by LoRee Peery
“Another dream. When will they stop, Lord?”
Were the woods no longer safe? This secluded cabin was supposed to be her haven. From the inside out, fear turned her into an immovable block of ice.
But she had to move. She had to go outside.
She slid out from under the unzipped sleeping bag and slipped her feet into backless canvas shoes.
No matter what was outside, she had to know. She had to see if she was in real danger.
She glided the bar on the door noiselessly out of the slot. She swept onto the porch without a sound.
Someone was here. She felt invisible eyes.
Her heart beat triple time.
As discernible as the morning dew, she knew she wasn’t alone.
She canvassed the clearing. Nothing moved. Yet she sensed a presence. She eased her way backward and grabbed a trusty two-by-four. She peeked around the edge of the porch, and glanced along the sides of the cabin’s exterior.
With determination, she tiptoed towards the dumpster. She paused. Nothing. She studied the treetops to gauge the strength of the wind. A few scraggly, rusty pine needles burned orange in the sun’s glare. Birds, leaves, squirrels, and other living things flitted all around, unsettled. Were they scurrying from something beyond her sight?
Since Aiden had gone the evening before, Barton had been ever-present on her mind. With the threat of her violent ex on the loose, Beth was thankful her work didn’t take much concentration. She’d hauled and scraped and cleaned on automatic pilot until her muscles shook from exertion. She’d slept too deeply.
Now in the morning light, Beth squinted into the thickest section of the woods, where amidst a copse, tree trunks and bushes grew in a tangle.
Ears on full alert, someone approached.
She backed against the dumpster, wooden weapon in hand, gaze fixed in the direction of the steps.
Would she ever, in this lifetime, be rid of the fear?
No! Another silent scream.
Barton’s worn leather jacket. She slammed her shoulders against the dumpster.
The big man cleared the brush. He scuffled backwards, crouched.
She slipped on wet decaying leaves, regained her balance.
Then she raised the length of wood, prepared to crack him on the head.
The man stretched to his tall height and turned.
****
Aiden skidded to a halt at the sight of Beth, eyes huge in her pale face.
Her lips formed a snarl.
He raised his hands where she could see them, palms facing her. “It’s Aiden. Drop the weapon, Beth.”
Her eyes were clouded over. Did she even recognize him through the glaze?
“What’s happened? Beth, it’s me. Are you hurt?”
She blinked, made eye contact. He knew the second she recognized him.
“Aiden.” Her legs collapsed. Spent, she slid down the dumpster, the two-by-four thumping the iron as she let it go. She pulled herself together, lifted her eyes, scowled. “Hey, what about our signal?”
“Signal?” His brow puckered in thought. He’d forgotten. She wanted him to sing or whistle “Amazing Grace.” “I’m sorry. Totally blew it. I was tracking Lakota and never gave running into you a thought.”
“Please try to remember next time. I’m way too young to have a heart attack.”
“I want to know what’s wrong. You’ll have to fill me in later, especially if it has to do with Littlefield. But now, you need to get a grip.” He extended a hand. “I’m serious. There’s a little girl coming up right behind me. It must be Grace. So you should get over your spooks.”
She nodded once and took his hand.
“Oh, hi,” the little girl in pink said, running to Beth. “Is this where you live?” She turned to Aiden. “Is this your dad?”
Aiden pivoted and suppressed a grin at the cheeky question. “I’m not old enough to be Beth’s father. I’m her friend. My name is Aiden Holt. What’s yours?”
“Grace Seymour. I was following Lakota through the trees, but he disappeared. I love Lakota,” she informed Aiden. “He must love Beth ’cuz he came this way. Beth, why are you sitting on the ground?”
Aiden didn’t know what to think of the whole scene. What does abuse look like? Grace wasn’t at all what he expected. She seemed as normal as could be. But what did he know about little girls these days?
