by J. L. Salter
“Because he’s supposedly intoxicated with me…”
“Kelly, from what he’s told Joe and what you’ve told me about the cave incident, it’s obvious Mitch’s feelings are even deeper now than even before. A key point was when he thought he might lose you. And before all that, he was already as love-struck as I’ve ever seen a man. I don’t mean book characters, I mean flesh-and-blood.” Diane exhaled loudly. “The follow-up question is, what are your feelings for him? Have they changed since you found yourself separated by a wall of boulders you weren’t even certain you could get through?”
“But I was certain. I knew Mitch would get me out.”
“Exactly my point, Kelly. You have more certainty about Mitch, but have your feelings also intensified? Is your love deeper now?”
Kelly shrugged. She had a sense perhaps she should feel something different. But, being completely honest, she wasn’t certain she did feel anything had changed. Her Aunt Mildred had once told Kelly that she’d been guarding her feelings too much since the death of her parents during her teen years. Maybe so.
Diane must have been reading her mind. “Kelly, I know I’ve pushed a little hard on this, but I sense a genuine importance about it. You’re my new friend, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve built up a giant wall. I guess it’s because of the bum you divorced. But whatever the reason, it’s just as real a wall as a pile of boulders blocking you in the cave. The wall you’re still hiding behind is built up around your feelings.” Diane dabbed her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I’m afraid you’re going to do such a good job protecting your heart that you could lose a good man like Mitch.”
Moisture stung Kelly’s eyes. Her brain held words, but when she tried to speak, none of them emerged.
Diane sniffled, hugged her briefly, and then released. “Just think about it, Kelly. But don’t do all the thinking in your head. Think with your other computer.” She pointed to Kelly’s chest. “Some of your decisions need to be made in there.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
After finishing her own lunch of leftovers, Kelly was feeding Gato on the kitchen counter when she heard Perra bark and spotted somebody dart past the window toward the cabin’s back door. She rarely used her back door, so it was almost always locked — especially since all the sightings and signs of prowlers or peepers. She hurried to the front door to latch its deadbolt and grab Pop’s loaded shotgun, then approached the back door cautiously and peered through its six glass panes. Perra was outside, facing the rear door and clearly agitated.
When Kelly didn’t see anyone, her breathing slowed a bit; she hadn’t even realized her heart rate had also accelerated. But she couldn’t chalk it up to an active imagination, because Perra was still outside growling and barking. Just as Kelly turned to recheck the back door, she heard a soft knock on one of the lowest glass panes. She jumped, literally, and her face drained of blood. Instinctively she raised the double barrels.
Then a weak female voice called, “Miss Kelly! I need… um, can I…?”
More challenges from Perra, who kept a distance without attacking.
Kelly approached the back door again and then peeked nearly straight down. There, huddled on the wooden plank stoop, was Ginny Cable.
Kelly quickly scanned the tree line to the west and then as far to her left and right as she could see through the glass. Then she leaned the shotgun against a cabinet, unlatched the door, tried to shush Perra, and stepped back.
Ginny, her former neighbor, practically fell into the room.
“What on earth?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Kelly.” Ginny seemed out of breath. “I didn’t know where else to go.” She shivered, despite a worn out coat, much too heavy for late May.
Kelly leaned through the doorway to better scrutinize the 180 degrees within her view. No sign of anyone else nearby, but Perra scooted inside and began tentatively sniffing the visitor. Kelly hurriedly closed the door and latched it.
As Ginny trudged toward the kitchen, Perra and Kelly followed.
“I’m… sorry.” Then Ginny began crying.
Kelly reached for her hesitantly, feeling slightly awkward hugging someone she’d only spoken to a few times previously. But she also immediately realized Ginny was in trouble of some kind, and she’d come to Kelly for help.
Ginny’s sobs intensified as Kelly tentatively embraced her. After a while, the girl’s shivering and tears subsided. On the kitchen counter, Gato looked offended his meal had been interrupted.
