The Vanishings (4 page)

“My mom says they are.”

“Well, maybe someday she can show me, and then I'll think about it. Meantime, I'm not goin' to worry about fairy tales, and you shouldn't either.”

But Lionel did worry. When they got back to the rest of the family, everyone was gathered around the piano and singing old hymns. Lionel liked that. He sang well and enjoyed blending harmonies. Uncle André sang right along with the rest of them, but once he winked at Lionel. Then he worked his way near him and whispered, “This stuff makes for good singing, but remember, half of it's a good way to live and the other is just fairy tales.”

Lionel wondered if Uncle André really believed that. He was a cool guy and older and seemed wise in the ways of the world. If anybody should worry about what happened to him when he died or when the end of the
world came, it should be André. But he didn't seem worried. He had a plan, a scheme. He had convinced himself he could play the game well enough to keep his loving family around him.

Lionel would rather have been like his mother than like his uncle, but he knew he and André were pretty much the same. André did a lot worse things, but if what Lionel's mother and the rest of the family believed was true, Lionel knew that he and André were in the same boat.

André began dancing to the music, and his relatives clapped and urged him on. Lionel couldn't help but smile, seeing his joyous uncle entertaining everyone. Lionel's mother put her arm around him as she watched André. She pulled Lionel to herself and said, “Isn't the Lord wonderful? Don't we have a good God?”

Lionel tried to ignore her, but she noticed. “Hm?” she said. “Aren't you glad to serve a God who loves you so much?”

“Um-hm,” Lionel lied. “Sure, Mama. 'Course I am.”

He felt terrible. Like a hypocrite. Like the liar he was.

“YOUR
real name's Rayford?” Ryan Daley squealed at his best friend. “We've known each other how long, and I never knew that!”

Raymie Steele smiled and shook his head. “Don't make such a big deal about it. Otherwise I'll tell everybody your middle name!”

The boys had grown up on the same street, one living on each end. They had begun kindergarten together, and now they were both twelve and in the sixth grade. They were as close as brothers. Ryan was an only child, and Raymie may as well have been. His only sister, Chloe, was eight years older and had been away at college two years already.

Ryan and Raymie had a lot in common. Each had a father who was too busy for him. These guys needed each other. Ryan was a little shorter and thicker than Raymie, who was
slender and tall and dark like his father. Ryan was a blond and the better athlete of the two.

Like any close friends, they squabbled a lot. Once in a while they even said nasty things to each other and vowed never to talk to each other again. The next day one would call the other or just go to his house, and they would start in where they had left off, best friends. No apologies, no mention of the argument. Just friends again.

They had always gotten a kick out of how close their first names were. That was what had started the discussion of their real full names. Ryan said he had been named after three famous Chicagoans. “My first name comes from Dan Ryan. I don't even know who he was, but there's an expressway named after him. And my middle name, promise you'll never tell a soul, comes from some old mayor from way back when who got assassinated.”

“What's his name?”

“I don't want to tell you. I don't trust you.”

“If you can't trust
me
—”

“OK, I trust you. But you gotta promise.”

“I promise.”

“And you've got to tell me a secret you don't want anybody to know.”

“I will.”

“All right,” Ryan said. “The mayor's name was Anton Cermak.”

Raymie Steele had doubled over laughing. Ryan couldn't resist laughing too. “So,” Raymie said when he caught his breath, “is your middle name Anton or Cermak?”

“Cermak,” Ryan mumbled.

“No!”

“Yes! Isn't that awful? And my last name's the same as a former Chicago mayor too.”

“I know. How'd your middle-name guy get assassinated?”

“My mom made me look it up. For some reason he was in a parade in Florida with President Roosevelt when some guy tried to shoot the president, missed, and hit Cermak.”

“Which Roosevelt?”

“I don't know. Was there more than one?”

“'Course,” Raymie said. “Teddy and Franklin.”

“Probably Teddy, I guess.”

“When was this?”

“In the 1930s, I think.”

“Then it had to be Franklin.”

“Whatever, Raymie. How do you know all that stuff?”

