Zellie Wells Trilogy (Glimpse, Glimmer, Glow)

by Stacey Wallace Benefiel

  Melody’s stomach twisted as Daniel walked over to Zellie and handed her a piece of paper. More Zellie head-shaking. What could be on that paper? Did Daniel remember? Was he going to tell? She slipped her feet into her flip flops and was about to open the car door when her sister waved goodbye to everyone and walked back toward her.

  Zellie smiled as she got into the car, handing the paper to Melody. She quickly unfolded it and saw that it was Daniel’s phone number.

  Her sister giggled. “He introduced himself to me and asked if you’d ever mentioned him.”

  Melody exhaled. “He doesn’t remember.”

  “Nope. He doesn’t remember. Looks like something finally went our way.”

  “Thank God. Maybe it’s a good omen for the rewind.”

  Zellie started up the car. “Speaking of which, we’ve got to hurry. I need to put my sundress on and you’ve got to grab the potato salad.”

  “Rosedell, ho!”

  “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I opened my eyes and stepped out of Dad’s car onto the blacktop of the church parking lot.

  “Any new info?” Melody asked.

  “Nope.” My glimpse and my vision had matched up again and had ended at the same point.

  Melody reached into the front seat, grabbed the bowl of potato salad and handed it to me. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

  Everything played out as I had seen. The potato salad on the table, Dad tugging up the back of my dress, Mrs. Carlton asking me to get the spoons. As I exited the church into the parking lot and fell into step next to Dory and Cybil Knapp, I glanced over at Melody standing next to Dad’s car. She held a disposable cell phone to her ear. I felt better knowing that Dory Knapp would be behind bars within the hour.

  “Happy Fourth of July,” I said.

  “Happy Fourth,” Dory replied, reaching down and adjusting her mother’s sun hat. My skin crawled watching her touch Mrs. Knapp.

  “Ouch!” I commented, pointing at the bruise.

  Dory adjusted the hat quickly. “Yes, Mother sometimes forgets where she is. She took a nasty tumble down the cellar stairs a few days ago thinking she was walking into the bathroom.”

  Or, you pushed her.

  We came to the edge of the yard. I waited a few seconds while Dory struggled to get the chair up the little hill.

  “Here, let me help,” I said finally, trying to keep my feelings in check. If I hadn’t needed to get to the end of this to meet Christopher’s mom I swear I would’ve slapped Dory a good one across the back of the head with a metal spoon. I got in front of the wheelchair. “Can I set these on your lap for a second?” I asked Mrs. Knapp. She squinted her eyes at me.

  “She probably doesn’t understand what you’re saying. Go ahead and set ̕em there, she won’t know the difference.”

  I tucked the spoons in between her folded hands and her belly. Grabbing onto both arms of the chair, I pulled on it while Dory pushed. With one great heave we got the chair up the little hill and onto the part of the yard that was easier to navigate. I reached for the spoons.

  Mrs. Knapp clasped onto my wrist and held tight. I looked at her hand on me and longed to give her a sign that her abuse was almost over.

  “Mother, let Zellie go.” When she didn’t comply, Dory got in her face and spoke loudly. “Mother. That’s Zellie, the pastor’s daughter. Let her be.”

  I squatted down in front of the old woman and met her gaze. “Everything okay, Mrs. Knapp? You remember me? I visited you with my mom sometimes. You’re at the church picnic with your daughter Dory.”

  She dug her nails deeper into my wrist, her eyes going from blank to terror. She shimmied her right knee until the light blanket that had been covering it fell away. My gaze went to Mrs. Knapp’s swollen and bruised leg poking out underneath the hem of her skirt.

  Dory jerked her mother’s chair and I fell back on my butt, catching myself with my hands so that I didn’t bang my tailbone up too badly. Dory dragged the wheelchair onto the blacktop, sending the spoons clattering to the ground.

  And now for some good ol’ slander...

  “Don’t you say a word, Zellie Wells,” she hissed at me, her voice low. “Everyone knows you’re a slut and a liar.”

  I pretended to be shocked. What a bitch.

