Page 4 of Finding Noah

He climbed in and sat beside me. He didn’t bother to buckle his seat belt.

Grandma would yell at him for that—I just knew it.

But Grandma was never with Daddy.

I wasn’t sure she had met him at all.

“I have a job for you today,” Daddy said as he began to drive.

“A … job?”

I frowned. Jobs were work. Kids didn't work. Kids went to school.

Mommy goes to school too though, I thought, scrunching my forehead. Is Mommy a kid?

Daddy nodded. “A real important one,” he said. “And if you do good, I'll take you to McDonald's. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” I replied, not wanting to sound too excited, but … I loved McDonald's.

“Good. That’s good,” Daddy said, sounding happy.

He didn't sound happy a lot, and it felt nice to make him feel that way. My body got all warm and tingly, and I looked out the window to smile, not wanting Daddy to see.

Just in case he got mad again.

***

We drove and drove and drove for a long time. It felt like hours were going by, and at some point, I thought I had fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to Daddy shaking me roughly.

I woke up to a dry, crusty mess at the corner of my mouth from where I had drooled in my sleep. I did that sometimes. I smacked my lips and stretched my arms before turning to look at Daddy's face.

He didn't seem happy anymore, and I guessed it was because I’d been sleeping.

I was sorry, but I didn't say so.

I didn't say anything.

“Let's go,” he said, climbing out of the truck and slamming the door behind him.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped I woke up fast as I fumbled with the seat belt buckle. I looked out the car window to see a small house. I thought it had probably been white at one point, but it was so dirty that I wasn't sure. One window had a plank of wood nailed to it, and a screen door hung from the hinges, and the grass looked so tall that I knew Grandpa would yell at me to stay away because of bugs and snakes and other creepy-crawly things.

My belly began to hurt as I looked out the truck window at that little house. Something, like a little voice in my head, told me not to go near it. It felt haunted and spooky. There were monsters inside—there must be—and I was scared.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted Mommy.

But Daddy came into view and pulled my door open. He wrapped his big hand around my arm and pulled me from the truck. I stumbled a bit, nearly falling to my knees, and he cursed under his breath and demanded that I stand up and stop being stupid.

“Now, listen to me,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for something. “We're gonna go in there. I'm gonna talk to someone, and while I'm talking to him, you're gonna do me a big favor, all right?”

“What kind of favor?” I asked, keeping my eyes only on that house and not on Daddy.

“You're gonna find me a bag,” he went on. “It's a big bag—”

“What color is it?”

“I don't know what fucking color it is,” he snapped angrily. “Who gives a fuck about the color? It's a big bag. Got it?”