by DiAnn Mills
I smiled my thanks and hoped I could figure out how to use it. So many options. Dad had a new Nokia back in 2004 with a flip cover—nothing like this. “Would you punch in the numbers for me? I’ve had a rough day.”
“Sure. What’s the number?”
I gave him the numbers, and he pressed them in while I feigned interest in a candy display, my focus somewhere between lemon sours and bitter chocolate. When he returned the phone to me, it rang twice and a woman answered. “Mrs. Campbell?” I said.
“Yes.”
“This is Shelby Pearce. I’m at the bus station—”
“Oh, my goodness! I thought you were arriving tomorrow night. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
“Hold tight, hon. I’ll be there. Just need to make arrangements for my kids. They’re asleep.”
“I can call Pastor Emory.” My number two contact per the parole guidelines.
“Not a good idea. His whole family has the stomach flu.”
“Can you recommend a place where I could spend the night? I’d hate to inconvenience you.” I’d earmarked the little money in my jean pocket for groceries.
“Heavens, no. This is my fault, and I want to show you the cabin. Give me about thirty minutes. I’ll be driving a white Ford SUV.”
“I’ll be looking for you. And I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“Glad to help. See you soon.”
I clenched my belly to stop this unwanted worry. I was made of stronger stuff than this. After gathering my composure, I placed the phone on the counter and thanked the young man.
“Need anything else?” He pointed to a clock on the back wall. “We close in ten minutes.”
“A restroom?”
He pointed to the left rear.
The lights in the building dimmed, and I stepped outside. Rain splashed onto the concrete. The second time today I’d been drenched.
A police car pulled in front of the store. The headlights seemed to shine through my soul as though examining the detestable part of me. An officer exited his car and walked toward me with deliberate, heavy steps. He seemed to be in his forties and losing his hair at the crown, but I could tell little else with his head bent low in the rain.
Heat rose from my neck. Did he plan to arrest me for something? Logic told me cops weren’t the enemy, but I still trembled.
“Are you Shelby Pearce?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Officer Hughes. Edie Campbell called me. She’s on her way. Asked me to look after you until she arrived. Want to sit in my car out of the rain?”
“I appreciate it.” My shoulders relaxed.
We hurried to his cruiser, and he opened the door for me. A first. He rushed around to the other side, bringing the rain with him. Once seated, he eyed me squarely. “I speak my mind, Ms. Pearce. Edie is my sister. She’s a widow raising two kids by herself while working full-time. I don’t agree with her renting out the cabin to an ex-con, especially a murderer. But she has a mind of her own. Believes she’s doing the right, Christian thing. As the only family left since her husband passed, I look out for her. The bottom line is, if you break one condition of your parole, I’ll escort you back to prison myself.”
I expected problems and I’d been instructed how to handle them. “Sir, I assure you I have no intentions of breaking any laws or rules. My intent is to live quietly and earn an honest wage.”
“Here’s my reminder that you gave up your Fourth Amendment rights as a condition of your parole. Expect me to be at your door often. This community and my family are important to me.”
“I understand, sir. So is my family.”
“Then tell me why your father called our office—worried about your release. Claims you threatened the entire family. Do this town a favor and leave on the first bus in the morning.”
3
My first day in prison, a spider skittered across my cell floor. I knew for sure it planned to attack me, and I had no way to escape. Now sitting in Officer Hughes’s cruiser until Edie Campbell arrived, the same panic threatened to paralyze me.
I’d survived the spider. A twinge of comfort rested there.
Why had the officer made such a ridiculous claim about me? “I have no intention of leaving, and I haven’t spoken to my family since the judge pronounced my sentence. My father has no reason to fear my release.”
“Ma’am, the sheriff told me about the call.”
I feigned interest in the dark street. One thing prison had taught me was to curb my actions and reactions. Right now, I wanted to wipe the smirk off Officer Hughes’s face. But losing control invited trouble.
