Jonathan nodded, a pained looked showing from behind the bloody towel.
George took his arm and was helping him up the walk when he saw Connor Harris rushing out the front door. He saw George right away and a strange and angry look came across his face. He rushed at George and Jonathan.
“That damn kid has done it again, Hansen!” Connor screamed.
George was caught by surprise and wasn’t sure what he meant at first. “Get out of the way, Harris!” George said.
Connor reached out and stopped him, not even looking at the condition Jonathan was in. “It’s that damn Truegood kid. He almost killed Andy Welton last night.”
George stood back and looked at the furious face of Connor Harris. He hesitated only a moment and then said, “Harris, I don’t know what’s happened, but I do know if you don’t get out of my way right now, I’m going to rip your ugly face off!”
Harris backed off a step and then quickly resumed his rant. “A deputy’s headed out to pick up that little sonofabitch right now!”
George started up the sidewalk with Jonathan, but Harris grabbed him again. George let go of Jonathan’s arm and turned and reached for Connor Harris with both hands on the top of his shirt and with his face two inches away, said, “I told you to back off, you ignorant sonofabitch and I mean it!”
He pushed him away and Connor stumbled backwards into the grass on his bad leg. “I swear, Hansen, I’m gonna have your head!” he yelled as George and Jonathan continued up the walk and into the sheriff’s office.
Harold Slayton stood looking out the small window on the side of the old chapel in the woods. He had been out this way before, working on a county road crew and he knew very few people ever found their way back here. He hid Jonathan McKendry’s truck around back. The dirt road that led past the heavy stand of trees was pocked with puddles from the previous day’s rain. He heard a muffled sound behind him, and he turned to see Emily McKendry sitting in a front pew. Her mouth was bound, and she stared at him with frightened eyes. His little daughter, Sara, was sitting in a chair over in a corner behind the small preacher’s pulpit. She was looking down at her doll and not making a sound.
Slayton walked down the narrow aisle between the pews and came around to face Emily. She sat there with her hands tied behind her and her legs bound at the ankles. He thought back to the previous night and wondered why he hadn’t just killed the bitch and her husband. After the man fell in the kitchen and didn’t get up, he ran up the stairs with his gun in front of him. The woman ran out of the back bedroom and screamed. He pointed the shotgun at her and told her to shut up. She kept screaming at him and he clicked the safety on the top of the gun and aimed straight at her face. She stopped yelling and he pushed her with the barrel of the gun back into the bedroom.
He remembered the look of horror in his daughter’s eyes when she woke up and saw him holding the gun in the face of this woman. For a moment, he wanted to go to her and try to explain what had happened with her mother, but Emily yelled at him again.
“You get the hell out of here!” she screamed, tears streaming down her red face. “Do you hear me, get out now!”
Sara pushed the blankets away and crawled quickly out of bed, running to a corner of the room away from her father. She sat down cowering and crying. He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the little doll and threw it at her. Sara quickly picked it up and held it closely to her chest.
When he looked back at the McKendry woman, she was starting to come toward him. “What have you done with my husband!” she shrieked.
He had put the end of the gun barrel right on her nose and pushed her back against the wall. He remembered his finger trembling on the trigger and then Sara had screamed out, “Daddy!”
He turned and saw his daughter there in the corner and for just a moment, he felt a terrible sadness as he tried to imagine how all of this had gotten so far out of control.
He looked back at the woman and told her to lie face down on the bed. There was a cloth belt around her robe, and he stripped it off and tied her hands tightly behind her back with it. He looked around the room and then finally took a pillowcase off the pillow and tied it around her mouth to keep her from screaming anymore.
Sara had run up behind him and started hitting him on his back and in a fury, he turned and slapped her with the back of his hand, knocking her down across the floor. Emily had cried out again in a muffled wail as she watched.
He had managed to get both of them down the stairs and into McKendry’s truck. The keys had been lying on the kitchen counter. He knew he couldn’t go home, or back to the hunting camp and then he had thought of this old chapel out in the woods. He figured it would give him time until he could decide what to do with this bitch doctor and where he could take his daughter.
He thought he heard something outside, and he ran back to the window. A long green car was coming slowly around the bend, splashing through the puddles.
Jennifer Harris pulled the car over into a small clearing. She saw an old log chapel across a field next to the tree line and a small cemetery in the back. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. She turned to Sammy Truegood sitting next to her on the front seat. “What is this place?”
Sammy didn’t answer but opened his door and got out. He came around the front of the car and she met him there. It was then she noticed the circle of bent trees off across the meadow. They were large trees planted in a near circle, but curiously bent over parallel to the ground at about six feet off the ground and then curved upward again toward the sky.
“Sammy, where are we?”
He took her hand and led her off the road into the high grass toward the trees. She looked back at the chapel behind them and felt a chill run through her. They walked in silence across the field and then slowly into the center of the trees. She felt an ominous sense of uncertainty as she dropped his hand and turned slowly, looking at all of the trees.
