Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2)

by Deborah Dee Harper

  She’d been out in the weather for only about ten minutes, but it proved to be the longest ten minutes of her life. A vicious burst of wind-driven rain drove her to her knees. A branch from the venerable oak that stood in Hugh and Melanie’s side yard, one that Bristol Diggs had been meaning to trim for the last six months, crashed its way to earth from thirty feet in the air. It bounced downward through the lower limbs, scattering twigs and leaves in its wake, and plunged to the ground at the exact moment Sadie happened to be standing beneath it.

  In the split-second just before it cracked her on the top of her head, Sadie wondered whether her failure to carry out her part of the plan would cause the death of the president. Rats. If he’s dead tomorrow, who do I give my ...

  She fell to her side to the soggy grass beneath the tree and scraped her cheek against the rough bark of a root running along the top of the ground. The wind and rain continued their assault against her small form, even though they had clearly won. Water dripped down her face to mingle with the blood streaming from the cut on her cheek and turned it an anemic pink.

  After a while, Sadie didn’t feel a thing.

  Chapter 41

  Once more, my home was filled with Road’s Enders. I was glad, of course, that they were all inside safe and sound, but geesh, I hadn’t seen my dining room table or my downstairs bathroom for weeks. To be honest, though, I’d have rounded up every one of them anyway, just to be on the safe side. This storm was turning into a force to be reckoned with, and the inn, with its large basement, was probably the safest place for them to be. Thank goodness, my folks left immediately after the ceremony to catch their late-night flight back home. Two fewer people to worry about.

  I was counting heads when Mack tapped me on the shoulder. “Hugh, I think we need to go outside and investigate that noise. Probably nothing, but I can’t take chances with the president in-house. Besides, I just heard someone mention that Sadie Simms isn’t here.” He grinned. “Probably out there wrangling that storm into submission, but we might want to look for her, as well.”

  I glanced around the room. He was right. No cackling, no head cracking, no screaming, no Sadie. “Not good, Mack. Not good at all.” I motioned to Mel that Mack and I were heading outdoors. Her face fell, but she smiled faintly and blew me a kiss. I cupped my hands around my mouth and said as loud as I could without causing a riot, “Sadie. We’re going outside to look for Sadie.” She nodded and gave me a thumbs-up.

  Mack waved Artie over and explained what was happening. Artie, as expected, was thrilled to be in charge of the president’s safety for the next ten minutes. Being nagged to death by disgruntled voters was about the worst that could happen to the man, but by golly, Artie was on the job. I’m sure STR felt supremely safe.

  Bristol excused his way through several damp ladies to reach my side and said, “I’m coming too, Hugh.”

  I nodded. The more, the merrier.

  There was no sense in dressing for the weather since the rain showed no sign of abating, and we couldn’t have kicked our way through the bodies to get to our coats anyway. I opened the front door, and we plunged into the night.

  The water poured from the downspouts in gallons, splashing out into the grass in great, gulping torrents. An outdoor reception tomorrow afternoon was looking out of the question. I hoped Mandy and Jonathan wouldn’t be too disappointed. Despite knowing it was futile, I hunched my neck into my collar to keep the rain from running down my back. That worked ... for two seconds.

  We stepped off the porch and out onto the yard. My shoes sank into a sea of grass and water two inches deep. I didn’t have much time to register the discomfort of cold water seeping into my running shoes and socks before a gust of wind knocked me sideways. I nearly had water seeping into my pants and shirt as well. I thumped up against Mack, roughly equivalent to body slamming a concrete wall, thereby saved from the indignity of needing him to pull me out of a puddle. Bristol walked toward the street between the inn and Sadie’s house; the rain swallowed him up after three steps.

  Mack and I looked around the front yard. Lots of water, debris, fallen branches, leaves, a couple of wet tablecloths flapping wildly overhead, but no Sadie. I glanced across the street through the driving rain. I could barely make out Sadie’s house but saw enough to know it was dark. With no electricity in town, I didn’t expect to see any lights blazing, but if she was home, she’d have lit some candles. No flickering candles sat on her windowsills. No doubt about it, Sadie wasn’t home.

