Sundered Hearts

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Brandon!” Kit shouted from the bathroom. “Get in here!

  Jumping up from the couch, Brandon raced to his sister. He found Kit sitting on the floor of the bathroom next to the tub, shampooing Sarah’s long blonde hair while Sarah played with her bath toys. The little girl seemed to pay no notice to the sudden appearance of her uncle or her mother’s recent shout.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandon asked from the doorway.

  “Look at this,” Kit said in a quiet voice as she held a soapy lock of her daughter’s hair. Sarah continued to play with her toys, scooping up water with a plastic toy shovel and then dumping it into a small red bucket.

  Brandon walked into the bathroom and went to one knee beside Kit. He looked at what she held in her hand. A lock of hair had been cut from the back of Sarah’s head. Instead of reaching to the center of her back, as did most of the hair, this piece was about three inches long.

  “Her hair’s been cut,” Kit said. “It wasn’t like this yesterday. Yesterday, I French-braided it. I would have noticed this. And today, before I sent her to time out, I unbraided her hair. It had to have been cut after that. I never noticed the missing hair. She has so much, and it was so curly from the braid.”

  “Sarah,” Brandon said.

  She looked up from the soapy water. “Yes, Uncle Brandon?”

  “Did you play with a scissors today?”

  “Mommy left my scissors at home.”

  “But did you happen to find a scissors somewhere?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Did you cut your hair, Sarah?” Brandon asked.

  “I don’t want short hair. I don’t want to be a boy. Cinderella has long hair.”

  “Sarah,” Kit said patiently, “a piece of your hair has been cut back here. I need to know how that happened. Did you find a scissors and try cutting your hair?”

  “No, Mommy. Cinderella has long hair. I don’t want to cut my hair.”

  “Okay, honey, but do you have any idea how your hair got cut?”

  Sarah didn’t answer. Instead, she started to play with her bath toys again.

  “Sarah, I asked you a question. Do you know how your hair got cut?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” Sarah said stubbornly.

  “Sarah, your mommy isn’t going to be mad at you… even if you cut it yourself. We just need to know. I promise, Mommy will not be mad,” Brandon said.

  “I didn’t cut my hair.”

  “But you know how it got cut, don’t you?” Brandon coaxed.

  “The bath’s cold, Mommy.” Sarah shivered. Pulling her knees to her chest she wrapped her arms around her wet little body.

  “I’ll wait in the living room,” Brandon said, leaving the bathroom so Kit could rinse off Sarah and get her from the tub.

  When Sarah finally came out of the bathroom, she was wearing flannel pajamas. Her hair, which had been towel-dried, was still damp.

  “Brandon, Sarah wanted to know if you would tell her a story before she goes to bed.”

  “Sure, I’d love to.” He glanced up at his sister and gave her an inquisitive look. She understood what he was asking and shook her head no. Sarah had not told her how her hair had managed to get cut.

  Once in the bedroom Sarah was using, Kit pulled down the bed’s sheet and comforter. Sarah scampered onto the mattress and wiggled against the pile of pillows as her mother covered her. Lifting up her arms, Sarah wrapped them around Kit’s neck and gave her a hug.

  “I love you, Mommy.”

  “I love you too, Sarah.”

  “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have gone to see the horses.”

  “I know, honey. Mommy was very worried. Please promise to never do something like that again.”

  “I promise, Mommy.”

  Kit gave her daughter a tight hug, then kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room.

  Brandon made himself comfortable on the bed next to Sarah. Book in hand, he lay atop the comforter and leaned against the headboard.

  “I have your favorite story here,” Brandon said as he opened the small book. “Once upon a time, there was a young girl who was sweet, kind and pretty.” Brandon read the first line from Cinderella, and then kissed Sarah’s forehead. “Kind of like you,” he added.

  “The lady cut my hair,” Sarah blurted out.

  “What did you say?” Brandon frowned.

  “The lady cut my hair.”

  “What lady?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? What lady cut your hair?”