Sammy finally spoke in a soft voice. “This is where my people have come for many generations to make peace with others and with themselves.”
Jennifer looked at his face and saw the sadness in his expression. She turned slowly, looking at the trees. A breeze blew up and the leaves rattled in a rustling soft flurry. She felt a strange sensation come over her. She started backing up.
“Why did you bring me here?” she said
He walked over to her and took her hands in his. “I could never lie to you in this place,” Sammy said. “You need to believe me when I tell you I didn’t hurt you that night. I didn’t even come near you or see you after you left the fire.”
“Sammy…”
“You have to believe me!”
“Sammy, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, choking back tears and then she fell into his arms and hugged him as she started to cry. They stood there for a few moments, neither saying a word. Jennifer could feel her tears wet against his cheek.
Then a muffled cry came from somewhere far away, just barely heard above the sound of the wind in the trees and they both looked up in the direction of the chapel.
Slayton turned when he heard the muffled cry and ran back to Emily. He slapped her hard across the face with his hand. She fell back on the pew and Sara screamed out.
“Shut up,” he hissed, turning to his daughter. He went over to her and knelt down and said again, “You be quiet, girl,” and then he held his hand up like he was going to hit her. She whimpered and pulled herself up into a ball on the chair, her doll held protectively in her arms.
He looked back at the window and thought for a moment about what he should do. He could get out the side door with Sara and just drive away, but those two kids out there would surely see the truck and find the woman. He went back over to the window with his shotgun in his hand. They were coming.
Sammy and Jennifer walked through the tall grass toward the chapel. He looked around and then pointed for Jennifer to see the back of a pick-up truck over behind the chapel. Then they heard another scream from in
side and they both stopped.
“You go over to the car and wait there,” Sammy said. She hesitated at first, but then walked slowly backwards and stood behind the car. He continued toward the chapel and then he stopped to listen. All he could hear was the wind in the trees and he closed his eyes and listened again for the voices of his people. He felt a soothing calmness come over him and he opened his eyes and continued toward the little front door. He stood outside for just a moment looking at the rustic old wooden door and then he reached for the handle and pulled back the door.
As he walked through, he crouched suddenly when he saw the barrel of a man’s shotgun aimed at his face down at the end of an aisle of pews. Then he saw Dr. McKendry tied up next to him and a little girl hiding in the back corner.
“You just stay right there,” the man said.
Sammy felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up as he looked at the end of the barrel of the shotgun. And then in a sudden flurry of motion, he watched as Emily McKendry jumped to her feet and lunged at the man, knocking him down in the aisle. Sammy heard the little girl scream again and the man curse as he fell to the floor. Without another thought, he started running up the aisle toward the man. Things suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion and his legs felt like they were heavy and slow. The man came up to his knees and picked up the gun.
Sammy heard himself yelling as he ran, but it sounded distant and wild. He watched as the barrel of the gun came up again and an explosion of smoke roared out of it, echoing through the rafters of the little church. The blast hit him in the chest, knocking him backwards, his head landing hard on the wood planking of the floor.
He laid there for a moment and closed his eyes. He could hear the little girl screaming, but it sounded more like an echo. He was thinking there should be pain, but he felt only a heaviness and coldness in his body. He opened his eyes again and looked up into the rafters of the church. The wind blew through the open door and then he smiled weakly as he finally heard the words of his people. They were with him now.
Jennifer heard the explosion of the shotgun blast and fell down to her knees in shock behind the car. Panic ripped through her and she started shaking uncontrollably. Slowly, she rose up and looked through the windows of the car at the chapel across the field.
“Sammy!” she yelled out as loudly as she could. “Sammy!” she shrieked again. She waited and there was no answer. She started to run around the car, but then she knew she had to get help. She ran back to the door and jumped in. The keys were still in the ignition and she tried to steady her hands to turn the key.
The car rumbled to life and she threw the shift gear forward and pressed down as hard as she could on the accelerator. The big sedan lurched forward onto the road, wheels spinning and gravel flying out behind. She looked back for just a moment in the rearview mirror and only saw the black emptiness behind the open door of the chapel.
Chapter Thirty-five
Megan Clark sat waiting for her friend, Rebecca, in the small coffee shop down in Charlevoix. Her hair was soaked and dripping after running through the downpour of rain from her car out at the curb. The hot coffee steamed in the big mug and she breathed in a big whiff. The bell on the door jangled and Megan looked up to see Rebecca coming in, trying to close an umbrella she was carrying.
Megan said, “Morning, got you a decaf latte.”
Rebecca sat down and brushed her hair back. “Thanks,” she said. She took the coffee and sipped it to see how hot it was. “Perfect.”
“Becca, I just wanted to see you…” Megan started to say.
Rebecca interrupted. “No Megan, after you told me what happened this morning on the phone with Rick and Melissa and the rest of those idiots, I just felt so badly about how I’ve been treating you and Will.”
Megan smiled and looked back at her friend.
