by J. D. Faver
“You loved your father a lot.” Rene said.
“No, Ma’am. I hated him!” His brows knit together. “He was mean t’me and my mama. Everyone knows he kilt her. I’m glad he’s dead!”
A coldness enveloped her. Ben spoke with such intensity. She’d only heard him voice simple, happy thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Ben,” she said. “I know how you feel.”
“Y’mean, your daddy was mean t’you?”
“No, Ben,” Rene said. “My father was a kind man who loved his family very much. Someone else treated me badly.”
“Your husbin’?”
“Yes.” Rene was surprised she had admitted this to Ben. After all the secrecy, she felt almost relieved to reveal her secret to her gentle friend. “He was brutally abusive.” She shivered, remembering Mark’s twisted, angry face. “But you mustn’t tell anyone. Promise?”
“Oh, yes’m, I promise. I would never, ever tell.”
“Thank you, Ben,” Rene said. “I need you to keep my secret.”
“Miz Reeny,” Ben said. “Your husbin’ ain’t dead, is he?”
“No, Ben. I ran away.” She silently prayed for his discretion. “If he locates us, we’ll be in great danger.”
Ben digested this information for a moment. “Don’t you worry, Miz Reeny. I won’t tell no one. And, if he finds you, jus’ call ol’ Ben. I’ll help you.”
“I wouldn’t want to involve you, Ben. He’s a violent man.”
“Don’t worry, Miz Reeny.” He smiled. “Ol’ Ben can take care of hisself. Yes’m. He can.”
After finishing her laundry, Rene returned to the cabin and fed the children a simple sandwich supper. She dragged out the catalogs and ordered a television and a compact washer and dryer that stacked one on top of the other and required no venting. Things were definitely looking up in the civilized world. She was glad her sign-on bonus had been so generous, but thought she should curtail her spending so she could have a little cash squirreled away.
Sunday, Rene and the children went to church. They sat beside Mrs. Pindar. Rene did not take communion with the rest of the parishioners. She felt content to be a non-participant, not ready to explore her spirituality and, perhaps still feeling a little less than worthy of the sacrament. They adjourned to the community room for the social hour. Rene exchanged light banter with her new friends. Mayor Wolf told her that his son Parker enjoyed school now that Rene taught him.
“He’s very bright,” Rene said. “He loves reading and science, especially anything having to do with insects.”
Mayor Wolf grinned. “Yes, he’s always collecting bugs. My wife wasn’t too thrilled with his hobby but I told her, it could be worse. He could have been interested in snakes.”
They both laughed. “I don’t think I’ve met your wife, Rene said. “Is she here?”
“I lost my wife a few months ago. She had multiple sclerosis. She was a beautiful woman, in all ways. Parker and I miss her so much.”
“I’m sorry!” Rene felt for the sad man and his little boy.
“Just keep encouraging him. He loves it.”
Mrs. Pindar asked her to help serve the refreshments. Rene dispensed coffee from the huge urn while Mrs. Pindar cut slices of cranberry-nut bread.
“I wanted to thank you, my dear,” she said, placing thin slices of bread on small plates, “for being so kind to Ben.” She nodded toward him, standing across the room in a rumpled pair of navy pants and a shirt open at the neck. He was deep in conversation with Ernst Schrader, the mechanic.
“No problem,” Rene said. “He’s much more complex than he first appears and he’s so creative. I honestly think he could make or repair anything.”
“True. He is a very sensitive person and has been slighted a great deal in the past.”
“He told me about his father,” Rene said. “He really appreciates what you and your husband have done for him.”
Mrs. Pindar looked up sharply. “What did he tell you about his father?”
“Just that he was abusive,” Rene said. “He thinks his father killed his mother.”
“Everyone knew that he did. He was a mean drunk.” She bit out the words between her pursed lips. “There was no way to prove it, but everyone knew.”
“How horrible!” Rene felt a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
“He treated Ben even worse after the mother was gone. Then one night, someone killed him.” She said it in a light, matter-of-fact tone.
“Killed him? You mean, murder?”
“No, my dear,” Mrs. Pindar said. “I prefer to think of it as being a case of simple justice. An execution, if you will. Preventing a mad dog from further harm to society.”
“But, who...?”
“I don’t know, my dear,” Mrs. Pindar said. “No one really cared. We just heaved a collective sigh of relief. I’ve always had my suspicions, of course.”
“What do you mean?” Rene felt a tingling sensation at the nape of her neck.
“I always thought it might have been my husband,” Mrs. Pindar said, a tinge of pride in her voice. “Or perhaps, Ben. Horace brought young Ben home and they never spoke another word about it.” She let her voice trail off.
Just then, Nadine and Sam came to the table with the twins. Mrs. Pindar offered slices of nut bread and served punch to the children while Rene poured coffee.
“Want to come over to the house after lunch?” Nadine asked. “We can visit and the kids can play.”
“Sounds great,” Rene said. “I hoped something would save me from finishing my lesson plans.”
“How’s it going? Any teaching supplies, yet?”
“Not yet, but I ordered a lot of things. I ordered new shades for the windows, too.”