  “I don’t want Mommy to be mad at me again.”

  “Sarah, your mommy isn’t going to be mad at you. But she needs to know what lady cut your hair so she can protect you.”

  “She said she would call Mommy, and when we went inside, she gave me a cookie. But then she started to cut my hair. I don’t want to be a boy. Mommy is going to be mad at me for taking a cookie from a stranger.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Brandon stood at the end of the driveway, his fingertips tucked casually into the back pockets of his denims as he watched the sheriff’s car pull away. Disgusted with the officer’s cavalier attitude, Brandon wanted to kick something. Just before he succumbed to the urge, he noticed a car pull into his neighbor’s driveway. Immediately, he recognized its driver—Susan. Smiling to himself, Brandon silently watched as she parked and got out of the vehicle, then turned in his direction and smiled.

  Damn, she looks good, Brandon thought. She wore denim shorts and a camp T-shirt, and the way her long dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail made her look more like one of the girls at the camp rather than an adult counselor. A red purse hung casually over her right shoulder. It was a stark contrast from the first time he had met her. Then she had reminded him of a sleek young executive who looked as if she had just stepped out of the boardroom still wearing her fitted business suit and high heels. He had the same reaction to both versions—he wanted to strip off her clothes.

  He was no longer annoyed with her for jumping to the wrong conclusions. Spending time with Susan made it impossible for him to harbor a grudge. She was different from other women he’d dated—definitely not high maintenance. It wasn’t that she didn’t always look good, it was more that she didn’t seem to try to achieve a certain look. He imagined she’d taken maybe five minutes to get ready that morning, yet he couldn’t imagine the results being more appealing had she spent the entire morning grooming and primping.

  “Good morning,” Susan greeted, walking down the driveway in his direction. Brandon grinned and started walking toward her.

  “Why aren’t you at work? Playing hooky?” he asked.

  “Something like that. The girls went on an all-day trail ride, and Carol told me not to go.”

  “How’s your ankle?” Brandon glanced down at her foot. She didn’t appear to have a problem walking.

  “It’s a little sore but nothing major. How’s Sarah this morning? I noticed the sheriff’s car leaving. Any problem?”

  “Have Brandon come join us for coffee!” Connie, who had just opened her front door, called down from her front porch.

  “Want to come over for coffee?” Susan asked before Brandon could answer her first set of questions.

  “Sure, coffee sounds good.”

  Together Brandon and Susan headed to the Lewis cabin.

  “So, how’s Sarah doing this morning?”

  “I guess she’s okay,” Brandon said with a shrug.

  “You guess?” Susan frowned.

  “I’ll explain it over coffee,” Brandon said.

  Twenty minutes later, Brandon sat with Connie and Susan on the front porch of the cabin, coffee cup in hand. He’d just told about Sarah’s cut hair and the officer’s reaction.

  “He didn’t think it was worth looking into?” Connie asked.

  “He seemed to believe Sarah had somehow cut her own hair and created an imaginary woman to take the blame. Unfortunately
, Sarah wasn’t willing—or able—to give us more information on this woman.”

  “Do you seriously think someone cut her hair? And why?” Susan asked.

  “The only thing I can think of is… abduction. And that scares the hell out of me.” Brandon took a sip of his coffee. “Which is why the officer’s reaction pisses me off.”

  “Abduction?” Connie asked.

  “I think I know what you mean,” Susan said. “You often hear how kidnappers cut a child’s hair to change their appearance. You hear of that happening in bathrooms at amusement parks.”

  “That’s a creepy thought!” Connie shuddered. “But why didn’t she finish cutting her hair?”

  “Like I said, by the time Sarah told us about this woman she was already in bed. We went ahead and called the sheriff last night but told them they wouldn’t be able to talk to Sarah until this morning. She was sleeping by then. And this morning, before they arrived, I had another talk with Sarah. As best as I can determine, something interrupted the woman, and she left Sarah alone for a moment. Sarah was frightened and didn’t want her hair cut, so she managed to slip out the woman’s back door. Unfortunately, she can’t seem to remember anything about where this woman lived or what she looked like. And when the sheriff was here, she basically said nothing.”