Rebecca started laughing and said, “You didn’t really beat the crap out of Melissa Wainwright, did you?”
Megan just laughed and leaned over to give her friend a hug.
Sally pulled in the drive at her house on Michigan Avenue and turned the car off to get out. The rain had stopped in the past few minutes and she saw breaks in the clouds coming in from far across Lake Michigan. She went inside and looked and listened for Alex. She heard him upstairs and walked up to find him packing clothes into a bag on their bed. He turned when he saw her come in. He smiled and came over to give her a hug.
“How is Mary Alice doing?” he asked.
Sally sighed and looked up at her husband. “Well, she’s not doing very well at all, but I’m glad I went to see her.”
“That had to be hard for you after the history with you two.”
“No,” Sally said, “I really wanted to go and actually, we had a very interesting time.”
Alex looked at her with a puzzled expression.
Sally handed him the note she had been holding in her hand.
Alex sat down on the bed and quickly read the message from his old friend and business partner, Louis Kramer. Sally stood and watched the expression on his face change as he finished the note.
The rain had stopped when Megan was driving down the road along Horton Creek. She turned now into the road back to Will’s cabin. As she pulled up, he came out of the pole barn back behind his cabin. He had an old denim work shirt on and a ball cap on his head to keep his hair back.
“Morning!” he said with a big smile across his face.
She came up and gave him a hug, “Good morning to you.”
“What brings you out to the wilds this early?” he asked.
She smiled and said, “Do I need a reason?”
“No, of course not.”
She lifted up on her toes and kissed him.
He stepped back and looked down at his dirty clothes. He had been splitting wood and stacking it in the barn. “You’re going to get this mess all over you,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, laughing and then held up a newspaper she had been holding. “I wanted you to see this story about Uncle George.”
He reached for the paper and said, “I saw it yesterday, at least they got one of the bastards.”
“I know he’s been a good friend to you and your family for a long time.”
Will nodded, thinking back on the years and the stories he’d been told. “George and I used to fish together these past few years.”
“I know.”
“He showed me a lot of his secret spots,” Will said. “Hey, looks like the weather’s breaking. I had been thinking about taking a break and running down to the creek. The brook trout always like to come out after a big rain washes some juicy food into the stream.”
“How about one of George’s secret spots.” Megan said.
Chapter Thirty-six
The glorious sense of redemption can be so sweet but tempered quickly by the often-staggering realities of our lives.
… the summer of 1952.
Jonathan sat with George Hansen in a small room at the sheriff’s department, a towel pressed against his head. He was frantic about his wife and Sheriff Potts had been trying to calm him down.
“We have to do something!” Jonathan said.
“We’ve got men checking the farmhouse and the hunting camp again, Jonathan,” the sheriff explained. “We just can’t go out running around blind.”
There was a commotion in the hallway, and they looked up to see Jennifer Harris rushing by the desk clerk.
The sheriff drove the first car with George in the front and Jonathan in the back holding a towel full of ice over his eye. They sped over the hills around the north side of Lake Charlevoix, another car with two deputies behind them.
Jennifer Harris had breathlessly explained what had happened out at Bent Trees. Jonathan listened in horror as she described the chapel and the pick-up truck and then the shotgun blast. Then, nothing when she called for Sammy. His worst nightmares flashed in his brain and he tried with all his will to keep from going frantic with fear.
The cars turned on the old dirt road up to the chapel and Potts sped as fast as he could up the winding road. As the car bumped along, Jonathan held the ice tighter against his head trying to ease the pain.
The chapel came into view and Jonathan looked over the dash and saw the old wooden church and the door open to inside. He felt a nauseous emptiness inside and as soon as the car stopped, he threw open the door and tried his best to get out quickly. Potts stopped him with his big arm, a shotgun in the other.
“Just wait a minute,” the old sheriff said.
The other car skidded up in the loose stones and the deputies got out. Both had shotguns they were loading. They all stood behind the cars and looked across the grassy field to the chapel. Potts whispered to his men and they both went off running low in opposite directions. The sheriff watched quietly as the men got into position on the far sides of the church and then he turned to Jonathan and George. “You two need to stay right here.”
“You’ll have to lock me up,” Jonathan said. “No way I’m staying back here.”
Jonathan looked at the face of Sheriff Potts for a response and then the old man nodded.
“You stay close behind me,” he said. They started around the cars, keeping low. The sheriff signaled for his men to move forward and Jonathan watched as they both started moving slowly toward the sides of the chapel. He looked over at George and saw his friend’s face set with fierce determination.
“It’s going to be okay, Jonathan,” he heard George whisper to him. “I know it’s going to be okay.”
Jonathan felt a cold fear and the pounding ache in his head as they walked slowly through the grass. They stopped behind a large oak tree. The sheriff looked around and saw his men were still moving forward.
“Slayton!” the sheriff yelled out. “Slayton, you in there?” For a moment, there was no sound and then they heard a yell from over behind the little church.
The Summer Town Page 29