Easing off the tire, he rolled it to the back and tossed it into the trunk. When he’d approached Pammy Sue in the church lobby, he’d feared he might startle her, but there was no sign of the jumpy woman his mother had described. He simply didn’t know what to make of it.
Pushing the spare tire in place, he lightly screwed on the lug nuts. He could use the help in the office, but he wasn’t the man to deal with a broken, and he suspected, battered woman.
He grabbed the jack handle, lowered the car, and tightened the lug nuts. Maybe her reaction on the porch was the result of some seldom-triggered phobia. Or maybe he was thinking too much and should just get back to the interview. Heaven knew, with at least three or four more weeks till his dad could return to work, and Ellen on bed rest till her baby arrived, he desperately needed some help.
“All set.” He wiped his hands on an old rag he’d found in the trunk.
“Thank you very much. My husband worries about me so when he’s out of town, but I tell him not to. God always provides.”
“Yes. Yes, He does.” Waving good-bye as she slid awkwardly behind the wheel and drove off, he thought of the woman waiting for him in his office and turned toward the building.
“Yes… I’ll make sure he calls if there’s a problem… No, it was no trouble at all, Mrs. Cahill… Yes, I’ll see you on Sunday.” With her back to the door, Pam dropped the phone into the cradle.
“Making yourself at home?” he teased.
“Oh.” She jumped up from his chair, and stepped out of the way. “Sorry about that, but it kept ringing.”
“It does that.” She was cute when she was embarrassed. This was a side of her she didn’t show as a kid, or maybe he just didn’t remember seeing it. Either way, he preferred a blushing assistant to the young girl who would take a swing at anyone who dared malign her or her family.
“Mrs. Trumble’s daughter called again,” she continued. “Mrs. Trumble took all her medicines without a single complaint. Mr. Beauchamp faxed you the scholarship names. He needs you to sign them ASAP and fax them back.” She paused to hand him the two messages and the page from the fax machine.
He looked down at the papers in his hand then back at her. Still holding more messages in her hand, she hadn’t noticed him staring at her.
“Your mom called. She wanted to know how the interview went. I told her it isn’t over. You were called to more important things. She didn’t take that very well, until I explained that a woman who looked to be eleven- or twelve-months pregnant was about to attempt to change her own tire. You might like to know, your mom thinks you’re a good boy.”
Biting her lower lip, she stifled a small laugh and looked at the next piece of paper in her hand. “And last but not least, Theresa Cahill wanted to know which weekend you have available for her granddaughter’s baptism.” She glanced up at him through the longest lashes he’d ever seen. “I took the liberty of looking at your calendar and mentioned the weekend of the 21st or 28th of next month looks best, but I’d have you call her back if I was mistaken.”
“Was I gone that long?”
“Apparently.” She smiled, looking rather proud of herself.
Shaking his head, his gaze locked on hers. “You’re hired.”
“So how’s my favorite girl?”
“Greg, when are you going to get a woman of your own?” Pam laughed into the phone. “You should find yourself a new law partner with a nice single sister. Or better yet, find yourself a new single female partner.”
“Now why would I want to do that when I have you?”
“That’s just it. You don’t have me.”
From the first time she’d met her husband's future business partner, he’d teased Travis that he’d married the last good woman on earth. Of course that hadn’t stopped Greg from test-driving every breathing female within a fifty-mile radius.
For more than two years now, he’d upped the ante on the playfulness. She figured it was some macho, take-care-of-the-little-woman-left-behind thing, and she was fine with that. Talking to Greg made her feel closer to Travis. Not that she’d ever forget Travis, but some days she felt so alone, and he felt so…gone.
She blew out a tired breath and forced a smile, hoping it showed in her voice. “I found a job.”
“What law firm?”
“Hope’s Corner Community Church.”
“Churches practice law in Hope’s Corner?”
“Comedian. I’m the temporary replacement for the church secretary. She’s on maternity leave.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. Today was only my third day, but so far I’m really liking it. It’s a nice change of pace having a stress-free job.” Or maybe it was just nice having a good night’s sleep. Either way she was counting her blessings.
“One should never underestimate the value of blood-pumping stress in life.” He chuckled softly. “Anyhow, I called to apologize for not making it out there the other day. When we spoke, I was sure there’d be enough time after my meeting to take a little detour and come visit my prettiest girl.”
“You are incorrigible, but I understand. It would have been nice. I’m dying to show you the house I rented. It’s a great old prairie-style. I’ve got a porch with a swing. The front room has a huge working stone fireplace—”
“Fireplace? If memory serves me correctly, Hope’s Corner’s average temperature in January is fifty-five.”
“Details.” She laughed. “It looks nice. Besides, that’s the average daytime temperature. The nights can get pretty cold around here.”
“If you’d move back to Dallas, you might actually get to use a fireplace in the winter.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t, Greg. I tried. You know I tried. It’s too hard for me there. It was time to come home.”
“At least tell me the nightmares are getting better.” The playfulness in his voice was gone.
“They are. I’ve only had a few since I moved in.”