“Do you have a job?” His voice broke through the steady tapping of raindrops against his windshield.
“I have a job at a café here in town, and I design jewelry.”
“Edie told me about your skills. You gotta be real good to make it in the arts and crafts world around these parts.” He frowned. “Folks might not be willing to buy your stuff since you’re—”
“I know what I am, Officer Hughes. My jewelry is unique, and it will sell.” Confidence and uncertainty exchanged punches on my ribs.
“Just sayin’ you might have to find other work too. The Winsome Horse Stables is always searching for someone to muck out their stalls.”
“Sounds like honest work to me.”
“Smelly. But I’m sure you’re used to that.”
“Is rudeness a way to protect your sister, or do you naturally oppose those who’ve made mistakes?”
“Fresh starts are for deserving people. I’m—”
A knock on the driver’s window stopped him. He slid the window down, the rain spattering inside. “You made good time.”
“My neighbor is a saint.” An attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair and carrying an umbrella peered into the window. “Shelby, good to finally meet you.” Her smile broke through the gloom. “I’m sorry about my mistake. Has my brother been treating you with Southern hospitality?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Edie. The ma’am stuff makes me feel like I’m a hundred years old.”
“Thanks, Edie.” I grabbed my bag from the floorboard and opened the door. “Thank you, Officer Hughes, for coming to my rescue.”
“Sure thing. Don’t forget our conversation.”
How could I? “It was enlightening.” I exited and shut the door. The chilling rain had more appeal than his company.
Edie dashed around the front of the car. “You’ll be soaked. Scoot under my umbrella.”
I ducked beneath its wide shelter and hurried to the SUV. I hated climbing into her vehicle and plopping my wet rear onto her seat. “I hope I don’t ruin anything.”
“Impossible. Don’t inhale or you’ll get a whiff of dog, greasy fries, and my forgot-to-shower sixth-grade son.” Again the wide smile parted her lips.
She dashed around to the driver’s side and slid in. “Hungry?”
Genuine and full of life. I liked her.
I hadn’t eaten all day. Should I put her out any more than necessary?
“Your hesitation tells me you’re starved. I’ll drive through McDonald’s. Is that okay?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten anything but what was dumped on my plate.”
“Oops. I’m sorry.”
I waved away her remark. “No need to tiptoe around me. Where I’ve been is not where I’m going. I’m starved, and a hamburger sounds delicious.”
Edie pulled onto the street, her washer blades reminding me of a hummingbird’s wings. At the McDonald’s drive-through, I placed my order. She added a Coke for both of us and paid for it, much to my protests.
“I inconvenienced you. Left you in the rain and my brother can be lousy company. He wanted to drive you to the cabin, but his attitude can be intolerable.”
She knew him well. “But we’re in good shape now. If you don’t mind, I have a few questions.” When she nodded, I laid them out in the order I’d stac
ked them in my mind. “Do your children know about me?”
“Enough to know your past is private.” She tossed me a mom-look, complete with squinted forehead. “They are to keep family business private with a threat of me skinning them alive. Told them we’re being Jesus.”
Officer Hughes’s comment about Edie not listening to him made sense. A woman with my reputation could be bad news. “I promise you I will not be alone with either of them.”
“Thanks, and we’ve discussed the same scenario.”
“Your brother said you’re a widow?”
She nodded. “He died of a heart attack. No clue he had a health problem. Went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up. It’s been four years now.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. Every day gets better.”
The drive-through girl handed Edie a bag and two drinks. One bite, and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I chewed slowly to savor it all.
“Incredible.” I stuck the straw into my Coke and drew in a long, sweet sip. “How old are your kids?”
“Timothy is twelve and Livy is seven. They’re good kids.”
“Single parenting must be hard.”
“Every day gets a little easier . . . until they’re teenagers.”
I smiled. What a grand feeling to be talking with a normal person outside concrete walls. “Any special instructions?”
