by S. M. Shade
Jeremy
In Safe Hands: Book Five
By
S.M. Shade
Copyright © 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Ally Hastings at Starcrossed Covers.
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This book is dedicated to Melissa. I used your name, but changed it in my head when I wrote the sex scenes. You’re welcome.
Chapter One
Melissa
My feet are throbbing. I have no idea how far I’ve walked, but I know I have at least five miles to go. A bus stop with a bench waits on the next corner. I’ll allow myself a little break, but it can’t be too long if I’m going to make it to the bank before it closes.
An elderly lady sits on the bus stop bench, and I can only imagine what she must think of me when I approach. I’m skinny, dirty, and dressed in a plain gray dress. Battered slippers encase my feet, torn on one corner where my toe keeps poking through. Anyone else would see a junkie, a homeless person, or assume I’m a thief, but she speaks to me as if I’m nothing out of the ordinary.
Her pale blue eyes light up as she addresses me. “Hello, dear. Are you waiting on the number twelve bus? Because I’m afraid it just passed.”
Sitting beside her, I shake my head. “No, I’m not catching the bus. I just need to rest a moment.”
“Well, I’m happy for the company. It’s such a beautiful day.”
For the first time today, I look around me and realize she’s right. The sun is shining, and a light breeze tickles my neck.
And I’m free.
Homeless with only the clothes on my body, but free. I’m not technically broke, since I have money in the bank. I know the next few days will be especially difficult, but it’s at that moment I realize the enormity of what I’ve done, and a smile forms on my face.
“That’s better. You have a lovely smile,” she says.
A bus pulls up to the stop, but she remains seated with me as passengers climb on and off. A couple of minutes later, we’re alone again. “Is your bus the next one?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Oh no. I’m not going anywhere. I live right over there.” She points out a small, blue house across the street. “When I get a bit lonely, I like to come here and talk to people. You meet such interesting people waiting for a bus.”
After chatting with her for a few minutes, I find out she has two daughters and a son who rarely visit her, and her friends can’t get around like they used to, so she spends days at a time completely alone.
“I have a car, but my eyes aren’t what they used to be, so I only drive once a week to the grocery store and pharmacy. I really should go today, I suppose. The traffic seems a bit heavy, though.”
An idea strikes me. “I know you don’t know me, but I’m headed to the First Bank, right across from the grocery store. I could drive you there and back in your car if you’d like, and it would save me the walk as well.”
She gapes at me. “You were going to walk all that way? Oh honey, no. I’d love a ride so let’s help each other. That’s what life is about you know. People go on and on about the meaning of life, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re here to help one another through.”
She’s such a sweet person. “My name is Melissa,” I tell her. “But everyone calls me Mel.”
“I’m Agnes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mel.”
We walk across the street where she retrieves her keys and a handbag. For the first time in four years, I get behind the wheel, and her small sedan starts right up. Agnes sits back, seemingly unconcerned about a perfect stranger driving her around.
I head to the bank first, and Agnes accompanies me inside. I can’t help but smile when she grabs a lollipop from the counter and takes a seat in the waiting area.
We are the only customers, so I make my way to the nearest teller. Her lips purse a little as her gaze sweeps over me, but her voice is pleasant when she asks, “May I help you?”
“Yes, my debit card has been damaged, and I need to replace it.” The card and my license were caked in dirt, and too water damaged to be of any use. I’ve cleaned them up as much as possible, but the teller still gives me a strange look when I slide them across the counter.
“Do you know your account number?” she asks.
After I rattle it off—good thing I still have it memorized—she types on her computer and her eyes widen. “If you’ll pardon me for just a moment,” she says, and rushes off.
I know what she has seen, and I expected this reaction. There’s quite a bit of money in this account, and it doesn’t jibe with my appearance.
A balding, middle-aged man gestures for me to follow him back to an office. Butterflies erupt in my stomach. What if I can’t prove my identity? I don’t have my birth certificate or a social security card. And I need some money.
“Ms. Sanders,” he addresses me. “Please have a seat. We just need to verify a few things before we print a new card. It appears this account has been dormant for nearly four years.”
Taking a seat, I reply, “Yes, I’ve been…away.”
Realizing that’s the only explanation I plan to offer, he nods. “I see. Let’s go through a few of your security questions.”
He asks me four questions which I have no trouble answering, then takes down my social security number. Finally, he asks, “Since the account has been dormant for an extended period and has a substantial balance, we need to verify one more thing. Would you mind providing your fingerprint, as you did when you opened the account?”
“Whatever speeds this up. My friend is waiting in the lobby.”
I provide a fingerprint, and finally, he hands me a new debit card. “I’d also like to withdraw five hundred dollars.”