“I don't know. I just like to study, and I remember a lot of it.”

“So it's your turn to tell me something you don't want anybody else to know.”

“All right, Ryan, as long as we're talking about names, I'm actually a ‘junior.'”

“Your name is the same as your dad's?”

“Yup.”

“So his name is Raymond? You're actually Raymond Steele?”

“Nope. It's Rayford.”

Now it was Ryan's turn to laugh. They swore to each other that they would never tell anyone else. But when they were alone, they started calling each other Rayford and Cermak. It usually made them smile.

One of the reasons their friendship worked so well was that in spite of all their similarities, they also had individual strengths and weaknesses. Raymie was the student, the one who seemed to know everything and was usually right. It drove Ryan crazy that Raymie actually enjoyed school.

Ryan went to school mostly to play. He was the athlete of the two. You name the sport, he enjoyed it and was good at it and played with all his might. He was the fastest runner, the highest jumper, the best hitter and thrower and even the best basketball shot in his class. Raymie said he considered himself a klutz in sports but that he enjoyed
watching Ryan and was proud to be his friend.

Ryan liked it when Raymie stayed overnight at his house or he stayed at Raymie's. Secretly, Ryan believed Raymie had the best dad. Raymie's dad was Rayford Steele Sr., an airline pilot. He always called it “driving” the planes, and the planes he drove were the big ones, the 747s.

Ryan had gotten to go into the cockpit of a 747 once when Mr. Steele had taken him and Raymie to O'Hare. They watched the planes take off and land, and Captain Steele gave them pilot caps, wing pins, and even old computer printouts of weather conditions and route logs.

Whenever Ryan stayed at Raymie's, he hoped Captain Steele was home and would tell him airplane stories. Mr. Steele insisted that his job was actually quite routine and boring. “The important thing is that we do it right and do it safely,” he said. He had never crashed, which disappointed Ryan because he thought there would be a great story behind something like that.

The only thing Ryan didn't like about being at Raymie's house was that Mrs. Steele seemed so religious. She always made them pray before they ate, and she often talked about God and even told Bible stories. Ryan
enjoyed some of those, but it made him nervous when Mrs. Steele made Raymie say his prayers before going to sleep. Church and prayer and Bible stories had never been part of Ryan's life.

His father was nothing quite as dramatic as an airline pilot. Ryan's dad was a sales manager for a big plumbing fixture company. Ryan was proud that his dad was successful and seemed to make good money. His dad seemed a little upset that, as he said, “I probably don't make as much as your friend's dad, the pilot, but I'm not far behind.”

Ryan's mother also worked, so he often came home alone after school. He wasn't supposed to have anyone in the house when his parents weren't there, but for many years he and Raymie cheated on that. They would play and eat and watch television, always keeping an eye out for Mrs. Daley. When she pulled into the driveway, Raymie would hurry to the front door and slip out as she came in the back. Once she was in the house, he knew it was safe to ring the doorbell as if he had just gotten there.

That kept Ryan out of trouble. But one day, a few months before, that had all changed. For a few days, Raymie had excuses for why he couldn't come over after school.
Finally Ryan asked him right out. “What's the deal, Raymie?”

“Well, you're not supposed to have anybody over without one of your parents there, right?”

“Hello!” Ryan said. “We've been breaking that rule for a long time. My mom has never even suspected.”

“That still doesn't make it right.”

“We'll never get caught, Raymie!”

“I'm not talking about getting caught. I'm talking about whether it's right.”

“So, if she catches us, we'll tell her it was the first and only time.”

Raymie had shaken his head and Ryan was frustrated. “So you'd make it worse by lying,” Raymie said.

“Who cares?”

“I do!” Raymie said.

“Why all of a sudden?”

“I need to talk to you about that.”

“Then come on over and we'll talk about it.”

“Ryan, you just don't get it. I'm not going to your house anymore when your mom isn't there, OK? You don't have to agree, but that's how it's going to be.”

“You're right. I don't get it. What's got into you?”

“Why don't you come to my house and I'll
tell you? Didn't your mom say that if you weren't home when she got home, the only other place you were allowed to be was my house?”

