Rising Darkness

by Nancy Mehl

“No . . . no, someone hit me. There was someone in the basement.”

  Even peering through eyes only halfway open, I could see the look of skepticism on his face.

  “Really. Someone was in there. I tried to get away, but . . .” A wave of pain hit me, and I cried out.

  “Let me look at her,” another voice said.

  Jonathon turned his face away for a moment and then squeezed my hand. “We sent for the doctor. He needs to check you over.”

  I grabbed his hand as he started to pull it away. “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll be right here, Emily. It’s okay.” He stared at me strangely for a moment then got up and stepped back a few feet.

  An elderly man sat down in the spot Jonathon had just occupied. I realized I was on the couch in Pastor Troyer’s office. The lights were off in the room, but the door was open a little so we could see. I was thankful because the light hurt my eyes.

  “I’m Dr. Watson,” the man said. “I need you to look at me. I’m going to shine a small light in your eyes. I know it will be uncomfortable, but I need to find out if you have a concussion.”

  I nodded slowly, every move of my head causing pain.

  “Try to focus on me,” he said calmly.

  I did my best, but when he shone the light in my right eye, it closed immediately. I forced it back open even though the pinpoint of light was excruciating. Then the doctor swung the light to my other eye.

  “Any nausea? Confusion?”

  “N-no, I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to tell him my name was Sophie Bauer, when I suddenly remembered. “Em . . . Emily McClure.”

  “Where are you from, Emily?”

  “St. Louis. I’m in Sanctuary to find some information about my family.”

  He smiled at me, and his gray mustache seemed to curl upward with his lips. “Good. Now, any numbness? Can you move your arms and legs for me?”

  I did as he’d asked. “Everything seems to be fine, Doctor, but I have an awful headache.”

  “I’m not surprised. Let’s see if you can sit up.”

  He stood up and took my hand, pulling me to an upright position. The pain seemed to be less than it had been while I was lying down.

  “So does she have a concussion?” Jonathon asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “I don’t see any sign of it.” He leveled a serious look at me. “If you have any trouble with your vision, or if you start feeling sick, I want you to call me. When do you plan to leave town?”

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Could be a few days. A week at the most.”

  “Make sure you see your regular doctor when you go home. You can’t be too careful with a head injury.” He turned toward Jonathon and Pastor Troyer, who stood a few steps away, concern evident in their expressions. “Is there someone who can keep an eye on this young lady for the next couple of days?”

  Jonathon nodded. “She’s staying with Esther Lapp.”

  Dr. Watson nodded and turned back to me. “Good. She’ll take great care of you. Now remember, any unusual symptoms, you call me right away. Okay?”

  “Yes, I will. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re very welcome.” He shook hands first with Jonathon and then with Pastor Troyer. “Can one of you also check up on her once in a while? Just to be safe?”

  “I will,” Jonathon said quickly. “No problem.”

  Dr. Watson said good-bye and left.

  Great. One more reason for me to see Jonathon. I suddenly thought of something. “My purse. Did anyone see my purse?”

  Pastor Troyer shook his head. “I did not see your purse when we found you. Did you have it with you?”

  “Yes, I . . .” Then I remembered. “Actually, when the lights went off, I put it on a shelf. The one closest to the desk.”

  “The lights went off?” he repeated, looking confused. He glanced over at Jonathon, and I saw him shake his head slightly.

  “Yes,” I insisted. “Someone turned off the lights. I tried to hide, but when they got too close to me, I made an attempt to get to the door. I tripped and fell, and then whoever it was hit me on the head.”

  “I will go downstairs and look for your purse,” the pastor said. “Will you stay here with her, Jonathon?”

  “Of course,” he said, “and when she’s ready to go, I’ll drive her home.”

  The pastor left the room, and Jonathon sat down next to me again. “Emily, you tripped over a mop bucket and hit your head on a metal chest near the door. That’s where we found you.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Jonathon, someone was in that room. I’m not delusional. He turned off the light, and when I tried to get away, he hit me with something.”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

  “I—I don’t know. But it’s what happened.”

  Back in Kingdom, Jonathon had watched over me. He’d been the one person I could count on. I needed that now, but it was out of my grasp. I was no longer that shy, awkward, unloved teenager he took pity on. For just a moment, I almost wanted to be her again so I could rely on his help and protection for a little while. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  He leaned over and checked my head. “You’ve got a nice bump. I’m sure it hurts.”

  “I don’t suppose the doctor gave you a prescription for a pain reliever.”

  “Sorry. You’ll have to do with over-the-counter medicine.”

  “Great.” Actually, I had some leftover pain pills from having two wisdom teeth pulled. The bottle was in my purse. Correction. Hopefully, the bottle was still in my purse. I reached up and touched my head. Sure enough, there was a good-sized lump. “Did it occur to you that if I tripped on something and fell, I should have hit my forehead? Not the back of my head?”

  He frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it, but . . .”

  Whatever he planned to say next was interrupted by Pastor Troyer, who came into the room, carrying my purse. “It was on the floor, not far from where you fell,” he said, holding the purse out to me. “You must have dropped it when you tripped.”