As Perra investigated more closely, Kelly disengaged and assessed the visitor. Ginny was paler than Kelly remembered from before, and she’d obviously aged a lot more than nineteen months. Kelly helped her remove the soiled and torn coat. Ginny was also a lot thinner… couldn’t be much more than a hundred pounds. Her gaunt face and stringy hair reflected dire circumstances. Her eyes would still have been pretty, if not for their fear.
“Have a seat.” Kelly indicated the kitchen table. “And I’ll get you something warm to drink. Coffee okay?” Warm drinks are more settling than cold ones.
Ginny nodded and sat quietly. She hadn’t yet looked directly at Kelly’s face. “I’m sorry to barge in like this.” Ginny choked back another sob. “I’m, uh, in some trouble and I’m scared…” Tears flowed again.
Gato left the kitchen, and Perra lay near the table in case she might be needed.
Kelly warmed the morning’s coffee in her microwave and put the cup on the table, far enough away so Ginny wouldn’t hit it if her face moved back down like it did when she was sobbing. Kelly placed one hand on the girl’s shoulder and waited. This obviously was trouble. Kelly had suspected something awful from the time she and Mitch tried to investigate Ginny’s sudden disappearance from the farm house. But what kind of trouble?
She also guessed the girl might be hungry, so Kelly put two slices of bread in the toaster. She hadn’t thought out what she might make with toast, but somehow the smell of warm bread seemed like a small comfort. While the bread toasted, Kelly went to the table and sat opposite Ginny. Her surprise guest was frightened, emotional, alone, and in trouble, which could mean a lot of things for a female about age twenty-two.
“I won’t stay long.” Ginny spoke slowly and focused directly on her hostess for the first time. “Just need to rest a bit. I’ve been moving around so much these last weeks, I don’t think I’ve slept at all.”
“You can stay as long as you need to.” Even as she spoke, Kelly realized she’d extended her invitation before she comprehended what the situation was. Yet, it would stand, because Kelly understood how it felt to be frightened, emotional, alone, and in trouble. There weren’t many people one could trust enough to help at such times, and it wouldn’t be right to turn her out.
Despite the curiosity burning in her brain and gut, Kelly resisted the temptation to question the refugee right then. Ginny needed to eat a little and rest a lot. Later she could explain.
Ginny downed the warm coffee quickly while Kelly spread elderberry jelly on the toast. The girl’s hands were dirty, but her hostess didn’t interrupt the impromptu meal to remedy it. After Ginny finished the toast, she surveyed the cabin briefly.
Kelly understood she’d probably need the bathroom, so she led the girl down the hall. She placed a fresh towel on top of the lavatory ledge and departed, closing the door behind her. Kelly hoped she’d take a shower and get out of those dirty clothes, but figured fatigue would trump hygiene. Kelly was correct.
After washing her face, neck, and hands, Ginny emerged and stood in the hallway, looking wobbly enough to faint.
Kelly rushed over and led her to the short couch in the space which served as a living room. She just had time to spread a throw over the couch surface before Ginny collapsed there and fell asleep quickly.
As the girl was sleeping, Kelly thought back over what she already knew. Kelly had been living in this newly-built cabin for slightly less than t
wo years when Ginny moved into Pop’s old farm house on the same acreage, and kept to herself. Every time Kelly had seen her, the girl was on the porch — or at the window — monitoring Macon Circle. She seemed to be watching for something or waiting for someone. Kelly had spoken to her reclusive neighbor only a few times, and the girl had always seemed worried, even frightened. Ginny had never explained, but she possessed the look of an animal being hunted.
Then, after about seven months in the farm house, Ginny suddenly disappeared. Pop only noticed when the rent was nearly two weeks overdue and he went to check. He’d consulted Kelly, but she didn’t know one way or the other. In fact, nobody either of them asked knew anything about Ginny — when she’d left or why. And nobody had any idea where she’d gone.
When Mitch arrived, nearly a year later, he’d found most of Ginny’s belongings — piles of clothing and shoes mostly — scattered all over the farm house as though she’d dumped everything she owned on the floors, picked out a few things she could carry, and then simply disappeared.
