“We don’t know for sure anybody has been left behind. We just know his wife is plum worried and he ain’t been seen in days. Nobody has seen his truck or nothing.”
Emma didn’t see Josh’s truck that night, and she hasn’t once thought about Josh’s truck, until now. It’s probably at the Denton farm, she thinks, parked out of the way so nobody would see him. Certainly he drove it there and parked nearby.
“I’ve got to find it,” Emma thinks to herself as the deputy talks.
Her pulse is quickening and her eyes are darting.
“I’ve got to find the truck,” she thinks, hoping she hasn’t said it out loud.
“Anyway,” the deputy says, “Judith said she and Josh talked with you at the picnic and we wanted to ask you if you noticed anything strange. Did he say anything thing that surprised you? Anything odd?”
“Odd? No,” Emma says.
“Well, I don’t even know Josh. Why, just because you talk to a person doesn’t mean you know a person. Judith asked me to sit by them. That’s all. I don’t know Josh. We barely talked at all.”
The deputy studies Emma’s response. The sheriff, however, seems satisfied.
“I know ma’am,” he says. “I’m sorry we had to bother you. We’ll be on our way now.”
Emma hurries back into the kitchen to check on her pie in the oven. Her father showed the sheriff and the deputy to the door.
“Smells good,” her mother says, noting the fresh pie.
“I guess we should take this over to Judith,” Emma says.
“Yes, Dear. I’ll tell your father and get ready to go. That’s just awful about Josh.”
“What did you two talk about at the picnic anyway, Emma?”
“Nothing mother, nothing at all. He talked about Judith and his daughter. That’s it.
“Jeremiah,” her mother calls. “Get ready. We are going to take this pie over to Judith.”
Fifteen minutes later Emma’s father starts the car, waiting for Emma and her mother to come out with the pie and a jug of fresh sweetened ice tea her mother has made. Her father honks the horn.
“C’mon!”
Emma comes out of her room, where’s she’s been changing clothes. She’s wearing a black dress.
“Emma,” her mother says. “This isn’t a wake. Josh has just gone missing. I doubt he’s dead. Go put on another dress right now.”
“I…” Emma stammers. “Sorry.”
Emma goes back to her room and changes into a light brown dress. She puts on a jacket, gets the pumpkin pie and gets in the car as does her mother, who brings the jug of tea.
Judith and Josh live just a few miles away, and the car is quiet on the ride. The Sand Mountain landscape is a beautiful yet staid mix that only late fall can bring, with green yet dry grass, deep blue sky and trees thinking of adding a hint of color.
They arrive at the house and an elderly woman let’s them in. She says she’s Josh’s great-grandmother.
“Judith is in there,” the lady tells them. “But be warned. I declare. Just a basket case. She’s just a basket case.
“Hard to blame her. You get a good man. You don’t want to lose him. Child seems to think he’s not coming back. I just think he got lost for a spell. He’ll be back.”
They find Judith sitting on a couch, crying, and holding tissues.
“Preacher,” she says, reaching her hand up to Jeremiah's. “Thank you and your family for coming. Thank you all for coming.”
“We’re praying for you, Judith. We’re praying for Josh, too. Praying that he hasn’t gotten lost. Praying that he has fallen in harm’s way. Praying he’s nearby, and will be home soon.
“But you know, Judith. We don’t get to pick when our time comes. We just put our trust in God and deal with the hand he deals us.”
Judith’s crying intensifies, laced with intermittent audible sobs. Her daughter nestles at her feet holding a blanket, seemingly unaware of the drama.
“I don’t understand,” Judith says, “why Josh hasn’t come home. Sunday morning he seemed so happy. Like he had the world by its tail. Like he had something to look forward to. I haven’t seen him so excited in quite some time.
“I said I was going to church. He said he was going out, but would be home soon. He went. Never came back.”
“How did he go?” Emma asks. “I mean, how did he leave? Did he drive?”
“Well, yes, he drove. I think. His truck is gone.”
“What kind of truck did he drive?”
Judith looks at Emma with a furrowed brow.
“What kind was it?” Emma says. “What color was it?”