by Blythe Baker
“Thank you, Mamma Jackie!” I yelled down the stairs.
She didn’t reply but I knew she heard me.
The idea of resting was too hard to resist. I slipped into my pajamas, climbed into bed, and cracked open my orange juice. I drank it in just a couple gulps. My bed was so soft it was like I’d been sleeping on hard rocks for the past week. Just one night in the hospital made me feel like I’d been gone for a month.
Whether I wanted to or not, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the sun was going down outside my window. I heard a ruckus in the kitchen. So, tenderly touching the bald spot on my head, I got out of bed and went downstairs.
Mamma Jackie had some canned soup cooking in a pot and two soup bowls set out on the counter.
“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry,” she ordered. I watched as she stood at the stove, stirring the soup.
“No. I’m hungry.” I rubbed my stomach.
“It’s tomato. You didn’t have any chicken noodle. Heaven knows when was the last time you shopped.”
I let Mamma Jackie ladle the soup into my bowl and went to the dining room table. I pushed the papers and junk mail to the far end so Mamma Jackie and I had enough space to eat.
She came from the kitchen, carrying two bowls of soup, two salad bowls, and a package of crackers.
“Let me help.” I stood up.
“Sit down.” She pulled her lips down at the corners.
Everything made it to the table without spilling. She went back and got us both silverware and a glass of milk for me.
When she took a seat, she looked happy.
I wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk or not. Judging from her behavior in the past, I opted to just keep quiet.
“You didn’t know I was a waitress at one time, did you?” she muttered, holding her chin up a little higher than usual.
“I didn’t,” I admitted.
“I was a teenager. It was my first job.”
“Did you like it?”
“I liked the money.
That was all Mamma Jackie had to say about the topic. We finished the rest of our dinner in silence. Since it was just a few dishes, I cleaned up and let her retreat to her peach julep nightcap and some horrible sitcom in her room.
I put the television on in the front room but I wasn’t really watching anything.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I had recently been attacked, not once but twice. Maybe it was the hospital. Maybe it was the nap I had taken today. But I was starting to see things clearer. Regardless of the note that had been slipped into my purse earlier, I wasn’t going anywhere. The last thing that was going to chase me out of my home was a coward who sent threats and snuck up on people from behind.
“Hey,” Mamma Jackie said as she came out of her room. “You need to tell those idiots working on your fancy-pants expansion back in the tea garden that they shouldn’t be on the premises at night.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last night. There was digging going on out back. I could hear the noises coming all the way from the garden.”
“Did you go out there?”
“No. I was instructed by you not to bother the workers anymore. See what happens when the inmates run the prison?”
That wasn’t the landscapers, I thought. They were by the book. Union rules and safety regulations and all that. Anyway, who would dig at night? Only someone who didn’t want to be seen.
“How long were they back there?” I asked, hoping Mamma Jackie had a time.
“It was about an hour.”
“Did you see any lights?”
She shook her head no.
This was becoming too routine. It was bad enough I had a trespasser but they were causing damage to my property. I wasn’t going to wait for another threat from this person. The next time they showed up, I’d make my move.
“I’ll take care of it,” I assured her.
“That sounds convincing,” she scoffed and went back into her room, shutting the door behind her.
My ankle had healed from the fall I’d taken several days ago. My arms and shoulders and legs had ceased to be stiff from the extreme workout of pulling myself from death’s grasp at the Mission. But my head injury from the latest attack still throbbed a little.
It might be dangerous to jump right in and go into the garden tonight to see if the trespasser was there again. I decided to give whoever it was a freebee this time, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t keep my eyes and ears open…
Almost all night, I woke up every couple of hours and listened for heavy equipment moving and digging. Mamma Jackie had said she was able to hear it last time across the distance.
So far, the night had only produced the sounds of bullfrogs and crickets.
“I hope I haven’t missed him or her,” I muttered to myself, as the sun started to come up. “I hope that, whoever they are, they come back just one more time. That’s all I need is one more time.”
After a shower, a cup of coffee, and some toast with jelly, I headed off to work. My head was feeling better and I wasn’t going to let it slow me down.
I felt refreshed and excited, as I removed the chain across the parking lot entrance and opened the tea garden gate. Kelly soon arrived and, while she managed things at the entrance gate, I hunkered down in the gift shop at the top of the hill. With a map of the grounds and a red marker, I began to plan my ambush.
There would be no more tree-climbing for me. This ambush would be on the ground and in the shadows. So I needed to map out how and where I could get closest to the trespasser without being seen. Not only did I mark the path on my map, but I also counted the steps from each hiding point. Making my way through the dark would be as simple as 1-2-3.
By the time I was finished, it was noon.
“Twelve hours until midnight. No one will dare come out here sooner than that,” I mused. “So help me, if it turns out to be Alice Merrick, the horrible neighbor... If she has anything to do with this mess, I’ll really be fit to be tied.”
The idea of my neighbor trying to sabotage my business was disheartening, if for no other reason than that we shared a property line. I still couldn’t imagine her motive for doing it, but in twelve more hours I might know the truth.
