Her Hometown Heart.

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Katie laughed. “What did Judy say to that?”

  “She asked if we we’re hiring...and we are. Eventually. It’s one of the million things still left to do.”

  “Did Nancy Simonson talk to you about a job?”

  “Yes.” Amie recalled the conversation vividly. Al’s company had taken a financial nose-dive and he was barely supporting himself, let alone a wife and kids. Nancy’s parents were picking up the slack while she was living with them. Meanwhile, the Simonsons’ house was pending foreclosure and Tom made mention of seeing Al stumble out of a local tavern on more than one occasion—and in the middle of the afternoon, no less.

  But, where Tom continued to feel badly for backing out of their deal, Amie felt justified. Big Al’s problems were consequences of his own actions. No one else’s fault.

  Certainly not Tom’s.

  Even so, Amie didn’t have a problem with offering Nancy a position at their hotel—specifically, in the café. In dealing with her insecurities, Amie had stopped speculating over Tom’s teenage crush on the other woman and, as a result, her friendship with Nancy was blossoming.

  Once the dinner dishes were dried and put back into the long, wooden cupboards, Amie gathered her catalogues and sat down on the front porch steps while Katie and Jake put their girls to bed. As she leafed through the pages of motel room decor, sounds of animated voices and girlish giggles floated to her through the screen door. She marveled at how bedtime was such a family affair in the Warren household and vowed to make it the same in hers, should she and Tom be blessed with children.

  Momentarily forgetting the colorful, thick books in her lap, she gazed out over the emerald-green cornfield across the gravel road and got lost in a daydream about life after marriage. Tom would make a wonderful husband. He’d be gentle, passionate—and, oddly, the latter didn’t scare her in the least. He had already proved his love for children and Amie prayed they’d have their own brood of Andersons some day, each with their daddy’s hazel eyes.

  The sound of tires on the dusty road drew Amie out of her reverie. Tom was at work and not many cars passed by this way, unless they had business with Jake. Within moments a black minivan with a red pinstripe along its side, came into view.

  Big Al.

  Her stomach did a nervous flip as the van slowed to a crawl in front of the Warrens’ house. She inhaled sharply when she saw the large man’s expression. Pure, unadulterated hatred emanated from his dark features.

  Standing, Amie let the catalogs drop at her feet and slowly backed up to the front door.

  Al sped off, the wheels of his vehicle spitting gravel in their wake.

  Relief spread over her like soft butter, but Amie’s heart still pounded.

  “What was that all about?” Jake’s voice sounded from behind her.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But I think I can guess.”

  ~*~

  Later, in the wee hours of the morning, Amie awakened to a loud bang and a shout.

  The front door?

  Tom’s voice?

  Definitely Tom’s voice!

  “Jake?” There was no mistaking the urgency in his tone.

  Fully roused now, Amie sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She grabbed her robe, tied it about her waist. She opened the bedroom door and nearly collided with Tom who was obviously on his way down the narrow hallway.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you OK?” He sounded breathless.

  “I’m fine.”

  Tom pulled her into a snug embrace.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Good question,” Jake said, coming up behind Tom.

  Releasing Amie, he pivoted. “Are you guys all right? The girls?”

  Jake didn’t waste any time in checking on them. Obviously overhearing, Katie ran from her room and into the girls’. When they discovered them unharmed, they returned to the hallway.

  Tom sagged against the wall with a sigh of relief.

  “Something happen tonight?” Jake flipped on the hall light. Concern etched his freckled countenance.

  Tom suddenly looked so sad and mournful that Amie took his hand. She gave it a little squeeze as a sense of dread filled her being.

  “I just got home from work and...well, you’d better come back to the church with me, Jake.” With reluctance, he added, “Have Katie call 911.”

  21

  Amie continued to seethe as she took the last of Tom’s clothes out of the dryer at the laundromat in town. The horrid vision of white, spray-painted swastikas on wooden pews, walls, and outside on the church’s front doors caused Amie’s muscles to tense in anger.