  “She didn’t tell the officer about the woman cutting her hair?” Susan asked.

  “Not really. I think she was afraid. The best we could do was get her to answer yes and no questions, and when the officer started questioning her in detail about this woman, he pretty much got Sarah to say she had made it up.”

  “But you don’t think that’s true?” Connie asked.

  “No, I don’t. Call it a gut feeling.”

  “What’s your sister think?” Susan asked

  “She’s uncomfortable about the whole thing and determined to keep Sarah close at hand. One thing I’m fairly certain of, I don’t think Sarah will be running away again. She was genuinely frightened.”

  “I suppose that’s a good thing—maybe the one good thing out of all this. What are you going to do now?” Susan asked.

  “The deputy just left, so I haven’t really had a chance to talk to Kit about it.”

  “I’m sorry he wasn’t more helpful,” Susan said.

  “No kidding,” Connie agreed.

  “Me, too. So, what are you ladies up to today? Susan, when do you have to get back to the camp?” Brandon asked.

  “When Connie found out I was on my own today, she invited me over to have coffee and see her newest painting,” Susan explained.

  “You paint?” Brandon asked.

  “Connie is a very talented artist,” Susan told him. “She has a gallery showing coming up.”

  “I’m impressed.” Brandon smiled.

  “Thank you.” Connie blushed. “That’s one reason I decided to spend the summer up here with Ella. Gives me a quiet place to paint while Ella works at the camp.”

  “Where are your parents? I thought they were up here?” Susan asked.

  “They were here last weekend, but they had to go home and back to work. They’ll probably be up in a couple of weeks.”

  “If it wasn’t for this thing with Sarah, I’d be looking forward to spending the rest of the summer here. But frankly, I’m a little uneasy now.”

  “I’ve always thought of this as such a safe place,” Connie said.

  “Susan mentioned something about a child once being kidnapped from one of the camps years ago,” Brandon said.

  “Oh, the Collins girl. That was a long time ago. I was in grade school back then. Nothing like that’s ever happened again up here,” Connie said. “And she wasn’t taken from one of the camps. She was too young to attend camp. From what I remember, her older sister was at church camp, and she was staying with an aunt and uncle who had a cabin up here. I remember it was pretty awful.”

  “Susan said they found her about 300 miles away.”

  “They found her body; someone had left it outside a church.” Connie said. “From what I was told, she hadn’t been sexually abused. I remember hearing my parents discuss the case. The authorities didn’t feel the kidnapper intended to kill her. The only injuries on her body seemed to have come from a fall that probably killed her.”

  “Did they catch the kidnapper?” Brandon asked.

  “No. I remember they looked into the parents for a while, but no,” Connie explained. “You don’t think this has anything to do with Sarah’s experience yesterday, do you?”

  “No, not really. But I have to admit, hearing her talk about some woman cutting her hair makes me wonder if there’s more to this than a little girl just wandering away on her own.”

  “Do you think it would be alright if I stop and see Sarah?” Susan asked. “I’m not planning to bug Connie much longer.”

  “Hey, you aren’t bugging me.” Connie laughed.

  “No, but I only stopped over for a quick cup of coffee and to see your current painting before heading back to the camp. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

  “Sorry, that’s my fault, keeping you both so long,” Brandon said.

  “Don’t be silly, you two. This has been an interesting conversation,” Connie insisted.

  “Thanks, but I won’t keep you any longer. Susan, before you leave, stop by my cabin and say hello to Sarah.”

  As it turned out, Brandon and Susan left Connie’s cabin together twenty minutes later, after they had both admired Connie’s painting. Brandon resisted the urge to take Susan’s hand in his as they made their way up the walk to his cabin.

  “Are you okay driving with that ankle?” Brandon asked as they neared his cabin’s front door.