  Dory wheeled around and took off across the parking lot, jostling the blanket from her mother’s lap. It slid to the ground, getting wrapped up in the foot rests.

  “Damn it!” Dory cursed, hauling back and kicking at the chair. It lurched forward, the blanket coming loose.

  I looked behind me and saw Dad and Avery running toward me. Three...two...one.

  “Stop! I said stop!”

  Dory reached her car, which was parked on the edge of the lot by the street, and took her keys from her pocket. She pushed her mother’s wheelchair as hard as she could into the street and jumped into her car.

  I ran toward the street with my arms outstretched and grabbed hold of the handlebars as Dory drove over the sidewalk and clunked into the road. The motorcyclist whipped around the corner, driving directly into Dory’s path and swerving to avoid her. My hand shot out as fireworks went off behind me; Melody had timed her diversion perfectly. I rewound the motorcycle back two feet with one hand while I pulled Mrs. Knapp’s chair out of the way with the other. The sirens from a police car blared and it stopped sideways in the street, blocking Dory’s exit. I dropped my hand down, allowing the motorcyclist to proceed forward. The bike jerked to the side, but the driver righted it and avoided crashing into the car.

  “Oh, dear Lord!” Mrs. Knapp said. Melody came running up and wheeled her out of the street.

  The motorcyclist slowed and turned around. She stopped right next to me and flipped up the visor on her helmet. “Good girl.” She winked. Stripping off the driving glove she was wearing, she held her bare right hand out to me. I took it.

  An expanse of blue sky, wispy white clouds smeared across it. Rust colored foothills. The desert, boulders and brush blending into marshland at the edge of a body of water. A cow fence. A gravel service road. Up to the left a teepee and a wooden sign that is too far away for me to read.

  She squeezed my hand and then let go. “Tell Christopher that I love him and I’ll see him soon.” She smiled. “I’ve gotta get this body to the hospital before it gives out on me. I may have been a bit more adventurous with it than it was used to.” She flipped her visor down and sped away.

  All around me, chaos erupted. The police pulled Dory from her car and handcuffed her. An ambulance passed Christopher’s mom coming from the other end of the street. Dad was standing next to Mrs. Knapp now, comforting her. He caught my eye and gave me a look I hadn’t seen in a long time. Pride.

  Melody had somehow talked Avery into doing crowd control. They waved everyone back toward the food. Avery was holding the spent fireworks in his hand, assuring people that there wasn’t any gunfire.

  Officer Crawford from the day before approached me. “Hello, Miss Wells. I’m Officer Crawford. I need to get a statement from you.”

  We walked over and stood in the driveway next to the ambulance.

  “How did you know my name?” I asked, glancing over at Mrs. Knapp as the paramedics tended to her.

  Crawford chuckled. “Dory is cussing you something awful.”

  “Oh well.” I shrugged.

  “I don’t suppose it was you that made the anonymous call to the police?”

  “Nope, I just saw Dory push her mom into the street and went after her.”

  He pulled his notebook out of his pocket. “Tell me everything that happened.”

  After Dory had been taken to jail and Mrs. Knapp took an ambulance to the hospital, the congregation had simmered down enough to eat. Everyone sat around the long plastic tables the women’s bible study group had set up on the lawn and talked about what surely was the most exciting church picnic ever.

  Melody, Avery, Mom and I sat at
the end of a table together. I tried not to let all the people whispering and staring at me get under my skin. I accomplished this by focusing my efforts on the three large scoops of potato salad I’d dished out onto my plate. What can I say? I’m a fan.

  “I thought you could use another one of these,” Dad said, setting an icy bottle of water in front of me next to the other two I’d already downed. The new assistant pastor and his wife, an attractive brunette couple in their late twenties, hovered behind him.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “That was really heroic what you did today.” The pastor stepped around Dad and offered his hand to me. “Dave Dodson.”

  I shook his hand. Happily nothing happened. No vision, no weird vibe. This dude was just a pastor. “It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Rosedell.”

  He reached back and pulled his wife forward. “And this is my wife Dorothy.”