  Several stain-glass windows had been cracked, and Tom’s living quarters were ransacked, his computer smashed on the floor and his clothes strewn about and trampled upon with soiled boots. Who on earth would do such a thing?

  One man came to mind: Big Al. But, of course, they had no proof.

  The sheriffs who had answered their early morning call tried in vain to obtain fingerprints. Thankfully it was only Tuesday, and they’d have most of the week to repaint and repair before Sunday services. Jake already made alternate plans for tomorrow’s Wednesday night worship service.

  Folding Tom’s things neatly into a large plastic laundry basket, Amie was glad that she could help him in this small way. She’d taken his shirts and miscellaneous other items to the dry cleaners in Shawano and it looked as though his washables had scrubbed up nicely.

  She slung her purse over her shoulder and lifted the basket, carrying it out to her car on one hip. Walking down the nearly deserted street, she stopped short.

  Al Simonson was perched on the hood of her car.

  On the edge of the sidewalk stood his mean-looking friends from the construction site.

  Her heart began to pound, but she grappled for composure as she approached. Lord, help me…

  Al just sat there, watching her with an amused grin.

  She reached him. “Get off my car.” Her steely tone belied the fear mounting inside of her.

  Al raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, no problem.” A smirk curled his lips as he slid one, tree trunk-like thigh off the hood. “Me and the boys’re just wondering how that hotel’s coming along?”

  Amie unlocked the car doors, wishing she had activated the alarm. Setting the basket into the backseat, she prayed for control over her mounting temper.

  “Guess she’s too good to talk to the likes of us,” Al remarked to his friends. He grabbed her elbow and spun her around. “Miss High ‘n’ Mighty.”

  “Let go of me!” She wrenched her arm free and rubbed the area where Al had grabbed her a bit too roughly. “Why don’t you guys start acting like men instead of delinquents?”

  Al hooted at the retort. “Like you know real men, eh? What a laugh! You wouldn’t be marrying Tom Anderson if that was true.”

  Something inside Amie snapped, and she all but forgot her fear of the large man, looming above her. Before she knew it, her palm connected soundly with his cheek. “Tom is more of a man than you’ll ever be!”

  Al scowled, unable to mask the animosity blazing from his dark, beady eyes. He looked as poised as a rattlesnake. Would he strike her back?

  She turned quickly to climb into her car, but Al grabbed her around her waist, pinning her arms against her side before she could get away.

  “Let go!” she screamed. Wouldn’t someone—anyone—hear her?

  Al began crossing Main Street, heading toward his van. “I’ll show you what a real man can do.”

  “You think that because you can hurt a woman you’re a man?” Amie bucked and kicked. “You’re a thug, that’s what you are!”

  “Shut up.” With his fob, he opened the side door of his van.

  Amie inhaled and let out the loudest scream she could muster. She lifted her legs pushed backwards off the van before Al could get her inside. “No!”

  “I said, shut up!” His fist slammed into the side of her head, rendering Amie inc
apable of defending herself. Not again, Lord. Not again… She battled the roar inside her head and jagged edges of darkness threatening to consume her.

  Another man’s voice.

  Amie strained to make sense of what he said.

  “Let her go, Al.”

  “This is between her ‘n’ me, Reider. Get lost.”

  Amie’s front side hit something carpeted. The inside of Al’s van? Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh God! They were the only words her foggy brain formed.

  More words from the other man. Amie couldn’t discern them. Then another voice reached her ears. A female voice.

  “Help me!” It took every ounce of energy that Amie possessed to push out those two words. Would the female help her? Would she allow Al to take her away and do God only knew what?

  Cool fingers touched her face. “Miss, can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Deputy Sheriff Liz Manetta. Were you drinking this morning?”

  “No.”

  Al’s laughter sounded forced, nasty.

  Amie tried to sit up. Her mind began to clear and the place around her left temple and eye where Al struck her began to throb. “I haven’t been drinking.” She managed to get herself upright and pointed at Al. “He attacked me, and I have no doubt that he intended to do the worst thing a man can do to a woman.”

