Susan wiped the hot tears that threatened to erupt down her face as she walked out of Pastor James’s office and back through the sanctuary. A heel got caught in the grout between the stones of the floor. She stumbled, landing on her knees, tearing her stockings. She got up and rushed out of the sanctuary. The snow was still falling, harder and wetter now. She pulled her scarf over her head to try to stay dry and rushed across the street dodging traffic.
Her apartment was four blocks away. She hurried, sliding on the wet sidewalk. She unlocked the front door to the building. She rushed passed the elevators. Cllimbing the smoke filled stairs the three floors to her apartment instead.
Standing on her cat shaped welcome mat, she opened the door and entered her apartment. The smell of the litterbox meant she had neglected to clean the box again. She sat down cross legged on her couch, not bothering to remove her jacket. Her black cat, Baby, jumped into her lap and began head butting her face for attention. She gathered him up to her and hugged him tightly. He struggled against her, not wanting quite so much attention, and jumped down, knocking her purse over, and spilling the contents onto the floor.
“Ack. Baby.” she said as she crouched to pick up the scant contents of her purse.
He licked his paw and began cleaning his ear in response.
She replaced her housekeys, a box of Altoids, and some wadded up Kleenex. Her overstuffed wallet had come unlatched, scattering coins and old receipts across the dirty carpet. She began picking them up and came across a well worn picture.
The corners of her mouth turned up looking at the chubby baby. Curly dark hair like his father, her hazel eyes. She wondered if his eyes had changed color when he was older. He looked surprised in the picture, his tongue poking out a little. His little hands grasped the blue blanket he was wrapped in. She had bought him that blanket at Goodwill a few weeks before he was born. It cost her three dollars but was in good shape, no holes or stains. It was the blanket she had wrapped him in when she left him at the church.
Susan clutched the picture to her chest and walked over to her computer. Someone, somewhere knew what had happened to her son. She was going to find Henry, with or without Pastor James’s help. She began typing.