Half hidden by years of overgrown brush, the house was one of many that the Dixie Company had once rented to its line workers. The house was now owned by an absentee landlord, and it looked like a puff of wind would blow it down—if the wind could get to it. Hints of gray paint clung stubbornly to the weathered siding. Crumbling cement steps led to a front porch.
“Not exactly healthy looking.” I pulled a rusty nail from the rotted front railing.
Ted knocked on the door. He knocked again. The door opened just enough for us to see dark hair and a thick eyebrow that was pulled down toward his eye. He appeared to be about thirty. “What?”
“I’m Ted Hancock—”
“I know who you are.”
I didn’t like the looks of the man, or his attitude. “Are you Jack?” I asked.
“Yah.”
“We’re looking for Mitch,” I stated.
“He’s at work.”
“At the garage?” Ted questioned. “They told me Mitch hasn’t been there for three days. He was supposed to work for me today, and he didn’t show up.”
“I don’t know where he is. I figured he was at work. He lit out of here a few days ago, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“He left?” I asked. “And he’s still gone?”
He was lying.
“Yah, he’s still gone.” Jack glared; I could feel his challenge. Bullies were the same everywhere.
“Do you know when he might be back?” Ted asked.
“Look, I don’t know where he went, and I don’t know when he’ll be back, if ever.”
He started to close the door and I grabbed the edge. “Why do you think he might not come back? Did he take his things?”
“Mister, I’m no babysitter.”
I let go just in time to keep my hand from being crushed.
Ted followed me to the street. “Mitch hasn’t gone anywhere,” I hissed.
“How do you know?”
I nodded toward the back of the house.
There, mostly hidden by trees and vines, was Mitch’s truck.
Even though my body ached for rest, sleep refused to come. My room no longer comforted me. Even with the lights on, shadows reached bony arms toward me. The air felt heavy and oppressive considering a late night breeze fluttered the fabric of the curtains. Looking toward the door, I expected to see someone—or something—creeping toward me.
As dawn broke, I finally slept, only to dream—the nightmare...
I stood on the edge of a cliff. Across the wide chasm was another person, on horseback. Heart pounding in my chest, I had to reach him. Desperate for anything—a fallen tree, a vine, rope forgotten by another traveler, I spied a horse grazing not far from me. Hadn’t I looked there before?
My mouth filled with cotton. Could a horse leap the gap? I didn’t know, but had to try, had to trust. He stood still as I grasped his thick mane and pulled myself onto his broad back.
As though knowing what I expected of him, he raced toward the cliff.
The man on the other side of the gap held out his arms, his expression pleading, begging me to come. My breath came in short pants as I clung to the flying horse.
I focused my eyes on the man across the gap. The horse pounded closer, gaining speed.
As we approached the edge, my eyes dropped to the jagged rock on the opposite side of the chasm. Did I really trust this horse with my life? My body slipped sideways off the beast. He leaped into open space and dissolved in a red flame before my eyes.
The man lowered his head, turned his horse and began to ride away.
Standing as close to the edge as I dared, I looked for the horse. There was no sign of him. I yelled into the yawing space, begging the retreating man to stay. Wind whipped my cry, tearing it from my mouth. My words never reached the retreating man.
Gusts of wind swirled around me. In spite of the danger, I hesitated to leave the side of the chasm. What if the man came back? The wind increased, now tearing at my clothing, abrading my skin with shooting bits of sand. My internal self shouted for me to find shelter before the wind tore me to bits, but I remained by the cliff’s edge.
And then I spotted the horse, grazing right where I had seen him before. He stood in the sun, the grass steady and quiet. I tried to move toward him, but I had waited too long, the wind was too strong. It picked me up and pushed me over the edge of the cliff. Falling. Waiting to die.
Embedded in the wind was the faint sound of metal against metal.
I woke in darkness, sweaty and twisted in my sheets. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I put my head in my hands, the dream broken.
But the grinding continued; the mechanical grinding that had repeatedly interrupted my sleep. Without the barrier of dreams, I recognized the sound as Mitch’s truck. My head jerked up; I was fully alert. The noise was already fading. Had he been inside the house?
I ran to Ted and Trina’s room and put my ear against the door. Hearing only steady breathing, I entered the room far enough to see two forms in the bed. Should I go down to the kitchen? I knew what I would find: dirt on the floor by the cupboard.
Mitch had a nerve coming back to the house, especially since he must know we found the cave. The weekly newspaper hadn’t had time to print the story, but gossip must have reached him. I would nail the cupboard closed in the morning. We could pull the nails out later and bring up the remaining trunks.
As I returned to my bed, bone chilling coldness filled the room. Icy fingers penetrated my skin and muscle and clutched my heart.
28
What robbed Trina of sleep? From the look of her heavy eyes, her night’s rest must have equaled mine.
She had placed her arm across the kitchen table, and her head lay on top of it. She still wore her night clothes: a T-shirt and pair of shorts. Trina always dressed as soon as she got out of bed. Overwhelming sadness settled in my heart. How much time does she have left? Why won’t she talk to me? “Bad night, honey?”