  Officer Manetta pulled on latex gloves and inspected the side Amie’s head.

  Al argued his innocence and then another male voice piped in.

  But nausea began to rise, and Amie’s world started to spin. Darkness crowded in and Amie could fight it off no longer.

  ~*~

  Sometime later Amie awoke. She rode in the backseat of a sheriff’s automobile. “Am I getting arrested for something?”

  Officer Manetta glanced at Amie through her rearview mirror and smiled. “No. Don’t you remember? You agreed to let a doctor take a look at you. I’m driving you to the hospital.”

  “I did?” She shrugged, figuring it wouldn’t hurt.

  “That guy clocked you pretty hard,” the sheriff’s deputy stated, “and he’s the one getting arrested.”

  “Good.” The jerk.

  “Do you remember giving me a statement of what happened?”

  Amie shook her head then decided that hadn’t been wise. Pain wafted across her forehead.

  “Want to give me your statement now?”

  “Sure.”

  She began with the events of last night and what had led her to the laundromat this morning. She told the officer everything she’d heard about Big Al Simonson and how even his wife had left him because he posed a danger to both Nancy and their girls. “And then this morning I found him sitting on my car.” Amie finished the story while searching for her purse and cell phone.

  “That’s the same statement you gave me earlier, almost word for word.” The officer pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. “Oh, and if you’re looking for your belongings, they’re in the trunk. I’ll give them to you once we’re at the hospital.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once the vehicle parked, Officer Manetta jogged to the front door and returned with a wheelchair.

  “That’s not necessary,” Amie said when the deputy opened the backdoor.

  “I’m not taking chances. I suspect you might have a head injury.”

  “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

  “I’m a trained EMT,” she said, pushing Amie toward the hospital’s entrance, “and your vitals were OK. You seemed to have lucid moments. Besides, I figured I’d be faster than an ambulance when it came to transporting you here.”

  The latter made perfect sense. Too bad she couldn’t recall her lucid moments. “What will happen to Big Al?”

  “He’s been arrested for assault and battery and attempted kidnapping, so he’ll be enjoying the hospitality of the fine personnel at the Shawano County Jail.”

  That was the best news Amie heard in a long while.

  ~*~

  Later, that evening, Amie and Tom sat on the porch steps, soaking in the glorious evening sunset and allowing the Warrens time to bathe the girls and ready them for bed without getting in the way.

  “You OK?” Tom put his arm around Amie.

  “I’m fine.” Amie leaned her head against Tom’s shoulder. She’d been blessed. She’d survived Al’s abuse with only a mild concussion. Amie shuddered.

  “You cold?”

  “No. Just thinking that…well, I came so close to being sexually assaulted again.”

  “But you weren’t, right? We can be thankful for that.”

  Amy lifted her head. “Are you making light of this morning’s altercation?”

  “Not at all. In fact, if I allow myself to think about what could have occurred, Amie, I’d go to prison for murder. I’m…grappling with my feelings of needing to harm and asking God to help me overcome.”

  She gave a nod. She understood.

  Leaning her head against his shoulder once more, Amie hugged his arm. “I love you, Tom.”

  In reply, he kissed her forehead.

  A moment later a noisy car rattled up the gravel drive and pulled up.

  Amie recognized the driver and gasped. “That’s one of Big Al’s friends. He was there this morning in town.”

  “Jake,” Tom called over his shoulder and through the screen door. “I think we might have problems out here.” He stood, pulling Amie to her feet. Then he ushered her into the house.

  Katie ran into the living room, looking mildly alarmed. She backed down the hall to the girls’ bedrooms.

  Still on the porch, Tom stood, hands on hips, and gazed toward the driver as he exited the vehicle.

  Moments later, Jake was at his side.

  “That’s Keith Reider.”

  “Reider, yes.” Amie recalled Big Al stating the guy’s name. “He’s the one who told Al to leave me alone,” she said through the screen door.

  Jake and Tom met the other man on the lawn.

  Amie paced the living room, hearing the men’s lowered voices, but unable to discern the exchange of words. After a few minutes of conversing, all three headed for the house.

