Among the Oil Derricks: Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

It had not been three days when Mr. Carlyle came home. He smiled and greeted the children eagerly, but Drake could see that he was tired and working hard to hide his discouragement.

“Brandon, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Carlyle said as soon as they were sure everyone was asleep.

Mr. Carlyle sighed, “I don’t understand, Bonnie, I used to have a reputation everyone could trust. Now no one trusts my research anymore. The company decided not to invest in the oil derrick. The doctor poisoned the well.”

“Why would he do that? What have we done to him? We’ve never even met him.” Bonnie cried.

“I don’t know what he wants with this land, but he wants it badly,” the man shook his head regretfully, “I’ve searched ways to prosecute him, but I can’t find anything worth taking the risk for.”

”Brandon, we’ll lose the house,” Bonnie murmured.

“I know! I know!” Brandon shook his head and buried it in his hands, “What can I do? Oh, Bonnie, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll be alright, sweetie,” Bonnie patted his back comfortingly, “I’ll call social services tomorrow so they’ll find homes for the kids and we’ll start looking. God will take care of us.”

Drake sat, his knees pulled up to his chest, listening just outside the living room door to the hall. He could tell that Mrs. Carlyle was speaking with an effort. It was hard on her, he knew. Sighing, he stood and soundlessly crept up the stairs. “Well, that’s all over,” his thoughts told him, “off to the next home, Drake, and off to the next. Better get used to it, teens never get adopted and you are almost if not already thirteen.” Drake shook his head vigorously. No! No! No! This couldn’t be it! Who was that doctor who destroyed all this? Why did he do it? Anger filled his heart as he went to bed. His brows were furrowed and stayed so all through his unpleasant sleep.

The next morning they came down for breakfast as usual promptly at eight o’clock. It was summer, so there was no school. It went on as usual. The Carlyle’s made no mentioned of their plight. Drake saw Mrs. Carlyle on the phone, though, and caught a few words. “Yes, tomorrow, yes, we will tell them.” His mild side sighed, but his bitter side had been growing for quite some time and now sat like a knot in his stomach.

“Kids, Mr. Carlyle and I have to talk to you in the living room,” Mrs. Carlyle told them after they had finished next morning’s breakfast. Lexie threw an odd glance at Drake. She caught Mrs. Carlyle’s grave tone. In the living room all but Drake sat down on the couch. He sat alone on a sofa chair to the right of the couch.

“We have some bad news,” Mrs. Carlyle and Mr. Carlyle sat down in the love seat. The foster children waited expectantly. “We are no longer able to afford our house or property. In the next few days you’ll be moved to new homes.”

“What!” Lexie exclaimed crestfallen. Cole and Ben were upset, Cole close to tears. Kayla looked disappointed. Drake only stared blankly.

“An agent has a house all ready for you, Lexie,” Mrs. Carlyle told her, “and I believe you will be going home to your mom and stepfather very shortly. You other kids will soon have placements in homes.”

The rest of the day was heavy for Drake and Lexie. The youngers were young enough to get over it quickly. Moving about was something they handled better, but Drake new it would soon take a toll on them and they would be as messed up as he was. Despite the pressure, Lexie and Drake did not argue at all like they usually did in stressful situations and lived in subdued peace. They came closest to getting along and working together they had been since Lexie had come.

Lexie packed her bags and departed to some unknown destination to await an unknown future the very next morning. Very soon after, Kayla went too and then Ben and then Cole. Drake was the only one left. The home was very big and empty. He felt displaced and helpless. Even the caves brought him small solace to his emptiness.

Lexie would probably be sent back to her alcoholic step-father and drug addict mother as Satie was. Cole would probably be kept from his, who, from what Drake had gathered, were a better family than most of America’s families. Why he had been taken away, he never fathomed it was so preposterous, but he guessed he would be longest to be returned. Cole often cried for his family. Drake did not know about Ben’s family or past, but he seemed healthy.

