Hope's Corner

by Chris Keniston

  A loud hysterical laugh pierced the tense silence. “You think I’m stupid? I waited until he and that snot-nosed little kid drove away. No one knows I’m here.”

  “Your car…”

  “Is at the mechanics.” She smiled.

  For the first time in her life, Pam understood what it was like to see true madness in someone’s eyes. “Still…” She looked around the room again. There had to be something. An old paint bucket stuffed with tools sat in the corner. The end of a caulk gun stuck up high. Not much she could do with that. Maybe a trowel? A hammer. A screwdriver would be asking too much.

  “We’re going to go for a little ride.” Sandra held tight.

  “But you said your car was at the mechanics.”

  “I borrowed my uncle’s.”

  “Uncle? I thought Etta told me it was just you and your mom?” Maybe if Pam could get Sandra talking, distracted, she could figure a way out of this mess.

  “He’s not really my uncle. Teddy just liked me to call him that when he’d been drinking. Since he and my mom spent more time liquored up than sober, the name stuck. No one will ever connect the old goat’s car with me or your disappearance.”

  Well at least she hadn’t said murder. That offered Pam a fragment of hope. “And how are we going to get to your uncle’s car without the neighbors seeing you hold me at knifepoint?”

  A look of sheer confusion flashed across Sandra’s face. “I guess I’ll have to change the plan. Shall we see if the plumbers installed the bathtub upstairs?”

  “No.” Pam steadied herself. “I mean, no, there are no fixtures in the house yet.”

  The eerie quiet ruptured with a bang when the back door burst open, startling the two women.

  Joshua Meechum flew into the room. “Sorry, Jeff forgot his…” The boy skidded to a halt, his eyes grew wide with surprise for only an instant before he spun on his heels and ran out of the house yelling for help.

  Sandra spun Pam around, twisting one arm behind her back. With the knife pressed against Pam’s neck, Sandra pushed and shoved Pam out the kitchen and down the hall.

  “Where are we going?” Pam spoke through the fear.

  “Upstairs. You’re going to have an accident.”

  “Accident?” She stumbled over a box of flooring in the hall and ignored the prick of the blade. “Joshua saw you with a knife.”

  Sandra scowled, then quickly shook her head. “Don’t distract me. He’s a little boy. No one will believe him. You’re distraught. Upset. Guilty. You can’t live with yourself after what you’ve done. I tried to save you.”

  They’d barely reached the newel post at the bottom of the stairs when the front door eased open. At first Sandra slowed and tightened her hold on Pam. When Peaches sauntered through the doorway exposing an empty porch, Sandra eased her grip, her attention on the cat preening at Pam’s feet.

  “You stupid animal.” Sandra kicked at the intruding feline, the words barely past her lips, when Pam felt Sandra’s arm swing away and a heavy weight shove her backward.

  Within seconds Sandra stood halfway up the stairs wielding the steel blade at thin air with Jeff standing between Pam and a crazy woman.

  Jeff took a step back and waved Pam toward the door. “Joshua’s calling 9-1-1. Go to him.”

  When she didn’t move, he flicked a sideways glance at her. “Go!”

  Pam inched her way closer to the doorway. From where she stood, she could see Jeff’s family and half the neighbors standing on the sidewalk, silently gesturing for her to come out. There was no way she would leave the man she loved with a madwoman with a knife. Never again.

  Jeff stood at the bottom step for a long minute before he finally spoke. “How is Mrs. Perkins doing with her thyroid?”

  Sandra blinked, then furrowed her brow, staring at Jeff.

  “I hear she’s feeling like her old self again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did for her.” Moving softly, without a sound, Jeff took a step closer.

  Still holding what looked to be a nine-inch carving knife, Sandra relaxed her stance. “I like helping you.”

  “And you do. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’re so gifted, Sandra. Helping Mrs. Perkins and then my mother at the hospital. And your voice. You’ve done miracles for the choir.” Jeff eased his way closer, up one step. “Do you know my favorite song?”

  A full-blown smile spread across Sandra’s face. “‘I Can Only Imagine.’”

