Substitute Father

Eager to look at the photos, Luke opened the envelope, letting the pictures spill out into his hands.

The clerk rummaged a bit more, then spun back around with the other packet in her hand. Her flirtatious smile faded as her brows drew together. “Isn’t that your cart?”

Distracted by the pictures he was viewing, Luke didn’t glance up. “My cart?”

“Look!” She pointed toward the exit.

Belatedly, he saw what she was talking about. “What the…?”

Luke spotted a young boy wheeling his grocery-filled cart out the door. Shock held him still for a moment, then he hollered. “Wait!”

The boy turned for an instant. But instead of slowing down, he began to run, pushing the loaded cart across the lot with remarkable speed.

Luke watched for a few seconds in disbelief, then fumbled with the slippery pictures filling his hands. Dropping the photos on the counter, he barely paused. “Keep an eye on these, will you?”

The clerk, looking equally dumbfounded, nodded.

Luke tore off toward the door, still unable to believe the boy was stealing his groceries. That sort of thing didn’t happen in their midsize Texas town. Greenville was big enough that you didn’t know everyone, but small enough that you could leave a cart of groceries unattended and expect it to be safe. But that same cart of groceries was barreling across the busy street.

Luke sprinted the length of the parking lot, but the light was red when he reached the curb. Fast-moving cars and trucks filled the road since it was shift change at the local machine works factory.

Luke’s feet scarcely remained on the concrete as he waited to cross the street, determined to catch the little thief. But when the light changed and the traffic cleared, the boy wasn’t in sight.

Cursing to himself, Luke thought he’d lost his quarry, but then he caught a glimpse of the cart as it whipped around a corner. Luke bolted across the street, gaining speed as he neared the spot he’d last seen the cart. But when he turned into the alley, it was empty.

Then his eyes narrowed. One screen door in the deserted lane stirred ever so slightly, possibly the result of being slammed shut. Luke approached cautiously. It occurred to him that the boy might not be working alone. Perhaps it was a ruse orchestrated by an adult who wanted bigger pickings than groceries.

His gaze alert, Luke pushed open the door. It was dark inside, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he could see that it appeared to be an abandoned store. Empty metal racks and cardboard boxes were scattered through the musty space. But there were no signs of an ambush.

Still, Luke didn’t lower his guard as he stepped farther inside. Then he spotted it—the shiny metal of a grocery cart gleaming through the dust motes. Although it was partially pushed behind a curtain, there was no mistaking the distinctive buggy. The kid was clever, but not clever enough. He’d picked the wrong sucker to steal from.

Luke ripped open the curtain. “All right you…” The words died away as Luke stared at the young robber. The terrified boy stared at him defiantly as he shielded two younger children, a boy and a girl. As Luke fumbled for words, the girl burst into tears.

The child who had stolen his cart pulled her closer, but she continued crying.

Luke knelt down, patting her shoulder. “It’s okay now, no need for tears. No one’s going to hurt you.” Then he met the oldest boy’s eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

For a few moments the boy stood mute, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

Luke, however, didn’t back down.

Finally the boy wavered a fraction. “You didn’t need this stuff.”

Seeing how frightened the children were, Luke kept his tone mild. “That’s not the issue. I want to know why you stole my groceries.”

“They gotta eat!” the boy burst out.

Luke stared at the child, a sickening pit forming in his stomach. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t have no food,” the youngest boy explained.

The pit in Luke’s stomach hardened. “Were you planning to take the groceries home to your parents?”

The oldest boy momentarily looked panicked, then his mouth thinned again, a determined if futile gesture.

The younger boy wasn’t as stoic. “We don’t have no parents.”

For a moment, Luke just looked at the children. “Why don’t you tell me your names?” he urged finally, heartsick at their plight.

“I’m Troy,” the youngest boy offered.

Luke nodded, then smoothed one hand over the girl’s matted hair. “And how about you?”

“Hannah,” she managed to say, her tears beginning to subside.

Luke leveled his gaze on the oldest boy.

Reluctantly the child spoke. “Brian Baker.”

“And I’m Luke Duncan. Where have you been staying?”

Brian’s gaze traveled to a few ragged sacks on the floor.

Luke had to take a deep breath to hide his shock. Luckily the August nights were warm, otherwise the kids could have become seriously ill. Straightening up, he withdrew his cell phone. “I’ll call the police and get you some help.”

“You can’t do that, mister!” Brian hollered, before Luke could dial.

“You can’t!” Hannah echoed, then started sobbing again.

“Whoa!” Luke replied. “I just want to get you some help.”

“They’ll separate us!” Brian shouted. “We can do just fine on our own!”

Luke’s gaze encompassed the bare, dirty space. “I can see that. But if your parents abandoned you—”

“They didn’t!” Brian shouted in reply.

“Mama died!” Troy told him. “She wouldn’t just go off and leave us!”

Even more perturbed, Luke slowly lowered the phone. “When did she die?”

“Couple weeks ago,” Brian answered sullenly. “They were coming to take us away when we left.”

“Maybe the authorities had found relatives who could take you in. That doesn’t mean you’d be separated.”

“They were going to put us in foster homes,” Brian replied. “Separate foster homes. We heard ’em.”

“What about your father?” Luke asked gently.