Drake often thought about why this was so and came to believe that because messed up parents like Satie’s and Lexie’s were such trouble to deal with and had no problem causing drama the workers would rather send the kids back as long as there is no obvious proof of abuse just to not have to deal with it or - when Drake was feeling more cynical - because they felt sorry for the parents lot even though it was largely their fault, yet good parents who followed the rules like a sacred ordinance were easy to bully. Why this made them subject to the “good intentions” of the social workers, Drake never understood, but they seemed to think no one knew how to parent without their say. Surrounded by this twisted reality, it was no wonder he came to scorn law and rules.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in moral law. I mean, if you didn’t have to steal, for goodness sakes, don’t. Let alone being wrong, it never worked out, even if it did, it doesn’t! But if it is inconvenient to obey cultural laws or even some ethical laws, big deal as long as he wasn’t caught. Despite this worldview, he obeyed rules as well as any person who held laws as though their life depended upon it. He had respect for order and understood the reasons behind some, he was in fact a slight bit afraid to disobey if he did not have a good reason, but if he had reason or the rule had no reason, he had the final say.

“His friends came and went. Even his home did. The future was uncertain and it was hard. It was hard to look forward when there was no control. It was hard that those who did did not care or could not be reached. His life was governed by outside forces, lawmakers, kings, queens, princes, and princesses whom he could not influence. While others could look to the future with vision and hope, his was void of vision and black to sight.”

Drake pushed his journal aside frustrated. It was getting late. Tucking his journal into his bag, he crawled into bed. He could no longer risk leaving his notebooks in the cave. If an agent came for him he would have no time nor excuse to retrieve them. The lights were out and Drake shut his eyes, but sleep did not come.

After hours of tossing and turning, Drake threw off his covers. Enough! He was going downstairs. With silent steps, the boy crept down the stairs. Halfway down, he could hear Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle talking. Perhaps he knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, he had surely heard it before. Whatever he knew, his scorn won out and he listened.

“Honey, we’ve prayed about it,” Mr. Carlyle held his wife close to him in comfort, “it isn’t God’s will for us to adopt Drake. We have to trust God will take care of him. I’m as sorry as you, but we have to trust.” Mrs. Carlyle sobbed into her husband’s chest as Drake pressed himself against the steps of the stairs.

God?! Oh sure, God said they should not adopt him. Of course it has nothing to do with the money or the effort or his sometimes hostile personality. Drake had always hoped there was a God, but this was the last straw. Even if there was a God, He couldn’t care about him. He couldn’t care about the Carlyles or why would He let this happen? It made no sense.

Drake respected the Carlyles and knew they wouldn’t try to deceive, but he now felt sure their subconscious worries and even their feelings of dislike - which they were sure to have - towards him must be masquerading as God’s voice. Faith and hope was all good and well for little girls like Satie, but life was just too real now. How could he have hope? How could he have faith? He couldn’t.

He was fighting an upward battle in the final moments of the war of his heart. The childlike clinging to hope against the world’s reality. The desperation to want to live with life’s proof that there is only death. It was a hopeless battle and he was losing. He could not do this alone, but there was no one to go to. With a heart emptier than before and oddly light, so light he thought it might fly away completely, he slipped back into bed and fell into a fitful sleep full of dark dreams.

*Rap* *Rap* *Rap* “Drake, Drake, wake up! It is five to eight!” Mrs. Carlyle called through his door. Drake opened his eyes. He didn’t feel like he had any sleep last night. He dreams took as much energy as in waking, he felt sure, and when he was tormented by them he was half awake. “We have company.”

“The agent,” Drake groaned to himself.

“It’s Lynne Roberts, you remember her don’t you?”

Oh! It isn’t. It’s just Lynne Roberts, that spunky single woman who like to travel all over the world causing all sorts of social uproars. That lady. What was she doing in Carlsbad? Wasn’t there some place in Saudi Arabia or Iran where she needed to stir up the Taliban with her feisty ways, slipping out just in time to avoid trouble? Or had she already done that and was waiting for the fire to burn down to do it again? Oh well, she was here and she was interesting company to say the least.

Without bothering to brush his hair or even change, Drake slumped down the stairs and plopped down on a sofa seat. Mrs. Carlyle looked at him oddly, “Well, I’m glad you’re up anyway. Lynne you remember Drake.”

