Shelley held tight to the armrest in the passenger side of Mitch’s Saturn. He drove at least ten miles over the speed limit, racing toward Lake Norfork and the Brannons’ cabin––a good four-hour drive past Cape Girardeau.
Shelley felt lightheaded and numb. The movie had barely started when Mitch came back from a phone call with Evan and told her they needed to leave. The look on his face had scared her sick. She’d been certain something must have happened to Evan or one of the girls.
But when he’d explained about Evan finding their cabin open––and someone staying there––her thoughts had spun out of control. They’d been spinning ever since. What would it mean if it was Jill at the cabin, as Evan believed.
It didn’t seem like the gravity of it all had quite soaked in for Mitch. For the first ten minutes of their trip, he railed about Evan taking his friends to the lake without permission. “What was that bonehead thinking? All he had to do was ask. . . .We might have been able to work something out. But the fact that he didn’t tell me makes me wonder if this isn’t the first time. And so help me, if I find out this was going to be some big beer bash, that kid is in so much trouble he can’t even begin to––” His breath caught as if he’d just thought of something.
He fished his phone from his pocket and handed it to Shelley, keeping his eyes on the night highway and his foot on the accelerator. “Would you dial Evan for me, please?”
She found the number in speed dial and gave the phone back to Mitch.
He held it to his ear, expertly navigating the curvy two-lane road. “If they’ve gone down to the lake before and no one was there, then she hasn’t been there all along. If it’s even Jill––” He held up a hand. “Evan? Hey, have you guys been to the lake before this? Since September?”
Shelley tried to follow Mitch’s side of the conversation but soon gave up. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him so angry. Not even that night when Evan and Audrey had stayed out till the wee hours of the morning, scaring them all out of their minds.
When he hung up, he blew out a sigh. “He swears this is the first time they’ve done this.”
“So, are you thinking she could have been there all this time?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine why she would go there. Knowing we were all worried sick about her. And I still go back to that last message she left.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and glanced her way. “You heard it, Shelley. She sounded happy. Didn’t she?”
“Yes. She sounded happy. She was happy, Mitch. She . . . had a wonderful life with you.” He didn’t need to know that her words were for her as much as they were for Mitch. And that she spoke them with less resolve than she might’ve hoped to muster. “Wouldn’t your neighbors have noticed if someone was staying at the cabin?”
He nodded. “Probably. They live almost a mile in the other direction from the highway, so they can’t see our place. But they check on it once a week or so––just drive by. They don’t go inside. No reason to. We close the place down and lock it up whenever we leave.
“If someone has been there with the gas and water turned on, I would have noticed that on the utility bills. And . . . Jill could have figured out how to turn on the utilities, but that’s not something she ever did. That’s always been my job. I just don’t think there’s any way she could have been there all this time without someone knowing.”
He drove in silence for a minute, then continued his train of thought, as if he’d never stopped talking. “Unless she’s lived without power or water all these months. And I can’t imagine that. Not through the winter.” He shook his head, obviously as mystified as Shelley was. “Even if the neighbors saw a car with Missouri tags at the cabin, they’d just assume it was me––that everything was on the up-and-up.”
“Did Evan see a car? Jill’s car?”
“No. But he said there was a woman’s stuff in the house. Clothes . . . underwear . . . and shampoo and lotions in the bathroom and bedroom.”
That brought an image of Jill’s bathroom at home. She always had many lotions and potions from her favorite bath and body store lined up on her vanity counter. The first time she’d seen the display in Jill’s bathroom she accused her friend of plotting to open a gift store in competition with Serendipity. “Good grief, woman!” she’d teased. “How many lotions can one woman use?”
Jill had laughed, explaining that most were gifts from special third-graders. “I don’t want to have to lie when one of my kids asks me if I liked what they gave me for Christmas.”
The memory brought a lump to her throat. “But . . . no one was there?”
Mitch shook his head, then turned to her, agony etched in the lines of his face. “Do you think she . . . had a breakdown? Did she think she had to get away from––everything?”
He was starting to believe they would find Jill at the cabin. Oh, dear Lord. “Mitch, Jill would never have done that to you. Or your kids. Or to her students. She didn’t have it in her to do something like that. You know that.”
“Do you think God has a reason for this?”
“Mitch . . .” Shelley looked over at him. He gripped the steering wheel as if it were a lifeboat. She didn’t like the gray pallor his complexion had taken on, or the way his clothes had begun to hang on a frame that had once been muscular. “I don’t know anymore, Mitch. I––I’m sure He does, but . . . I have a hard time imagining what it is.”
He nodded, and she felt guilty that she’d given him such a hopeless thought with which to agree.
“It feels like we gave up.”
She raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Like we gave up on Jill. Too soon. If she’s there . . . how can she ever forgive us?”
“Oh, Mitch. You couldn’t just keep living in this limbo you’ve been in. No one is going to think you gave up.”
“And what if I have?” His gaze challenged her.
“Given up? Oh, Mitch . . .” She’d long ago lost fresh words to comfort him with. She prayed for just a few to come now, but came up empty.
