by Irene Brand
Laurel had lowered her lashes at his comment, but she looked up quickly when he stopped so abruptly. The sun hovered on the western horizon, and Laurel stared in stunned belief at the sight before them.
“What’s happened?” she screamed.
Her home looked as if it had been trashed. Trees and shrubbery were draped with long, white streamers. As Micah put the car into motion again, Laurel saw that the streamers were strips of toilet paper. Dozens of rolls must have been used to achieve such a disastrous result.
Micah pointed to the east wall of the house. White graffiti had been sprayed in spirals from top to bottom. Although she’d been trying to control her temper lately, Laurel felt blood rushing to her face, and she pounded the dashboard of the car with her fists. Micah stopped the car and caught her hands in his. She struggled to free them, and he said quietly, but sternly, “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself, to say nothing of damaging this rental car. Anger never does any good.”
“It does me good,” Laurel said. “I’ve never been so mad in my life. If I can find out who did this, I’ll have them arrested. I’ll never get all of this paper picked up before the wind scatters it from here to Virginia. And I suppose that graffiti will be permanent.” She tugged to free her hands, and Micah let her go.
She jumped out of the car and slammed the door. She looked around wildly, and fearing that she would harm herself, Micah moved quickly to her side. He didn’t know what to do. She obviously wasn’t in the mood to be told to calm down, so he said nothing, but he watched her closely. Laurel walked back and forth in the driveway, weaving from one side to the other, occasionally kicking a piece of limestone that got in her way.
He understood her anger. He was angry, too, that someone was trying to thwart her efforts to make a showplace out of Oaklawn. He held a proprietary attitude toward Laurel, and he resented anything that caused trouble for her. While he kept one eye on Laurel, Micah looked for clues to determine when the vandalism had taken place.
Laurel must have been walking with her eyes closed, and he ran toward her when she tumbled headlong into a large spruce tree whose branches spread over the ground. She disappeared from sight beneath the massive foliage. All he could see of Laurel were her red shoes. Grinning, he hurried over to her, figuring that his help wouldn’t be appreciated, but he had to find out if she was injured.
He heard her pounding the ground in frustration like a child having a tantrum. He knelt on the ground and separated the branches just as she ceased her struggling. She was lying face down in a carpet of spruce needles, but he heard the faint hint of a sniffle.
“Are you hurt?” he said softly.
The red head shook negatively.
“Come on out and let me see. You probably have some scratches.”
“My own fault,” she said tearfully.
Micah took hold of her shoe and tugged. “Come on. I’ve been looking around. The damage isn’t as bad as you think. We can get this cleaned up in a few hours.”
He tugged on her foot again, and her flare of temper disappeared as quickly as it had come. Micah was right—anger never did any good, and she was ashamed of her actions.
“Go away, please!” she begged, and he knew she had calmed down. “I’m not fit company for anyone now.”
He took hold of her shoes and pulled. Kicking her feet free from his grasp, Laurel turned over on her back, sat up and scooted out from under the tree. She sat with downcast eyes.
Dried spruce needles stuck out of her red hair, and her head resembled a porcupine’s back. Her face was dirty, and there was a long scratch marring the smooth perfection of her complexion. Her lips pursed in an endearing pout. She could easily have been a ten year old instead of a woman in her mellow years.
“Go away,” she said again.
Striving to hide his amusement, Micah lifted her chin, and she closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Are you going to say, ‘I told you so?’” she asked.
“No.”
She opened her eyes, and Micah’s smile was alive with affection. She bit her lip, but he knew her anger had lessened.
“Help me up,” she demanded, “and take that smile off of your face.”
He took her hand and lifted her to her feet. She stumbled a little.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked quickly.
“I skinned my knees. But I have no one to blame except myself. You’re right, anger never does any good.”
He took his handkerchief and tenderly wiped the grime from her face, carefully dabbing at the long scratch. “You have needles stuck in your hair.” He threaded his long fingers through her curls and removed the offending needles.