“Oh yes, that charming little boy I met six months ago? Good to see you again, Drake. I hear that you won’t be here much longer. I am very sorry. You were very lucky and even I envied you for being able to stay here. Quite a horse boy, I’ve heard.” Miss Lynne smiled at him, he feigned a little smile back. “Perhaps one of these days I’ll pick you up wherever you are and we’ll have an adventure somewhere.”

“I thought you were in the Middle East painting some town red or something,” Drake replied testily.

Lynne laughed, “Oh the Middle East. It doesn’t take long or much to get kicked out. I left before they could though. Oh-my. What adventure! Anyway, Bonnie, dear, I am headed to the caverns. There is roadwork, so the going is going to be slow, heck, I could step out of my car while driving, it’ll be so slow. Still, I do love exploring, be it nature or culture. I’ve had enough time abroad, I’ve decided to turn my eyes to home, the US, and explore its wonders.”

“How nice,” Drake mentioned in an almost sarcastic attempt to be polite. Mrs. Carlyle shot him a glance, but Lynne only smiled and chuckled, “What a boy. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did he?” There was a moment of silence. “And, yes, Drake, it is nice,” Lynne added, “Very nice. Do you know anything about caves.”

Drake drew in a sharp breath as though offended at being asked such a question. “Yes, Drake is very fond of caves, he can answer nearly any question asked about them,” Bonnie put in quickly.

“Good, good, I might ask you a few questions about them,” Lynne laughed, “Tell me, will all your horses go to YMCA camps? Such a shame. I truly am sorry.”

“Yes, it is, but we are trusting God,” Bonnie began.

“Oh yes, God,” said Lynne in an amused voice while Drake sat upright in his chair. He felt like vomiting.

“Are you alright?” Mrs. Carlyle asked. Drake nodded and mumbled something as he left the room. He didn’t want to hear anything more on all that God stuff.

“I’m headed to the caverns,” Lynne’s voice echoed in Drake’s mind as he trudged up the stairs to him room, “there is roadwork, so the going is going to be slow, heck, I could step out of my car while driving, it’ll be so slow.”

Carlsbad Caverns! That was where those men said they were often. If he could find them maybe he could find out why they were doing what they were doing and who was behind it. Maybe he could stop them and whoever was ruining his life would pay!

With a beating heart and solid footsteps, Drake dressed, grabbed his backpack, packed his essentials, and crept back down the stairs and out the back door. The Lynne Robert’s car was out in the driveway. He hadn't noticed her carrying anything she’d put in the back seat. He peered into the windows. There was a hiking backpack. Glancing back at the house, Drake carefully opened the back door, threw the backpack into the front seat, and slid behind the driver’s seat crouching low to the floor.

Several minutes that felt like hours later the visitor waved goodbye, jumped into her car, and drove away. She did not notice Drake. They reached the slow area where he realized he could not possibly slip out without her noticing. Angrily he consented to the fact he would have to wait to get to Carlsbad Caverns forty miles away. It wasn’t that he was getting the full ride to Carlsbad Caverns, that worked out nicely, it was that it would be a long, cramped, silent drive. Silent, that is, until he learned that Lynne talked to herself while driving. Nothing psycho, more like mutterings of thoughts aloud.

Nothing was more welcome than for Drake to hear, “Ah, here we are,” escape Lynne’s mouth as she pulled into the parking lot of the main building.

Climbing out, she looked around with a deep, content breath. Taking the opportunity of the distracting, Drake cracked the door open. After being satisfied she wouldn’t look and no one else was, either, he pushed the door ajar, slid out, and pushed the door silently closed. Flipping up his hood, he slipped away and into the building. It was a challenge staying unseen until she had gone off to her backpacking hike which would last several days, but he succeeded.

Afterwards, Drake sauntered around, reading posters about the caves and asking himself ‘what now’? He had gotten himself there, which was perhaps now that he thought about it the easiest part. What he did know was that he’d give CPS a run for their money to find him. No, never mind, they wouldn’t. He was out now, he knew how to travel long distances. He wouldn’t go back. What were the chances of anyone finding or recognizing him? He would just be on more face amongst the thousands other Missing Child posters.

“Hey, Drake!” a voice called.