  Nodding, he smiled back at her, moving up another step. “That’s right. By MercyMe.”

  Sandra began to hum the popular tune. From the corner of his eye, Jeff could see Pam working her way across the front porch carrying a tire iron. He was just a little more than an arm’s reach away from Sandra. He’d have to move fast before Sandra spotted Pam too.

  “Can you sing it for me? Please?” He practically purred.

  That was all Jeff needed. The pretty brunette closed her eyes and belted out the first line, “I can only imagine, what it will be like when I walk by your side…” In a single leap, Jeff bolted up the last two steps between them. Stretching out one hand, he snatched the knife away from the singing woman, and with the other pulled her into the circle of his arms. She kept singing.

  The sirens had long ago slipped into silence. Wrapped in a blanket provided by the sheriff, Pam lingered in the warmth of Jeff’s arms. “I still can’t believe it.”

  Jeff nodded. “It isn’t every day a woman I think is perfectly sane and normal turns out to be a psychopath.”

  “All I can think of is thank God you were here to save me. Who knows what she could have done by the time the sheriff got here.” Pam shivered at the possibilities.

  “Save you,” Jeff mumbled softly, his arms folding more tightly around her.

  Etta Mae set a tray with four steaming mugs on the table. “Once I got to know her better, I knew she wasn't right for my boy. Something didn't sit right, something I couldn't put my finger on, but I didn’t expect this.” She handed Pam a cup. “You could have been killed.”

  “Would have,” Pam corrected. “There was no way out, and the situation was slipping from dangerous to desperate until Josh and Jeff showed up.”

  Etta Mae dropped her hand to her heart. “And praise God nothing happened to that young boy.”

  Pam nodded. “Most kids would have been overcome with fear. Josh took all of five seconds to recognize the danger and hightailed it out of there. I’m still amazed.”

  “And I’m thankful,” Jeff added.

  “Amen to that.” Etta sat beside her husband.

  Harlon patted his wife’s knee. “I’m proud of you, son. You knew exactly how to handle that woman. I don’t know if I’d have been able to do the same, if it was your mother's life at stake.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot to me.” Jeff kissed Pam’s cheek and leaned forward to pick up a mug of tea. “After this morning, I can’t help but wonder if there’s anyone else out there who needs us?”

  “Us?” his father asked.

  Jeff smiled, and leaned back against the sofa. “Us. You, me, and the church.”

  Etta sat up straight, grinning like a kid at his first carnival. Harlon reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed.

  “I get it, Pop. I can’t help everyone, but if I walk away, I help no one.”

  EPILOGUE

  Abigail Clarke sat near the back of the church. This day had been a long time coming. “First day I met Pamela Sue, I knew she was the right woman for young Jeff.”

  The music started and Dan Parker’s little boy walked down the aisle with a cute little blonde beside him dropping rose petals. “I wonder if that’s Beullah Gath’s kin? Spitting image of Beullah as a girl.”

  Valerie came down the aisle next. The girl shone in her midnight blue gown. Maybe she’d be next to come down the aisle in white. “It’s time that girl stopped flittering and settled down.”

  Valerie was halfway up the aisle when the traditional bridal march sounde
d, and Abigail shifted her gaze to the front of the church. Jefferson Davis Parker stood proud and tall, and not a lick of nervousness on his face. On the other hand, best man Jake Wharton fidgeted like a two-year-old. There was another one who should be settling down.

  Shaking her head, she spotted the bride approaching. In a floor-length ivory gown with a small chapel train, Pam looked like a vision. Focused and determined, the pretty blonde made her way up the aisle to her future husband. “Yep, these two are gonna get it right. Sometimes you gotta help these young’uns to understand their past so they can find their future.”

  As Harlon Parker spoke to the congregation, everyone’s eyes on the handsome couple, Abigail cast her gaze about the room. Poor little Kenny Parker, he still looked the little boy unhappy to be wearing a suit on Sunday. “Oh, Percival.” She sighed. “So much work to do and so little time.”