“Just common sense around my kids. You’ve met my family’s worst—my brother.”
I held up my palm. “Not going there.”
“No need. He’s like Good Housekeeping.”
“What?”
“He has years of issues.”
I covered my mouth to suppress the humor. Didn’t work. “It’s been way too long since I’ve laughed. But I was serious about guidelines around your kids.”
“I know you are.” She sobered. “After you’ve rested tomorrow, we can talk. I’ll do all I can to help you succeed.” She patted my arm. “We women have to stick together.”
“I won’t disappoint you.”
“We have Jesus, and He’s done the hard work.”
How did one woman say all the right things? “How many people in the community are aware of me?”
“Sheriff Wendall, my brother, Randy, Amy-Jo, who owns the café, the parole officer, my kids, and Pastor Emory. No one else’s business. Wanted to tell you the pastor has signed a check for you to purchase jewelry-making supplies.”
I startled. “But he doesn’t know me.”
“Pastor Emory is a kindhearted man. He wants to make sure you have all you need to get started on the right path. I showed him some pics of your designs. He was impressed.”
A warm sensation curled through me. The chaplain had complimented me, but her role was encouragement. “I’m grateful, and I’ll pay him back. I don’t want to owe anyone or be viewed as a charity case. What a blessing.”
“You do what feels best, but he’s not expecting payment.”
“Would you keep the check for me? The jewelry supplies and stones are sold online, and I don’t have a credit card.”
“Sure. Put together the order, and I’ll handle it. Before I forget it, you have a neighbor who is a super nice guy. I’ve asked him to keep an eye out for you. The cabin is a bit remote.”
“What’s his name?”
“Denton McClure. He rented the cabin nearest you, about a quarter of a mile through the woods. He’s a widower.” Edie laughed. “The man would make friends with a fence post.”
“What’s his profession?”
“High school math teacher.”
“Anything I should be aware of?”
Edie waved away my concern. “Not at all. I trust him implicitly. He’s done a few repairs for me and given Timothy and Livy riding lessons. Told me he’d taken an extended leave from teaching to sort out what he should do next. Said he’d been widowed for over two years, and it was time to put the grief behind him.”
A pop rang out and the right front tire blew, sending the SUV left toward the shoulder. Edie slammed on the brakes, and the vehicle slid and swerved.
“Don’t brake!” Years ago a driver’s ed instructor pounded the warning into my brain. He followed up with videos depicting what happened to metal and people who had blowouts on wet, slippery roads.
Edie lifted her foot, fighting to keep the SUV under control. But the vehicle ignored her efforts and dove hood-first into a water-filled ditch.
The rain had stopped its deluge, but the dark night still held menace. A tow truck disappeared down the road with the SUV. Edie and I had crawled out the passenger side. Now she, Officer Hughes, and I stood on the side of the road like a face-off in the prison yard. Blood trickled down the left side of Edie’s forehead.
“Sis, I’m calling an ambulance.” Officer Hughes yanked his cell phone from his pant pocket.
“You do and I won’t let the paramedics touch me. I’ll handle this with a Band-Aid at home. You’re getting on my last nerve.”
He turned to me. His scrutiny made me crave a shower. “A shooter fired into the tire. Do you know anything about this, Ms. Pearce? My sister could’ve been seriously hurt or worse.”
Anger boiled from my toes to my mouth. “Nothing, Officer Hughes. Edie and I were talking, and I wasn’t aware of anyone else on the road.”
“Your kind has its ways. Looks to me like you crossed somebody, and they’re sending a deadly message.”
“Prove me wrong, Officer Hughes.”
“I’m sayin’ you’ve made enemies.”
“Randy, hush,” Edie said. “You’re jumping to conclusions. We’ve talked about this, and I’m giving Shelby an opportunity to put the past behind her. In fact, I think she should spend the night with me. It’s late and—”
“That’s kind of you but no thanks.” I waved away her offer. “I prefer the cabin. My concern is we don’t know why someone shot a bullet into your tire.”