“Well, I suppose that’s something. Listen, I’ve got someone waiting on me, so I need to cut this short.”
“Blonde or brunette?”
Greg chuckled on the other end of the line. “If you must know, she’s a redhead. She’s also got four legs and a tail. Not my type, but what can I do?”
“So you’re buying another filly?” When Greg had first started investing in racehorses, she and Travis had thought he’d lost his mind. Who’d have guessed the city slicker knew how to pick the winners?
“This time I’m looking at her for a friend.”
“Ah, now I see. Blonde or brunette?” If she leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes, she could almost hear Travis chiming in to tease his best friend.
“Blonde, and I’m taking the fifth. I’m already late and in serious danger of ruining any chances for a sensually delicious breakfast.”
“Okay—too much information. Have a good night, and—”
“I know, be careful driving home. Good night, Pam.”
“Night.”
Just a few more minutes. Relaxing on the sofa, if she kept her eyes closed, she could see Travis, almost feel him. Time hadn’t passed. Nothing had really changed. She could see the three of them so clearly, drinking champagne, toasting a win for an important client. Another minute and just she and Travis would be dancing in the kitchen to their own music, waiting for the oven timer to ring, burning the dinner when they finished their dance in the bedroom. With her eyes closed, nothing had changed…
It’s so dark. Where was she? In a cave, a tunnel, so dark. Yellow lines. A road. The streetlights are burned out. Need the high beams to see. But it’s late. Too late.
Oh, the bright light is so pretty. Her dress is red satin. Folds of fabric draped across her chest. Travis looks so handsome in his tuxedo. Even the red cummerbund looks sharp, matches her dress. Like My Fair Lady, she could dance all night. Travis her knight in shining armor.
The music is so sweet. “I’ll always love you,” she whispered into his ear. T
ogether forever.
It’s dark again. Someone’s blocking the light. Why is her dress torn, and where’s Travis? “Travis?”
She has to find him. The music is still playing. He promised they could dance all night. “Travis!”
The dress is too tight. Can’t breathe. Makes her ribs hurt. So much pain. “Travis, make it stop.”
Thunder. A storm. The thunder is so loud. We need to hurry home. “Travis.” Where did he go? “Travis, I don’t see you. Answer me. We have to go home. Lightning is dangerous.”
She stepped on her dress, tripped, fell. It’s too hard to get up. She has to find Travis. Where is he?
Everything is all wet. Rain, the storm. No, not water. Blood. So much blood.
“No!” The scream ripped from her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Springing upright on the couch, her hand pressed to her chest, she looked around. It was so cold. “Breathe. Have to breathe.”
Still shaking, she pushed to her feet and stumbled across the dark room, searching for the switch. Groping the walls, struggling to inhale, finally she found her prize and flipped on the lights.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s just a dream.” Another nightmare. Then why could she still feel cold fingers wrapped tightly around her neck? The pressure so hard.
Peaches circled her feet.
“I’m okay, girl.” She bent over and lifted the cat from the floor. “It’s only a dream,” she told herself, but just the same, carrying the cat cradled in her arms like a life preserver, Pam checked the locks on both doors. Bolted. It was just another dream.
Leaning against the kitchen door, she sank to the floor. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to make it stop. But, dear Lord, how?
CHAPTER THREE
Something was definitely rotten in the country of Denmark. Or at least in Hope’s Corner. For three days everything at work had gone as smoothly as cool water rolling over white-washed river rock, but today, Jeff felt as though he were once again dealing with the frightened woman he’d first met last week on her front porch.
“Here’s the fax we’ve been waiting for.” Pammy Sue, or Pam, as she’d told him she preferred to be called, set the paper on Jeff’s desk without ever looking up.
Jeff reached for the page.
“Oh, no. Wait. Wrong paper. This is the right one.” With a shaky hand she pulled a sheet from the top of a stack she’d been juggling in her arms, and all the pages slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor.
For a split second Jeff thought she was going to break into tears. Crouching down on the floor to help her retrieve the spilled documents, his heart sank to his stomach at the sight of her. Her normally rosy complexion was pasty and pale, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look older, worn out, broken.
Images of Jennifer standing lost and battered at his doorstep raced through his mind. No. This isn’t Jennifer. This is Pammy Sue, Pam, and he wasn’t the one to help her. He wasn’t the one to help anyone. But still…
“Want to talk about it?” The words seemed to slip from his mouth. He hadn’t meant to ask, but he’d been acting pastor for the last three months since his father’s heart attack, and before that, deacon.
In one capacity or another Jeff had been part of the pastoral staff since the day he had completed his masters of theology at seminary. Uncovering what troubled his parishioners was almost second nature to him now. Unfortunately he’d learned the hard way, helping them was an entirely different gift. One he didn’t have and the reason why he had no business prying into Pam’s life.
Her mouth turned at one corner in a feeble attempt at a smile. “I guess I’m just all butterfingers today.”
Let it ride. Don’t go there. He couldn’t help her, but he knew he had to do something. “Not sleeping well?”
Her hands froze on the last few pages still splayed on the floor. “I, uh…” She looked up at him, and for a few fleeting seconds, he could see the anguish bottled inside her before the curtain of self-preservation descended.