  Read on for an excerpt of THE CHAMPAGNE SISTERHOOD!

  PROLOGUE

  Flashing lights grew brighter as more emergency vehicles arrived on the scene. One squad car, then another, two fire engines, the sirens of additional ambulances could be heard in the distance. At the beginning of the early morning rush hour, the chaos created by the mangled vehicles already had traffic backed up for miles.

  A police sergeant stepped out of his vehicle catching faint smells of burning rubber and gasoline. His gaze fell on the black Lexus sedan. The passenger side had completely crumpled like aluminum foil from the impact of another vehicle. The front end of the SUV across the way bore a strong resemblance to an accordion. “Idiot must have been flying,” he mumbled, slipping under the yellow tape closing off the area.

  Reaching the lead police officer on the scene, he tipped his head in the direction of the metallic mess. “What have you got so far?”

  “The driver of the SUV is on his way to the drunk tank.” The officer pointed with disgust to the police vehicle driving away. “Struck first on the passenger side by the SUV, the Lexus spun around and was struck again in the rear by the oncoming pickup, sending the Lexus straight into that pole.”

  The sergeant’s gaze traveled down the length of the utility pole now lying horizontally across the roofs of the two vehicles and most of the street. Telephone and electric wires dangled loosely across both sides of the pavement.

  “The Lexus took the brunt of the impacts.” The reporting officer glanced at the black clump of metal, and let out a small sigh. “It’s going to take a while before they can get those two out of there. The passenger is DOA but we can’t get close enough to the driver to determine status.”

  The roar from the Jaws of Life filled the air as rescue workers slowly peeled the car open like a tin can. Not far from the mangled car, an EMT whose face showed he’d seen one too many accidents like this, and his younger, more anxious female partner, waited for the signal. Both ready to spring into action. When the sound of cutting metal finally ground to a halt, with a nod from the fireman they raced to the vehicle, creating a new flurry of activity.

  Silence hung heavily as everyone waited for news, knowing it wouldn’t likely be good.

  Finally, the older EMT shouted from the torn vehicle to the rescue workers standing by, “She’s alive. Barely.” He scrambled to save the driver’s life as his young partner worked to extricate the deceased passenger for transport to the morgue. A soft thumping sound caught their attention. His partner gasped and all color drained from her face. He shifted, straining to see, his gaze finally settling on the rear seat. Leaning back he yelled over his shoulder to the cop standing nearby, “We’ve got a baby in here!”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You can run, but you can’t hide. Not from me,” Anna Bartiglioni muttered into the receiver at the Italian version of Musak. Juggling the phone on her shoulder and ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, she flipped through several sheets of paper, meticulously highlighting every discrepancy between the ordered merchandise and the first received shipment. She’d taken her last antacid an hour ago.

  The oversized corner office she’d sweated blood and tears for offered postcard views of Central Park and the famed Plaza Hotel. Neither did much to brighten her day. This blasted deal was going to be the death of her. Junior had gone behind her back, signed on the dotted line and committed the House of Nobel‘s new Madam Nobel spring line to be produced entirely by a new factory outside of Rome.

  Nobel’s had been an anchor on Fifth Avenue’s avant-garde shopping scene since the doors opened in 1889. Except now, thanks to Junior, she had a boatload of garbage in her warehouse that wouldn’t be fit to distribute at Bernie’s Bargain Basement. If she didn’t straighten this mess out and fast, she might as well kiss her job goodbye and start peddling Gucci knock-offs on Canal Street.

  “Damn that irritating little...” Anna yanked her desk drawer open, rummaging for the third time in search of another bottle of antacids when a sharp edge pricked her finger. “Ow!” Sucking on the throbbing fingertip, with her other hand she pulled the offending object out into the light. The silver-framed photo made her smile.

  She’d almost forgotten. Her first day in the shiny new office. Babs had arranged for Kat and Erin to fly in and surprise her. When Anna walked into the office at seven forty-five that sunny Monday morning as the youngest Division Merchandise Manager in Nobel’s history, she’d been walking on air. When her best friends in the world stood waiting, arms raised, holding glasses of green champagne, Anna almost fell off her new Prada heels from laughing so hard. Her assistant, Liz, stood by, camera in hand, waiting to capture the moment. Before the day was over the photograph of the four friends laughing had been beautifully framed and meticulously placed on her desk.