He watched as Beth lifted her chin. She clenched her jaw as though gathering strength and stood. She appeared taller somehow, compared to the little-bit-of-a-thing that she was. And then he identified the spunk Grace exhibited, because Beth carried it as well. A stiffening of the spine. A way of standing that made them look taller. An inclination for survival must be instilled in these females, which allowed them to rise above anything that life tossed their way.
So what had scared Beth?
He puffed out his cheeks, kneaded the back of his neck, and leaned in. “Was someone here?”
She shook her head, softened her jaw muscles, but didn’t smile. “Later. Grace first.”
Beth’s bravery, despite her obvious fright, pulled at all his protective instincts. He’d get to the bottom of what caused Beth to be slinking against the dumpster ready to clobber him. The woman was a mystery he’d like to unfold, one clue at a time. “Sure. Grace first.”
Beth remembered to smile, and it transformed her face. “Sorry Lakota took off. But, should you be this far away from home?”
Grace looked down the trail from where she’d come, then shuffled her feet. “I might be kinda lost. I saw Lakota eating a huge bird with tons of feathers, but I didn’t get close to him ’cuz the blood made Lakota look a little scary. Then I thought he wanted me to follow him.”
This time, the girl squinted in the direction Lakota had gone. “So does he come visit you a lot?”
“Smart girl, you should stay away from an animal while it’s feeding.” Aiden pinched his nostrils then rubbed his nose as if it tickled. “A big bird, huh? Sounds like Lakota found himself a wild turkey.”
Beth smiled again, and her blue eyes looked brighter. “You look too pretty today to be wandering around in the trees, Grace.”
“Thanks.” Grace looked at Beth before shooting Aiden a shy smile. “My mom is taking me to town Saturday to see my friend, Mia.”
“Mia Harris?” Beth asked.
“Yeah. We are going to learn how to set a table like grown-ups do at Mia’s new mommy’s store.”
“I work at Frivolities once in a while. It’s a fun place. Aiden, Mia is Rainn’s niece, soon to be his legal daughter.”
Aiden checked his watch and cleared his throat. “I’m headed in to Platteville now, but we’ll talk when I get back.” He tacked on, “Right, Beth?”
“Are you in a hurry to leave? Can we talk after we walk Grace back home?”
“No hurry. Let’s get her home first.”
“I live this way.” Grace reached for Beth’s hand. “Does Mr. Holt live here with you?”
He suppressed a grin. How would Beth handle that one?
She gave a quick reply. “Aiden lives in Lincoln. He works for Nebraska Game and Parks. They help keep wild animals safe.”
Grace stepped a mite closer to Beth. Then Grace looked Aiden in the eye, as though challenging him. “So you’re here for Lakota? Will you keep him safe?”
“That’s right. Beth helped me put a radio collar on your wolf. That way I can tell where he travels. So far, I can determine how the wolf follows the river and finds enough to eat.”
“Hah. That proves the farmers’ livestock is safe.” Beth slanted him a grin.
“For now,” Aiden spoke with hesitancy. For Grace’s sake, he added, “We don’t want the wolf to harm any farm animals.”
As they hiked, they followed a bit of a draw through the trees and soon came upon a small clearing in front of a nondescript bungalow with a sagging tin roof. Grace stopped. She braced herself and dropped Beth’s hand. “You can go back, now. Be nice to Lakota, please
, Mr. Holt.”
A look way beyond the girl’s age erased innocence. Grace’s bravery reminded him of Beth.
Beth bit her lower lip. She looked ready to cry.
As soon as Grace was inside, Aiden demanded, “When I showed up at the dumpster, had Littlefield caused your bizarre behavior? Talk to me.”
“I was dreaming when I woke up. Sometimes it’s hard to reorient myself. I heard something outside. Then I saw you in your leather jacket, and it freaked me out. Barton has one just like it.”
“This?” He raised a worn sleeve. “I knew I should have shot the thing.”
“Joke all you want.” One corner of her mouth twitched.
He couldn’t resist. He had to touch her. Instead of pulling her close, he settled a hand on her nape, caressed with a broad thumb. “I promise I’ll never wear it again.”