“Ummm.”
As much as the truth would hurt, this game had to end. We had to stop living in this land of make believe.
“Trina.” Sitting beside her, I placed my hand on her arm and struggled for the right words. “I know you’re keeping something from me, but you need to tell me. You’ll feel better if you do.”
She lifted her face and peered into my face. Here soft doe-like eyes were more familiar to me than my own, but I still peered into them, memorizing every spec of gold, each variation in color. I remembered the emptiness of Nancy’s eyes as she moved from earth to heaven. Her shell remained, but the life in her eyes was gone. I knew she was dead. My throat tightened, and I choked back tears at the thought of my daughter’s lovely eyes losing their sparkle.
“Dad, I’m not keeping secrets from you on purpose. It’s just that—”
The back door rattled and Sandra entered. Trina’s opportunity to share her secret with me ended.
Sandra was early; I hadn’t even had my first cup of coffee yet. She carried a basket that wafted out a spicy smell like fresh oatmeal cookies.
Trina’s face brightened. “You remembered!”
“My famous pecan muffins, hot from the oven. Are you up to one?” She gave Trina a searching look.
She knows! Jealousy turned to relief. Trina would need another woman. Ted and I had a role to play, but a mother was different, and Sandra filled that role. My appreciation for Sandra grew. Her love for my daughter was evident.
As Trina nibbled contentedly on her muffin, Sandra set a plate with two warm muffins in front of me.
“I can get the last of the furniture polished, and sweep the front porch this morning,” Sandra said, as Trina and I filled our mouths with warm pleasure. “I thought maybe this afternoon I’d plant some flowers around the front of the house, if that’s acceptable to y’all?”
“What would we do without you right now?” Trina asked, spewing crumbs from her mouth as she spoke. Both women laughed.
“You’re mee
ting a need for me, too.” Sandra spotted the tell-tale dirt. “You have a visitor last night?”
I explained about hearing Mitch’s truck as he was leaving. “Half the trunks are missing, so now he knows we found the cave, if he didn’t hear about it before.”
Trina snorted. “As big as the crowd was outside when they took out the bones, everyone has to know. Did you ever think, Dad, it might not be Mitch, but someone from out of town?”
“Why do you insist on protecting him? Trina, think with your brain for once.”
“Bill!” Sandra’s stern expression told me mama cat was already on guard.
“I’m going to nail that cupboard shut. I should have done it as soon as the police left.”
“But there’s more stuff down there.” Pink spots colored Trina’s cheeks. I wasn’t sure if they were caused from finally having food in her stomach or her temper.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I headed toward the door. “I’ll keep working on the brick around the walkway out back. I’ll nail the cupboard shut after lunch.
When I was half way across the yard, Sandra called to me.
“You sound like a man with something on his mind. Do you want to talk about it?”
Morning sun highlighted the softness of her face; her modest shorts and shirt hugged her curves. Emotions churned.
“I’m just trying to decide what I need to do at the end of the summer.” Where did that come from? I had not given any thought to the end of the summer, but it was true. With Trina’s cancer, I needed to make a decision. Should I go back to Ohio or stay in Darlington?
And now there was Sandra. She definitely complicated the decision. But whatever I did, it had to be the best for Trina.
Sandra squeezed my hand and my fingers instinctively curled around hers. “Decisions like that are hard to make. I know Trina would love to keep you here.”
Is she blushing? I tried to stare without being obvious.
“You know about Trina’s condition,” I said, my fingers still wrapped around hers. “I could see it in your face when you came in today.”
“You’re a perceptive man.”
“It’s a relief that you know. If I stay or not, Trina will still need a mother-figure. I’m glad she has you. Don’t worry, I’ll pull my weight, and I know Ted will too, but it seems sometimes women need other women.”
“I’m glad you’re comfortable with our friendship. Trina is quickly becoming the daughter I never had.”
I stroked her hand with my thumb, enjoying its softness. Trina would find a mother just in time to die.
“Did Trina ever tell you how she got her name?” I asked.
“No, she never did.”
“Her name is a combination of everything that was important to Nancy, Trina’s mother. Trina stands for the trinity and the nativity. Tri-na. Nancy loved naming things. She even named our cars.”
“Trina’s a beautiful name, and it’s even more beautiful now.”
Conscious of her hand in mine, I let go. “If you’re going to be a stand-in mother, you should know those things.” Hesitating, I continued. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t mention to her that I know. She’ll tell me in her own time.”
“I’ll keep your secret.”
She continued to stand beside me. Had I forgotten to say something?
“I don’t think I have ever really thanked you for sharing what you saw in the attic,” she finally said. “You know-- seeing Jimmy. It must have been a shock. I’m not sure what I would have done if I’d been in your place.”
“You’ve thanked me enough by being here for Trina.”
“Trina’s a joy. Your family is meeting a need for me, too, Bill. It’s like you belonged here all the time. I’m still surprised at how much you resemble Uncle Carl, and you’re an identical match to whoever’s picture we found in the attic. I’m just sorry all the family’s gone and there’s no one to tell us who he is.”
