He turned to pull open the door, then charged out into the night, as if the force of his love and determination alone could manifest Noah right in front of him.
It didn’t cause Noah to materialize, but he was met with his father as he started toward Park Avenue.
“Gardener has just told me,” Beckett’s father said, reaching him and grasping his hands in a show of support and paternal love. Beckett’s friends were right behind him, so his father looked to them and asked, “Do you know where he’s gone?”
“He took a streetcar somewhere south of Bleeker Street,” Blaise said. “We sent someone after him, but they lost track of him almost at once.”
Beckett’s father hissed and shook his head. “South of Bleeker Street narrows things down, but not by a lot. How long ago did he leave your club?”
Beckett was glad that Gardener had apparently filled his father in on the details. He wasn’t certain he was up for an explanation at that moment.
“Shortly before midnight,” Blaise answered as they all headed toward Park Avenue.
“But it’s nearly two in the morning now,” Beckett’s father complained.
“We must not waste a single second more,” Beckett said, picking up his pace.
It wasn’t actually difficult to find a cab to take them downtown. New York was a city that operated around the clock. There were no cabs in their immediate vicinity, though, which meant they wasted even more time walking toward Central Park, then heading south to where theaters and nightclubs were still open.
Even once they were all squashed inside of a carriage and jostling their way down to the very tip of Manhattan, Beckett felt a horrible sense of foreboding in his chest.
“I shouldn’t have let him go,” he said, not speaking to anyone in particular, even though everyone was pressed in around him. “I should have watched him to make certain he was in a good frame of mind. Or…or I should have prevented him from sneaking out somehow.”
“By doing what?” his father asked in a voice that was kind, yet firm. “By locking him in your house? By shackling him to your bed? How would that be any better than putting him away in an asylum.”
“He would be with me,” Beckett insisted. “He would be with someone he loves, someone who loves him and cares about him.” He twisted and grasped his father’s hands. “I love him, Father. I love him so much.”
“I know, son,” his father said, his voice sad. He squeezed Beckett’s hands. “And trust me, you have done everything you are capable of doing to help Noah.”
“You’ve done so much,” Blaise interrupted from the seat across from them. She glanced to Marcus on one side and Graham on the other, then went on with, “We’ve all been so impressed with your efforts.”
“We didn’t understand at first,” Marcus admitted with a sheepish look, “but you’ve done a world of good for him. Believe me, I’ve seen a tremendous change in him, even in the midst of his fits, when he’s with you. You might not see it, but he has done much better with you than he ever did with me.”
“You cannot heal a man’s mind entirely,” Beckett’s father said, giving his hands another squeeze. “Noah will always struggle, but if you are willing to stay by his side, that struggle won’t be as hard.”
“I am willing,” Beckett insisted. “More than willing. I love him.”
His father smiled sadly. Beckett could barely make out that smile in the fleeting light of streetlamps as the carriage sped on.
“Just because the struggle will not be as hard doesn’t mean it won’t be very hard, my boy,” he said. “But rest assured, you will not have to go it alone. I will be there for you and for Noah, and Aurora will too.”
“And us,” Blaise added, glancing to Marcus for a moment. “I daresay at this point that everyone at The Slope will be willing to support you and Noah. Won’t we, Marcus?”
Beckett almost smiled at the way Blaise asked for help as though issuing an ultimatum.
Marcus let out a breath and took one of Blaise’s hands. “Yes, love. Of course we will help.” He smiled at Beckett and nodded.
“In my experience,” his father said, “what might be an impossible burden for one man can be a manageable load when the weight of it is shared. Noah is a very lucky man to have an entire army of friends who will look out for his health and wellbeing.”
“If we can find him,” Beckett said, his voice little more than a whisper.
That was the catch in what would otherwise have been a beautiful moment. He believed that his father would stand by him and Noah, that Aurora would pour herself into keeping an eye on Noah when he needed it, and that everyone at The Slope would be willing to pitch in as well. But all of that was secondary to finding Noah and making certain he was safe.
They decided to start their search with Battery Park. Not only was Noah more likely to have sought the solace of a green space like that, if they began at the very tip of Manhattan and worked their way up, perhaps the impossible size and population of the city wouldn’t seem so daunting.
But within minutes of leaving the cab and fanning out through the park, Beckett felt the weight of how impossible their task was.
“There are too many vagrants and waifs huddled in the shadows in the park,” he said to his father as they walked away from yet another drunk man who had tucked himself into a bush to sleep for the night. He was the fifth one they’d questioned about Noah and gotten nothing from for their troubles. “Noah could be anywhere, but he isn’t. He just isn’t here.”