, planted his other hand on Bruceโs spine, and squeezed the two together.
Bruce paused.
โDonโt stop,โ Pastor Al said. He then squeezed harder, even lifting Bruceโs torso up. โYou need to stop slouching. It restricts your windpipe.โ
Bruceโs eyes began to well up.
โAre you crying?โ
While running out of breath, Bruce shook his head. A tear fell.
โYou are crying,โ Pastor Al said, while finally letting go.
Bruce wiped his eyes. โNo, Iโm not.โ
โWell, I sure hope you arenโt. Otherwise, I donโt think you have what it takes to be on my team, son.โ
The golden retriever approached curiously and rested its head on Bruceโs lap, begging, like before.
โNo!โ Pastor Al shouted. He grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck, dragged it into the garage, and slammed the door.
Meanwhile Bruce had been rushing towards the front door. In a flash Pastor Al was there and seized Bruceโs right wrist, clutching his momโs necklace.
โWhat have you got there?โ Pastor Al demanded.
Bruce opened his hand.
Pastor Al glanced down and quickly answered, โOh, I found that at the gas station last night.โ
โItโs m-m-my m-mโโ
โYour momโs?โ Pastor Al said. โYou sure?โ
โYes,โ Bruce said.
Pastor Al sneered. โItโs a different one.โ
โNo. She never took it off.โ
Bruce tried turning the necklace over to show him the initials, but Pastor Al snatched it out of his hand.
โOkay, Iโll have to look at this later,โ Pastor Al said with an upbeat voice. โBut right, we need to get going now.โ He clapped twice. โWeโre already late.โ
โOfficer Leslie said someone saw M-M-M . . . her at the gas station last night.โ
โOpe! I must have misspoke.โ Pastor Al shook his head. โNot about me being at the gas station, thatโs true, but about where I found it. See, I stopped at a sports bar for something to eat and thatโs where I saw the necklace. I thought it looked pretty, so I brought it back home for my daughter, ya know?โ
โYou said gas station,โ Bruce cried. โGas station.โ
โNo, I didnโt.โ Pastor Alโs entire chest expanded with a heavy breath. โBesides, think about it, son. If that was really your momโs necklace, how did I get it?โ
There was no doubt in Bruceโs mind anymore. And Pastor Al knew it too. He looked tense, tightly wound, angrier than hell, with his teeth gritting so hard his jaw jerked. Bruce stepped back but he bumped into the grandfather clock, causing the glass door to rattle. Pastor Al advanced forward. Bruce knew he wasnโt fast enough to run or strong enough to fight. There was only one thing he could do.
โWhy?โ he said weakly. โWhy did youโโ
โShut it! Just shut your damn mouth! You got me all frazzled and now I canโt think straight!โ
โIโll tell Officer Leslie,โ Bruce said, but immediately questioned whether he had the courage.
Then Bruce watched in horror as Pastor Al placed the necklace in the palm of his hand, strolled to the bathroom, and flushed it in the toilet. He came out grinning, with his hand empty.
Bruce tried begging. He tried promising to never tell anyone if he was let go, but an abrupt stutter overpowered him, choked the words in his throat, like a dog running for its life until the leash became taut. Bruce stopped trying.
โOh, no,โ Pastor Al said with a smile. โI canโt remember what the necklace looks like anymore. Can you explain it to me?โ
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
Pastor Al got in Bruceโs face. โGet your ass upstairs,โ he commanded. โNow!โ
Bruce ran up the stairs. He rushed into the bathroom and shut the door, which didnโt have a lock. Through the walls, he heard Pastor Al warmly greeting his parishioners, asking why he was late.
Bruce told himself, Get out of here now. However you can.
Another stairway? None except the one to him. Call Officer Leslie? No phone was in sight. Use a weapon? Not with my trembling hands. Go out a window? No way I can jump down two stories and run away. A scream for help? Nothing I can say will make anyone downstairs believe me.
The front door creaked open. Out of options, Bruce ran into a bedroom and hid in a wicker chest at the foot of the bed. The front door shut loudly. Bruce curled into a ball and tried his best to stop from weeping, but he couldnโt. He was losing it.
Bruce peaked through a gap into the hallway, but nothing came. He listened but heard nothing, except his own breathing and heartbeat. Heโs going to find me. Heโll find me and kill me.
โBrucey? Oh Brucey, where are you?โ sang a deep voice.
In shock Bruce bumped his head into the lid of the chest. Donโt make another sound. Donโt breathe, donโt even blink.
For minutes there was only silence.
Eventually Pastor Al entered the master bedroom with his hands in his pockets, looking oddly content. Instead of opening the chest, or checking behind the door or under the bed, he stood in the center of the room.
โI know you were upset earlier, as was I,โ he said. โBut the fact of the matter is, this is all a misunderstanding. I was caught by surprise when, all of sudden, youโre in my house and Leslie is telling me your sweet mother has been kidnapped by your awful father. I got so worried that I mixed up one little detail. Thatโs all. But I am telling you, right now, I found that necklace outside the sports bar.โ
Pastor Al glanced at himself in a mirror on the wall.
โSo you might think you can tell someone about this, but you really shouldnโt. Ya know why?โ Pastor Al sounded so calm, so confident, like he was in the middle of a sermon. โBecause the necklace is gone. You clearly have been traumatized. And Iโm the pastor of Pleasantville Community Church, who was asked to help you by a police officer. No one will ever believe you.โ
Pastor Al tightened a white clergy collar around his neck.
โBesides, son, if you didโโhe glared at the chest through the mirrorโโIโll always know where you are.โ
Bruce shut his eyes. Not to stop from crying or seeing what would happen next, but to think of his mom.
Footsteps went down the stairs. The front door opened, then closed. An engine started, and a car drove away.
Before now all Bruce had wished for was to be stutter-free, to sing on the team, to make friends and talk to girls in school. He had wanted to become like Pastor Al, the gifted public speaker and choir director. Bruce had even planned and practiced how to tell off his father, after being caught red-handed, for abandoning him and committing such a horrible crime. But now Bruce would have to forget his family. Now he would have to carry this new secret alone. Now he would have to stay silent forever, just like his mom, buried in water so dark and deep no one would ever find her.
Jeffrey Grimyser is a father, husband, attorney, and originally a โSconnieโ who now lives in rival Chicago. His work has appeared in Bright Flash Literary Review, Free Radicals Magazine, and CommuterLit.