The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

  Her years of cutting corners and putting up with other people’s discarded brats would all be for nothing if she went to jail. She needed a lawyer, but good ones cost a lot of money, more than Yvonne had managed to save up.

  Thinking about her bank balance, Yvonne began to reconsider her situation. The money she’d skimmed from the foster care payments might be just enough to start a new life. There was no way she’d blow it all on some poncey lawyer.

  She had a much better idea.

  Digging her cell phone from between the sofa cushions, she wiped off the crumbs clinging to the screen and punched in her estranged husband’s number.

  “Deak?” she asked when a deep voice answered.

  Yvonne snickered to herself, thinking that his trashy girlfriend sounded just like a man.

  “Well, get him, then!” she said, beginning to pace, her feet crunching dried bits of food into the filthy carpet.

  “Yeah? Well, I’m busy, too... Listen, Deak! The CPS was just here, and they took all the kids. There’s gonna be trouble if I don’t get out of here... trouble for you, too, remember? So, I’m driving down there. Leaving right away. When I get there, you need to find a place for me to lay low… I don’t care... anywhere. Once I’m out of state, I don’t expect they’ll work too hard to find me. Okay. See you soon,” she said, thankful, once again, that the social services were short-staffed and overworked. By the time they slogged through their red tape and regulations and got around to doing anything, she’d be long gone.

  Moving more quickly than she had in months, Yvonne found her suitcases, threw her clothes and a few personal items into them, and drove to the bank to withdraw her money.

  Within a couple of hours of her decision to flee, she had a full tank of gas, a purse full of cash, and was speeding down the Coast Highway toward Central California.

  As she drove, she imagined the look on Dawn’s face when she came home and found it empty.

  Served that little smart-mouthed troublemaker right.

  …

  The other youngsters joked and sang songs as the church van rolled along the highway, but Dawn remained silent and downcast. She was feeling guilty for abandoning the little ones and was sick with worry for their welfare.

  Yvonne had been drinking heavily every day since turning over full charge of the babies. Dawn thought the woman might have been doing drugs, too.

  What if Mrs. Jones didn’t wake up when the babies needed her? Dawn’s heart sank as she realized that running away and leaving them alone was the same thing her own mother had done to her.

  “What kind of person does that?” she asked herself.

  Thinking about the desperation that drove her out of the house that morning, Dawn began to wonder what might have motivated her birth mother.

  Could she have had equally desperate reasons for abandoning Dawn?

  A chink appeared in the wall of anger and hatred Dawn had built up against her anonymous birth mother. Maybe the woman who’d given birth to her was sick, or in trouble, and couldn’t care for her baby. Maybe she thought her child would have a better life without her. Dawn imagined one possibility after another, circumstances that could shine a new light on her abandonment.

  Caught up in these new thoughts, Dawn scarcely noticed when the van turned off the highway into the mountains. Even the bumps and jerks of the rutted track leading to the parking area failed to break her concentration.

  Unaware of Dawn’s turmoil, Hope drove along smiling in anticipation of the fun ahead.

  She glanced over at the horizon and noticed a line of heavy clouds or fog resting on the Pacific. The weather report was for clear skies for the weekend, making it much more likely that the thick band of gray was fog.

  Hope admired the view. She was learning to love the Oregon Coast more every day. She appreciated the sunny days, of course, but also enjoyed those times when the marine layer settled on the earth, muffling sounds and blurring sharp edges. She gave thanks to God, once again, for leading her to settle here.

  The younger members of the group cheered when the van entered the parking area, waking Dawn from her reverie.

  “Here we are!” Hope cried, parking at the far edge of the clearing. “Grab your gear, gang.”

  Dawn blinked and climbed from the seat, following the others out of the van.

  “I don’t really have any gear,” she said to Hope who was standing by the door.

  “Not to worry. I’ve got plenty for both of us,” she said with a reassuring smile. “You can help with the other kids’ stuff, though.”