  “Mr. Reider has something to tell us,” Jake announced, pulling the front door closed. “Let’s all sit down so we can talk.”

  Reider lowered himself into a nearby armchair.

  Amie took the seat beside Tom on the sofa, and Jake and Katie sat side-by-side on the piano bench.

  Reider seemed to grow uncomfortable with all eyes on him. “Listen,” he began, “I don’t want any trouble. My wife is expecting our second kid and I’ve got a good chance at steady work in New London. That’s why I came over here tonight.” Leaning forward in the armchair, he folded his hands and allowed them to dangle between his knees. “It’s Al. I don’t know what’s happened to him. It’s like he’s gone berserk. I think it started back when you, Tom, bought that pick-up truck after your dad died. Al got real jealous—said no Anderson ought to be allowed to drive something that nice. So, he went out and bought himself that minivan which put him and Nancy into debt.”

  Tom shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom it. “Al’s got no cause to be envious of me.”

  “Oh, it don’t stop there,” Reider continued. “A year ago, when you inherited Halvor Holm’s money, Al saw red. He kept saying, no Anderson deserves to have that kind of loot. And then, of course, we all heard you were getting married.” He nodded toward Amie. “Al figured she was just marrying you for your money, but then Nancy said it was love, all right. She’d seen it with her own eyes on Thanksgiving Day.”

  Amie smiled. Had it been obvious even back then?

  Tom placed his palm over her knee.

  “For some odd reason,” Reider went on, “that was a real kick in the head for Al. He couldn’t get over it and brought it up all the time. Tom Anderson, a guy from a no-account family, marrying a high-class babe from Chicago.” A look of concern crossed Reider’s lean, chiseled features. “The fact is, Al’s always bee
n jealous of you, Tom—or at least that’s what it seemed like to the rest of us. He lost his temper with Nancy, slapped her across the face while she was holding their newborn baby. Now their marriage is going down the tubes.”

  Katie’s gaze narrowed. “I hope she reported the abuse to the authorities.”

  Reider shook his head. “No, she didn’t. I think she’s really scared of Al but maybe she’ll come forward now that he’s in jail.”

  “Did you witness Al striking Nancy?” Katie persisted.

  “I did, but it happened before I could stop it.” He inclined his head toward Amie. “Just like it happened today.

  “And then...about the church and your place, Tom…” Reider appeared rightfully apologetic. “We all left the tavern together and I was there, but I swear I didn’t do any of the damage. Big Al did it. Him and Tyler Johnson. Ty didn’t want to. He’s just more afraid of Al than I ever was.” The man shook his sandy-blonde head disbelievingly. “But then this little lady over here gives Al what-for. That was amusing, but everything changed when Al tried to put her in his van and he hit her. Something inside me made me try to stop Al, even though I ran the risk of getting beaten to a pulp.”

  “I’d wager that something inside you was the Holy Spirit,” Jake said. “I think I can speak for us all here when I say we’re grateful that you obeyed Him.”

  Amie lowered her gaze, suddenly very much aware of God’s protective hand. He was able to deliver her from all that was evil. Even though she hadn’t been able to form a coherent prayer, the Holy Spirit interceded, just as the Bible said, and God brought Officer Manetta to the scene.

  Thank you, Lord. Oddly Amie somehow knew that today’s assault cured her of her tendency to panic; it didn’t add to it.

  As if in Divine reply, a sense of freedom soared within her.

  “And Tom,” Reider said, “I don’t have anything against you. Never did. Not even when we were in high school. The only reason I sided with Al is because he’s my friend and he hated your guts—just like his dad hated your father. But, see, that’s the kind of men those Simonsons are. They’re like politicians and can make a whole host of people see things their way. I’m not trying to excuse my wrong-doings.” He shook his head. “If my boy ever did something like this, I’d switch him. But...well, I’ll bet there’s lots of folks in town who can’t stand the sight of an Anderson, only they don’t know why. They just heard the talk for too long and now they believe it.”