With her anger spent, Laurel succumbed to exhaustion, and she sat on a bench and stared at her vandalized home and landscape.
“I’ll never get that graffiti off the wall.”
“I’m not so sure. It’s not paint, but some kind of cream, probably shaving cream, sprayed from a pressurized can. It’s already fading somewhat, but I can hose it down, and there won’t be any residue left at all.”
“I wonder if this was done after Debbie left for work?”
“She would have left you a note if she’d seen the vandalism. Why not check in the house and see if there’s a message from her?”
“Okay, but I hope she didn’t see it.”
“Be sure and wash your face and put ointment on that scratch,” he advised. “You don’t want to get an infection. Is your hose in the garden house?”
She nodded.
“If you’ll hand out the key, I’ll get the hose and start washing down the brick wall.”
“Thank you. I’ll pick up the paper. I hope we can get it cleared before dark. I don’t want Debbie to be startled when she drives in.”
“Maybe it’s time to call the police,” Micah said.
Laurel shook her head, a stubborn expression on her face. “I don’t want Debbie to know. Also, if the scattered Cooper family hears about it, some of them would insist on putting in their two cents’ worth about what I should do.”
“Even Cousin Kevin?” Micah inquired, a humorous quirk around his mouth.
“Especially Cousin Kevin,” Laurel said. “He’s been a big help to me in many ways, but sometimes he annoys me.” She hadn’t told Micah about Kevin’s proposal, and she doubted that she ever would.
Debbie hadn’t left a message, so the vandalism had occurred after four o’clock. If she and Micah had come on home instead of stopping for dinner, they might have caught the culprit. She cleansed and treated her face, but she kept on her dirty clothes, because she knew she’d need to shower after she cleaned up the paper.
Micah had already cleaned a portion of the wall when Laurel went out. “It’s cleaning right off,” Micah assured her, but she winced when she saw the soapy water that covered the shrubbery and flowers beside the house. Quick to notice anything that concerned Laurel, Micah put his hand over the nozzle and stopped the flow of water.
“What is it?”
“That cream might ruin my plants, but there’s no other way to get the wall cleaned.”
“Shall I continue then?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, but she thought of all the money she’d spent landscaping Oaklawn, some of it now being washed away. Despite Debbie’s accusation, she didn’t consider herself a spendthrift. She’d never had enough money to be a big spender, but since it seemed she was always short of money, she apparently was spending above her means.
Her thoughts were heavy as she gathered armfuls of paper from the lawn. She didn’t know of anyone who hated her, so the only explanation must be that someone wanted to scare her away from Oaklawn. As discouraged as she was now, she was tempted to call Cousin Kevin and tell him to sell the property.
Darkness had fallen by the time Micah finished spraying the shaving cream from the house. He washed most of the muck off the plants, having no idea whether the water that soaked into the ground would destroy the flowers a
nd shrubs. As soon as he put the hose away, he went to help Laurel. She already had two large garbage bags stuffed full of paper. The two security lights illuminated the lawn well enough that the rest of the paper was easy to find. They didn’t finish until after ten o’clock.
“At least we finished before Debbie came home,” Laurel said, as they walked toward the house, carrying the bags.
“Are you as tired as I am?” she asked.
“Not knowing how tired you are, I can’t answer that,” Micah teased. But he knew she was worn out because she walked as if every step was an effort. “But in spite of all this, I enjoyed our day together.”
“Yes. So did I. If I have trouble going to sleep tonight, I’ll think of the nice things we did. And I’m glad that I didn’t have to face this latest fiasco alone.” She stopped at the mailbox beside the driveway and drew out a packet of mail.
“Thanks for everything,” she said as they deposited the garbage bags in the Dumpster. “And I’m sorry I threw such a tantrum. I haven’t done anything like that in years.”
