An Untitled Story: Chapter 1

[I am trying my hand at a story. I have written parts of stories before but have rarely finished one, so we shall see how long it takes me to complete it. I'll work on it one chapter at a time. Patience, please:)]

Chapter 1

  "Ian! Time for bed! I told you no more coloring! Ahh!" Two year old Ian sat on the kitchen floor, his freshly showered little body now tattooed with purple marker that also made its mark on the borrowed kitchen table. Annie tucked strands of her dark brown hair behind her ears and smiled with surrender to his adorable face. Her frustration melted as he babbled to himself and smiled with each nonsensical word.  She scooped him up into her arms and carried him into the living room.
  James rocked Ian's twin sister, Susan, in his arms, resting his head against her blonde hair while she slept, peacefully cradled. He lifted her gently and carried her to her bed. She was the tamer of the two, but not a smidge less fun. He tucked her tiny body into her country, quilted, blanket that matched her brother's in the bed across the room. She sighed for a moment and opened her sleepy eyes. "Go back to sleep, Susie." She did just that, with the sweetest smile crossing her face.
  Laughter erupted from the living room. James entered just in time for one of their favorite bed time routines--kissy sandwich. He barreled aross the living room and joined in the kissing. Annie gave quick kisses to the right side of Ian's neck, while James attacked on the left. Ian squeled with delight. His precious face was red and he panted with exhaustion when they finally stopped. Then, they all made the quiet trek into the twins' room and tucked Ian into bed. He didnt put up a fight, but grabbed his favorite two teddy bears and snuggled in. Annie kissed James on the cheek as they stood, adoring their children.
  Annie remembered the long struggle to concieve. She remembered praying for a miracle nearly every night. She thought of the defeat each month as they realized their dreams of children were slipping through their fingers. Then the day came, after five years of trying, when her doctor told her that they would no longer have to suffer--their prayers were answered. Trusting in His divine intervention was long and arduous but ultimately fulfilling. Their sacrifice only made them cherish both children that much more.
  "Let's go to bed," James whispered in her ear. They backed out slowly and quietly headed towards their room. They relished in each other's touch. They marveled at the blessing of each other. They fell asleep, uninhibited next to each other, drifting in and out of pleasant dreams.
 
  The alarm clock went off entirley too early. Annie dragged herself out of bed, not wanting to get up, but knowing that getting to church on time, utilmately, depended on her. She shook James gently awake, reminding him that they had just an hour to get themselves and their two children ready. In just a matter of seconds, she was in the shower.
  James rose slowly. He was not a morning person, but that didnt stop him from getting out of bed. He preferred his college days when he could sleep until noon and stay out late, but had settled into his domestic life very well. He loved the freedom of his youth, but was lured into his current life by the beauty he married and the blessings in the room next door. He was happy for another day off before he returned to work at the factory. It wasn't his dream job, but he hoped to one day open his own hardware store. He saved money much better than he spent it and they lived very humbly in a small two bedroom ranch house. His dream for his own business became even more appealing with the thought of his very own son to take over one day.
  He pulled on his jeans and headed next door to get the kids ready for church. He opened the door slowly, trying not to wake them right away. He recalled the many mornings when he would crawl into bed with one of the children and shower them with kisses. His favorite mornings were when he found them snuggled together in the same bed.
  Susie was sleeping, sprawled out on top of her covers. The only piece of clothing that managed to make it through the night was her diaper. Her blonde curls arranged around her head like a mane of gold. He smiled to himself. Ian, however, was not in his bed. Often, when James and Annie would check on the children, Ian would have crawled out of his bed and found an obscure place to sleep that could only be comfortable to a sleepwalker. James looked under the bed, he looked in the closet, he looked under Susan's bed with no success.
  He woke Susan up. "Susie, where's Ian?" She sat up sleepily and looked around. She lifted her covers up and put them back down.
  "Dun know. Gone."
  James felt a twinge of panic, but was not one to over-react. He picked up Susie and went hurridly to the shower. "Annie, did you get Ian up this morning? Is he with you?" He heard the water shut off.
  "What's that, babe? I didn't hear you."
  "I asked if Ian was in the shower with you." She opened the door to the bathroom.
  "No, Ian's not with me. He probably crawled under the bed last night, did you look there?" She was toweling off and grabbing for robe at the same time. Her long dark hair was dripping as she walked into the nursery. "Did you leave the window open last night?" Her breathe was now caught in her throat as she began to imagine the worst.
  "No. You know I would never leave a window open at night with the kids in the house." Yet, the bedroom window was open and curtains moved ever so gently to the subtle breeze. "Ian! Ian!" He put Susan down and ran outside. "Ian! Ian!"
  Annie continued looking inside. She picked up the phone and called her father who lived only a few miles from their house. Her arms and legs were shaking and numb at the same time. The vice-grip on her chest tightened, sqeezing the panic to the surface as she felt like she was hyperventilating. James ran in the house and grabbed the keys to his old truck. "Annie, call 9-1-1!