  Signaling to a small boy struggling with the straps of an over-sized pack, Hope called him over, lightened his load, and adjusted his pack.

  “I’ve got a spare pack frame back here,” she said, leading Dawn to the van’s storage compartment.

  “Line up here, gang, and let me check your packs!” she cried out to the children who were milling about.

  Hope adjusted straps and lightened loads as needed, putting items into the spare pack.

  Dawn shrugged into this pack, shifting the straps to make the unfamiliar weight more comfortable.

  Hope hefted her own backpack, accepting the weight with ease, along with a flood of memories from her days in the military.

  “How far is it, Mrs. Hopkins?” Jennifer, one of the younger girls, asked. This was her first time camping and she was nervous.

  “Not far and the trail’s not too steep. Just put one foot in front of the other, enjoy the scenery, and we’ll be there in no time,” Hope said.

  TyVon and another older boy had already started up the trail, setting a blistering pace to impress the younger ones.

  “Ty! Wait for us!” Ty’Nisha yelled.

  “Slow up, boys!” Hope added. “You’ll need to have enough energy to help set up the tents when we get there, remember.”

  She herded the rest of the group onto the trail.

  Dawn hung back, staying close to Hope.

  “Have you ever gone camping, Dawn?” Hope asked while keeping her eyes on the dozen other young people stretched out along the path.

  “Nah,” Dawn muttered.

  “This should be fun for your first time, then. Even though we are leaving our electronics and modern conveniences behind, we’re not really what you might call roughing it. There’s a shower house fairly close by and restrooms. We’ll be on the edge of the developed campground in the nearest section set aside for tent camping. It gives us the feeling of being in the wilderness, but we’re not really that far from civilization.”

  Dawn shrugged, still worrying about her foster brother and sisters, and processing a new perspective on her birth mother.

  “Are we almost there?” Jennifer asked, slumping down onto a trailside boulder and drinking from her canteen.

  “Almost,” Hope smiled. “Now, if we were really going into the wild, I would caution you to ration your water and supplies, but since this is only a weekend campout, I guess I can cut you some slack. But we do have to keep moving if we are going to get the camp set up before nightfall.”

  When the group stepped across the little stream into the clearing, TyVon and his friend, Colton, were already there, collapsed onto the ground, grinning with satisfaction.

  “What kept you?” TyVon asked, sitting up. “We’ve been here for ages.”

  “Oh? Then why haven’t you been collecting firewood? Or clearing away tent sites? Or hanging the food out of reach of the bears?”

  “What?” Colton protested. “But we just got here!”

  “Gather round, everyone,” Hope laughed. “TyVon and Colton are our most experienced campers, so they will give us a rundown of what we need to do to set up camp. Go ahead, boys!”

  TyVon grinned, then stood up and assumed a lecturing pose.

  “First thing is to gather wood for the campfire. Then select your tent site, clear the ground of twigs and rocks, find your tent mate and set up your tent. Uh, then roll out your sleeping bag and check that there’s no spiders
or snakes in it!”

  “TyVon,” Hope warned. “There will be no spiders or snakes in the sleeping bags.”

  “Oh, right, that’s what you have to do the second night,” he smiled. “Then we gotta make sure our food is hung where the lions and tigers and bears...”

  “Ty...” Hope cautioned.

  “Okay. But we do have to hang it and keep all the food closed, so as not to attract raccoons and maybe bears, too,” he said.

  “Ty’s right about that. Please remember not to leave any open food around or in your tent. We’ll eat together, then clean up before we go to bed at night. So, Ty and Colton, get your tent up, then help the others with theirs. When your tent is in order, go out and gather wood, but no one goes outside the camp circle alone. Not for visits to the showers, the latrines, or anything. Tent buddies stick together all weekend. Got that?” Hope asked, looking everyone in the eye.

  The children nodded and then scattered to pick out the choicest spots for their tents, but Dawn hung back.

