Cries of the Children(57)

He reached into his pocket and took out the roll of bills. Satisfied he had not lost it, he went into the restaurant. There were some businessmen sharing a preflight breakfast at one table. Steven sat as far away from them as possible. As a result, it was nearly fifteen minutes before the waitress even realized he was there.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said with a Midwestern twang. “You must think I’ve been ignoring you. Well, I don’t suppose you want a cup of coffee?”

Despite his nervousness, Steven couldn’t help laughing.

“No,” he said. “Could I have a cup of hot chocolate, please? And then I’d like a stack of pancakes.”

“You bet,” the waitress said. “Are you travelin’ all by yourself?”

Steven nodded. His explanation came so quickly it surprised even him.

“Mom and Dad work all day,” he said. “They couldn’t get off. So they dropped me off. I’m taking a flight into Newark to see my grandma.”

He leaned forward and spoke in quasi-conspiratorial tones.

“See, if I had to wait for my folks to get a vacation,” he said, “I’d only see Grandma once a year. But this is my fourth visit.”

The waitress’s eyebrows went up.

“Well, a frequent flier! You just wait there and I’ll be back with your breakfast in no time flat.”

It wasn’t exactly that fast, but Steven took the time to try to call Marty. He still didn’t answer.

“Here you go,” the waitress said, setting Steven’s breakfast in front of him. “Enjoy. You need anything, you holler.”

“Thanks,” Steven said.

He searched a rack of syrup bottles for one marked “Strawberry,” then drowned his pancakes in the red liquid. As he ate, he thought how nice it would be if everyone on his journey was as accepting of his story as the waitress had been. When he finally finished his meal, he did some lightning-fast mathematics in his head and left her a little bit more than the average tip. Then he went up to the register to pay for his breakfast. He handed the man behind the counter the exact change.

“But we haven’t handed you the check yet, young fellow,” the old man said. “How did you know the right amount?”

“I’m good at math.”

“Well, that’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” the man said.

He watched Steven return the rest of the money to his pocket.

“Listen, you shouldn’t be flashing twenties around like that,” he said. “I mean, this ain’t New York, but there’s bad types everywhere.”

“Oh,” Steven said. “I’ll be careful.”

“You got your ticket in a good safe place?”

Steven’s heart skipped a beat, but before his face could react with a stricken expression, he swallowed and said, “Safe and sound. G’bye!”

“So long,” the old man said. “Nice flight!”

Steven hurried from the restaurant. The lobby was five times more crowded than it had been forty-five minutes ago. Steven hoped no one would see the look of panic on his face.

A ticket! How could he have forgotten about a ticket?

How could Marty have forgotten?

I can’t afford a ticket! he thought. What am I going to do?

Everything will be okay. Just sit down in one of those chairs and wait.

Marty! Where’ve you been?

I was sleeping. Sorry, but they were doing so many . . . I was working so hard I was just exhausted.

Marty, I forgot to get enough money for a ticket.

Don’t panic. 1 told you to trust me. Just go sit down and leave everything to me.

Steven found a comfortable seat in the waiting area. He placed his suitcase on his lap and rested his elbows on it. His chin dropped into his hands. He didn’t have any idea what Marty was going to do, but he knew he had to trust him.

Around a corner, where Steven couldn’t see, a ticket clerk was preparing herself for the start of a new, busy day. Janie Barkley, late of the Summersun Travel Agency, had been on the job only six months. She worked with eager efficiency, always ready to do her best for her customers. Most days the job was enjoyable, even those days when overbooked flights or bad weather brought countless people up to her desk. She could change a flight or issue a ticket with her eyes closed.

I’d like a one-way ticket to Newark.

“Of course, sir,” Janie said, flashing a smile that hung like a hammock between two apple cheeks. “Will that be . . . ?”

She realized there was no one in front of the counter.

Jamie, do as I tell you.

Jamie felt an icy cold draft winding around her body. Instantly she was transfixed by the computer terminal in front of her. Its screen had changed without any human interference.