Ryan agreed. A few minutes later they were talking in Raymie's garage. Both Raymie's parents happened to be home. Raymie started right in.

“We started going to a new church, and we've been learning a lot of new things.”

“Oh no, not this again! Are we gonna wind up prayin'?”

“No,” Raymie said. “This is different. Really. At our old church we believed in God and the Bible and everything—”

“Don't I know it!”

“Yeah, but we were getting kind of bored, especially my mom.”

“Your Mom? I thought she liked all that stuff.”

“She did, but she said something was missing. Somebody invited her to this new church, and we started going, and we learned a lot more.”

“Like what?”

“You really want to know?”

“No, but something tells me you're going to tell me anyway, so let's get it over with.”

Ryan had hoped that would insult Raymie just a little and they could get on to playing,
but Raymie plunged ahead. “At this new church, New Hope right here in town, they have this really nice old pastor—”

“Wait, the church is called what?”

“New Hope Village Church.”

“Weird name for a church.”

“Anyway, Pastor Billings is a really nice old guy, but he doesn't just read out of the Bible and then talk about stuff in general like the guy at our other church. Pastor Billings has everybody look up the verses and follow along with him, and he tells us we should read the Bible every day at home, too.”

“Every day? Yuck!”

“No, it's great. It's like we can check up on him and make sure we understand and agree and all that.”

“But all that boring religious stuff!”

“That's what I used to think too, Ryan. I liked the stories in Sunday school, but when I had to sit in the service, I hated it. I thought I would hate it here, too, but I don't. Pastor Billings says there's more to being a Christian than just going to church and trying to be good. You want to know what he says?”

“No, but keep going. You're gonna be a preacher yourself someday!”

“He says we can know God.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No! That's what he says. He showed us from the Bible that God loves everyone and wants them to know him. That's the reason Jesus came to earth. He was actually God and—”

“Yeah, and he taught us how to live and everything, I know.”

“No, it's more than that. He wants people to become true Christians by following him, not just doing what he said but letting him live in our lives.”

“Now you've lost me.”

“I wish I could explain it like he does. You have to come with me sometime.”

“I don't think so.”

“Come on! If you told me something was great and important, I'd at least listen.”

“Good for you. You think I'm going to follow Jesus or let him, what did you say, live in . . . ?

“Live in your life.”

“Too strange.”

“I'm just not explaining it right. My mom knows. Let's ask her.”

“No! I've heard enough, OK? You know God now, is that it?”

“Well, yeah . . .”

“And that makes you want to follow all the rules and do everything right. Why? So you can get to heaven?”

“No! That's what I used to think. When I'd do something I knew was wrong—like breaking your mom's rules and everything—I felt bad because I thought that might be enough to send me to hell. I thought if I did enough right things to make up for the wrong things, maybe I'd make it to heaven. But I never knew for sure.”

“Now I'm really not getting it.”

“That's why you should talk to my mom. We've both received Christ and—”

“Received
Christ? You're not gonna be like those people that go around knocking on everybody's door, are you?”

“Sometimes I'd like to, Ryan. I want everybody to know.”

“So, if doing everything right is not how you get to heaven, why did you all of a sudden become so perfect?”

“I didn't. I want to do right things because I know that's what God wants. But I'm just doing that to thank him for forgiving me and saving me and promising me heaven someday. Know what I mean?”

“No!”

“And you don't want to talk to my mom?”

“No, thanks. What about your dad?”

“Well, we're praying for him.”

“So he doesn't go for all this stuff?”

Raymie looked embarrassed. “Not really.”

“Well, maybe somebody in this family still has a brain. What about your big sister?”

“We're praying for Chloe too.”

“So I'm not the only person you know who thinks this is a lot of baloney.”

“That's what you think?”

“Not really, Raymie. It just sounds weird, that's all. And I don't think you even understand it much.”

Raymie shrugged. “That's true, but I understand enough.”

“Are we done now?”

“I guess.”

“Can we play with that model of your dad's plane?”

“I'll get it.”