Inevitable Sentences

by Tekla Dennison Miller

  Celeste noted the fear in Adrian’s eyes. She placed her hands on Adrian’s shoulders and tenderly turned her toward the bedroom. “Please do as I ask. The best thing you can do is stay calm and keep the others quiet. Stop them from panicking, and for heaven’s sake don’t let them come out here.”

  “Okay. Shout—”

  “Yes.” Celeste smiled tightly. “If I need help, I will.”

  Adrian headed back to the other women.

  Celeste returned to the window to see the man was retrieving a box from the rear of the van. She allowed herself a short sigh of relief. Perhaps Adrian was right—he was bringing them a package. The respite was short-lived, though. She hadn’t ordered anything besides the bedding items and no one ever sent parcels to the house. No one had a reason to. Very few people knew who even lived at the lighthouse.

  Should she give the man the benefit of the doubt? Could he really be at the wrong address? Much as she wanted to believe this was a harmless situation, Celeste’s intuition told her otherwise. She reached for her cell phone and tucked it in her sweater pocket. Speed dial #1 was programmed to reach Sheriff Hunter directly.

  Within moments the man knocked on the door. Celeste took several deep breaths and braced herself for the worst—that someone had found the location of one of the women.

  She let him knock a second time. She didn’t want to appear too eager. She cracked the door open, keeping one foot braced at the bottom to hold it in place, or if necessary, to kick it shut.

  “Yes?” she said, peering through the small opening. He had a salt-and-pepper beard and a nondescript black jacket with no identifying logo.

  “Hello, ma’am.” The man nodded and smiled broadly.

  Too friendly, Celeste thought.

  He looked at the box. “I have a package for Adrian Chappell.”

  Celeste’s heart skipped. Adrian’s cop husband had found her. Celeste had prepared and even mentally rehearsed for a time like this. She wouldn’t give this man even the merest hint that she recognized the name.

  “Who?” She opened the door a little wider to appear more confident. Although she wanted to ask for identification, she decided she was better off playing dumb rather than being suspicious. If she acted too wary, he might get the idea she was hiding something.

  “Adrian Chappell, ma’am. She has to sign for it, too.” He showed her a form with Adrian’s name typed on it.

  Celeste knew this wasn’t the normal routine. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way. There’s no such person here,” Celeste asserted coolly, her tone implying polite regret, but also boredom.

  “Oh?” The man tried to peek around Celeste.

  “I’m sure I have the right place.” He tilted the package and pointed at the address.

  Celeste glanced at the name and address on the shipping label. She looked the man straight in the eyes. “Someone has made an error. As I said, there’s no Adrian Chapp … what is the last name?”

  “Chappell.”

  “Well, anyway, no such person lives here.” Celeste started to push the door closed, but the man grabbed it to keep it open.

  What was he planning to do? She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her cool. Her stomach was churning. Her heart was about to explode through her chest. How was she going to get rid of this man who, she had no doubt, intended to do harm at the least to Adrian, and probably to all the rest of them, too?

  “My boss will be upset if I don’t deliver this.” The man seemed to be trying to convince Celeste how worried he was about his failed delivery. “You see, today is Friday. It’s Adrian’s birthday.” The man produced an insincere smile.

  Celeste’s heart raced. It was Adrian’s birthday. Celeste had planned to surprise her with a cake from the bakery.

  Celeste mustered all the courage she had. She wanted this intruder off her property. “Look. I already told you. There is no one here by that name.

  I cannot accept a package addressed to someone I don’t know. My best suggestion is for you take it back to the place you got it and tell them they’ve made a mistake.”

  “Mom.” Marcy peeked into the room. “I need your help.”

  Celeste was not happy about Marcy showing herself, even though the man would have had a difficult time getting a good look at her. “I’ll be right there. This gentleman is leaving.” She never took her eyes off of him.

  He hesitated for a moment and stared deeply into Celeste’s eyes as though searching for a way to break her down.

  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and stared back with equal determination.