“Probably just kids.”
He leaned into me, nose to nose. “I don’t want the likes of you influencing Edie. Neither do I want you around my friends or family. I want you out of our community.”
“Stop it.” Edie’s voice echoed around us. “Pushing your weight around makes you look like a bully on steroids. I want to get Shelby settled into the cabin and then home to my kids. Are you driving us, or do we walk?”
I didn’t need anyone to fight my battles, although she knew her brother better than I did. He wanted to protect her from trouble . . . namely me.
“Get in,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
“Not one more ugly word to Shelby. You hear me? I’ve had enough from the chairman of the unwelcome committee.”
Others must have voiced their opinions about helping me.
He scowled and strutted like a rooster to the cruiser. At the door, he whirled around and shook his finger at me. “When I get to the bottom of this, you’re heading right back to prison.”
Fear coiled around my heart for too many reasons to list. Should I go through with his earlier request to take the morning bus to another town? Two surprises had blindsided me—my dad claiming I’d threatened the family and someone firing a bullet into Edie’s tire.
I’d thought of little else but freedom for years. But was I ready to leap into the unknown?
4
Sunlight filtered through the bedroom window above my head, an amenity I’d once taken for granted. Despite the mix of emotions assaulting me about being shot at and a disagreeable police officer, I’d slept in my own bed. In my own home. And wearing soft pale-green pajamas—a gift from Edie. Did she know the color green often signified healing?
Last night after she’d shown me the cabin and bidden me good night, I walked through each of the five rooms, exploring and praying for my fresh start. No spiders caught my attention. Sometime after midnight, the rain stopped. My mind ceased to deliberate the myriad problems ahead and those who stalked me, and I yielded to sleep.
This morning through fog-la
den eyes, I admired my rustic bedroom. I stared up from a chunky, four-poster bed to a light pine-beamed ceiling and inhaled the sweet peace that cradled me. Perhaps my joy came from the homey wood, varying textures, and endearing fabrics woven together to create a homespun feel. I drew my fingers over the quilt covering me and touched the threads of the perfectly crafted pieces of a star pattern symbolizing the Lone Star State. Back in high school, my interior design dreams included living in an apartment in New York City with sleek lines and huge windows overlooking Fifth Avenue. Another lifetime. Another me.
The cabin seemed to whisper that I could make it, the same thing I’d told myself since giving my life to Jesus. My fingers gripped my Bible on the nightstand—the only way to start the day. The reading came from Psalm 139: “O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me!” Trusting in Him superseded everything else. I finished the passage with more optimism than the depression attacking me the previous night.
After swinging my legs over the bed, I lingered on the scent of freedom and lavender potpourri, a strange but incredible mix that seemed to shake off my trepidation about the future. In the kitchen, I rummaged through the fridge and small pantry. Edie had stocked me with enough to feed a family of four for a week. My favorite luxury sat on a tan-and-cream marbled counter—coffee beans, a grinder, and an upscale coffee maker. Soon the smell of freshly roasted coffee tickled my taste buds.
Before prison, I’d dabbled in the taste of coffee with no preference either way. In prison, I found it disgusting but the caffeine necessary to survive. The smooth, bold flavor of my sip this gorgeous morning sent me soaring into paradise.
Edie’s kindness blessed me. How could one woman shine love all around her? She’d lived through tragedy too, not of her own making. For that, we were sister-survivors.
Barefoot, I took my mug outside, and the coffee tasted even better with the sounds of birds and fresh smell of clean air. A robin perched in a tree, singing a crisp tune. Stepping gingerly over the driveway’s gravel, I made my way to the grass. Oh, the feel of the soft blades between my toes and tickling my feet. I leaned my head back and let the sun bathe me in delicious warmth. Never again would I take the taste, smell, sound, touch, and sights of nature for granted. Bright. Beautiful. Full of vitality.