  So, if she wasn’t home, where was she?

  Bristol sloshed his way back toward us, giving me a thumbs-down. I motioned to both of them that I was heading over to the side yard. I caught Bristol gazing at the roof, and he got a face-full of rain for his efforts. He quickly gave up when it was obvious he wasn’t going to see anything without climbing up to it, and no one could withstand the battering of this wind without tumbling off anyway. I nudged him, motioned again to the west side of the house, and he nodded.

  I braced myself to walk into the wind and took a few tentative steps. We should have brought flashlights. The lightning illuminating the yard outside the windows had fooled me into forgetting how dark it would be between flashes. I stumbled once or twice on branches that littered the yard in front of me or dozens of candles that had overturned and scattered around the ground.

  Still no Sadie. Maybe she’d taken shelter at a friend’s house. Leo had mentioned they all left the church at the same time after their impromptu meeting, so she might have had time to reach Winnie’s house after they left the safety of the church. But if so, why hadn’t she arrived when the other ladies trouped into the inn?

  It was clear Sadie wasn’t enjoying the relative safety and warmth of someone’s home. Unless she’d returned to the church—Please, Lord, let it be that—or walked into the back door of the inn in the last five minutes, she was somewhere outside in this mess.

  And if I was having trouble staying upright, I could only imagine how difficult it would be for a frail woman of Sadie’s size to fight her way through the wind and rain. Sadie might be a tough old bird, but even she couldn’t win a battle against the forces of nature on a rampage. For the first time since I’d known her, I worried about Sadie’s safety, and I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. To my surprise, I found myself wondering if Sadie had finally come up against something in this world she couldn’t defeat. Just because she seemed able to fight off just about anything didn’t mean she could.

  Not even Sadie Simms could avoid death.

  Gilbert Austin was in a tizzy. It was bad enough he had to be here in the first place, but mingling with these ... these old geezers was more than a man of his stature should have to endure. His back was killing him, and he needed to sit, but there wasn’t a single seat available. He started to cough that deep, gut-wrenching cough he’d been plagued with for the past few months, and still, no one seemed to notice that a United States senator stood against the wall while they lounged around in comfortable chairs. Ingrates.

  Even his wife was taking up a spot on the couch next to that ... kid. What she saw in that little brat was a mystery, and there were precious few things in his life that escaped his understanding. His power and influence had grown tremendously since STR took office. Austin’s legendary opposition to anything his brother-in-law suggested, spoke about, or backed had skyrocketed him to a lofty political position in the eyes of STR’s opponents. Most people fell all over themselves trying to curry his favor. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. In any event, he learned all he needed to know about them to keep them under his thumb for a good long time. And STR? His being elected to the presidency and then failing so spectacularly to make good on his promises to bring his fictional “God” back into government gave Austin all the ammo he needed.

  But here? Nothing. Even his wife was giving him the cold shoulder and that was unlike her. She was lucky he even showed up for this hick wedding. And to think she was upset with him for showing up during the ceremo
ny. Big deal. Never could stand that kid of hers anyway. While he didn’t agree with her goody-two-shoes Christian attitude, at least her beliefs meant he could count on her to be kind and gracious to him. That was her weakness, and just as he did with everyone else, Austin turned it to his advantage. Marrying the sister of the president of the United States had been a strategically brilliant move on his part.

  But this town was like some long-forgotten village caught in a time warp. Instead of worshipping power like he could count on most Americans doing, these people were stupid enough to think they could actually influence the thinking of great men. Who did they think they were?

  And that Sadie Simms? What a joke. He’d caught Hugh’s earlier remark to his wife about going out to look for her. Hope the old coot drowns out there. He couldn’t wait to get back to Washington where he belonged, where people knew their place, and more importantly, knew his place—a position that was poised to become even higher in the very near future.