He put his arm around her, and in spite of the weariness of her body, she leaned into his embrace and his arms tightened. She’d never known tenderness from any man like Micah had shown her. She wouldn’t name her feelings for him, but she’d become very fond of him this summer, and she knew that when he left Oaklawn, he would leave a void in her life. She dreaded the thought of winter approaching without either Debbie or Micah. She wondered if out of sheer loneliness she would accept Cousin Kevin’s offer. He had everything to offer her—except love.
She went inside and leafed through the mail before she went upstairs to a shower and hopefully a good night’s sleep. The envelope without a return address alerted her, and she turned the white envelope over and over. No clue to whom the sender might be.
She was tempted to throw it into the trash can without opening it, but curiosity stimulated her courage. A single white page was in the envelope. She spread out the paper.
Ye shall be brought to the grave. Job 21:32.
The letter had been mailed in Chattanooga.
Chapter Nine
Laurel shed tears of frustration as she hurried upstairs to hide the envelope. Her wonderful day with Micah had been spoiled by the way it had ended. The vandalism had been almost more than she could bear, and now this letter. Hearing Debbie’s car on the limestone driveway, she quickly turned off the light. Until she could compose herself, she couldn’t talk to Debbie.
She kicked off her shoes, lay on the bed and pulled on a blanket, hoping that her daughter wouldn’t stop for a chat. Debbie’s steps sounded on the stairway. The door to Laurel’s room opened a crack, and she didn’t stir. She could hear Debbie wait a few moments, close the door and go to her room.
Quietly, Laurel got up and removed her clothes, flung them across a chair and put on the nightgown she’d brought from the bathroom. She was too tired to take the dirty clothes to the hamper.
This summer that she’d expected to be a time of joy for Debbie and her was turning into a nightmare. If Micah hadn’t come to Oaklawn, she believed she might have collapsed with all of the stress and worry she’d suffered. Had God sent Micah at this particular time when she needed so much help and encouragement? She sensed that Micah’s feelings for her transcended mere friendship. Was it God’s will for them to marry?
Now that Micah had accepted Jesus as his Savior, he had all the qualities that she could ever want in a husband. And it seemed ironic now that, as Micah’s spiritual enlightenment increased, her personal faith was at low ebb. She’d been as devout a Christian as she’d known how to be. Her greatest desire had been to have God’s will fulfilled in her life. Why, then, was He putting her through this time of testing? Near the breaking point, she cried out, as Jesus had done on the cross, the words of the psalmist David, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
She knew her lack of faith was displeasing to God, and if Micah knew how her faith was faltering, it would be a detriment to his new walk in the Lord. She would tell Micah about this letter because she’d promised, but she couldn’t talk to him about her lack of faith.
“God,” she murmured, “is there no end to the things I have to keep to myself. I can’t let Micah see how much I doubt Your providence.”
Laurel did sleep for a few hours, but she woke at her usual time. The phone rang while she was in the shower. She hurriedly wrapped a large beach towel around her and went to answer. Not until she had her hand on the phone did she wonder if this was her tormentor. Her relief was intense when she heard Micah’s voice.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Poorly.”
“I was afraid of that. I didn’t sleep much, either—I kept wondering who’s harassing you and why.”
“I had another letter in yesterday’s mail.”
“So that’s the reason you couldn’t sleep.” In a protective tone she liked, he said, “Why didn’t you call me?”
“You couldn’t have done anything.”
“I’ve been thinking that it might be a good idea not to tell anyone what we found when we came home last night.”
Micah was a bit surprised at his words. When had he started thinking of Oaklawn as home?
“Not even Debbie?”
“It would only upset her. If we say nothing, the responsible person might wonder why and make some comment that would alert you to whoever is behind all of these things.”
“Yes. You’re right. And since there’s only another month until the wedding, I don’t want Debbie to be worried. If she knows what’s going on, she’ll be even more disturbed about leaving me.”
