Page 2 of Lost and Found

“I’m fine, sir. Just tell me what to do and I’ll get it done.” To validate his claim that he was okay, Callum moved away from the heat, still trying to hide his shivering.

The man chuckled again. “What did you have for breakfast, son?” the man asked, his voice still gruff, but…was there a bit of amusement in his voice now? The distrust had faded in the face of the boy’s earnest proclamations.

Callum made a mental note of everything. He wasn’t going to be cold and hungry forever. He was going to survive! Somehow, he was going to get back to Scotland and get his home back! Castle MacGreggor was just a vision in his mind, but he remembered. He’d always remember the horror of being kicked out of his home by that lying, cheating bastard. He’d also remember the shock on his father’s face when the lawyer had come to evict them.

Yes, some day, he’d get his revenge on that usurper! For now, he’d plan and save every penny he could. Living on the streets after his parents’ passing, Callum knew how harsh the world could be to someone who didn’t have any money.

“Come with me,” the man ordered and moved into a smaller room. Warning bells started to ring in his head. Callum remembered someone saying that some old men liked boys. Was this one of those times? Was the old man going to ask him to do something weird? He followed, but stopped in the doorway.

“I’m making some coffee for myself, but you need protein, son. Protein to help your bones grow.” The shop owner took out a carton of milk from a small refrigerator. “However, I suspect that you’re still freezing, so how about if I heat up some milk? It doesn’t taste as good that way, but I think you need to be warm from the inside out.”

Callum’s mouth fell open, stunned at the offer of food. Callum hadn’t thought that the man would feed him. And warm milk? He couldn’t stop his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the thought. Not just milk, but warm milk! At this moment, Callum couldn’t think of anything more delicious.

The man poured milk into a ceramic mug and popped it into a small microwave, pressed some buttons, then turned to do something with another machine. Callum couldn’t pay any attention to what the man was doing now. His entire focus was on the microwave as it heated up the mug of milk. When the ding sounded, the shop owner turned and opened the microwave, pulling out the cup of milk.

“Sit down over there,” he ordered, handing the mug to Callum. “And drink all of this. You need to be warm before you can start working.”

Callum followed the man’s orders and sat, accepting the milk with both hands. It was hot! Callum wrapped his freezing fingers around the mug and stared down at the manna. Taking a tentative sip, he savored the sensation of warmth as it slid down his throat and into his empty stomach.

Callum wondered if this was what heaven felt like!

The man made a pot of coffee, then popped two pieces of toast into a toaster, whistling tunelessly as he worked. Callum sipped his milk slowly and he really did warm up faster. The toaster pinged and a moment later warm, golden bread popped up, bouncing slightly. Callum ignored the delicious smell, focusing only on the cup of milk in his hands. So he was startled a moment later when a plate filled with two pieces of jam-topped toast appeared in his line of sight.

“I doubt you had breakfast before you came here, did you?” the shop owner asked, still holding the plate of toast. “Go ahead,” he urged gently.

Callum took the plate, staring down at the toast as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful before. Which would be the case. He knew what jam was, of course. He’d seen it as he’d passed by that bakery shop by his old neighborhood. They’d had jam in Scottland of course. But his mother had always been one of those earthy moms who didn’t want her son to have sugar.

Callum looked up as he watched the man put two more pieces of bread into the toaster, still whistling as he poured himself a cup of coffee, adding in milk and sugar.

When he looked back at Callum, he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t dared to move!

“You don’t like raspberry jam?” the man asked.

Callum jerked slightly, pulling the plate closer as if afraid that the man might take it away. “I like it.” he replied, his voice croaking from the effort to get the words out. He had no idea if he liked raspberry jam. But he wanted to try it!

Carefully, Callum balanced the plate on his too-skinny knees, then picked up a piece of toast. When the burst of sweet and tart hit his taste buds, he almost moaned with happiness and memories. He remembered strawberry jam at his friends’ homes, but for some reason, this tasted even better.

Five minutes later, the milk and toast eaten, Callum felt almost too full. He hadn’t had that much food in…a long time!

“Okay, now that we’ve had a bit to eat,” the man sighed, then stood up from the rickety stool, rubbing his apron-covered belly. He waved with his refilled coffee cup, “Let’s get to work!”

He led Callum out of the small room and into the main area of the shop. The aisles were pretty chaotic, but Callum was warm and full. He didn’t care about anything at the moment.

For the next three hours, Callum stocked the shelves from the boxes in the storage area, putting up cans of tuna, beans, cat food, and about ten other items. He swept the floors, helped several people carry their groceries to their cars and…smiled brightly when one of the elderly ladies gave him two dollars!

Callum stared at the money. It was more money than he’d had on his own since coming to America! His grubby hands closed around the money and he wanted desperately to stuff those dollar bills into his pocket. But then he remembered the warm milk this morning. And the toast with jam! That jam had tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten!

The guilt left a raw, painful acid churning through his stomach now. So he unclenched the dollar bills and walked back into the store. “This is from Ms. Ellen,” he said and laid the precious dollar bills onto the counter.

Mr. McCormick chuckled. “Why are you giving that to me?” he asked. At Callum’s confused expression, the shop owner smiled gently as he pushed the money back over the counter. “It’s for you. Ms. Ellen gave you a tip, Callum. That’s yours.”

Callum’s eyes widened and he looked at the crumpled dollar bills on the counter. His heart thudded and he lifted his eyes back up to Mr. McCormick. “Mine?” he asked, not sure if this was a trick.

The man’s rough features softened. “Absolutely, Callum. When you help someone, they sometimes give you a tip.” His eyes turned stern. “Don’t ever ask for a tip,” he told him. “And always thank someone when they provide one.”

Callum continued to stare at the money, not sure what he could buy with two dollars. But maybe…if he kept it and saved it, he could buy a jar of jam!

Reaching out slowly, glancing up at Mr. McCormick as if he suspected that the man was just tricking him and he might smack Callum’s hand away, his fingers closed around the money. Carefully, he smoothed the money out, then folded it and slid it into the pocket of his jeans. “Thank you!” he whispered, then moved towards the back of the store where he’d been stocking baking supplies.

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