  “Why, do I look incapable?”

  “No, you look rather nice.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” she asked with a laugh. Pausing a moment, she glanced down her body to her ankle, suddenly wishing she’d taken more care in getting ready that morning.

  “No, I’m damn serious,” Brandon insisted. Susan blushed at his compliment. Instead of going directly into the cabin, they stood for a moment on its front porch facing each other.

  “You know what I keep wanting to call you?” Brandon asked in a low voice as he reached out with one hand and lightly brushed his fingertips down the side of her face.

  “What?” Susan asked—her throat dry and heart pounding.

  “Brown-Eyed Beauty. I thought that the first time I saw you,” Brandon said with a grin.

  Blushing again, Susan glanced down. “Are you trying to seduce me, Brandon Carpenter?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “I figured it’s only fair. You seduced me the first time; now it’s my turn.”

  Her gaze flashed up to meet his intent stare, and her eyes widened as she noted the serious expression on Brandon’s face. Before she could consider what was happening, he leaned closer and brushed his lips over hers. She closed her eyes briefly, startled at the electric sensation from such a fleeting intimacy. Brandon didn’t apologize for—or explain—the kiss but led her into his cabin a moment later.

  “Hello, Sarah,” Susan greeted Brandon’s niece when they walked into the kitchen. By the looks of the dishes on the table, it was obvious Kit and Sarah had just finished eating breakfast. While Sarah was dressed for the day, Kit was wearing a robe over what appeared to be pajamas.

  “Hi, Susan!” Sarah said excitedly. “Did you ride a horse over?”

  “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.” Susan smiled.

  “Hello, Susan,” Kit greeted with a smile. “Thanks for helping look for Sarah yesterday. Is your ankle feeling better?”

  “I’m just relieved she’s home. As for my ankle, it’s almost as good as new.”

  “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to go get dressed. Brandon, make sure your niece doesn’t escape while I’m gone.”

  “I don’t think she was entirely joking,” Susan said after Kit left the room.

  “I have to agree with you,” Brandon said as h
e sat at the table with his niece after pulling out a chair for Susan. She sat down with Brandon and Sarah.

  “I understand you had quite the adventure yesterday,” Susan told Sarah.

  “I wanted to come see you and the horses, but I got lost.”

  “Yes, I heard that. We were sure worried about you but very happy to have you home with your mom and Uncle Brandon.”

  “A lady cut my hair.” Sarah’s announcement surprised Brandon, considering she’d practically refused to discuss it with the officer.

  “Was this an old lady, like a grandma, or a young lady, like your mom?” Susan asked immediately.

  “She was like a grandma,” Sarah said. “But she had a princess necklace.”

  “A princess necklace?” Susan glanced at Brandon.

  “Like Cinderella… the one the mean stepsister broke.”

  “Pearls… If I remember correctly, Cinderella was getting ready to go to the ball, and the stepsister ripped off the pearls she was wearing,” Susan said thoughtfully.

  “Yes! But hers were white,” Sarah explained.

  “Whose were white?” Susan asked.

  “The lady. The lady who cut my hair. Her princess necklace was white.”

  Momentarily speechless, Susan looked up into Brandon’s face. He was staring at her, and by his expression, he was obviously thinking the same thing as she was… The woman wore pearls.

  “Do you remember what kind of clothes the woman was wearing? Maybe the color of her clothes?”

  Sarah thought a moment and then said, “She was wearing blue pajamas.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Why didn’t you say anything to your sister about the pearls?” Susan asked Brandon as the two sat alone on the back porch of the rental cabin. Kit had just left ten minutes earlier with Sarah, driving over to the camp to visit with Carol.

  “I didn’t want to freak her out right now. At least not until I figure out what we should do about it.”

  “Are you going to call the sheriff’s office again?”

  “I’m not sure. What do I tell them? The woman wore a princess necklace. They’ll just say this is more of Sarah’s make believe.”