  I couldn’t believe I’d been dumb enough to leave the house without a flashlight. At the very least, it would have helped Sadie see me even if I couldn’t find her in this mess. But it made more sense to keep looking without it, relying only on the lightning to pierce the dark, than it did to waste time going back inside to get one.

  I reached the oak tree in the middle of the side yard. Bristol was right behind me; I could feel him tugging at my coat to keep me away from it. I knew it wasn’t Mack because he would’ve picked me up by the scruff of my coat and planted me wherever he wanted me. I didn’t blame Bristol for his reluctance to linger under this old tree. It had to be forty feet high and a prime target for a lightning strike—which meant anyone near it would be barbequed on the spot. Even though the idea didn’t appeal to me, particularly on the evening of my daughter’s wedding, I had to make sure Sadie hadn’t taken refuge against its trunk.

  Turns out I didn’t have far to go. I nearly tripped over what looked like a wet blanket, maybe some towels, snagged against the base of the trunk. I leaned down for a closer look and there she was—crumpled on the ground, bleeding, and not moving.

  I closed my eyes and prayed as fervently as I ever have. Oh, Lord, let her be all right. Protect Your child. Heal her and make her whole. Please, God.

  I knelt on the ground. The puddled water soaked into my pants and cold rivulets dripped from the leaves above me and found their way down my back. I tried to put my arms around her, but I was afraid to move her—had something hit her? Had she suffered a heart attack? There were no burn marks, so it was unlikely lightning had struck her. Of course, that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; it might happen to all of us at any second.

  I looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. When I saw the huge chunk of wood lying a few feet away, I knew what had happened.

  Mack materialized out of the mist, bent down, and picked her up. Even soaking wet, she probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds, but in Mack’s arms, she looked like a toddler. She didn’t move a muscle. Her head rolled toward his chest, and I saw the ugly wound on her cheek.

  Mack had to yell to make himself heard over the storm. “Let’s get her inside. We’ll all be killed if we stay out here much longer.” Just to punctuate his remark, a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder shook the earth around us. Bristol and I cringed while Mack glared at the sky.

  “That was close,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He led the way, and within a minute, we were at the front door. “Move aside, folks,” Mack said. “We have an injured lady here.”

  Irene Austin jumped to her feet from the sofa where she’d been keeping Tanner company. “Mack, let me help. Bring her over here.”

  Mandy took Tanner from her and moved back to the chair she’d been sitting in.

  Mack didn’t say a thing but gently laid Sadie on the couch. Someone grabbed a pillow and tucked it beneath her head. Mel ran to get towels, and a couple of blankets to bundle around her. Irene knelt beside the couch and carefully moved Sadie’s head aside to inspect the wound. She reached for Sadie’s wrist; I knew she was looking for a pulse. She frowned and my heart skipped several beats, but she eventually gave a slight nod. I took a breath, not realizing I’d been holding it.

  I moved next to Mack. “I wish we had a doctor here.”

  Mack shook his head but didn’t take his eyes from Irene and Sadie. “Don’t worry. Irene used to be a nurse before she married what’s-his-name over there.” He jerked his head in Austin’s direction; I followed his gaze. The senator, leaning against the wall with a scowl on his face, seemed entirely disinterested in the life-and-death situation unfolding before him. Jerk. Sorry, Lord.

  Mel came over to me and grabbed my arm with both of her hands. “Oh, Hugh, is she going to be okay? Good grief, you’re soaked. Let me get you some towels.” She was gone before I could say a thing. What could I say anyway? From the size of that branch, Sadie was lucky to be alive in the first place, and who knew how long she’d been lying there on the wet ground, bleeding, exposed to the elements.

  Irene skillfully and gently examined Sadie. Thank You, Lord, for Irene. She carefully checked for signs of broken bones and scrutinized her scalp for bumps and bruises. I imagined Sadie had quite a goose egg atop her head, and she’d have a mighty headache in the morning. Mel had apparently brought the first aid kit to Irene, because she started to cleanse Sadie’s face while Hazel Parry dried her hair and patted her arms and legs to soak up some of the moisture in her clothes.