I’m led around to the front counter where the teller fulfills my request, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I have access to my money again. I’m luckier than the rest of them, even if they do manage to escape.
“I’m sorry that took so long,” I apologize to Agnes as we leave.
She flaps her hand at me. “Don’t worry about it. I have all day and nothing to do with it.”
My own situation pales as I consider Agnes’s statement. It royally pisses me off. She has family, but they ignore her. I have no idea where I’m staying tonight or where I’ll be tomorrow, but I ask, “Would you let me take you out for lunch tomorrow? As a thank you for today?”
“I’d love that! Would you mind if we went to the supercenter and the grocery store? The supercenter won’t take my coupons.”
“Sure, no problem.” She beams and sits back in her seat as we head to the supercenter that has her pharmacy located inside.
I hand her the keys and arrange to meet her back at the car as we go inside. “I�
��m going to grab a few things.”
“Sure, dear. No hurry. The pharmacy always takes forever.”
Grabbing a cart, I quickly make my way to the clothing and throw in a couple pairs of jeans, sweatpants, and tee shirts. They are followed by a cheap pack of underwear and socks. I’ll wait on the bras since cheap ones are terrible and I don’t have much to worry about in that area anyway. Instead, I head down the toiletries aisle where I grab the basics, along with a hairbrush and electric straightener.
There’s a large bin of flip flops so I pick up a pair of them as well. They’ll work until I can get some real shoes. When I think of the racks of shoes I left behind. Ugh.
By the time I get through the line at the front of the store, Agnes joins me. She wasn’t kidding about the pharmacy taking forever.
I pile my purchases into her back seat, and we head to the grocery store. I’m concerned she may be getting tired because of her age and all, but she sure doesn’t look it. “Do you need a break before we go to the grocery store?” I ask.
“Not at all. Don’t let these wrinkles fool you. I’m spry as a spring goose!”
Laughter bursts out of me and it’s the first time I’ve laughed in so long. “You are my new favorite person,” I tell her.
We each grab a cart once we get to the grocery store, but I only get a few things. I’m going to find a hotel for the night and my plan is to order pizza, so I just grab a few snacks and a package of bagels for breakfast.
By the time we return to Agnes’s house and I help her get her groceries put away, it’s nearly dark. “You’re welcome to stay the night, dear,” she offers, but I don’t want to take advantage of her hospitality.
“Thank you, but I have a place to go. I really appreciate the help today. You made a very difficult time so much easier.”
Smiling, she pats me on the arm. “I enjoyed myself.”
“Lunch tomorrow at noon?”
Her face lights up. “I’ll be ready.”
My cab honks the horn out front, and I gather up all my bags. “See you tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock the door behind me.”
“You sound just like my son,” she snickers, but I hear the lock click behind me after the door shuts.
The cab driver doesn’t look twice at my dirty appearance. I assume he’s seen it all at this point. I was able to call ahead and reserve a room at a nice hotel for the week, until I find a more permanent residence.
The lady who checks me in sneers at me and my numerous plastic bags from the supercenter, but doesn’t comment as she hands me my key. An hour later, I’m showered, shaved, lotioned, and lounging in a fluffy bed, gorging on pizza and soda. How the hell did I live four years without sugar and caffeine?
My spirits plummet when the movie I was watching ends and the nightly news comes on. They’re talking about the shooting. Of course they are. It’s only been a week since The First Men killed all those innocent people. Tears pour down my face, and I pull the covers up to my chin.
I’m safe, I remind myself. They’re dead and the rest are an unorganized mess. They won’t come after me. I’m safe.
#
My first stop the next morning is a shoe store, then an electronics store across the street, where I get a new cell phone. After that, I have the cab take me to a nearby car dealership. Now that I’m cleaned up and dressed in actual clothes instead of a gray rag, I’m not getting the disgusted stares any longer.
The car salesman is more than happy to help me find a suitable vehicle once he realizes I won’t need financing. I test drive a few models before settling on a small SUV. Not too large to make parking a hassle, but with enough space to haul canvases and supplies, assuming I ever get back to that part of my life.
By the time all the paperwork is filled out and I drive my new car off the lot, it’s time to get Agnes for lunch.
I don’t get a chance to knock before she flings open the door, a bright smile on her face. “Well, you look lovely today,” she exclaims.
“So do you. I love your shirt. Yellow is my favorite color.”
“Mine too. It’s so happy.”
Happiness is exactly what I need in my life right now. “Do you know a good place for lunch?” I ask.
“There’s a little diner down the road that makes the best patty melt.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Agnes beams at me when I open her door. “Is this your car?”
“It is. I just bought it today. What do you think?”