I was happy to see that the garden had a good number of visitors that afternoon. It was a beautiful day, with big puffy white clouds providing shade and a cool temperature.
Kelly had joined me up in the shop by now, and I put aside my map and talked with her, while she sold more of the blooming teas and teapots to the customers filtering in.
Mrs. Odine had come back and bought four of the paper fans she had commented on the last time she visited.
“I’m not sure what I’ll be wearing so I better get each color just to be safe.” She giggled. “We have seats so close to the stage I’m sure the lights will be a scorcher. But why not? You only live once.”
“Can I get you any teas, Mrs. Odine?” I asked.
“Nope. We still have plenty from the last time I was in. We’re looking forward to seeing the finished improvements at the back of your garden, by the way. I love the sound of tinkling water in a pond. Of course, my husband is a talker. So no matter if you have the waterfall pond, if he’s with me I won’t hear it.” She jerked her thumb at the gift shop door, where her husband was patiently waiting outside. “See you girls next week,” she finished.
“Have fun at the opera,” Kelly called after her.
“Her husband is the talker?” I asked. I looked at Kelly and we both laughed like schoolgirls.
The day wrapped up slowly and uneventfully.
By the time I closed the garden in the evening and returned home, Mamma Jackie had gone out. Apparently, when she last went to play bingo she’d won big. Taking her winnings, she and her friend, Mrs. Chaves, were on their way to the thrift stores to look for some bargains.
I had the house to myself for a little while, but I was pacing like a caged animal.
Speaking of which, I turned to see Moonshine rocking on the little swing in his cage, singing to himself.
“Why couldn’t you be a dog?” I asked him. “That way I could take you out for a long walk and burn up some of that energy.”
“Breakfast, Lazy,” he squawked.
“You ate already.” I walked up to the bird and stuck my finger inside to stroke his feathers. He allowed me three gentle pats, before turning on me and nearly catching my finger in his beak.
“Aha! Getting too quick for you, Moonshine,” I gloated.
I left the bird alone and sat on the veranda, letting time pass.
At first, I couldn’t wait for the hours to go by. But as the stars began to appear in the darkness overhead and the temperature started to drop, I grew nervous. I tried to work on my laptop at the dining room table but my nerves wouldn’t let me.
“What are you so jittery about?” Mamma Jackie asked. “Waiting for that Detective Sullivan to call?”
“What do you know about Michael Sullivan?”
“I know you two make goo-goo eyes at each other.”
“We do not.”
“Pfft.” She waved me off, like usual.
But now that she mentioned it, I hadn’t spoken to Michael since the hospital. He was supposed to let me know what, if anything, he’d found out about the threatening note left in my purse.
I stood up from the dining room table and pulled my phone from my pocket.
“Now you’re going to call him.” Mamma Jackie clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I never had to call a man. They always called me.”
“Called you a cab, I’ll bet,” I answered as I dialed his number at the precinct.
“Aren’t you the droll one? I bet you’ll get his voicemail.”
I ignored the rest of my ex-mother-in-law’s mumblings as I went out on the veranda.
To my frustration, I did indeed get his voicemail.
“Hi,” I said. “It’s me, Maddie. I was wondering if you’ve learned anything about that note? I know it’s late but I’m awake. Give me a call whenever you get this. Thanks.”
As soon as I hung up the phone, I heard a board creak behind me. I spun around to find no one was there, but I was sure I heard the soft padding sound of Mamma Jackie’s slippers hurrying away from the open doorway. Great. Now she was eavesdropping on my phone calls. Ah well, I would deal with that later.
Thinking of Michael, I remembered that I hadn’t read a card he had included with the flowers he’d brought me in the hospital. I went back into the house. My purse was where it always was on the table next to the front door. Inside, the little white envelope stood out against the dark fabric. I plucked it out and carefully pulled the card out.
Dear Maddie, We make a good team so get well soon. – Michael
Drake would have cringed had he read this. Not only had he never bought me flowers in the old days, but even his cards were picked out by his office assistant and they said mushy, schmarmy things he’d never say in real life.
I stuffed the card back into the little envelope, took it upstairs, and dropped it into my keepsake drawer.
Next, my eyes were drawn to the clock on my nightstand. It read 10:23p.m.
It appeared that I wasn’t going to hear anything back from Michael tonight. That was frustrating but there was nothing I could do about it. Maybe he’d call me in the morning.
Meanwhile, I had plans for the night. My mind and body were both wide awake but I forced myself to lie down on the bed, take a few deep breaths, and relax. I was heading out at midnight. That seemed to be when my visitor usually liked to make an appearance.
This time, I would be ready.
20
When I crept outside, I was happy that I’d slipped a heavy sweater on over my T-shirt. It had gotten very chilly. There was no way of telling how long I was going to be out in the cold. I had to be prepared. Also, learning from past mistakes, I had avoided liquids for most of the evening and visited the restroom before I left the house.
With my map in one hand and a pen light in the other, I walked off down the street, toward the front entrance of the tea garden. I skirted the parking lot, not wanting my footsteps to crunch noisily over the gravel and alert anyone who might be nearby to my presence. Slipping through the entrance gate, I began to make my way through the garden.