  She smiled and gave us all a little wave. “Please don’t call me Dottie, Dave and Dorothy Dodson is already awkward enough,” she joked.

  We all laughed at that and then Dad stepped in. “The blonde here is my other daughter Melody.” Melody waved. “Next to her is the girls’ mother, Grace.” Mom waved. “Next to Zellie is her boyfriend Avery.” Avery changed up his greeting with jazz hands.

  “And I’m Rebecca Adams,” Becky said, walking up to us with Wyatt on her hip.

  “My girlfriend.” Dad put his hand on the small of her back.

  “Who’s this little guy?” Dorothy asked, grabbing Wyatt’s foot and jiggling it. He gurgled.

  “That’s my son, Wyatt,” Mom answered.

  Dave and Dorothy nodded like they actually understood what was going on.

  “It’s not as Sister Wives as it all seems,” Becky said, handing Wyatt off to Mom and sitting through Mr. Adams on the chair on the other side of Avery.

  “More like Wife Swap,” Melody muttered. I kicked her underneath the table.

  Dad blushed something fierce.

  “Small towns, I get it,” Dorothy said. “We grew up in Potosi, Missouri. Before I married Dave I dated his brother Dirk.”

  Pastor Dave bumped his hip into his wife’s. “On that note,” he turned to Dad, “I believe there are some people you’re not related to that I should meet?”

  Dad ushered them over to the next table for more introductions.

  “Becky, you sat in Mike,” Mom whispered across the table.

  Mrs. Adams didn’t move. “Am I sitting in him now?” She swiped a roll from Avery’s plate and took a bite.

  Mom rolled her eyes. “No.” Mr. Adams stood at the end of the table with his arms crossed.

  And Dorothy thought their situation was awkward.

  “So, will there be any more impromptu trips to Bend to meet strange people in strange houses tonight, kids?” Mrs. Adams asked.

  Crap. Melody and I had forgotten to get our stories straight.

  “Okay, now that the rewind is over I can let you in on what we were doing last night,” Melody said. I kicked her under the table again.

  She glared at me and continued on. “I needed fireworks to use as a diversion today, so we had to go to the Warm Springs reservation to pick some up.”

  “That was the big secret?” Mom asked.

  Melody shrugged. “Those fireworks are illegal, and you know that Aunt Hazel always says that the less people there are involved in a rewind the better.”

  “And you had to have Avery drive you there because?”

  “Because I didn’t know how long it was going to take and I knew you’d need the car seat to take Wyatt home. Plus, you know how Avery and Zellie are. They practically can’t go to the bathroom without alerting each other.”

  I considered kicking her again, but didn’t want her leg to end up looking like Mrs. Knapp’s. Melody had come up with a believable cover story. I suppose I could handle some teasing. Avery must have thought the same thing because he’d been looking down at his plate and stuffing his mouth with Kettle Chips since his mom had started trying to get information out of us.

  As usual, Mr. Adams was the most skeptical of us all. “How much do fireworks cost these days?” he asked me.

  “Mel, Mr. Adams wants to know how much the fireworks were.”

  She thought for a second and then burrowed around in her purse, coming up with a receipt. Slapping it on the table, she directed her gaze toward where she thought Mr. Adams was standing. “I spent twenty-four bucks.”

  He crossed his arms more tightly. “Not bad,” he mumbled.

  Melody slid the receipt back into her purse.

  “Well,” Mrs. Adams said, “Paul and I are taking the double D’s over to the fairgrounds for the rodeo and fireworks show this evening. You guys are all welcome to come.”

  Avery finally looked up from his plate. “Thanks Mom, but Zel and Mel and I are meeting up with Claire at the Lodge. Her parents are throwing a big party for all the people that did the golf tournament today.”

  Mrs. Adams stood. “Don’t I know it? In fact, one of the golfer’s wives has a hair appointment with me in half an hour. I better scoot.” She turned to Mom. “What about you, Gracie? You and Wyatt and Mike wanna go to the rodeo with us?”

  “Can’t. I’ve got to pick Aunt Hazel up at the airport later on. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “Bummer. Have fun with that.” Mrs. Adams wound her index finger under Wyatt’s chin and gave him a tickle. “See you later, Wy-guy.”

