Free The Prodigal: A Ragamuffin Story by Brennan Manning, Greg Garrett

every single night of the year, do you?”
    He looked blankly at her. “How—”
    “Remember, no secrets in Mayfield,” she repeated. “Anyway, Father Frank will have plenty of drunks to talk to. He always does.”
    They looked at each other.
    “Okay,” Jack said. “If he’s smoking ribs.”
    “He is,” Mary said. “See you at six.”
    Tom slowly got up from the counter. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re a good girl, Mary.” He kissed her on her forehead.
    “Yes, I am,” she said briskly. “Jack.”
    “Sis.” He nodded.
    His phone began to buzz in the pocket of his coat. He dug it out, checked the caller.
    It was Danny.
    “I need to take this,” he said, and he stepped through the store to the back door before answering. His heart was pounding.
    It was the first time anyone from his old world had spoken to him since the day he was tossed unceremoniously out of Grace Cathedral.
    “Danny,” he said. He noticed his hand was trembling. “Hey. Danny.”
    “I’m not supposed to be talking to you,” Danny said. “I’m notsupposed to be in contact with you in any way at any time. They say you’re going to sue us, try to get your old job back.”
    Jack felt his shoulders slump. “Really?” he managed to get out. “Danny, I would never do that.”
    “All the same,” Danny said. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”
    “And yet you are,” Jack said. He stepped out into the sunlit section of the lumberyard and leaned against the south-facing wall where he wouldn’t be quite so chilly.
    “Jack, where are you now? Are you, you know, in your right mind? You said you were counting lumber. I thought—oh, man, I don’t know what I thought. Some elaborate scaffold to hang yourself.” He laughed nervously. “That’s why I called.”
    “I’m in Mayfield,” Jack said. “My dad brought me home. I’m working in the hardware store. Right now, I’m standing in the lumberyard.”
    Danny was silent. Jack checked to see if he had bars. Yes, three of them. It was Danny he didn’t have.
    “Danny?” he asked. The silence stretched a bit longer.
    “Wow,” Danny said at last. “Hardware?”
    “Yeah,” Jack said. “Listen, Danny. Have you heard from Tracy? Are she and Alison okay?”
    “Listen—” Danny began.
    “No,” Jack said. “I deserve to know at least that much. I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to keep Alison away from me. And I miss them. Both.” He did, he realized. His stomach was clenched with grief. “If it was you—Danny, if it was you, wouldn’t you be climbing the walls, worried out of your mind?”
    “Yeah,” Danny admitted. “But, Jack—”
    “Come on, Danny,” Jack said, pulling the phone away from his face and looking at it as though it had offended him. “I just want to know—”
    “I haven’t heard from them, Jack,” Danny said. “Why would they talk to me? And I don’t know where they are. I think that was part of the deal. They’d go away, they’d be quiet, and we’d take care of them. Protect them. The church pays the lawyers. That’s all I know.”
    “Protecting them from who? Me?” He knew the truth immediately. “No. Protecting them from the media.” He let out a disgusted
whoosh
of air. “Like Tracy would ever talk.” His stomach slowly rolled again. “Like I didn’t shame her so bad she’d ever want to talk about it.”
    “Your dad asked me where they were,” Danny said. “He’s called me more than once. A lot more. I told him I didn’t know anything.” Danny paused. “I don’t think he believes me.”
    “I believe you,” Jack said. “And I think you’d tell me something if you could.” He sighed. It was a dead end on finding his family, but at least not the end of his and Danny’s friendship. “Are you okay? What’s it like up there?”
    “It’s like riding a bucking bronco, Jack,” Danny said, and against his will, Jack smiled.
    “Like holding a live power line,” Jack said.
    “Like drinking from a