Shelley had called Audrey, and Mitch had called Katie as soon as they left Cape Girardeau, telling them only that there was a problem with the cabin and they were driving down to check on it . . . just enough to keep them from worrying. And––in light of Katie’s suspicions about her and Mitch––hopefully enough to make it clear that they weren’t just running off to spend the night together at the lake. But they probably wouldn’t arrive at the cabin until well after midnight. And depending on what they found when they got there, she assumed they’d be staying the night.
Another hour passed in silence, the dull grind of tires on the highway the only soundtrack to her scattered thoughts. And with every mile, the full import of what they might face when they got to the cabin became even clearer.
She could almost read Mitch’s thoughts in the set of his jaw. Within a few short hours, he might be holding Jill in his arms.
And I might be facing my friend. The dearest friend I ever had. The friend she’d never had a secret from––and from whom she now had a whole lifetime of secrets to keep.
When they drove through Poplar Bluff, it crossed her mind that she could ask Mitch to drop her off at her aunt’s house. But it was late. Aunt Mona would already be in bed for the night, and Shelley wouldn’t have a way back to Sylvia tomorrow. And besides, Mitch wouldn’t want to take the time to stop. But if Jill was at the cabin . . .
Shelley closed her eyes and leaned her head against the passenger side window. The glass was cool despite the sultry evening, and the vibrations of the road echoed the chaos of her thoughts. When she thought about the reunion that might be imminent, she could hardly contain all the emotions warring inside her. Maybe she was a coward, but if by some unbelievable chance Jill was there––Shelley flinched––she didn’t want to be present when Mitch saw her for the first time.
And when Jill looked into her eyes, she would know the truth.
Shelley gripped the arm
rest tighter and her heart stuttered. There were things she needed to say to Mitch. Things that must be said before he saw Jill again. Things she knew God was asking her to do––and had been for a while now.
And they were going to be the hardest words she’d ever spoken. But the miles were melting away and she knew she could never live with herself if she didn’t obey what her heart now compelled her to do.
When they stopped for gas in Doniphan, Mitch called Evan again to see what was going on. “Where are you guys? Did the sheriff show up yet?”
“We’re at the cabin. And yeah. They just left. They went through the house and looked around outside, but they didn’t see anybody.”
“Has the detective from Missing Persons arrived?”
“Not that we’ve seen, but we were at the Marleys’ for quite a while. The deputies said we could stay at the cabin tonight though.”
If it was truly Jill staying at the lake, she might be––had to be––unstable. Or if she was with someone . . . The thought took the breath from him.
“I don’t want you staying there, Evan. Not until I get there.”
“What? They said they’d keep an eye on the place. If Mom’s here, we need to be here.”
“I want you to wait until I get there before you go back inside. Do you understand? We don’t know for sure it’s Mom.”
A long pause. Mitch could almost feel Evan’s frustration. “Fine. So what are we supposed to do for two hours?”
“What were you going to do if the cabin had been empty?”
“Just hang out.”
“I just hope you weren’t planning anything stupid.” If the boys had brought a bunch of beer with them––or bought it after they got to the lake––Mitch hoped to goodness none of them were underage. Lakes and booze could be a deadly combination, and the sheriff’s department in Baxter County didn’t take kindly to minors in possession of alcohol.
“Dad, we’re not idiots.”
He wanted to say, “Then stop acting like it,” but decided to save that argument for another day. And if by some miracle Jill was at the lake, there would be no argument. He would simply thank God for the mysterious ways He sometimes worked.
He looked over at Shelley, who was watching him anxiously. He couldn’t let himself think about what it would mean––for her, for them––if they’d found Jill. If after all these months, it was really her.
He collected his thoughts, trying to think what to tell Evan. “You guys can go down to that convenience store on the highway, on 412. I think they’re open all night. I’ll call you when we’re almost there.” He looked at his watch. “We’re probably still a good two hours away. . . Shelley’s with me.”
“Where’s Katie?”
“She’s at home. You haven’t talked to her have you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t tell her that we think Mom might be there. I didn’t want her to worry, since she’ll be home alone tonight. And––I didn’t want to get her hopes up. So don’t say anything if she calls you, okay? About Mom.”
“I won’t. How come Shelley’s with you?”
“Hey, bud, I need to go. I’ll call you again when we get close. Should be there by twelve thirty or so. You be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
He felt cowardly skirting Evan’s question, but he didn’t want to try to explain in front of Shelley.
“Everything okay?” She shifted in her seat and looked up at him. And in that moment, he saw in her eyes that she knew this one night could change . . . everything.
“It’s fine,” he said. “The guys are going to hang out at a convenience store. They didn’t find anything at the cabin but––” He paused. “Are you okay?”
In the greenish glow from the dashboard, her face was hard to read, but her eyes brimmed with tears. “Mitch . . . I need to talk to you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“If Jill is there . . . at the cabin––” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath before starting again. “I want you to know that I understand the way things have to be. I don’t expect anything from you. And . . . I won’t say anything to Jill about––us.”