  While Avery got dressed in the requisite khakis and polo shirt in the bathroom, Melody and I went to our bedroom to change for the party.

  Melody whipped my vision notebook out from its hiding place under my mattress and sat down on her bed. “Tell me everything Christopher’s mom showed you,” she whispered.

  I relayed the vision while I stripped the plain cotton sundress off and put the green dress I had worn to my sixteenth birthday party on. It was still one of the nicest things I owned and a favorite of Avery’s.

  Melody scribbled the details down in the notebook and then put it back under my mattress. “It sounds like plenty of places around here, the landscape, I mean. But it didn’t look familiar?”

  I slid my feet into a pair of flat black sandals. “It wasn’t someplace I’d been before, but it definitely has to be close by. Maybe a touristy campground or something? That would explain the teepee.”

  “I’ll head to the library tomorrow and do a search.”

  Yes, we were the last kids on the planet not to have a computer at home. No internet on our cell phone either. Dad thought it would make us morally stronger or something. Whatevs.

  Melody stood in front of our closet with the door open, staring at its lackluster offerings. “Ugh. I have nothing to wear that’s nice enough.”

  I joined her in her staring and had to agree. “We have to stop by Claire’s and grab,” I did air quotes with my fingers, “‘the only shoes’ that go with the outfit she’s wearing tonight. She forgot to take them with her this morning.” I pulled a dark denim skirt off its hanger. “Why don’t you wear this and borrow one of Claire’s shirts? She has lots of fancy stuff.”

  Melody put the skirt on and evaluated herself in the mirror. “Yeah, okay. That’ll work.” She went over to her dresser and unplugged our cell phone from its charger. She squinted at the screen as her thumbs moved quickly over the keyboard. Finished, she tossed the phone into her bag. “Now Ben knows where to go when he gets into town.”

  “And hopefully where he’ll stay.”

  We headed over to Claire’s house. Avery unlocked the front door with the key she’d given him at The Lodge and once again manned the alarm system. I picked up Claire’s shoes – a pair of red, strappy patent leather high heels and Melody borrowed a sparkly gold halter top that draped at the neckline. As Mel and I were walking down the hallway, I was hit with a blast of pine scent. I clutched my sister’s arm and dropped Claire’s shoes to the floor.

  “You guys ready? We’ve still got to get Jay,” Avery called from downsta
irs.

  “Just a second,” Melody called back, guiding me to the wall and helping me sit down.

  I let the vision wash over me.

  Two white men dressed all in black, one of medium height and the other around 6’2”, stood in front of Claire’s house. The taller man picked the lock on the side door that led into the garage. The lock popped and they slipped inside. They hurried through the empty garage and over to the keypad next to the door that opened into the mudroom. No Suburban meant that Claire’s parents weren’t home.

  They cautiously pushed the unlocked mudroom door open and then waited, listening. No one made a sound. The alarm didn’t go off. They moved through to the kitchen, where the digital clock on the front of the range glowed green and read 3:22. It was the middle of the night. But which night? Neither one of them glanced in the direction of the dry erase calendar that I knew hung next to the refrigerator.

  Keeping close to the hallway wall, they walked to the bottom of the stairs and paused again. Still no sounds. Claire was asleep.

  Stepping lightly, they ascended the stairs. At the top they turned left and walked toward Claire’s bedroom. Her door was ajar. The taller man touched his fingertips to the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly. The red patent leather shoes sat in the middle of the floor. This was going to happen tonight.

  The men went to Claire’s bed, one on each side. The shorter man took a bandana from his pants pocket and wadded it up in his hand. Claire was closer to him; despite having a king-sized bed, she always slept on the right side instead of in the middle. The man with the bandana sprung on Claire in one quick movement and forced the bandana into her mouth. She sat up, trying to jerk away from him, trying to scream. The tall man crawled across the bed and grabbed her hands, yanking them behind her back. Holding both her wrists in one of his hands, he produced a zip tie from the breast pocket of his black long sleeved t-shirt and secured it around her hands.