SHEILA AND BESS felt tired by the time their plane landed at Fanning Field, near Idaho Falls. The emotional strain of going back into a volatile situation prevented them from relaxing.
Bess unlocked her car in the parking lot and the friends got in. “It’s not too late to back out. I could take you to a hotel, bring the girls to you.”
Sheila looked at her searchingly, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Going back was so hard, very hard.
“No,” she said. “The safest thing is to keep things as normal as possible. Anything out of the ordinary might spark his attention. I can’t think of any reason the girls would have to come here, alone.”
“What if we told Stanton? He could bring them without suspicion.”
“Yes, and he could also refuse to let me see them, couldn’t he?”
“But why, you’re their mother?”
“To protect them? Or maybe Jean wouldn’t want them to see me. She’s been raising them for a long time. I don’t know. I just don’t want to take any chances of not being able to see them. I couldn’t bear it,” the girl’s mother said sadly.
“All right Sheila. I’m with you no matter what happens. It’s just that I wish I wasn’t so fearful about this.”
“Me too,” Sheila said as she searched her friend’s face.
Bess smiled and reached over to squeeze her arm reassuringly. Then she started the car and drove toward their destiny in the small town out in the mountains.
They had timed their trip to arrive at Bess’s home late in the evening.
As they neared Brandon Creek, Sheila’s heart rate increased with the anticipation of seeing her girls after all this time, and the unknown… of what was to come.
Entering the town that night, in the dark with only the headlights illuminating the way, the old town seemed spooky and uninviting to her. It didn’t seem like the place she had known most of her life at all, but alien, strange and dangerous. They drove on hoping not to be seen, noticed, or discovered.
Turning down Stag Bone Lane Sheila asked her friend, “Are we stopping by the clinic?”
“No. I bought a house nearby. It was easier to get to work and convenient for Dr. Bishop,” Bess explained.
“What about your folk’s place on Elk Horn Ridge? Did you sell it?”
“No. It’s rented to the McGowan’s oldest, Ernest and his wife Constance. They needed a big place with their six kids and the farm was big enough for all of them. He’s working the place, as well as working at the mill. They’re good tenants and I’m content to leave the place in their capable hands. I bought Macy Hennacy’s old place, just a couple of doors down from the clinic about six years ago. It’s just the right size for one person. Mom and Pop’s place was too big for me, really. I was just rattling around out there on the ridge.”
Bess was turning into the driveway of an old, two story brick home, built soon after the town’s founding by the banker and founder of the Homeland Bank. It was one of the nicest homes in the township. Modest in size, it made up for its small stature with the quality of the finishes. The craftsmanship of the wood work was elegant, with lovely hardwood floors, wood paneling and built-ins, along with ornate plaster trim throughout. Beautiful French doors and muntin windows allowed an abundance of light into the home.
Sheila could see right away why Bess had bought the place. It was so much like her, elegant and stately while warm and friendly.
There was a standalone garage set back next to the house.
Bess pulled up and stepped out of the car. As she looked around, she quickly opening the garage door and pulled the car inside. Swiftly she shut the garage door, letting it down softly, careful not to let it bang.
With a full moon outside, its light softly illuminating the interior of the garage through the side window, at least enough to see by, she reached into the backseat for the suitcases in the dim light.
“Why don’t you put the lights on?” Sheila asked.
“It might draw too much attention to us,” her friend answered, whispering.
“Bess, we have to act natural. It might look funny if we don’t.”
Sighing, Bess walked over and turned on the lights.
Sheila’s right. We have to act naturally. After all, I am bringing a friend home to stay with me. Why am I trying to hide it? This isn’t starting out too well, is it?
Using her cane, Sheila followed her friend out of the garage, over the walkway and through the kitchen door, once Bess had unlocked it.
In the kitchen Bess asked, “Do you want to stay up and talk for a while, or go to bed?”
“I’m ready for bed,” Sheila responded, trying to remain calm. She felt so exposed. All the big windows in this house were meant to let the natural light in, but instead they were exposing her to the outside world. At least that’s what it felt like. She wanted to run to the windows and close all the curtains.
“Since you don’t do stairs well, I’m putting you in the spare room on this floor. It was Mrs. Hennacy’s room in the end,” Bess said, regretting the words as soon as she said them.
The fact that the old woman had died in that room, naturally, didn’t alter the fact that death wasn’t a subject that either of them wanted to talk about right now.
“I’ll be upstairs, the first room on the left if you need me,” she continued as she led Sheila down the hall.
Bess closed the curtains in the room, making Sheila feel safer, hidden for a while. She also turned on the bedside lamp, as she watched her friend flop down, tired, worried and apprehensive.
“I hope you can get some sleep. We’ll find a way to get the girls to the clinic tomorrow, or the next day. We both want this to be over as quickly as possible.”
Sheila nodded in agreement. “Night, Bess. God is with us. I know He is.”
Bess smiled and closed the door quietly.
She had seen the hand of God act before in cases that shouldn’t have ended the way they did. She wanted to believe in a benevolent God, who cared about everyone. But she just couldn’t make that commitment when she had also seen so much suffering, sickness and death as well.
Yet, the miracles had happened and there wasn’t any other explanation, but God. And she prayed that He would intercede in this situation and keep them all safe.
After going about the house locking up and turning off the lights, she wearily went upstairs to bed. It had been such a long day, and she knew longer days were to come. She couldn’t believe it had been less than a week since she had learned of Sheila’s existence and now she was here. Here in Brandon Creek, with unfinished events stirring, after all this time.
Sheila slept fitfully, sweating, tossing and turning. She was drowning, being pushed down by powerful waves in a violent storm. She couldn’t breathe! She couldn’t find her way to the surface. There was nothing to hang onto, nothing but the liquid expanse of water and no way out.
* * * *
A Tale Of True Love Page 20