Following the pattern of previous harassment, several days passed without any calls or intimidating letters. But when the phone rang at two o’clock in the morning almost a week after the vandalism, Laurel was afraid to answer. But a desperate need to identify her tormentor gave her the courage to lift the receiver. Holding her breath, she said nothing.
“This is Micah.”
Her sense of relief was so great she almost dropped the receiver. “Oh, my! You nearly scared the wits out of me.”
“Sorry, but there are a couple of cows on the lawn. It’s been raining all night and the ground is mushy. If these cows keep running around, they’ll ruin the grass. We’d better do something about it.”
“Oh, my!” she said again. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
She threw off her nightgown, reached into the clothes hamper and retrieved the jeans and shirt she’d worn yesterday. She grabbed a flashlight from the dresser top.
She heard cows bawling the minute she stepped out on the back porch where Micah waited for her. They walked around the lawn to investigate, but it was pitch-dark when they got away from the security lights.
“You say there are two cows?”
“I saw two at one time, but there may be more. They’re white cows—Charolais, I think.”
“Pete is pasturing some Charolais cattle in one of Oaklawn’s fields. I’ll call him.”
She flashed her light on the dark lawn and saw that the cattle’s hooves had sunk deep into the thick turf she’d been nurturing all summer. A cow came around the corner of the house and plodded through her petunia bed. Angrily, Laurel turned toward the house, praying for the strength to control her tongue.
“Pete,” she said when her neighbor sleepily answered the phone. “Your cows are out, and they’re trampling my lawn and flower beds.”
She heard him yawn. “All of them?”
“All of them what?”
“Is the whole herd out?”
“How would I know? It’s dark outside. We’ve only seen two or three.”
“I’m sorry, Laurel. I’ll come right away.”
When she rejoined Micah, she said, “It will take Pete a little while to get here. Come in the kitchen, and I’ll make some tea.”
She set two cups of water in the microwave to heat and put a basket filled with tea bags of different blends on the table
. When the water was ready, she gave a cup to Micah and sat opposite him.
“Laurel,” Micah asked thoughtfully. “How do you get along with your neighbor? Could he be the one harassing you? Since his property adjoins yours, seems to me he’d be the most likely person to want to buy your place. How well do you know him?”
“Pete and his wife are in their fifties, and we’ve been friends since I moved here. Their daughter, Kaitlyn, will be Debbie’s maid of honor. They go to church with me. In fact, they attended your birthday bash. He’s the tall, gangly man who looks like he’s starving to death, but can put away more food in one meal than you’d eat in a day. I’d have to catch him in the act to believe he’d do anything like that mess we had when we returned from Knoxville last week.”
“Well, it was just a thought,” Micah said as he dangled a tea bag in the mug of hot water.
Laurel looked haggard, and he knew these incidents were taking a toll on her. She was a strong woman, but he feared if she didn’t get some relief from these annoying incidents, she’d collapse as soon as Debbie’s wedding was over.
Her hand drummed nervously on the tabletop, and he covered her hand with his. “Occasionally, I wonder if these things are happening, or if I’m losing my mind.”
“Don’t forget I saw the vandalism a few nights ago,” Micah assured her. “It’s happening, all right.”
A vehicle pulled into the driveway. Micah took a large swallow of tea, set the cup on the table and followed Laurel into the yard.
Brenda Howe was driving the pickup. “I’m really sorry about this, Laurel,” she said, and Micah recognized her as one of the women from Bethel Church. “I hope there isn’t much damage. Pete is checking the pasture, and he’ll join us soon.”
“He won’t be able to see much until daylight comes,” Laurel said.
When Pete walked around the house fifteen minutes later, his face was grave. “I hate to say this, but I think someone cut the fence and drove the cattle onto your lawn, but I can tell better as soon as it’s light.” He took off his cap and ran nervous fingers through his thick crop of gray hair. “How long have the cattle been out?”