What had intrigued Mitch more than anything else was a single red platform shoe. He and Kelly had joked, though it seemed rather macabre as Kelly thought back on it, that one shoe supposedly meant murder. She had even contacted Fred Lee to see if he could learn anything. Trooper Means came up empty, except to learn Ginny was not Ginny’s real name.
So what’s the real name of the Ginny now sleeping on her couch? Who is this young woman who hid from something or somebody the entire time she’d lived at the farm house… and who’s been running so much in the past weeks that she hasn’t even slept? Plus, who or what is Ginny running from?
Getting right down to it, Kelly realized she didn’t know anything at all about Ginny, including her real name. So why let her in? Why comfort her? Why give her food and shelter? Because I’ve been there.
It was enough reason, for then.
By an hour later, a sunny afternoon had developed, with clear skies and absolutely no breeze. Kelly’s phone rang. Mitch. Before he could speak beyond “hello,” Kelly interjected her news.
“You’ll never guess who showed up out of nowhere.” Kelly exited her front door quietly and stood out on the porch.
“I give up already.”
“Ginny.” Kelly nearly whispered the name even though the girl was sound asleep on the couch inside.
“Ginny with one red shoe?” Mitch’s surprise was obvious. “I figured her for dead.”
“Well, she’s alive now. Exhausted, hungry, and scared nearly to death. But alive.” Kelly took a breath. “And, don’t forget, she’s not really Ginny.”
“Right, right… not her real name. So, uh, where’s she heading?”
Kelly didn’t answer immediately, because she hadn’t even processed the information enough to contemplate the ramifications of what she was about to say. “Um, she’s going to be here for a while, I guess.” With no reply from Mitch, Kelly wasn’t sure what her own next words would be. “She’s in trouble, Mitch, and I’m going to help.”
Kelly’s phone conversation with Mitch ended rather abruptly. He seemed like he wanted to talk her out of helping, which was not presently an option. Mitch had pointed out several obvious problems: Who was she, really? What kind of trouble was she in? Was Kelly possibly harboring a fugitive? Did she realize that’s against the law? Et cetera. Rather than argue with Mitch, Kelly just ended the call.
It was over two hours before Ginny roused from her deep sleep. She awoke with a start, her eyes at first wide with panic. Then she obviously realized where she was and relaxed a little but continued to gaze out the front windows toward distant Macon Circle. “I’m sorry, Miss Kelly.”
“You’ve apologized enough, let’s move forward.” Kelly sat next to the short couch and Perra followed closely. “My name’s Kelly Randall. Since I know you’re not actually Ginny, who are you… really?”
The disheveled girl on the couch revealed a thin nervous smile. She stood and stretched gingerly. “Ginny really is my name, kinda.” A big yawn. “My middle name is Virginia. Colleen Virginia Cable. I’ve hardly ever used my first name. It sounded so Irish, and I didn’t like being, um, categorized.”
Kelly understood. “Well, there’s a lot more I want to know. Let’s start with why you disappeared over a year and a half ago, or why you’re running now.”
“It’s a long story either way.” Ginny glanced down at her clothes. “Would it be okay if I clean up first?”
“Sure. I don’t have anything that’ll fit you, but it’ll cover you up ‘til we can clean what you’re wearing.”
Ginny nodded and headed back toward the bathroom. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, Miss Kelly. I just need to scrub off the last week.”
“Okay, toss your things out the door and I’ll go wash them. I’ll leave some jeans and a shirt for you, meantime. Probably be gone a couple of hours. There’s a little food in the fridge.”
Ginny nodded wearily. She still needed more rest.
“I’m locking the front door behind me. Keep both doors locked and don’t let anybody in.”
The bathroom door clicked and water started running.
Kelly found a faded, flannel shirt and some old jeans. Figuring her guest was about four inches shorter, Kelly rolled up the cuffs, placed those clothes on the floor outside the bathroom door, and collected the dirty clothing Ginny had just deposited. No designer labels any more — at best, her stuff was off the clearance rack at the local discount mart. Possibly even from the bargain bin at the thrift store. Everything went into a plastic grocery bag.