“I’m so glad you came to Sad Horse, Rene,” Nadine said. “We’ve needed you here for a long time.”
“You needed a teacher, Nadine,” Rene said. “I have no experience. This is my very first teaching year.”
“You’ve got the touch. My kids come home and tell me all about their lessons. They think you hung the moon.”
Rene blushed. “The last teacher was so bad, I look good by comparison.”
“You are good, Rene,” Nadine said. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing.”
Pleased with the recognition, Rene realized she had felt totally ineffective her whole life. Here, she made a difference.
She and the children ate a huge lunch at the hotel and followed the Burkes to their home. Taking a right onto a street named for the stand of Birch trees where it crossed Main Street, they turned into the drive of a two-story log house with a chimney at each end.
A huge, brightly painted totem pole, almost as tall as the house, sat squarely in front of the entrance. Rene and the children stood solemnly staring up at its great height.
“It’s nice of you to pay homage to my ancestors,” Nadine said.
“What do you mean?” Rene asked.
“I carved this to show respect for my ancestors. These are my family members.”
“You carved this?”
Nadine emitted a low chuckle. “You’d be surprised what happens when you turn a woman loose with a chain saw.”
“You’re related to an eagle and a bear?” Rene asked.
“Oh, yes!” Nadine looked up at the colorful sculpture. “I’m part Tlingit and we hand down many traditions from generation to generation. In my tribe, we observe characteristics of animals and imitate the strongest traits. The totem is a glorified story stick. I’m proud of my heritage.”
Rene took a moment to absorb the information. Brightly painted faces stared down at her. “Is that figure a wolf?” She pointed to a dog-like face halfway up the sculpture.
“Yes, the wolf is my spirit animal. It has many fine strengths, such as love of family and intelligence. They always travel in packs, you know.”
“What about the bear?” Rene shivered as she recalled the warnings given to her at Cindy’s house.
“The bear
is the symbol of courage and strength.”
Rene looked at the countenance of the bear figure. “If I was in your tribe I would want the bear as my spirit animal. I need to learn his secrets.”
Nadine gave her a long look before inviting her inside.
Rene enjoyed visiting the Burkes. Their house was solid and spacious. The ceiling of the Great Room opened to the rafters. A stairway led to the second floor and all rooms opened off a gallery. The fireplaces on each end made it quite cozy. The kitchen and other rooms were under the gallery. It was warm and homey. Rene said as much to Nadine.
Sam Burke showed her his gun collection. He kept it in a locked room across from the kitchen. Gleaming wood and glass cases were also locked.
“Can’t be too careful with kids around,” Sam said. He lovingly ran his hand along the edge of the polished wood.
“That’s true.” Rene gazed in wonder at all the weaponry. “You seem to have taken all possible precautions.”
He showed her various guns that were his particular favorites, demonstrating the unique functions of each.
“If I wanted to get a gun,” Rene said slowly, “what would you recommend?”
He didn’t seem to think this question odd. “What would you use it for? Hunting or protection?”
“Protection,” she said promptly.
He stepped over to a glass case and took a large hand gun from its place. “This is my choice. It’s a forty-four Magnum. You could hit a man on any part of his body and knock him down. It’ll do real damage. You’d make a big hole if you hit his torso. If you hit a limb, you’d blow it off.” He placed it in Rene’s hand.
“It’s too heavy,” she said. “I can barely lift it, let alone fire it. What would be smaller?”
He carefully replaced the gun in its shrine. “This one. A Glock forty caliber. It’s plastic. Makes a big hole but doesn’t weigh much.” He held it out to her.
“It is light,” Rene said, “but it’s still too big.”
“I know just what you want, then,” he said. “Glock makes a smaller weapon. It’s still a forty caliber but it’s small enough to fit in a lady’s purse. Is that what you had in mind?” He gave her a quizzical look.
“Sounds perfect. How would I go about getting one?”
“Ordinarily, you’d fill out a criminal history check at a gun shop. If it came back clean, you could get one.”
“Ordinarily?” Rene asked.
“I happen to be a registered gun collector. I can order one for you without all the red tape.”
“And,” Rene took a deep breath, “can you teach me to use it?”
“Sure,” he grinned, “or, better yet, Nadine can teach you. She’s a crack shot.”
“Place the order,” Rene said. “Please.”
~*~
The answering machine came on.
“Rene, if you’re there, pick up.” Mark waited, picturing her standing beside the telephone. “Rene, pick up the phone.”
She was frightened, he knew that.
“Don’t be afraid,” he crooned. “I’m not mad.” His voice was as smooth as satin.
What if she’s laughing at me, like Maddy? What if they’re both there, in my condo, laughing at me?
“Rene you’d better pick up the phone right now!”
Silence.
He slammed the receiver down.
The time he’d spent in Paris was totally unfruitful. His investigator found no trace of Rene after she and the children left the hotel. She’d taken a taxi to the airport. Was that a ruse just to throw him off? The investigator said she could be anywhere. She could have taken a train or a bus. She could have started a whole new life anywhere in the world... but what was she using for money? Her credit card had not been used.
Is she with someone? A man?