  Finally, he tapped a finger to his head and said, “Thank you for your help. Have a nice day.” He sounded sarcastic.

  Celeste locked the door and watched the man get into his van. He set the package on the passenger’s seat, studied the house for a few moments, and drove off. Although Celeste wrote down the plate numbers, she was certain whoever sent the package would not be easily identified, especially through something as obvious as a license plate. She leaned against the door, gathering her composure and her thoughts.

  “Quit wasting your time and get a handle on the situation,” she told herself aloud.

  She immediately telephoned the sheriff’s office and Sheriff Hunter reassured her. “I’ll put on an extra car out there and keep it close to your place. Meanwhile, I’ll run the plate.”

  “Thank you,” Celeste said. “How soon do you think the car will be here?”

  “About a half hour,” Hunter said and added, “Don’t worry. I doubt he’ll be back any time soon. This is a fishing expedition. If I get anything on the plates, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, again.” She hung up and gazed around the kitchen. It seemed so ordinary, yet with the arrival of the van, everything had changed. She couldn’t kid herself that she’d actually convinced the driver. Probably all she’d done was buy time.

  Well, she told herself. Maybe buying time is okay. Maybe the sheriff can track the guy down. Then this new cloud would disappear.

  While she headed to her bedroom to let the women know they could come out, she also planned on gently scolding Marcy for taking a chance on being discovered, even though her appearance had encouraged the man’s exit.

  Celeste barely reached the door when Lorraine burst through, screaming, “She’ll get us all killed.”

  “What are you talking about?” Celeste asked.

  “Adrian and that cop husband of hers. If he knows she’s here, it will only be a matter of time until we’ll all be found.” She spoke with such venom it frightened Celeste.

  Lorraine must have eavesdropped on the conversation between Celeste and the man at the door. Of course. Probably they all had.

  “No such thing is going to happen.” Celeste put all the no-nonsense attitude she could muster into her tone. “The sheriff is putting a second car out here to patrol the road to the lighthouse. No one else will get through. I—” she hesitated, then said firmly, “I promise.” But could she really make such a pledge?

  “Big deal. Another cop.” Lorraine spun around to engage Adrian. “You should pack up and get out of here.”

  Marcy gasped. “Lorraine!”

  “Maybe she’s right, Celeste.” Adrian could barely get the words out. “I’ve put everyone in jeopardy.”

  “You’ve done no such thing. You’ll stay here. I need you.” Celeste turned to Lorraine. “I’ll send no woman or children packing. No matter the perceived threat, you are all safer here.”

  “Yeah. Sure,” Lorraine said and stomped off.

  “Lorraine, don’t be that way,” Marcy said. She turned to Celeste. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Thanks. Sometimes Lorraine can be trying,” Celeste murmured.

  Marcy nodded. “Can’t we all?” She smiled and left to find Lorraine.

  Adrian began to cry. “I can’t believe he’s found me.”

  Celeste circled her arms around Adrian to stop her shaking. “We suspected this would happen to o
ne of you, at some point. We prepared for it, didn’t we? I doubt, with the added protection from the sheriff, your husband or his messenger will do anything foolish.” She hugged Adrian close to her. “If your husband knows—or thinks he knows—you’re here, I can almost guarantee he is aware of the added patrol car.” She kept her voice calm and low. “Besides, I doubt the deputy will let anyone down this road unless they’re cleared by the sheriff’s office.”

  “I pray you’re right.” Adrian pulled a tissue from a box on the windowsill and blew her nose. “Although”—she blew her nose again—“the intruder could work his charm and persuade the deputy to let him through. You know, do a favor for a fellow cop.”

  Celeste released Adrian. “Would you rather I not go to town?”

  “No,” Adrian answered. “I’m being silly. We need those supplies. With the storm approaching, there’s no telling when we’ll be able to get back into Marquette.”

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Celeste pressed. She really wasn’t sure herself whether leaving at the moment was a good idea.

  “Yes. The sheriff’s car will be here in no time.” Adrian looked toward the window.