“I’m a good listener.” Why was he insisting? Hadn’t he learned his lesson?
“Thank you, but I’m fine. Really. Besides, Mr. Haskell is waiting for this report, and if I don’t get it back in order and messengered over by the end of the day, he may have me run out of town on a rail.”
Forcing a smile, Jeff nodded and picked up the last piece of paper from the floor. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be the cause of you facing the board of director’s wrath.”
Shoulders slumped and head down, Pam scurried out of the office. What the heck had happened to her since yesterday?
“Have a little more.” Etta Mae scooped up another spoonful of goulash.
“Ma, if I eat anymore, you’ll have to roll me out of here in a wheelbarrow.”
“Nonsense. I worry about you. You’re losing weight. You’re too old to be living alone on frozen dinners and takeout. Look at your brother Danny. He’s three years younger than you, and he’s happily married with two children and one more on the way. A man needs a woman to look after him. You should find yourself a nice wife.”
“I am not losing weight. If anything, by eating all that takeout, I should be putting on weight. And when I meet the right woman, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
“What about that nice nurse? The one who started coming to church a few weeks ago. What’s her name?”
“Sandra Quinn.” Jeff didn’t like the twinkle that suddenly sparkled in his mother’s eye. “Ma, don’t look at me like that.”
“What? A mother can’t look at her son?”
“You know what I mean. Please don’t start scheming up ways to put the two of us together.”
With a hand flat against her chest, Etta Mae managed to look truly brokenhearted at her son’s words. “Would I do such a thing?”
“Yes.”
“Jefferson.”
“Does the name Barbara Lynn ring any bells?”
“That was different.” At least his mother had the decency to look flustered at the reminder.
“No. It wasn’t. Barbara was a very nice lady who was gracious enough to volunteer with the infant care during Sunday school.”
Etta’s expression morphed from remorse to indignation at the speed of light. “An excellent quality for a pastor’s wife.”
“Maybe so, but that didn’t give my mother the right to invite her out for lunch only to put the poor woman through an inquisition about her past. And then, to make matters worse, you asked Barbara if she’d ever considered a calling as a pastor’s wife. Not very subtle of you.”
“I was simply being hospitable.”
“Right. And I suppose offering to give Barbara cooking lessons was also just being hospitable?”
Etta flicked at some nonexistent lint on her blouse. “Every woman should know her way around a kitchen.”
“And Pop sitting down with her after services to tell her all about you and how rewarding a life it is to be a preacher’s wife—what do you call that?”
“He loves me.”
“Yes, well, we all know he does. Unfortunately, with the pressure this family put on Barbara, it wouldn’t have made any difference if I was interested or not. She hightailed it out of town as fast as her car could drive.”
“Her transfer had nothing to do with our hospitality.”
“Mother, she took a job in Anchorage.”
“The pay was better.”
“Why are you in such an all-fired rush to marry me off? Why not pick on Carol Ann or Kenny?”
“They’re babies.”
“I think Carol Ann would take issue with being called a baby at twenty-six. And Kenny is twenty-two and graduating this year. He’s the same age as Danny was when he and Terri got engaged.”
“My point exactly. You’re behind the curve.”
“Ma…”
“You’re my firstborn. I only want what’s best for you.”
Why did he bother arguing with his mother? “Just promise me one thing.”
<
br /> “What would that be?”
“Please don’t let the family be too hospitable with Sandra. The choir sounds so much better with her in it. I’d hate to see her move to Fiji.”
“If you at least went on a date or two, your family wouldn’t feel the need to step in. We love you.”
When his mother put on that wounded-puppy-dog expression, if she’d asked for the moon, he’d probably find a way to give it to her. “I love you too, Ma.”
Patting him on the shoulder, Etta stepped away from the table. “I just want to see all my children happy.”
“I know.” There was no point in explaining to his mother that loneliness had nothing to do with what was eating at his soul.
“Tell me, how is Pamela Sue working out?” his mother asked.
“She’s great. Reminds me of Ephesians 3:20. She’s better than anything I thought of or could have asked for.” Except for today.
“I’m only sorry I didn’t think to suggest her for the job sooner.” Etta stood at the sink, rinsing off the lunch dishes.
“I seem to remember her moving away to marry that Dawson boy. What was his name?”
“Travis. Such a shame.”
“What happened?” He didn’t remember much about the Dawson kids, but the family seemed to be nice people. It was hard to imagine that any of them could have grown up into the kind of man that would put such fear in a woman’s heart.
“He died. I think it was a car accident. Don’t remember the details. Your father had just had his first heart attack back then. I wasn’t keeping up much with the comings and goings of the townsfolk. I did hear Pamela Sue was having a hard time of it. She loved that boy with everything in her.”
Jeff had spent his vacation time in Hope’s Corner the summer Pammy Sue and Travis had run off to get married. The elopement was all the town had talked about. One thing he clearly remembered was everyone saying, if any two people were meant for each other, it was Pammy Sue and Travis. “Must have been hard on her.”
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