“Shelley.” Her agony was his fault. He rummaged in a brain full of pathetic excuses for something that would ease the pain he’d caused. “If it’s Jill . . . if it’s really her at the cabin, I won’t keep anything from her. We’ll have to see how she is––why she left in the first place. But I don’t want to add secrets to the list of hard things we’ll be dealing with.”
“I think––”
“Please.” He reached to put a hand briefly on her arm. “Shelley, I hope you know me well enough to know that I don’t blame you. For any of this. You were only trying to be a friend to me. You were only . . .” You were only responding to my advances. He felt sick to his stomach.
“How could I ever face Jill now?”
“Shelley, all those years, when you were Jill’s friend . . . you never once acted inappropriately toward me. Maybe I’m just too dumb to read those things, but I never guessed what your feelings were. I’m sure Jill didn’t. And after she disappeared, you believed she was gone. You––” He stopped himself and dipped his head briefly before turning to face her. “This isn’t your fault. Do you hear me?”
The whir of tires on pavement echoed the tension between them.
“No. That’s not true, Mitch.” Her voice held resolve. “I love you. And I’m not telling you that to complicate things. I’m telling you that because you’re trying to take the blame for something that––maybe I’m more guilty than you know. It––it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve . . . made some decisions.” She closed her eyes, and he knew she was struggling to get her emotions under control.
When she finally looked up, her eyes were clear. She straightened in the passenger seat. “I think maybe God has been preparing me for this all along. So, please, Mitch. Don’t argue with me. I’m ready to step away from our friendship. I know it would be best for everyone.”
“No, Shelley. You don’t have to do that. I’m not asking you to do that.” The headlights cast a long beam in front of the car, illuminating the road before them. But the car barreled into the engulfing darkness faster than the beam could pierce its mysteries. Shelley drew in another hard breath. Watching her, his heart broke. He loved this woman.
“Mitch . . .” Her voice was barely a whisper above the noise of the road. “We both know it can’t be any other way.” She turned to stare out the side window. “You know,” she said after a moment, a false bright note coming to her voice, “Aunt Mona has been trying to talk me into moving to Poplar Bluff for years. Maybe I’ll take her up on it. I’d be closer to Audrey and . . .” She shrugged and gave a him a quivery smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll open up that bed and breakfast I’ve always dreamed about.”
Chapter 33
Saturday, June 18
Evan and his friends were waiting beside his car at the cabin when Mitch and Shelley pulled onto the long, curving lane to the cabin at twelve forty in the morning. Shelley climbed out of the car, her stomach in knots––and not just because they’d traveled for four hours on winding roads.
Even though she knew Evan would have called if Jill had appeared at the cabin, her nerves were taut, thinking about what might lie ahead.
A light shone from a small back porch, but Shelley could barely make out the outline of the cabin against the dark backdrop of pines.
Evan introduced the three friends who’d come with him. They were clean-cut and seemed nice enough, but Mitch was uncharacteristically curt. He barely nodded in acknowledgement, then turned to Evan. “Have you been back inside since the sheriff was here?”
“Just now.” Evan motioned toward the cabin. “There’s no one here. I unlocked the back door and turned on the electricity and water.”
Mitch gripped Evan’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “I want your key to the cabin. Before you leave.” Without waiting for a response, he swept past his son to t
he back door. Evan and his friends followed, and Shelley fell in line behind them, feeling awkward and out of place.
Mitch switched on lights as they went through the cabin, looking the place up and down. The cozy house felt strangely familiar as Shelley recognized things Jill had talked about––the rolling library ladder on a wall that was ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, an end table Shelley had helped Jill refinish with the infamous crackled paint, the stone fireplace where the Brannons made s’mores on rainy days. She remembered the birthday gift of s’more makers she’d ordered and wondered if she’d ever have a chance to give them to Jill. She recognized several decorative items Jill had bought for the cabin when the two of them had traveled fifty miles of the famous Hundred Mile Yard Sale one May.
She breathed in the scent of a recent fire, and something like burned toast. Overhead she could see the rail to the loft where the kids slept––dark now.
Mitch poked his head into a bathroom off the kitchen and flipped on a light. Leaving it on, he exited and went down a narrow hallway. When he disappeared through a doorway at the end of the hall, Shelley stepped into the bathroom.
Like Jill’s bathroom at home, bottles of scented lotions and soaps were clustered on the counter. Jill’s teacher gifts. Some of the bottles and tubes were open and lying on their sides, as if someone had been interrupted while sampling them. And Evan was right. It did smell like her in here. A variety of scents, and nothing that “matched,” but they all had a single undertone, mingling to form one familiar scent––the way it smelled in the bath and body store. Oh, Jill. She had to brace herself against the counter for a moment to catch her breath.
Jill had no doubt brought the bath products from home. But they’d been used recently. Was she here? She wondered if Mitch had noticed the scent.
Bath towels and clothes lay heaped in a corner by the walk-in shower. Gingerly, she picked up a T-shirt. It was turned inside out, but even so, she could read the raunchy slogan printed on it. She picked through the rest of the laundry, and knew immediately that these weren’t Jill’s clothes. They were too small, and too . . . sleazy.
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