  Shaking my head, I took the purse from his hand. I quickly looked through it. My notes were gone. All my work. The person who’d attacked me was after the information I’d found. That meant he was probably worried I might find Terrance Chase. Or he might be Terrance Chase. Chase must be in Sanctuary, and somehow, he knew why I was here. That knowledge frightened me and thrilled me all at the same time. But how could he know? Suddenly, Donnie’s words came back to me. Someone had beaten Tom, and there was no way to know what he’d told them. So either Chase was behind this or someone else who wanted Chase’s money had taken my notes, hoping he could find the robber first.

  Something else occurred to me, and I quickly checked my wallet. The picture of Chase was gone, as well.

  “Is everything there?” Pastor Troyer asked.

  I nodded. “Nothing seems to be missing,” I lied. I couldn’t tell him about the notes and the picture. It might reveal what I’d really been doing in the church basement. No one would knock me out and steal notes about the Byler family. The idea was ridiculous. I pushed a few things aside, and my fingers closed over the bottle of pain pills. “Could I have a glass of water?” I asked.

  “Of course. I will be right back.” He hurried out of the room.

  “As soon as you’re ready, I’ll take you home,” Jonathon said. “You need to lie down and take it easy for a while.”

  “I will. With this headache, I don’t think I’m up to doing much else today.”

  “You told the doctor you were going to stick around for a while?”

  “Yeah. I would like to meet some of the people in Sanctuary. People who actually knew my great-aunt—and my grandmother. Before I leave, I’d love to have a better idea about what kind of women the Byler sisters were.”

  He nodded. “I understand. You know, the church supper would be a great place to talk to p
eople about Miriam and Clara. But that’s a pretty big knot you’ve got going there. If you’re still hurting, please stay home. Don’t push yourself, okay? You can always meet people at church on Sunday.”

  I didn’t say anything, just smiled and nodded my head. With the help of my pain pills, I’d be at that church supper tomorrow. A large collection of Sanctuary residents all in one place. I couldn’t miss it.

  Pastor Troyer came back with a glass of water. I thanked him and quickly took two pain pills, knowing they’d probably knock me out. But by the time they hit, I’d be tucked into bed at Esther’s. I was suddenly grateful for impacted wisdom teeth.

  “Are you ready?” Jonathon asked.

  “Yes. Thank you for taking me to Esther’s. I hate to leave my car here, but I really don’t feel like driving right now.”

  “I understand. I’ll walk back and get your car after we get you home.”

  “Okay.”

  He stood up. “If you get dizzy, let me know, okay?”

  “Sure.” I took the arm he extended to me and slowly stood to my feet. I didn’t feel dizzy. My only problem was the pounding pain that made my head feel as if it were trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

  Pastor Troyer rushed over and took my other arm. We began a slow processional to the front door of the church. When we stepped outside, I was thrilled to find that it had turned cloudy. The last thing I needed now was the bright sun shining in my eyes. Rain sprinkled lightly on us as we made our way to Jonathon’s truck. The two men helped me into the passenger’s seat.

  “I will be praying for you,” Pastor Troyer said. “God will watch over you, Emily. I am certain you will recover completely.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Jonathon walked around the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. After saying good-bye to the kind pastor, we began the short drive to Esther’s.

  I turned toward Jonathon, trying not to move my head too much. “I really appreciate your help.”

  He shrugged. “That’s the way we are in Sanctuary. People helping people.”

  His tone had a slight edge to it. Was he angry at me for some reason? Had my story about the attack in the basement made him suspicious? I wanted to tell him everything. Ask for his help. But how could I? Jonathon was a pastor. A man dedicated to the truth and to taking the moral high ground. I couldn’t expect him to lie to people for me. Or to sanction my reason for being in his beloved town. There was no way he could do anything except expose me and ruin my chances of ever finding Chase. I was certain he would not only reject my reason for being here, he would turn his back on me, as well. And I couldn’t blame him.

  We didn’t talk the rest of the way. When we got to Esther’s, he came around to help me out of the truck. We were walking up the steps to the front door when Esther came out, her face creased with worry.

  “Oh my. Is something wrong? Are you sick, child?”

  “She fell in the church basement and hit her head,” Jonathon said before I could respond.

  “Oh dear. Can you get her upstairs? She needs to be in bed, and I am not strong enough to support her.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Doc Watson says you need to keep an eye on her. She doesn’t seem to have a concussion, but he wants to make certain. If she seems confused or nauseated, or if she can’t seem to remember things, we’ve got to let him know.”

  Esther nodded. “I understand.”

  As we entered the living room, we found Zac coming in from the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He hurried toward me. “You look awful.”

  “Gee, thanks. Just what every girl likes to hear.”

  “Can you help me get her upstairs?” Jonathon asked Zac.

  “You bet.” He put down the glass he had in his hand and moved over to my other side. Slipping his arm around me, he let me put my hand on his shoulder so I could support myself. The three of us slowly climbed the stairs.

  “Can I get you something?” Esther called from behind us.

  “Maybe a glass of hot chocolate?” I replied. “For some reason, I’m so cold. Hot chocolate sounds wonderful.”

  “You get in bed,” she answered. “I will be up in a few minutes with your cocoa.”