He slid his hand from her neck and tore off the offending jacket.
Warm sun rays glinted through the lower branches of the tall pines.
But the sun didn’t hold a candle to the warmth he felt when Beth wrapped her arm around his waist. She briefly leaned her head against his bicep.
****
Tree canopy had filled in, creating speckled shadows and less light for their walk back.
Beth struggled to wrap her mind around Aiden’s offer to not wear his jacket. As weathered as the leather was, she knew he’d worn the jacket like a second skin for several years. He was bound to be attached to it.
No man had ever made such a sacrifice like that for her.
“I’ve been called to the office in Lincoln.” Aiden’s low voice sounded hushed in the quiet woods. He turned to face her. “But it’s getting close to time to eat, so I’ll probably stop in town on the way.”
“And I’m filling in at Frivolities. Lanae and Sage are planning for their wedding over Labor Day weekend. They’re off doing some preparation with Geneva in tow.”
“Good for them. They all seem happy.”
“That they are. Rainn asked Geneva to marry him at Moselle and Eric’s wedding reception the Friday after Thanksgiving. Lanae and Sage became engaged on Valentine’s Day.”
He turned her to face him and studied her face. “You scared me this morning. Are you sure you’re OK living out here by yourself?”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. Besides, the Lord will watch over me.”
He drew her to him with his big hand on the back of her head.
She sighed and snuggled into his solid chest for a moment.
That’s all the longer it lasted.
He relaxed his hold and tipped her chin up with his knuckle. Aiden searched her eyes as though trying to read her thoughts. She wanted to stay in the present with him and forget about the world outside the woods.
But time marched on. He leaned and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. Then he strode away.
Crazy. She missed him before he was out of sight.
Her thoughts turned to Grace. Beth recognized internal fortitude in the guise of her thrown-back shoulders, as the little girl entered her tumultuous home. Beth had perfected the action.
Recent headlines flashed across the screen of Beth’s mind. Hollywood and small-town disclosures alike brought abuse into the open. Especially when it came to fathers, it was such a dastardly crime. Little girls looked at their daddies as a kind of god in their lives, until they learned to reason and figure out life.
She had to do something to help Grace, and other girls in trouble, to heal and survive in the world. As clear as only her salvation, Beth knew what she was meant to do. She had to somehow help little girls like Grace. And maybe big girls like herself, who had escaped abuse at the hands of men like Barton.
She hadn’t a clue how to go about it. But she was determined to find out.
Is this the answer, Lord? Are You calling me to work with children who are victims of abuse? Oh, Father, please watch over Grace and let her know You love her. If this can be stopped, maybe she can block it out of her mind until she’s old enough to deal with it. For now, show me the way to be this little girl’s friend.
A deep-seated confidence took root, and Beth yearned to be an advocate to make up for what had gone wrong in her past. She had no idea why her stepfather had waited for so long, since statistics said most children were abused under age twelve. Then again, age didn’t really matter.
Within sight of the cabin, Beth stopped in mid-stride. Someone had messed with the mismatched shoes on the pine tree. They’d been rearranged. She had grouped them in an asymmetrical pattern.
A sick realization chased chilly gooseflesh throughout her body.
Barton’s been here.
His subtle intrusion, meant for her eyes alone, dried up all the saliva in her mouth.
The shoes were now paired up to create balanced sides to the tree, the same way Barton Littlefield had insisted everything in their home be grouped in pairs. Matched up, like husband and wife.
Somehow, he had found her.
Air whooshed from her lungs as surely as if he’d punched her in the sternum.
She wasn’t safe after all. He was supposed to be in jail.
With shoulders slumped, she rounded the side wall and peered into the cabin through the bedroom window. The front room looked safe, no hulking man hiding next to the door. She ran back to retrieve the two-by-four she’d left next to the dumpster.
Once inside the cabin, she rose in full-attack mode, weapon held with both hands behind her back, in position to swing over her head.
The rooms were clear.