  “I guess I don’t have a tent buddy,” she said. “Or a tent.”

  “You will be my buddy this weekend, Dawn. Is that okay?” Hope asked. “Let’s get set up.”

  …

  In Portland that same morning, Gideon slipped out of the meeting room and called the church office.

  “Hi, Cookie, it’s Pastor,” he said when the phone was picked up.

  “Oh, good morning, Pastor!” Cookie gushed. “How’s Portland?”

  “Fine, well, rainy, actually, but I’m stuck inside, so that doesn’t matter much,” Gideon replied.

  “Funny. It’s dry here,” Cookie said. “I’m always amazed at how just a few miles can make such a difference in the weather. I was commenting to Mr. Sanders only this morning about that very thing.”

  Gideon, aware that Mr. Sanders was one of his secretary’s many cats, ignored her comment.

  “Did the campers make it off okay?” he asked. “Were there any problems?”

  “The van with all the equipment was gone when I got here, so I’m sure they got away just fine. Why not phone Missus Pastor, if you’re wondering?” she asked.

  “This is an ‘unplugged’ weekend for the kids. Hope has her cell phone, but it’s only for emergencies. It wouldn’t set a very good example if she was seen chatting on her phone,” he said. “Is there anything else going on at church I should know about?”

  “Everything is under control, rest assured. You have a good time and wow the other pastors with your teachings,” she said.

  “I’ll do that,” Gideon laughed. “Call if anyone needs me. Leave a text if I don’t pick up. We’ll have our phones off during the sessions.”

  Gideon ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. He wished he could check in with Hope.

  He knew she was more than capable of handling things until he could join her the next morning, but, for some reason, he was feeling uneasy.

  Telling himself it was just nerves about his presentations, he shrugged and slipped back into the meeting room.

  Chapter TWELVE

  At lunchtime, back in Bannoch, Tyrone Mitchell sat across the table from his wife in the Boatworks coffee shop.

  “This is nice, getting together in the middle of the day, isn’t it?” he said to Berniece.

  “I was surprised when you called to have me meet you. You almost never get away for lunch. What’s up?” she asked.

  “Nothing, really. Just having TyVon and Ty’Nisha both away for the weekend got me to thinking about the last time we had a chance to be alone,” he said.

  Berniece raised her eyebrows and leaned forward.

  “Okay, what have you got up your sleeve, mister?” she asked.

  Tyrone chuckled.

  “You know me too well. Remember that little place we stayed at up in Cannon Beach on our honeymoon?” he asked.

  “Of course. I don’t expect it’s still there, though, after all these years.”

  “I checked it out and not only is it still in business, but it’s got four stars on Yelp. We have reservations for tonight and tomorrow, so go home and pack. We’ll drive up after work and spend some uninterrupted quality time, just you and me,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Our twentieth anniversary is next month. We can consider this an early celebration.”

  Berniece clasped his hand and squeezed it.

  “Now I remember why I married you,” she grinned.

  …

  Yvonne drove down the Coast Highway until hitting the turn-off to Corvallis at Newport. As she maneuvered around the curves through the Oregon mountains on this hour-long connection to the Interstate, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease. Since leaving Bannoch she had been driving with one eye trained on the rear-view mirror and with her ears straining for the sound of pursuing sirens.

  Finally, off the main route south Yvonne began to relax.

  “Those overworked social workers probably haven’t even had time to report their findings to law enforcement,” she mused. “Old bean-pole Merriweather was probably just bluffing about pressing charges, anyway.”

  But, then, what if her own mad dash out of town hadn’t even been needed? Yvonne’s shoulders slumped at the thought. Should she have stuck around to see what would happen?

  She shook her head. There was nothing for her in Bannoch, anymore. It was definitely time for a fresh start.

  This was the best thing that could have happened, she reasoned, sitting up straighter and gripping the steering wheel with resolve.

  Deak would set her up. He owed her that much.