Kelly remembered the double-barreled shotgun she’d left near the back door. Never a good idea to leave a loaded weapon around somebody you don’t know very well. She slid over a step stool and put the heavy firearm up above the kitchen cabinets, completely out of sight and reach. Next to it went a box of 12-gauge shells she retrieved from the drawer of the little table near the front door.
Kelly scribbled a short note with her cell phone number, then shooed Perra outside and locked the door. She wished she’d gotten her own dirty clothes and towels from the bathroom so she could wash a larger load, since on her slender budget, Kelly hated to waste money. But she was rightly reluctant to burst in on a frightened girl in the shower.
She hopped into her Jeep. First stop, Laundry Mart. Next, a store for cheap underwear in Ginny’s size. Third stop, groceries.
While the clothes were washing, Kelly shopped for underwear and later returned to switch her small load to the dryer. Then she called Mitch again.
“Did you learn anything about her, uh, trouble?”
“Not yet. She had a week of grime to wash off. And I think she’s washing herself metaphorically also.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll explain later. She said she’ll update me when I get back. I need to get some food… the poor thing’s also starving.” Kelly closed her eyes briefly as she thought. “Um, maybe you should plan on supper without me tonight. I think I’ve got my hands full with Ginny.”
Mitch obviously didn’t like what he heard. “Aren’t you worried you’ve just backed into something a lot more complicated than you’ve yet imagined?”
“Mitch…”
“Okay, okay, I’ll survive a solo supper. But promise me one thing.”
Kelly could have asked, but was certain he’d say it anyway.
“Promise me you’ll find out what trouble she’s in. If anything makes you an accessory, you’ve got to send her packing.”
“I understand what you’re saying.” Kelly consciously made no promises. “Got to go, I don’t want to leave her alone too long.”
Kelly purchased a few groceries, collected Ginny’s clothes from the dryer, and then returned to her cabin. Her sense of security heightened, she scanned up and down the hill as she drove along Cemetery Road. Joined by Perra, Kelly also walked the cabin’s perimeter before she unlocked the front door and entered.
Her hair still damp, Ginny was asleep again on the sma
ll couch. On the note Kelly had left she’d written: Clothes fit good enough. Thanks.
Kelly folded Ginny’s freshly dried things and placed them on the kitchen table. Then she put the package of panties she’d purchased on top of the torn pair she’d cleaned. She had guessed at the size.
Then she put away the few groceries she’d bought. Isn’t much but it’s edible. A large can of beef stew, a skillet dinner mix, and a pound of ground meat. Almost as an afterthought, she’d gotten a liter of store brand fruit juice. Ginny probably needed some vitamin C, and she’d almost certainly be thirsty.
Kelly went to the bathroom and found Ginny’s dirty shoes on the floor near the shower. How many miles had she come? Had she walked? Hitchhiked? Potentially more dangerous than walking. The shoes were so worn out Kelly didn’t even want to touch them. She was not prissy about dirt, but something about those shoes seemed to represent the danger which was obviously chasing Ginny. Had those hazards followed her? How dangerous was it? How close?
By opening her door to Ginny, what had Kelly gotten herself into?
After another hour, Kelly was studying her piles of research at the table when Ginny awoke, hurriedly scanned the room, and sat up… her bare feet on the floor. Tail wagging, Perra jumped on the couch and greeted the disoriented guest. Ginny rubbed her eyes and yawned. “You’ve got a lot of paperwork.”
“It’s a project I’m working on for Pop Walter.” Kelly put down her papers and stood. “How are you feeling after a little rest?”
“Okay, I guess. How long have I been down?”
“About three or four hours total.”
Ginny nodded and yawned again. She noticed the clothes on the table and retrieved the clean socks, then returned to the loveseat and began covering her feet.
Kelly watched for a moment. “So get yourself situated and tell me what on earth is going on.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tuesday, May 22
At his own cabin on a warm late afternoon, Mitch put down his phone and took stock. It was three days after the cave incident when Kelly had tenderly dressed his back, and one day since Ginny’s unexpected arrival. Kelly had just phoned, invited Mitch to come over, and suggested he bring three hoagies.