  Although I didn’t enjoy being in pain, the pills started to kick in, and with them, a slight feeling of euphoria. Snuggled in bed on a rainy evening, sipping hot chocolate, sounded just perfect. I usually worked so hard I didn’t get much time to simply rest.

  When we got to the top of the stairs, Jonathon and Zac helped me to my room. Once inside, Jonathon asked if I wanted to change out of my clothes.

  “Yes. I have some sweats in the drawer.” I looked at the men. “You can go now. I don’t need help changing clothes.”

  “I’m going to stick with you for a while,” Jonathon said. “I’ll wait out in the hall.”

  I sighed. “Okay.” I turned my attention to Zac. “Could you go downstairs and wait for my hot chocolate? I don’t trust Esther on those stairs.”

  “Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.” He left the room. Jonathon was quiet as I gathered my clothes.

  “I need to make a trip to the bathroom,” I told him. “I’ll just change in there.”

  “Do you need help getting down the hall?”

  “It’s just a few steps away. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Thanks, Jonathon. This certainly hasn’t been one of my better days.”

  He smiled. “I think that’s an understatement.”

  The pain pills were making me groggy, but I walked slowly to the bathroom on my own. I changed my clothes and then went back to my room. Jonathon was standing next to the bed, my purse lying open on top of the quilt. He held my wallet in his hands. It was flipped open.

  “What are you doing?” I said sharply. “Put that down.”

  When he finally looked at me, I recognized the expression on his face. I’d seen it before.

  “I told you I’d only met one other person with amber eyes,” he said in a tight, controlled voice. “In Pastor Troyer’s office, when you were lying on his couch, I began to notice other similarities to the girl I used to know, and I decided I had to know the truth. You may have changed on the outside, but you’re still a liar and a manipulator, aren’t you, Sophie?”

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  “Here’s your hot chocolate.”

  I jumped involuntarily at the sound of Zac’s voice. He’d been so quiet I hadn’t heard him enter the room. I walked over to the small stool Jonathon had put next to the bed so I could climb in.

  “I’ll take that,” Jonathon said, sounding tense. “We need a few minutes, Zac. Do you mind?”

  Zac looked back and forth between us. “I—I guess not,” he said, handing the cup to Jonathon. He nervously cleared his throat and looked at me, confusion on his face. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  Jonathon didn’t say anything as Zac left the room. We could hear his steps going down the stairs. I climbed up on the bed, put the pillows behind my back, and pulled the covers over myself. Try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything to say. My trip to Sanctuary had come to an end. There was no way I would be able to stay here now. I’d have to go home a failure. Something I was used to.

  Jonathon threw my wallet on the bed next to me. “I need you to explain what you’re doing here. Did you come to Sanctuary to find me?”

  My mouth dropped open. “Of course not. I had no idea you were here.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you everything, but not right now. I took some pain pills, and I’m so sleepy . . .”

  “Give me the short version. Then when you’re feeling better we’ll talk more.”

  I quickly ran through my reason for being in Sanctuary. My meeting with Tom and my need to find Terrance Chase for a story. “And that’s it. I’m not here to hurt anyone, or to cause trouble. I’m trying to track down a mur
derer. Someone you shouldn’t want hiding out in this town. After I find him, I’ll be gone.”

  “You just want the story. You don’t care about this town any more than you cared about Kingdom.”

  Maybe it was the pills, but tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. “That’s not fair. I cared enough to leave. I know what I did was wrong . . .”

  “You burned down our church,” Jonathon stated emphatically. “You could have killed someone. I had to run inside to save Pastor Mendenhall. That’s not some kind of youthful stunt, Sophie. It could have been a terrible tragedy.”

  “I know that,” I said, the words slurring. “Tom told me to do it . . .”

  “You can’t blame Tom for everything you did.”

  “I’m not. It was my fault. I wrote a letter to Pastor Mendenhall and told him what I’d done. I asked for forgiveness, and I left town so I wouldn’t hurt anyone else.” I wiped tears from my face with the back of my hand. “I’ve changed, Jonathon. I’m in college, working toward a degree. I’m educating myself, and I’ve been trying to make something out of my life. I’m not the same person.”

  He shook his head. “How can you say that? You’re here under false pretenses. You’re lying to everyone, including Esther.”

  “Esther knows the truth.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You told her?”

  “No. Turns out Clara Byler couldn’t have children. My story fell apart.”

  He stared at me through narrowed eyes. “Why didn’t Esther throw you out?”

  I couldn’t hold back a sob. “Because she thinks God sent me here for a reason. She wants to give me a chance.”

  “And do you think God sent you here, Sophie?”

  “No. I told you, I don’t believe in God. I’ve rejected the idea of a God who allows children to be abused and abandoned. God never showed me any love. I prayed and prayed for help. None came. Now I trust myself. No one else.”

  Although I understood my last words, I knew they were garbled. I was barely conscious. “I—I have to sleep. I’m sorry. I know you hate me, but I can’t help it. If it makes you feel any better, I hate myself, too.”

  I pulled my pillows down and collapsed into them. As I drifted off, I thought I felt someone stroke my hair.