  “We need to get her out of these wet clothes,” Irene said. She looked around the room. Spotting me, she said, “Hugh, is there someplace on this floor we can move her?”

  I nodded and pointed down the hall leading from the dining room. “Yep, my office. It’s right back there, and there’s a couch.”

  Mack cradled Sadie in his massive arms and carried her down the hall. Irene followed closely behind. After Mack installed her on the couch in my office, I lit some candles and placed them where Irene could see enough to do what she had to do. Mel, Hazel, Winnie, Martha, and Emma walked in quietly. As I was walking out the door, I heard one of them begin to pray aloud.

  It was becoming painfully obvious to Agent Reynolds that the event he’d thought was planned for tonight was in real jeopardy. Not only were the old folks of Road’s End milling around the house like a flock of turkeys, but he hadn’t had a chance to talk to his partner to ensure the proper precautions were in place. He was flying solo here, and he didn’t much care for it. He was a team player—not the coach, not a benchwarmer. He was more than happy, eager even, to do his job, but he had to know just what that job was before he could do it. He was accustomed to taking orders and following them to the letter. Floating around in uncertainty made him nervous, and being nervous made him ornery.

  And nobody wanted an ornery Agent Reynolds in their midst.

  With most of the women keeping vigil over Sadie, Tanner had only Mandy to keep him company. He had finally awakened. The thunderstorm raging overhead hadn’t seemed to bother him while he dozed, but the ruckus the men and women of Road’s End made wandering around the house did the trick. I watched while he sat in Mandy’s arms, yawning occasionally, clutching Puppy One, and keeping tabs on the commotion around him. Pewter, displaced when we brought Sadie in, had followed Tanner to the chair and curled up on Mandy’s lap next to him.

  I couldn’t help smiling at the picture. Mandy was a natural at this mothering thing. She looked like she’d known Tanner all his life, and when I thought about it, she had. Sadly, Tanner had no recollection of his birth mother, and while that was tragic, I knew Mandy would do everything in her power to be the best mother Tanner could ask for. He looked so right sitting there in her lap. She rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head occasionally as she chatted with one or another of the people crammed into the room. Tanner snuggled against her and burrowed his little blond head into her neck, obviously contented to be in her arms. Jonathan watche
d from across the room standing next to his disgruntled stepfather, a smile on the younger man’s face. Might not be the wedding night they looked forward to, but at least they’d never forget it.

  Mack interrupted that cozy scene when he burst into the room and said, “Let’s go, sir. Tornado on the ground and it’s heading this way.

  STR took one step at Mack’s insistence, then stopped. “We’re not going anywhere until the others know. Right now.”

  To his credit, Mack hesitated only briefly. “Yes, sir.” He raised his voice above the din of half the town talking at once. “Folks, get into the basement now. Everyone. There’s a tornado on the ground heading in our direction. Let’s go, people. Now!”

  Mack sure knows how to ruin a good time.

  Chaos erupted, right along with everyone else in the room. I’ve never seen these folks move so fast, even when presented with a buffet of Sadie’s baked goods and hot coffee. Since we had no electricity, everyone fumbled around in the candlelight. Even that little bit of light dimmed with the crush of bodies heading for the kitchen. Men searched for their wives, wives for their husbands, Mack reached for the president and practically tore his arm off trying to manhandle him past the crowd of senior citizens blocking the way. I lost track of him when they entered the sea of confusion in the dining room.

  I shoved my way to the kitchen to help folks, pointing the way to the basement stairs. There’s a trap door in the floor of the pantry, as well, so I ran in there and yanked away the rug, grabbed the old iron ring, and pulled the door open. A puff of stale air filled the pantry, bringing back memories of the last time I’d been down there during the Road’s End Raid last winter. Anyone spry enough to scramble down the ladder could be in the basement in seconds. In any event, it gave folks a second escape route.