There was a strong breeze tonight. The way it whispered through the rustling trees helped cover the soft sounds of my footsteps in the grass, as I neared the back of the garden, where I thought the trespasser would arrive. I walked around a thriving hedge of Texas sage that smelled lovely. On the other side of the hedge things got tricky, because I was getting closer. The flamingo grass was high enough to keep me hidden if I crawled on my hands and knees. Without hesitating, I dropped to the ground, calmly surveying the area from my low vantage point, and crawled forward.
Up ahead, a squadron of red oaks stood like soldiers at attention. With just one or two steps between each tree, I could reach the area where my landscapers had been digging, without being seen.
I knew the tree I had fallen out of was just a short distance away. It made me want to slap myself as I remembered that mess. What was I thinking climbing all the way up there? What had I expected was going to happen?
“Live and learn,” I muttered as I snuck from tree trunk to tree trunk.
Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a tractor. Not a big one but the kind used to cut grass. I was glad for the noise but didn’t get too comfortable moving forward in the direction it was coming from. I still had to make sure whoever was on my property didn’t see me. If they were on a tractor, they’d be elevated in the seat. That meant I should get down lower, out of their natural line of vision.
To stay out of sight, I got down on my belly. Just like in those movies that showed basic training for the army or the marines, I crawled along like a lizard. In my mind, I imagined there was not only a web of barbed wire over my head but bullets whizzing past, ready to get me between the eyes if I wasn’t careful. I was completely alert, every sense heightened, my eyes focused even in the dark.
When I got close enough, I stretched my neck and squinted. It was indeed a tractor with lights and a backhoe attached. But instead of digging like I’d expected, the person operating the machine was dumping dirt from a large pile back into a hole.
Carefully, I inched my way up to my knees, pressing my back against a western soapberry tree, and watched the digger filling the holes. To the left of all the activity was a cart. It looked like it had a mound of dirt in it.
I had to take a closer look. They were going to cart that dirt off my property. I had a right to know what was so valuable they thought they could take it off my land.
The person sitting in the seat of the machine had their head turned away from me. Plus, they were wearing a hoodie that kept their peripheral vision blocked.
As stealthily as possible, I got to my knees and launched myself in the direction of the cart.
It was just a small, rectangular lawn cart that could be attached to the back end of a tractor. There was a hitch at one end and a tire at the other. When I reached it, I pressed my back against the side of the cart. It was heavy with dirt. The smell of the freshly churned earth filled my nose. Due to all the shade and undergrowth, the ground was dry but it smelled fresh and fertile. There was another odor too. I couldn’t place it but that wasn’t a surprise. I had barely learned how to identify the teas I sold on a regular basis. Forget about recognizing the scents of all the trees, shrubs, and foliage this far back in the garden.
I looked underneath the cart and saw the tires of the tractor now standing still about twenty feet away from me. The tire of the cart was wide so it could support whatever load it was carrying. Suddenly, I was struck with a thought. How did I ever miss the bulky tires of the tractor and this cart making their way across my property? There was no way they could have not left a serious trail through the garden, crushing the grass and leaving tracks in the dirt
. Then I remembered. A shortcut through the stone quarry property next to my garden would’ve avoided leaving any obvious trail through the garden.
“Zane Jones,” I hissed, just as the tractor cut off. Hadn’t Zane Jones complained of somebody trespassing on quarry property? Of course, that could have just been a clever ruse to throw suspicion away from him.
Hearing the sound of the driver climbing down from his tractor, my breath caught in my throat. I froze. Even as nervous sweat instantly sprang from my pores, the wind that continued to blow at gusty intervals made me cold. In my unnatural position, with my legs folded beneath me, my thighs began to burn.
I listened as the driver of the tractor started walking in my direction. If only I could push myself into the ground and become invisible.
It would be the end of the line if this mysterious person came around to the far end of the cart. If he stayed on his side, I might be able to remain hidden. But my thighs were on fire. I wasn’t breathing naturally. My fingers were barely keeping me balanced. Worst of all, in the light of the tractor, I saw a Texas Brown making its way toward me.
Not everyone knows what a Texas Brown is. If they only hear the name, they might think it’s a hare or even a type of snake. But it’s worse than that. It’s a nightmare of nature, one of God’s most horrifying creations, with its eight legs, eight eyes, and furry little body.
Like everything in Texas, these tarantulas were bigger than most. So, now I found myself debating which was scarier to face: a dangerous lunatic or an arachnid with a five-inch leg span. I was seriously leaning toward facing the trespasser as being the more suitable confrontation.
The spider slowly inched toward me just as the footsteps behind me did the same. I was trapped in the one scenario I hadn’t accounted for.
Suddenly, the approaching footsteps stopped. The trespasser was just a few feet away from me on the other side of the cart. Could he see the top of my head? Did he hear my breathing? I was shaking so hard I was sure he could feel the reverberations through the cart. Any second, I’d see the eyes of this maniac.