  Eught hours later, Annie sat, numb on the couch with Susie playing within an arms reach of her. The search party was looking for Ian. The police, neighbors, a missing person's unit, family, and James were all out looking for her precious, two-year old son. The media had already descended on their house. Annie had pleaded for the safe return of her son without the presence of James who could not be torn away from the search.
  "Mrs. Thomas, are you sure you don't want to send Susie to your mother's house for a while? I think all the stress of this situation isn't good for her," Detective Ford pushed. He was a father himself, with four children from the ages of 13 to five. He couldn't imagine losing a child and had been involved in many cases with very sad endings. He was determined to find this boy and re-unite him with his parents. His instincts were telling him that the parents were not involved, but he had to pursue every angle, a tactic which exhausted Annie for the last three hours.
  " I just can't leave her. What if someone takes her from my mom's house? I can't lose her, too. No, she's gonna stay right here with me where I can keep her safe." Something I couldn't do for my own son, she thought to herself. She was tortured over and over again. How did I not hear anything? She always thought if someone were to break in, that she would hear them. She awoke to every noise, but could not understand why this one time was different. She felt like she had failed, like she was solely responsible for anything that happened to him. What's worse was, they were pretty sure he was kidnapped and had a suspicion of who it was.
  Friday, Annie had taken both children to the store. They were sitting in the shopping cart, managing the groceries and playing very well together. Annie was in the produce section, checking out tomatoes, when a woman in her late thirties approached them. She was rough around the edges, the smell of cigarette smoke hung heavy on her clothes. "What cuties! How old are they?" she asked in her raspy voice.
  "They're two and a half." Annie smiled back at the woman. She noticed her faded jean jacket, her worn, black t-shirt, and her unfixed dirty blonde hair that hung limply on her shoulders. Annie felt sorry for the woman who obviously had some rough times. Always tenderhearted, she was as pleasant as could be to most every stranger.
  "Are the kids well-behaved?"
  "Most times," Annie chuckled. "Susie listens very well, but Ian can be a real handful! There's never a dull moment, that's for sure."
  "It must be nice to have two. I only had the one boy. I tell ya, though, sounds like the boy just needs a heavy hand to settle him straight. That's what I did with my boy." The woman eyed Ian curiously. She didn't pay much attention to Susan.
  "Well, we're pretty strict with him. He just has the energy of my husband, that's all. He really is a good kid." The conversation was a little uncomfortable. Annie didn't want to ask what happened to the woman's son, but she had an uneasy feeling and began looking for an exit. "It was nice meeting you, but we really have to get home."
  "And where's home?" the stranger asked.
  "Just a little ways away. Have a nice day." Annie walked away quickly to another aisle. And through the store she noticed the woman following at a distance. Even when she was loading the groceries in the car, the woman was staring across the parking lot. Annie took the long way home, just as a protective instinct, and recalled the entire bizarre incident to James that evening. He shrugged it off, but Annie stored it in the back of her mind.
  The detectives were investigating this woman, who had been remembered by the store clerks. Video cameras were present, but in this small town, they didnt actually record anything, more for looks. A sketch artist was brought in and Annie was able to give a description, but there were no pictures in the police database that matched the mysterious woman. They searched for local women who had lost a son within the last twenty years, but still, no match to this woman.
  Annie's worst fear was that this woman took her son and beat him to death the moment he didn't listen. The woman's comment about a heavy hand rang over and over in her ears, like a song that gets stuck in a person's head. Of course, that wasn't her only fear. Her mind raced with worst-case-scenerios.

  Twenty-four hours later. No new information. Annie did not sleep all night. Susie slept next to her mother on the couch, with Annie's arms around her. James was forced to return to the house by the detectives. He looked defeated and helpless, a side of James that Annie did not recognize. She wanted to cry and never stop, but the tears wouldn't come.
  James felt dead inside. He sat next to Annie on the couch, touching, but not really. He was supposed to protect his family and now realized what an extreme failure he was. He vomitted more times than he could count. He couldn't stop imagining how scared Ian must be. Would he ever be able to give his son another "kissy-sandwich" again? Was his son crying and calling out his father's name? He ran to the bathroom again.
  He was amazed that a total stranger could break into his house without him knowing. He thought his house was secure, a safe-haven for his beloved family. According to the detectives, the kidnapper was able to pry the old window open with a crowbar and sneak Ian out. He must have been heavily sleeping and not even noticed someone else was holding him. Poor Ian. James prayed himself to exhaustion and now felt only resentment.
  He remembered just two days ago, when he took Ian for a ride in his truck. The little boy pointed out everything he saw, trying out the new words he seemed to learn every day. His smile was infectious and his laughter, irresistable. His blonde hair blew in the wind with the truck windows down. James tried to hold onto that moment as long as possible. It tethered him to sanity, but just barely. When would this nightmare end?