He ground his teeth together. He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers one, two, three times.
The only one who knew for sure where Rene was hiding would be Maddy. He’d booked a flight home, determined to get the truth out of her.
~*~
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On Monday, Honeybee delivered lunch and several large packages from the school supply company. Mrs. Pindar had, she said, waved her down, demanding she make the delivery.
“Thank you for hauling the supplies,” Rene said. “This will make my job a lot easier.” The older boys unloaded the materials as well as the meal.
“Happy to oblige,” Honeybee said. “We try to help each other out here. How’s it going?”
“As well as can be expected when you have different grade levels in one room.”
“Folks say you’re doing a great job.” Honeybee arched an eyebrow. “I personally try to stay away from the little beasts.” Her raspy laugh came from deep in her throat.
“I’m trying my best.” Rene gazed at the kaleidoscope of activity humming around her.
“I work most days, but maybe we could get together sometime and just talk.”
Rene refocused her attention at the woman beside her. A hint of tension lurked beneath Honeybee’s calm exterior. “Sure. I’m either here or at the cabin. Call me when you’re free.” She watched Honeybee drive away and wondered what prompted the sudden desire for girl talk.
As the younger children finished eating, Rene and the older boys opened the boxes. They placed the materials on worktables, dividing the items into audio-visuals, texts and workbooks and expendable student supplies. Glen and Rick assembled a rolling cart and arranged CDs and workbooks on it. Gunnar and Logan unloaded a combination television-VCR with materials for each level. Rene smiled as she saw them working together. Younger children giggled excitedly as they examined colorful charts and art supplies. The copy machine would be delivered on Thursday.
“I ordered some things to make independent work stations for different levels,” Rene explained. “When you finish an assignment and I’m working with another group you can go to a station and work on your own. How shall we set up the stations?” They decided to use the corners of the room to set up four stations. Rene set out items for each table and the children arranged them. Rene helped the youngest students with their counting and alphabet station. The girls were thrilled with the colors and the games.
“I can do it!” Star insisted.
“I know my ABC’s,” Sara told her.
“So what? That’s baby stuff!” Nicky sneered. “I knew that last year.”
Star chose that moment to express her displeasure with Nicky by hitting him on the head with a wooden puzzle. “You’re not nice, Nicky McCorkill!” she screamed.
Nicky also screamed, though the puzzle suffered the worst of the encounter. The pieces bounced off Nicky’s head, landing on the floor.
Rene took a deep breath. “Time out, Star and Nicky. You both know it’s not acceptable to behave this way. Nicky, it’s not nice to say things to hurt people’s feelings. Star, you must never hit anyone again. Do you understand?”
Both children looked properly abashed. Just then she became aware of a peculiar silence from the rest of the class. Turning, she saw the other students standing in the corner designated for the fourteen to sixteen-year-olds.
“What’s going on?” she asked, pushing through the group. She stopped abruptly when she realized they had found the charts defining the human reproductive system.
“Mrs. Nichols, are these dirty pictures?” Skye asked.
“No, Skye, they’re not!” she said emphatically. She had hoped to introduce the materials carefully to the older boys. “Let’s not use these yet.” She gathered the anatomical charts and shoved them into a closet. Her cheeks were flushed when she turned around.
She ate her lunch and quickly arranged her own desk supplies. Filling her new stapler and scotch tape dispenser, she placed them on one side with an “in” box to collect student papers on the other. Reverently, she placed the new lesson plan book in the middle of the desk. Smiling at the children, she recalled how it felt to be their age, armed with new scho
ol supplies.
She quickly recaptured the children’s interest. They arranged materials for their grade levels near their worktables. The little ones got the alphabet, counting and colors visuals. The lower elementary got vocabulary and spelling charts and a table set up with a science learning station about insects. The upper elementary had a poster naming all of the Presidents of the United States and a learning station on the world’s rain forests.
The four older boys were her most challenging students. It pleased her to see their interest in the music and art appreciation materials she had selected for them. They arranged a cd player with headphones and a box of cds. For art appreciation she had chosen several books on the artwork of various periods. She would make up self-tests to give them credit for this work.
The school day sped by and the children gathered their books to go home.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called out to the children as they left. Then she located her own homework and took one last look before turning off the light. It finally looked like a classroom.
~*~
“That was Terrence, calling from the airport. I told him to take a taxi here.” Ted hung up the receiver and gave Maddy his full attention. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He looks so pleased with himself. Maddy managed a tight little smile. “No, I’m glad you pulled strings to expedite his visa. He’s great with the girls and I don’t want you to hire someone new.”
“It won’t be forever,” he said.
She swallowed a lump of rage that wanted to scream, knowing that her husband should not be the recipient of her anger. “It just feels that way. I haven’t been to my club meetings. I know the other volunteers at the Houston Women’s Shelter think I’ve abandoned them.”
“I won’t have you injured by that lowlife your sister married. You told your friends we were on vacation, right?”
“Yes, but we should have finished lolly-gagging around the misty isles by now. Since you changed our phone number, Mark can’t harass us, but my friends must think we’ve moved.”
“Give our new number to your friends, but sparingly, please.”