Runaway? - Part 2

Hello FFFs,

I was kind of forgetting it was Friday and I needed to post this 2nd part of the story for you all. It just doesn't seem like it CAN be Friday again. Didn't we just have Friday? Well, anyway.

I wrote some on Monday and finished the 4th of July story. Yes, I'll post it on here later. :)

On Tuesday evening my best friend, who had just returned from a 3 week visit to her twin sister in Canada, and I enjoyed a lovely stroll and talking. No writing that evening.

Wednesday evening I helped out in the children's class at church, so I didn't write.

But yesterday I wrote. I actually got 1k words written on a new story. At this point I have no idea if this is going to be a short story, a novella, or a full length novel. I guess we'll see how it goes. And I may set it aside and work on some other things. I would like to get my Christmas stories written earlier this year, but I don't know how early that will be. And I have some sort of ideas for another story that I'd like to start, if I can decide how. :)

Okay, enough about me. Oh, wait! I have a new FREE short story for you all today! Today through Sunday you can get A Good Summer for free. So don't forget to pick up your copy.

 

Runaway?

Part 2

    “Gil, Jerry here is headed to the White House.” Officer Rockwell hoped his friend would pick up on what he wasn’t saying. All his wondering was put to rest when Gil spoke.

    “You don’t say! The White House in Washington?” Gil looked impressed. “I’ve never been that far east before. I went west during the war. Say now, young fella, are you planning on walking the whole way?”

    Jerry gave a half shrug.

    “It’s a mighty long way, but if you’re heading that far, you’re going to need a good meal. What’ll you have?” And Gil straightened up.

    “I only have ten cents,” Jerry admitted, looking first at Gil and then at Rockwell.

    “That’ll get you just about anything,” Gil told him. “And what about you, Rock? Want your usual?”

    Rock gave a nod. “Sure do. No one makes spaghetti like you do.” He turned to the boy beside him. “How about you, Jerry? Want spaghetti?”

    Jerry shook his head. “I want a sandwich.”

    “Ham?” Gil asked.

    Jerry nodded.

    “I’ll take those orders back to the kitchen and will be right back.” And Gil moved down the counter, leaving the boy alone with Officer Rockwell.

    This was what Rockwell wanted, and he leaned over. “Say, Jerry, how old are you?”

    “Almost seven.”

    “That’s mighty grown up, but it’s a long way to Washington D.C. Where are you going to sleep?”

    Jerry patted the sleeping roll he had across his lap. “I’ll sleep out under the stars in this. It won’t be too cold since it’s summer.”

    “That’s true,” Rockwell said musingly. “But what if it rains? I heard the man on the radio say we might get some thunderstorms tonight.” Rockwell shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be sleeping out in a storm. Would you, Gil?”

    Leaning once more on the counter, Gil looked from one face to the other. “Sleep outside in a storm? Well, I’ve done it before, and I don’t recommend it. You get all wet, and your bed and clothes get wet, not to mention how loud that thunder can be. Besides, if you’re going to see the president, you don’t want to show up all dirty.” Gil shook his head slowly. “No, sir. I wouldn’t recommend walking the whole way. Now a bus might be a good way to get there.”

    Rockwell nodded. “Yep, that’s how I’d go.” Then he stopped as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Jerry, I don’t see how you can take a bus though if you’ve only got ten cents.”

    Jerry said not a word, and Rockwell wondered what he was thinking but didn’t feel that he should ask yet.

    “What made you decide to go to Washington today, sonny?” questioned Gil, his tones curious. “Or have you been traveling some time?”

*

    Jerry’s hands fiddled with the rope around his sleeping roll. What should he tell them? It was wrong to lie, but he didn’t want to go back home.

    “I started this morning. I didn’t hear anything about storms,” he admitted at last.

    “Oh.”

    Jerry wondered what Gil’s tone meant. It had sounded somewhat like his dad’s voice when he knew more than Jerry hoped he did.

    A little bell rang, and Gil disappeared for a moment, only to return with their lunch. Officer Rockwell took off his cap and set it on the counter. “I always pray before I eat, Jerry,” he said.

    Quietly Jerry folded his hands and bowed his head.

    “Heavenly Father, thank You for this food that You have given. Thank You for Jerry’s company. I do ask that You would help Jerry know what he should do about his trip. Keep us safe today, I ask. In Your Son’s Name. Amen.”

    No one spoke for some minutes as Jerry and Officer Rockwell enjoyed their lunches. Gil busied himself on the other side of the counter doing something, though Jerry didn’t know what.

    “You know,” Gil said thoughtfully after several minutes, coming over and resting one elbow on the counter, “you never did tell me why you were heading to Washington? Oh, I heard you were going to see the president, but what about? You have important matters to discuss with him?”

    Right then Jerry was thankful for his mom’s constant admonitions not to talk with food in his mouth, for he had just taken a large bite, and this gave him a chance, a polite one, to think. He stole a glance at Officer Rockwell, but he didn’t even seem to be listening, for he was concentrating on his spaghetti. Maybe it would be okay to tell.

    “I was hoping I could live with him.”

    “What for? Don’t you have a good home?” Gil asked.

Have you ever dreamed of living in the White House?

What would you have done if you had met Jerry?

Did you get your free story?