  It hadn’t been long before the only personal object in the office was put aside to make room for another project. Now, not a speck of desktop was visible. Every inch was covered with files, drawings, swatches, samples, and one of the new factory’s deplorable creations.

  The phone still trapped between her ear and shoulder, Anna stared wistfully at the framed photo. Babs’ normally curly red hair was pinned up in a simple french twist. A touch of sophistication that came so easily to her. On the other hand, Kat’s long blonde hair hung over her shoulders nearly to her waist, making her look more like a California hippie than a Miami Latina. And Erin, named after the Emerald Isle itself, with her dark hair in a ponytail could easily pass for one of her students rather than the high school teacher she’d become. They all looked so happy.

  As soon as this latest snafu was behind her, assuming she still had her job, no matter how impossible the timing seemed, she was determined to make time for a vacation and visit her friends. Maybe they could meet up on a cruise again. Babs had talked them all into a group cruise after their ten year class reunion. Babs' Scottish heritage showed in more than her fiery red hair and brilliant green eyes. When it came to keeping her clan together, she was almost tyrannical in her insistence that nothing get in the way of the four of them escaping to have a little fun. Hard to believe over a year had gone by since their last outing. Not that they didn’t talk on the phone regularly, but it wasn’t the same.

  “Anna?” Liz peeked into the office.

  “It’s okay. I’m on hold. Still.” She turned her wrist to see her watch. At this rate she could probably catch a flight to Rome before anyone at the other end actually took her call. She hated that saving her job might come to that. She didn’t have time for a jaunt to Italy.

  “I’ve got a Mark Lambert from San Francisco on the other line.”

  Mark from San Francisco? “Oh, yeah, Tom and Babs’ friend. If I hang up now, Italy will hand me some malarkey about the switchboards closing. Get his number and tell him I’ll call back in a few.”

  “I already told him you were on an overseas call and couldn’t be disturbed. He insisted it’s urgent. He said to tell you it’s about Barbara Preston.”

  “I’ve only got about five minutes between classes.” Standing in the teachers’ lounge at East Dallas Senior High
School, Erin glanced down at her watch.

  Kat Valdez chuckled into the phone. “Let me guess, you got to class this morning and found all the chairs facing the back wall again, and now you need to vent before you lynch the little darlings?”

  “Thanks for bringing that up, again. No, the chairs and my class are just fine, but I’ve got one of those feelings. I tossed and turned all night. No matter how much chamomile tea I drink, it won’t go away. I just know something’s wrong, very wrong, and I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Sorry, but it’s not me. Except for a leaky toilet and a somewhat irate roommate over the cancellation of his favorite TV show, I’m fine.”

  “I tried calling Anna before my last class. With her job I figured if any of us were likely to have something going wrong it would be Anna.”

  “She did go a little ballistic the time that freighter caught fire in the middle of the Atlantic and had to be towed, with her new fall line, back to Europe.”

  “Her assistant said she was on an important call and couldn’t be disturbed. If she’s fixin’ to skin some foreign polecat...”

  “Liz told you that?”

  “Not quite in those words, but I got the picture. Anyhow, I figure if Anna’s well enough to do what Anna does best, then it can’t be her, and I didn’t want to call Babs at seven o’clock in the morning. Since you’re on East Coast time, you’re next on my list.”

  “Gee, you always make me feel so loved.” The grin in Kat’s tone softened the sarcastic edge of her words.

  “Yeah, yeah. I guess I can scratch you off my list.”

  “I’m sure Babs is fine too. She’s probably got that new-mommy-not-getting-enough-sleep syndrome.”

  “I don’t know. This one’s just so strong it’s scaring me. I haven’t been able to eat a thing this morning. Derrick Keaton even brought me a creme-filled chocolate covered donut, and I haven’t been able to touch it.”