  As the adrenalin from her early panic receded, Yvonne’s stomach growled.

  Entering Corvallis, she began looking for a place to stop for dinner. She’d been on the road for hours. It was time to think about getting a motel for the night before resuming her journey early the next morning.

  A cocktail lounge caught her eye with its menu of food and drinks posted on a sidewalk board. There was a low-budget motel right next door.

  Yvonne pulled up under the motel canopy and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  This was perfect.

  She could check into a room and go have dinner and some drinks to ease the trauma of the day.

  Watching a couple of rugged men in jeans and cowboy hats enter the lounge, Yvonne considered that she might even find some congenial companionship at the bar.

  Things were definitely looking up.

  …

  The afternoon session had finished, and Gideon was chatting with his fellow ministers in the hallway outside the meeting room when the chairman of the seminar pulled him aside.

  “We’ve had to move your next presentation to tomorrow morning, Gideon,” he said.

  “But we agreed I could finish up tonight! I need to join the youth camping trip early tomorrow,” Gideon protested.

  “I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. Tomorrow morning’s speaker must leave for the East Coast tonight, right after the evening session. We weren’t aware of the problem when we juggled your presentations. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be a few hours late for your rendezvous with the campers.”

  When his colleague walked away, Gideon fretted about the change in his schedule.

  Later, sitting at a round table with the other conference speakers, he let the conversation roll over him as he ate the usual conference-style chicken dinner. He chewed without tasting, all his thoughts focused on Hope and the campers.

  Should he call her? Did this delay constitute an emergency? It would be only a few hours, after all.

  “Don’t you agree, Gideon?” the man on his left asked, rousing Gideon from his reverie.

  “Uh, I’m afraid I wasn’t listening, Bill. What did you say?” he asked, embarrassed.

  “I was saying that there’s no way to know for sure just who wrote Ecclesiastes, but the writers of the Bible are so much less important than the inspired words they wrote,” Bill repeated.

  “Absolutely,” Gideon agreed, vowing to pay m
ore attention to his dining companions and resolutely putting the camping trip out of his mind for the moment.

  He was restless throughout the evening session but finally made up his mind to call Hope first thing in the morning to let her know he’d be a bit later arriving.

  Looking out the window when he returned to his room, he noticed the wind-driven rain pouring down the windows and said a prayer for Hope and the campers.

  He wouldn’t want to be outdoors on a night like this, but the weather forecast had been for clear skies in the region of the campgrounds. He pictured Hope and the youngsters all snug and dry in their tents after sitting around the campfire eating marshmallows and trying to scare each other with ghost stories.

  Clinging to that happy image, Gideon reviewed his notes for the morning and then drifted off to sleep.

  …

  With a minimum of drama, either comedy or tragedy, the tents were all erected, the dinner devoured, and the tired group of happy campers gathered in the twilight around a roaring campfire.

  Ty’Nisha and Aleeshia had been leading the campers in song and were concluding with a rather soulful version of “Kumbaya.” As they swayed, eyes closed and ethereal expressions on their faces, a low rumble sounded from the hills to their north.

  “What was that?” Jennifer cried out, breaking the mood.

  “Probably a big ol’ grizzly bear coming to eat you up!” TyVon teased.

  “There’s no grizzlies in these mountains,” Colton said. “It was most likely a hungry mountain lion.”

  “Now, boys,” Hope chastised mildly. “That was just thunder, Jenny. Nothing to be afraid of. There must be a storm north of us.”

  “Will it come here?” Jennifer asked.

  “Probably not. The weather is supposed to stay dry here this weekend. But if it rains, we’ve all got tents to keep us nice and dry,” Hope reassured the girl.

  “It’s getting late, so we’d better head off to bed. Two-by-two to the latrines, then quick march back and get tucked in. Everyone, chop-chop!” she said, clapping her hands.

  The group broke up, some heading to the restrooms down the path, a few of them stopping to collect towels and toothbrushes first.