Grace in the Shadows

by Karon Ruiz

  “BP meds?” he asked.

  “My blood pressure pills. What if I can’t get them?”

  “How many do you have?”

  “About two weeks’ worth.”

  “I’ll call Mom,” Gordon said. “A nurse at our church works at the hospital.”

  “Laney Fernández?”

  “Do you know her?”

  “She’s an old friend from high school. We keep in touch. I’m sure she’s got connections.”

  “Let’s hope so. You ready?”

  “Not really.” Grams sighed, looking around the cabin.

  Gordon wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and drew a deep breath. “I know it’s hard. But you can’t stay here.”

  “You’re right.” She pushed against the table and stood. “I’ll be okay.”

  After moving supplies to the porch, Gordon returned to the kitchen. Grams opened an upper cabinet, removed a ceramic jar, then unscrewed the lid. “We’ll need this at some point when our debit cards stop working.” She pulled out a wad of cash and divided it in half, then handed him a stack of bills. “There’s about a thousand each. Some of that is what I owe you. We’ll go to my bank’s ATM to get more.” She looked out her window at the nearby cabins. “Shouldn’t we be warning my neighbors?”

  “I wish we could but we can’t take the time, Grams. And we don’t want to start a panic.”

  She looked at him, eyes wide, and he held up a hand. “I get it. That’s exactly what the government is doing. But we need to keep a low profile until we get to Mom’s.”

  She crammed her money into her purse, loaded up her arms with boxes, then headed outside as he followed. After they packed the trunk and backseat with everything they could fit, Gordon secured the cabin’s doors and windows, shut off the utilities, then drained the pipes and water heater. Moments later he joined his grandmother in the Olds and started the engine.

  He studied the front of the cabin. Had he forgotten anything? How often he and Dad had shared this moment, tightening down Grams’ hatches when she came for her annual visits. Everything he knew about mountain life, he owed to his father. Now Gordon had to step up. He’d be the man his father taught him to be. The man his father would hopefully become again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Rushing and Flushing

  _________________________________________________________

  2:35 a.m.

  Baxter Home

  Stairs creaked as Samantha skulked upstairs. She stopped at the closed door of her master bedroom and listened. Dalton’s snores filled the darkness. When she opened Gordy’s door, she snapped on his light and closed the door behind herself.

  She cringed. Laundry, dirty, indistinguishable from clean, was strewn everywhere. Socks and shoes cluttered the carpet along with scattered papers and magazines. On his desk by the window, she looked for a green binder and found it squished between two thick astronomy books.

  She perched on her son’s bed and opened the notebook. Its meticulous organization contradicted the pandemonium at her feet. Plastic tabs segmented sections representing a summer of research.

  Solar Cycle 24 was written on the first tab. She skimmed through the material. Everything made little or no sense. When she got to the tab that read Sun Observations, her son’s hand-written notations confused her as if he’d written in a foreign language.

  He’d told her to study the middle section. “It’ll explain what could happen after a CME,” he’d said. She leafed through the section. Close to fifty typed pages. She scooted back on the pillow and began reading.

  After a few pages, she was convinced. The planet might be facing what Gordy had called “a death shot.” Her heart ramped and she regretted not telling Laney. If this really happened, the older couple would need to get ready, too.

  At the back of the binder she located the supply lists Gordy mentioned. They’d help her determine what else her family needed. If they had even half the stuff, where would she find the rest? Her sleepy little town never came to life before nine a.m. Purchasing whatever was left on the list within the waning hours was critical.

  Samantha tucked the binder under her arm and walked to the door, nearly tripping over a bulging backpack.

  An idea came to her as she descended the stairs. She plopped down the notebook and headed to the back yard, to the shed on the back of the property. She scrunched below the sink, reached behind the water barrels and pulled out the hidden gym bag. Her disaster preparation would have to wait a few minutes.

  ***

  A noise downstairs woke him. Dalton sat up in bed and listened.

  There it was again. Running water? Who was in his house at three in the morning? He went to the closet and pulled out a baseball bat. He took cautious steps down the stairs, gripping the bat over his shoulder.

  He walked through the foyer. A light from the guest bathroom streamed across the laminate. He raised the bat above his head.

  When he came to the door, disbelief anchored his feet and the bat.

  Sammy crouched at the toilet with an empty Ziploc bag in her hand.

  Realization registered. “Are you crazy?” He tossed the bat aside, and charged into the small room.

  She looked up, eyes wide.

  He plunged his hand into the spiraling water. All that remained was a tinge of yellow in the bottom of the bowl.

  “My pills!” he yelled. He whirled to face her. “How could you?”

  “I’m saving you from a longer prison sentence.” Sammy slammed the lid shut and got to her feet.

  He dashed to the staircase. Sammy had lost her mind. He had to hide the rest of his stash.

  “Dalton, I need to speak to you,” she shouted, climbing up after him.

  He twisted around, glared. “And I need those pills.”

  “I did you a favor. It’s the only way to help you.” Hurt flickered across her face. “Don’t you see, if they can’t find them, your sentence might be lighter?”