  “I’ll wait until it does. The sheriff said he’d have the deputy pull into the driveway to let us know he’s here.”

  Adrian poured soap into the sink and ran hot water, preparing to attack the breakfast dishes. “Cleaning always takes my mind off my problems.”

  Adrian washed and Celeste wiped. They performed the tasks in silence. Nearly half an hour later, they heard a horn sound in the driveway. Celeste checked. “It’s the deputy.” She waved and he drove away.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay if I go?” Celeste asked one more time. Perhaps she needed to be reassured more than Adrian.

  “Yes. My only problem will be stopping me from slapping Lorraine upside the head.” She smiled.

  “I know she can be difficult.” Celeste sighed. “Today she has an excuse, though. She’s frightened.” The two women stood facing each other for several seconds.

  “Well. I’d better get on the road before the weather gets too bad.” Celeste put on her boots, parka, hat, and gloves. “I always feel like I’m getting dressed for an expedition to the North Pole.” She laughed softly to lighten the moment.

  “I agree. Too bad we have to face months of this yet.” Adrian returned a weak laugh.

  Celeste grabbed her purse and car keys. “If you have any concerns, call the sheriff immediately. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Be safe,” Adrian called out to Celeste as she got into her car.

  Chapter Seven

  DISCLOSURE

  CELESTE SWEPT INTO MAX’S hospital room shortly after lunch, stomping her feet to get them warm. She took off her gloves and bright red down-filled winter coat and flung them onto a chair. The whirl of chilled air she created made its way to Max.

  “Brr. Cold outside?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as he shook himself to emphasize the question.

  “You can be smug in your warm room, tucked into a cozy bed.” Celeste knew all too well he’d rather be outside in the nasty weather than in this institution, as he had called the hospital with a great deal of disdain in his tone.

  “That coat should keep you toasty until I get out of this place.” He pointed to the mound of red piled on the chair.

  Celeste laughed. “It is a lot of coat, isn’t it? I’d rather have you, though, than the down to cuddle with for warmth.”

  Max’s expression became more serious. “What took you so long to get here? I expected you earlier this morning.”

  “The roads are still nasty. Although the county trucks are salting, the wind keeps the ice from melting and blows the snow back over the roads. It’s a hopeless job.” Celeste vigorously rubbed her arms. “Walking across the parking lot chilled me to the bone. And the weather report predicts there’s a worse storm brewing for Sunday. That only gives me a couple days to stock up and get prepared.”

  “Maybe I am glad to be here and out of that misery,” Max said. His eyes misted and filled with longing. “That’s not true. I miss you and I want to be at the lighthouse in case you need help.”

  Celeste bent to kiss his forehead. “I miss you, too.” She kissed his mouth and clasped his untethered hand in hers. “Besides, who’s going to shovel the walks at the lighthouse?” She tried not to focus on the IV bag steadily dripping liquids through a tube and into his arm. It was bad enough to hear the monitors beeping a constant reminder of how serious Max’s condition was. On her first visit, the whole scene had taken her breath away. Today she realized the room was more quiet than usual.

  “Hey,” she said cheerfully, trying to distract herself. “The wires have been removed.”

  “Yep. I’m far more handsome without them, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled. “You want to kiss my incision and make it better?”

  “Oh, Max.” Celeste’s eyes glistened and she smiled. “You are always handsome to me. I have to admit, though, I like the wires gone and would have been happier without your chest having been opened up.” She wanted to brush her hand over the scar to make the soreness go away, but decided against it. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to Max’s circumstances. She’d rather spend their time in a happier conversation.

  “Ah, well, the worst is over.” The twinkle disappeared and Max’s expression turned serious again. “Back to storms.” He sounded concerned. “Is that generator running?”

  “Barely.” Celeste gently laid his hand down so she could pull the chair closer to the bed, then slid into it with the elegance of someone about to be served tea. “Doug will be by on Monday to prep it for the winter. He’s out of town until then. If we get any snow to speak of, it will take a lot of shoveling to get to the outbuilding where it’s stored anyway.” She paused before she said, “I think he’s smitten with Adrian, but I don’t think she’s ready for a relationship.” She could nearly picture the thirty-year-old, shy, gentle, and gangly farm boy with Adrian.