“Old photos can be deceiving.” But my likeness to the portrait was disconcerting.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
I could smell her perfume, and hated how my heart was thumping. Something about her made me act strangely, like I was having an allergic reaction or something. My tongue was swollen, and my hands were clumsy.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” I mumbled. Then I kissed her cheek.
“I need to go plant those flowers.” She turned away.
This time I was sure about the blush. And I had no regrets for the kiss.
An hour later, Sandra once again crossed the yard toward me. Even from a distance, her expression told me she was not bringing good news.
“The lab report came back on the blanket.” Tears glazed eyes. “The fibers match the ones from the attic.”
I pulled her close to me. “We knew they might.” I rested my face gently against the top of her head. “Why plant a blanket if it’s not the right one?”
“But there’s more.” She lifted her face to mine. “There were traces of marijuana on the blanket, and they’ve taken Pastor Steve back to jail.”
She collapsed onto my chest sobbing.
What is happening?
29
Clouded with sleep, I clung to the layer of existence between wakefulness and slumber. At first barely aware of the black arms that stretched across the room, the icy cold that followed removed all vestiges of sleep. I pulled the sheet over me, but the thin protection did nothing to provide warmth.
I was thrashing, I had fallen through the frozen lake, freezing water surrounded me, and the opening that should have been above my head was gone. I could not find the opening. My heart glazed over in terror. Did Satan have this much power?
God! Help me! The cold numbed my body, froze my mind.
The next thing I knew, Ted was shaking my shoulder and calling my name.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find Trina!”
“What time is it?” I struggled to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Five in the morning.”
The room was dark. The light spilling in from the hall made Ted look ghost-like. I grasped my arms; my skin felt warm. Nighttime shadows filled the room, but the black icy fingers were gone.
I noticed Ted was talking. What had he said about Trina?
“I always wake up about this time. When Trina wasn’t in bed, I figured she was in the bathroom, but she wasn’t.”
“So she went downstairs.”
“I looked! I’ve looked everywhere. I even went outside. I can’t find her anywhere.”
His panic started to seep into me. For all his flaws, I had never seen Ted this upset. “She has to be close by. A woman in her condition can’t wander too far.”
“Exactly, but where is she? The car’s still here. So is her cellphone.”
“Maybe she went to Sandra’s.” The lame suggestion sounded stupid even to my ears. Why Trina would walk to Sandra’s in the dark was beyond me.
“I’ll call her!” As Ted bounded out the door, I pulled on my clothes.
Ted was unlocking the kitchen door when I got downstairs. “I woke Sandra up. Trina isn’t there, but Sandra’s coming right over. I’m calling the police.”
I thought of little Jimmy. Someone had killed him, and that someone was still out there. My heart lurched. What if that someone has Trina?
In less time than I thought possible, Sandra rushed through the back door. “Have you found her yet?” She held my gaze, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. It has happened again. She stood still a second then grabbed the large mixing bowl off the shelf.
“What are you doing?”
“When we find her she’ll be hungry.” She turned and looked at me, fear filling her face. “I don’t know what else to do.”
I held her as she cried the tears I would not permit myself to shed.
Ted ran into the room. “The police are on their way.”
/> When the knock came, Sandra and I headed to the parlor while Ted answered the door. Seeing who had been sent, I inwardly groaned: young Officer Studler. This time he seemed concerned.
“Where have you looked?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” Ted answered. “I’ve searched all over the house, and in the yard and outbuildings.”
“We’ll put out an alert,” the policeman said, writing in his little notebook.
Ted’s head fell into his hands. “I feel so helpless.”
“We all do, honey.” Sandra moved beside him and rubbed his back.
I escorted Officer Studler to the door.
“We will find her, Mr. Iver.”
It was all I could do to choke back my tears.
In the parlor, Sandra was still sitting beside Ted. She had her arm around the tall man’s shoulders. “Have you prayed?” she asked.
I looked at her blankly.
“Have you prayed for God to keep Trina safe, and to help us find her?”
“That’s the first thing I should have done,” Ted said, his voice thick. “I’ve been so worried…”
“God knows that,” murmured Sandra. “May I pray for her?”
We bowed our heads.
“Father, you know where Trina is, and you know how much she is loved. We want her home again. Please protect her, keep her calm and keep her safe. Help those who are looking for her to find her quickly. Pastor Steve spoke of spiritual warfare, Lord. If that is what is going on, please send angels to protect Trina and to fight the invisible warriors for her. Thank you, Father, for your love—in ways we can see and ways we can’t. In Jesus name, Amen”
Ted said he had searched the whole house, but would he be able to see what I could see? I didn’t know. My mouth felt like it was full of sand. Terrified of what I might find, I still had to know.
I thought again about my conversation with Pastor Steve. My ghost boys were either demons posing as the children, or they were sent by God. I still didn’t know which, but if I saw Trina, I would be able to tell the difference. No demon could reflect the goodness of my daughter. Steve had warned me that evil can make itself lovely; its job is to deceive. But I was her father; I would know.
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