  “You don’t know what I’ve gone through since my skiing accident. My meds help me function. Now what will I do?”

  “You have a problem, Dalton. You’re hooked.”

  Had she been talking to Brad? He pointed to his knee. “I’m in pain! You don’t get it!”

  “I get a lot more than you think.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  He leaned closer, narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a troubled man dealing with much more than physical pain. You need to get your head on straight.”

  “Are you saying I need a shrink?” His leg buckled. He dropped to the stairs. She joined him.

  “You’ve got issues, Dalton. You need to get some professional help. A counselor can help you. If you don’t deal with this, those drugs will kill you.”

  He considered that. Could she be right? No. He shook his head. Regurgitating childhood memories wouldn’t do any good. The past was the past and should stay in the past.

  He suddenly wanted to wound her. First, tattling to the council, now flushing his pills?

  “What will really help is to move away from this nosey little town and start over. Instead, I’m facing prison, thanks to the church council. And you.”

  Hurt flashed across her face but she spoke calmly. “The council had no choice. They could be charged as accessories.”

  He rattled off his spiel, in an exaggeratedly patient tone. “Like I told you on the phone, I have an associate pastor interview Thursday at New Generations Church in Phoenix. The starting pay is eight hundred dollars more a month than I’m making at Saint Luke’s. Full benefits, a paid vacation, all the perks.” He shrugged, watching her from the corner of his eye. “I guess that’s over. They won’t want a convicted felon on their payroll.”

  “You never discussed this with me.” Sammy’s brows drew down. “Did you think I would just pick up and move? I grew up in McCormick. What about what I want?”

  “
I didn’t see a need to discuss it until I was offered the position.”

  “Dalton …” Sammy’s eyes pooled. His heart tugged, but he firmed his resolve. This was all her fault. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Who are you?”

  The tug on his heart grew stronger. How had he gotten here? “I just wanted … a new start … in a new town. I only need my meds for a few more weeks. Then I’ll wean myself off and everything will go back to normal.”

  She looked at him a moment, her eyes glistening with sadness. “I’ll be at Laney’s.” She got to her feet. “I’m tired, Dalton. Very tired.”

  She wasn’t the only one. He watched her retreat, feeling spent. With a groan, he hobbled up the last few steps to the bedroom.

  Those meddling jerks would be here soon to take him to Prescott. Before he could get back to sleep, he’d hide the last of his precious medicine. Who knew how hard the next few days would be?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Wal-Mart Phoenix Trip

  _________________________________________________________

  3:17 a.m.

  Baxter Home

  Sitting at the breakfast table, Samantha’s eyes burned and she couldn’t stop yawning. She tried to read Gordy’s supply lists but kept wondering if getting rid of Dalton’s drugs had been a smart move. Would law enforcement prosecute her for destroying evidence? She shuddered. That’s all her kids needed. Two parents behind bars.

  According to Gordy, the impending CME was hours away. If it obliterated the nation’s power grids, the resulting domino-effect could destroy normalcy. Most likely civil unrest would ensue. Arresting a pastor’s wife for flushing drugs probably wouldn’t be high on the police’s priority list.

  Between sips of coffee, Samantha jotted down what she needed to purchase. McCormick wasn’t a place to find hard winter wheat or long term survival food and Phoenix was well past an hour away.

  But there was no time to talk herself out of it. She gathered her keys and purse and headed toward Gordy’s VW parked by the side of the house.

  Samantha cranked the ignition and the old van rumbled to life. Minutes later, she barreled through the blackness of Highway 89, formulating a plan.

  The council guys were due to arrive at seven-thirty to escort Dalton to Prescott. She’d call Martin at daybreak and see if he’d delay the trip north a few hours. Even though it served him right, Dalton being stuck in some jail without power, without air conditioning—that was unthinkable.

  If Gordy’s predictions came true, a CME would change everything. Waiting until afternoon was just plain smart. By then, they would know if the planet had been spared.

  ***

  5:16 a.m.

  24-Hour Wal-Mart

  Phoenix, Arizona

  Samantha loaded two Wal-Mart shopping carts and pushed them to a check-out stand. She stacked several batteries end to end then watched them teeter toward the checker who swiped each package across a glowing laser light, before bundling them into plastic bags.

  “That’s a lot of batteries,” the young man with a nametag reading Sean, observed.

  “I’m from the desert,” Samantha explained. “The monsoons are coming. We have a lot of power outages.”

  Her words didn’t explain the twenty cans of survival food rolling past. Vegetable seeds, gardening tools, and a copy of The Ultimate Guide to Inside Seed Sprouting followed. Mounds of camping equipment that included multiple canisters of propane, preceded several blankets.

  “Going camping?”

  “Are you familiar with a CME?” Samantha asked.

  “A what?”

  She spilled out a Reader’s Digest version of what she knew. He looked at her skeptically and said, “Whatever …” as he stuffed the kerosene wicks into a bag.

  Once Samantha left the empty parking lot, she joined a sea of early morning commuters heading north through downtown Phoenix. She tapped Laney’s number on her cell, but it went to voicemail, as did Martin’s.

  She sighed, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and whitened her knuckles on the steering wheel. She’d try their land-line once she got out of the city.