  “Adrian, eh?” Max reached for Celeste’s hand this time. “I’ve seen a slight glimmer in her eye when he’s around. Doug’s a decent person and a good handyman. You’re lucky you’ve found him. Adrian is, too.” He paused. “You know, you also have a houseful of women and children who can handle the shoveling if needed. Have them make a game of it.”

  “Still.” Celeste sighed. “I wish you could be with me.” She lowered her head and stared at their entwined hands.

  “Soon.” Max raised Celeste’s hand and kissed it. He studied her.

  Celeste took note of his concentration. Max always made good eye contact. She could never hide from it. He had once told her he had learned it was a certain way to gauge an inmate. If the prisoner kept eye contact, he had nothing to hide, and he could be trusted. She knew there was no way to hide from Max how worried she was.

  “Celeste, dear, is there something troubling you?”

  She lifted her eyes to him. “Why? Besides all those machines you were hooked up to?”

  “No. You didn’t only bring in the frigid air. There seems to be a cloud hovering over your head, like that kid in the Peanuts cartoon.”

  “Pig Pen,” Celeste said.

  “Yes. Pig Pen.” Max waited for a response.

  Celeste said nothing.

  Max’s mouth tightened and formed a shape that wasn’t quite a smile or a frown. “I want to see the usual cheery and bright-eyed gal I’m used to. What’s put you in such a gloomy mood—besides the weather, and my condition?” He waved his free hand around the room. “And, of course, my absence at the lighthouse?”

  Celeste couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to worry Max when he needed to rest and get well. He had enough to deal with at the moment without her adding to his problems. Her heart ached at how pale he was. She was used to seeing a robust, tanned Max. She wanted that man back, and soon.

  “How are all the women and children?”

  Celeste wasn’t fooled. Max was fishing for a clue to
what might be troubling her. “They’re scared of every sound—the wind, the trees rustling in the forest, any creak in the house. I would be, too, if I had been through what they have.” Celeste removed her hand from his, stood, and walked to the window.

  She wiped the pane trying to free it from the icy glaze but without success. She thought about how the sun tried to rise to its fullness that morning and the way the mounds of clouds the color of charcoal had pressed their heaviness into the gold ball, holding it flat against the horizon until it spread into a thin line so red it looked like wet paint. Then it disappeared entirely into the thick, bleak sky. She’d have to be satisfied with only a hint of sun each day until spring.

  Celeste turned to Max, his face lined with worry. Had she made him feel anxious? “I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing.” Celeste gave in to his inquiry and shook her head.

  “How’s that?” Max’s voice was hardly a whisper.

  “I’ve promised those women a safe haven.” She sighed and quietly continued, “I’m not sure I can do that—at least not without you.” Her tone was filled with doubt. “I really did it for Pilar.” She wouldn’t tell him about the odd feeling she’d had for the past couple of days, that something bad was about to happen. She also wouldn’t tell him about the package. “Perhaps I was being selfish thinking a safe house would fix my own pain and guilt.”

  “Selfish? You’ve already given many women and children hope, Celeste.” Max tried to push himself up to a sitting position using his free hand. “In fact, you’ve helped four women resettle, get good jobs, and start a safe, happy life.” He strained to reach a stack of handmade get-well cards the children had made for him. He picked them up and handed them to Celeste. “Not one of these shows the fear those kids displayed when they first got to the lighthouse. And they certainly aren’t the horror pictures they drew for Priscilla in her first few sessions with them. That has to mean something.”

  Celeste shuffled through the cards filled with crude drawings of the lighthouse, birds, flowers, and smiling faces. A faint smile crossed her lips. They were a far cry from the ones she had seen before—the worst was one a girl had drawn, showing her mother with a knife in her chest and blood dripping from the wound.