  Day three. No signs of Ian, dead or alive. Annie tried to keep her composure. Her mother had taken Susie from Annie's arms and took her to her house. Annie didn't want to let her daughter go, but she recognized her inablility to parent her daughter in her present state. She was cleaning her house, frantically, preparing it for Ian's return home. She was sure they would find him, lost, starved in the woods, but alive. She was sure they would rescue him from a run-down shack, bruised and beaten, but alive. She just knew that she would hold him close to her chest once more and she wanted to be ready for him.
  James was out looking for his son. Detective Ford had ordered him to stay in the house, but finally relented under the condition that they search together. He retraced every step, looked in every creek bed, every ramshackled house, every barn, every abandoned car. He couldn't get out of his head the thought that Ian was just right around the corner, searching for his father, counting on his father to rescue him.
  It was funny how their prayer requests had changed over the last few days. First, it was bring Ian home safe. Please don't let anyone hurt him. But as day three rolled around, their requests became more basic. Please let them find him alive, no matter what torture he has faced. Please, don't let him be suffering. If he's dead, let it have been quick. Please don't let him suffer anymore. Don't let him be scared.

  Week one. Ian was still missing. The camera crews had since left. Cadavar dogs had been brought in to search for his tiny body. Annie felt hope slipping through her fingers. A deep depression began to settle in her soul. The absence of everyone left her feeling hollow, alone. Did anyone care for her little boy anymore? She pleaded with the detective to speak to the media on last time. She hated the first press conference because she didnt know what to say without sounding cliche.` She wanted to be genuine, say something that would truly touch the heart of the kidnapper. Something that would bring that person to tears and remorse, offering over her son. But the news moved on to another story, another victim, another child, leaving her child forgotton. She re-submitted his photo to every newspaper in the state, every news station, every church bulletin. What more could she do?
  James felt disconnected. His precious little boy that he had prayed for so long, was taken from him, ripped from his home. How could he heal from that? He searched every day. He prayed every day. He cried every day. He knew the dogs were a bad sign and he knew that meant that the detectives thought hope was lost as well. He couldn't give up on his little boy. He refused to believe that his answered prayer had been overcome by a nightmare.
  Poor Susan asked several times a day, "Ian? Gone." She had lost her best friend and partner in crime. She knew her mommy and daddy were sad but could only understand in a two-year old capacity. She handled grief in her own way. She played quietly by herself and when she could, curled up on her parents' laps. She picked up a habit that she never before had--sucking her thumb. She was closely gaurded by both parents and no longer slept alone in her bed.
 
  The community wept for the lost little boy. A local church offered the Thomas' a burial plot and a service for their son until his body was found. An offer to which Annie replied, "Don't call here again." The local grocery store now had tape in their survelience cameras, a little too late. The gas stations and stores and businesses kept Ian's picture up in their windows.
  The time passed slowly. Annie and James grew further apart. Most people thought they blamed each other for Ian, but in fact they blamed themselves, so much so that they could hardly stand to look at each other. Both felt guilty and like they had let the othe down. They contemplated divorce, but felt like Susan had been through enough. So they stayed. They slept in the same bed, but not together. They lived in the same house, but only to keep a false image of a happy family for the daughter they adored most in the world. And time passed slowly.

  James called Detective Ford every Monday morning asking for updates. The answer was always the same, but he had hope. As the weeks turned to months and then to years, different tips were called in that led to nowhere, bodies of children were found that weren't Ian. Other families lost their loved ones, other tragedies happened, and Ian was forgotten by most.
  James threw himself into his work. Annie quit her job at the library and became the secretary and book keeper for James' business. They worked as often as possible to keep themselves distracted. Susan was always by their side. Never was the intention for her to be an only child. They wanted more children after the twins, but since Ian, could not bring themselves to come together. The silence and emptiness dragged on. The holes were temorarily fixed by different successes and of course, Susan. 
  Annie was sure that James blocked Ian out as much as possible. But she couldn't. She often thought of his contagious smile. She remembered him curled up in her arms. She remembered reading his favorite story to him and singing his favorite song. She didn't think he was alive anymore. She didn't feel his connection. She was his mother and surely would feel some glimmer of hope if he were out there. Of the many things she regretted, one opportunity she wished she would have had was to hold her child in her arms one more time. She wouldn't have cared that he was dead, lifeless as she held him, just so long as she got to hold him at all. But, like so many agonizing wishes, this one would not be granted either.
  Time passed, years passed, but little Ian stayed suspended in time, forever a two-year old child.