  ***

  6:25 a.m.

  Fernández Home

  McCormick, Arizona

  An olive green wall phone near the breakfast table rang and Martin answered it. “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Samantha said. “Sorry to call this early. I’m twenty minutes away. I need to tell you something.”

  Samantha explained about the geomagnetic storm headed their way. Martin listened intently, conveying tidbits to Laney, who stood nearby.

  “I emailed you web links from my phone. Did you get them?”

  “Check your email for links,” Martin told Laney.

  Laney tapped a sleeping laptop on the kitchen counter and checked her inbox. “Tell her we got them,” Laney said.

  “They’re here,” Martin said.

  “They’ll tell you what to expect and how to prepare. Stocking water is your number one priority. Warn the congregation with the phone chain. Forward these links to each person on your list. We’ve only a few hours left.”

  “What about our trip north?” Martin asked. “We’re picking up your husband in an hour. Laney can’t do all this by herself.”

  “About that? Can you postpone that until this afternoon? By then we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”

  “I’ll call the council but I can’t promise anything.” Martin stirred cream into his mug.

  “Thank you. Things could get dangerous. If they say no, can you at least delay your trip for an hour? Grace should say goodbye to her father.”

  He told her they would. Laney grabbed the phone and said, “I’ll see that Grace is dressed and ready when you get here.”

  “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

  Once they’d hung up Martin said, “We need lots of water. Where can we put it?”

  Laney’s eyes kindled. “We’ve got that inflatable ring pool for the grandkids. It holds thousands of gallons. Has a cover too.”

  “Grandchildren?” Martin’s brows arched. “Rachel, Ben … the kids! They need to get out of Phoenix. Get a hold of them while I call the council.”

  Laney wagged her head. “Rachel won’t listen. I can hear her now. She’ll think this is one of our conspiracy stories.”

  “Forward her the links. We’ll pray God convinces her.” Martin’s apprehension climbed. Weariness nagged at his muscles. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in two days. He and Laney huddled at the breakfast table and poured out their hearts begging God’s intervention. After they finished, he poured a second cup of coffee, then entered his office behind the kitchen as Laney tapped in their daughter’s number.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Dalton In Denial

  _________________________________________________________

  7:20 a.m.

  Baxter Home

  “Daddy!” Grace burst through the bedroom door. Dalton jumped. He pitched the Oxy bottle into an open drawer near the bathroom sink and slammed it shut.

  “Hi, Sweetie. Where’s Mommy?” He held out his arms.

  “She’s in the garage putting stuff away. She told me to wake you up.” Grace encircled his waist with her arms and squeezed. He hugged her back. “I’ve been awake for hours, Sugar.”

  Grace pointed to his cheek. “Does your face hurt?”

  “Not too bad. The doctor gave me stitches. I’d show you but he doesn’t want me to take the bandage off.” He cupped his screaming flesh. The pill he’d just taken should kick in soon.

  “Mommy says you’re going away. Will you be gone long?”

  “I’ll be back this afternoon,” he told her. “See …” He pointed to himself in the mirror. “All dressed and ready for my appointment.”

  “You promise to be back before dinner?” Her worried eyes penetrated his.

  He scrunched to her level. “I’
ll do better than that. I’ll be home after lunch. Then we’ll go to town for ice cream.”

  “Yay!” His daughter giggled and bounced on both feet.

  “Grace, I need to talk to Daddy.” Sammy stood in the doorway. “I put Nemo on downstairs. Your father will be with you in a minute.”

  Blond curls danced with excitement as she hugged Dalton’s waist again. “Hurry, Daddy,” she said as she raced out of the bedroom.

  “Promising her ice cream? What’s wrong with you?” Samantha shook her head. “You still don’t get it.”

  “I’ll be back in a few hours. You’ll see.” He stood up straight, gritting his teeth against the pain in his knee and face.

  “Gene says that won’t happen.”

  “What does he know? He’s a small town lawyer in a cheap suit.”

  She leaned against the doorjamb. “Has it ever occurred to you that he shops at Suit World instead of Tom Ford because he’s a good man? He doesn’t gouge clients—or steal offerings—to get by.” Sammy scowled then let out a long sigh. “No point in talking about this. I came home so you could spend some time with Grace before you leave.”

  Gee … thanks for thinking of me. The simmering anger he’d nursed most of the morning came to a boil. She betrayed him. His wife. The one person in the world who was supposed to be on his side, no matter what. He pierced her with his gaze. “Sammy, how could you? ... Why didn’t you come to me first? Why did you have to tell everyone? Get me into trouble?”

  She shook her head. “You’re blaming me? For what you’ve done? Unbelievable.”

  He gripped her arm. “I made mistakes. I realize that.”

  “Mistakes? Is that what you call them?” She grimaced, pulled her arm from his grasp, and left the room. Moments later she yelled from the foyer. “Dalton … your daughter’s waiting.”

  He checked himself a second time in the mirror. Other than his eye injury, he looked the role of a clean, upstanding clergyman, dressed in his best shirt. Made from fine cotton, it was a blue Armani.