“I love it. I don’t think I could drive one like this. The dash looks like the controls of an airplane or something.”
Laughing, we make our way to the little diner. Agnes is right. The place has an amazing patty melt. While we’re eating and chatting, I peruse a housing app for local real estate.
“Are you looking to rent or buy?” Agnes asks, sipping on her milkshake. For a little old lady, she can put away the food.
“Rent, for now. I’m not very familiar with Dashton, so I’d like to make sure I want to stay in the area.”
Agnes taps her lip. “Amos, down at the senior center is trying to rent out a house, last I heard. It’s right on the lake, though. I know some people don’t like having to deal with the mosquitoes.”
A lake house? Is she kidding?
“Is the lake far from here?”
Her eyebrows jump up. “You really don’t know the area. No, it’s not far. About eight miles south. I can call Amos if you’d like.”
“That would be great.” I put my phone down. “There’s not much in here.”
Agnes pulls out a flip phone and excuses herself, stepping outside. By the time I’ve paid our check and headed out to join her, she flips the phone closed. “Amos said he can meet us there in a few minutes, or I can give him your number if today isn’t convenient.”
“Let’s do it.”
Agnes smiles and gets in the car, carefully typing out a text message to tell Amos we’re on our way. He sends her back the address, and I put it in my navigator. A few minutes later we pull up in front of a beautiful two-story house on the lake.
Amos isn’t here yet, so we hop out and take a walk around the property. The second I step around the rear of the house, I know I want it. The lake stretches as far as I can see in any direction. Gorgeous, calm blue water gently laps at the dock, which is located only a few steps down from the back deck.
We climb up to the deck and I can just picture myself out here, soaking in the sun, maybe even painting on cool days. Just standing here, I can feel the stress melting off of me.
“What do you think?” an unfamiliar voice asks, making Agnes and I both jump.
“Jumpin’ Jesus Amos, you scared the crackers out of me!” Agnes exclaims.
“It’s beautiful. So peaceful,” I breathe.
Amos, who stands about five feet tall and wears a battered fedora, grins at me. “Once you get used to the mosquitoes and summer people. Of course, I loved it here when I was young. It just ain’t the same anymore.” He gestures to the house on the left. “That one is empty. Some rich family used to use it as a summer home, but they haven’t been there in years.”
He points to the house on the right, which is farther away. “Whoever owns that one rents it out during the summers. It stays empty the rest of the year. Let’s go inside.”
We follow Amos inside. The place definitely needs some work, but all I can see are the possibilities. It’s an open floor plan with plenty of light from large windows overlooking the lake. The living room carpet needs to be replaced, but the tile in the kitchen looks good. Agnes and Amos chat while I check out the rest of the house. Three bedrooms is more than I need, but one could easily be converted to an art studio. The one downstairs with a view of the lake would work perfectly.
I think I’m in love.
Amos grins at me when I return. “All the furniture is included. Aggy says you’re looking to rent. I was hoping to sell, but I can let you rent for a year if you’d like.”
I shake my
head. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m interested in buying. Did you have a price in mind?”
When he replies, I can’t believe what he’s asking. I’d have paid twice that.
“It’s what I paid for it, plus the money I’ve put into it over the years.”
I walk over to Amos and shake his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
#
The past two weeks have flown by. My days have been filled with shopping, which isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but when you’re starting over with nothing, it’s a necessity. The rest of my time has been dedicated to cleaning out my new home.
It’s not nasty, but years of sitting vacant and neglected have taken their toll. I’ve had workmen in to check the big stuff, and fortunately the foundation, furnace, central air, wiring, and plumbing are in good shape. Although the roof will need some work before the snow hits, the repairs needed are mostly cosmetic.
For the first time in so long, my artistic side is awakened.
I’m painting my studio walls a calming, pastel green when I hear a loud motor and peek through my curtains. A moving truck pulls in, and two large men carry furniture into the house next door.
Didn’t Amos say some rich family owned it? They must’ve decided to stay for a while, because there’s only about six weeks of summer left, and they’re moving in a whole house worth of stuff.
It doesn’t take me long to grow bored watching the movers, so I get back to my work. After I get ready for bed, I can’t resist a quick peek at the house next door, but it’s dark. Maybe the family will show up tomorrow.
After two weeks of solitude—other than a few dinners with Agnes—I wouldn’t mind meeting some new people.
As I do most nights, I fall into bed and crash from exhaustion almost instantly.
The nightmare begins as it usually does.
I’m running through the blackness, trying to make it to the tree line before I’m spotted. The battered slippers on my feet are no protection from the sharp rocks and twigs, but I ignore the pain in my feet because I’m almost there.