With the imagined threat over, the two-by-four thudded against the floor, released by her shaking hands. She covered her face with her hands, refusing to give in to a crying jag. She barred the door, leaned her forehead against the solid barrier. Moments ticked by, each seeming ten times as long. Fear would not gain hold.
She finally raised her shoulders and reached for her Bible and journal. Turning to Psalm 139, she read.
“‘If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.’” Nothing in life compared to the power of God’s Word read aloud. “‘My frame was not hidden from you, when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.’”
She had no secrets from God. Her voice held conviction as she read through the verses. “‘Search me, O God, and know my heart, test me and know my anxious thoughts…and lead me in the everlasting way.’”
She cradled the Book to her chest the way she imagined God sheltered her underneath His wing.
But the world waited outside the cabin.
As soon as she stepped back outside and caught sight of the shoes hanging on the tree, memories of Barton’s anger slammed into her. Rather than fear, rage flew from her fingers as she tore apart the paired shoes and rearranged them in a haphazard pattern.
Despite the comfort she’d received from verse ten of that favored Psalm, for Beth knew deep down she was held in the palm of God’s hand and that He held her fear, she recognized her flesh as weak.
She headed in to work a few hours at Frivolities. Trees with half-formed leaves formed a tunnel effect on the twisting road into town. Her imagination created hiding places. At a flash of movement in the undergrowth, cold sweat prickled.
Memories of Barton’s ugliness taunted her during the short drive.
His disgusting: I’m sorry; or his: You’re so beautiful I go crazy, sick excuses whirred like a hamster in its wheel. She fought throwing up, as she had in the past. She hated the idea of seeking help, but as soon as she could, she’d call the sheriff’s office.
He had followed her to Platteville.
And he knew where she lived.
Get through it. Time to focus on the shop.
Beth parked in the alley behind Frivolities. She scrutinized the length of the alley from one end to the other to be sure she was alone.
By the time she tromped thro
ugh the old building to the front of the shop, she carried a super-sized angry temper.
“What’s the problem?” Moselle asked, with rounded green eyes.
“Men. They’re the bane of my life.”
Moselle feigned fainting. “They come to our rescue when we need them.”
Beth was in no mood to laugh at the light-hearted parody of a swooning Victorian woman. “I let my guard down. I should know better.”
“He seems like a decent guy. What happened with Aiden?”
“He just left for Lincoln. I’m not really upset with him, just venting out of frustration. After all, we hardly know each other. But I should know better than to allow a man to get under my defenses. So to be honest, I’m angry with myself rather than anyone.” The sick ball of fear settled in her stomach. “I’m afraid Barton was at the cabin while I was gone.”
“What? Repeat, please.”
Saying it out loud again made it more real. “Barton got out early. I think he’s found me.”
“Are you sure, Beth? You need to report it to the sheriff.”
“I’m not positive. I didn’t actually see him.” But who else would mess up the shoe tree? “I’ll report it. I know I can’t ignore my suspicion.”
“Don’t wait. And yell for me if you even see a shadow.”
I’m tired of jumping at shadows. I’m tired of imagining a pale face amongst the undergrowth.
She pulled out her cell phone, placed the call, and had to leave a message.
Before long, she stood at a display window next to the front door wishing for the lighter perspective the crazy, bright merchandise usually brought. She needed time to think. She heaved a sigh. “Since it’s been slow, Moselle, if you have something to do outside the shop, you can go right ahead. I need to be busy.”
“Actually, with Aunt Lanae and Mom both off doing their thing, I’d like to get started on Aunt Lanae’s wedding shadow box. Since you’re here, I was about to ask if you’d mind the store, if you’d be all right down here alone while I’m in the loft at my workbench.”
When Beth nodded, Moselle stopped, blew her bangs, and huffed. “Funny. Sage is going to be my uncle.”
Moselle’s practiced movements tamped the coffee grounds into the filter and twisted it on the espresso machine. “I’ll leave the stair door open, so ring the desk bell if you need me. Or scream at the top of your lungs.”
