“A preacher’s daughter, without the common decency to attend church?” Miriam tsked, tsked. “Can you believe that?”
“I’m sure she’s just troubled right now,” Elise offered in a quiet voice. “We all have our trials.”
“Oh, bologna! She was raised Christian. It’s plain shameful how she disgraces the good Reverend Pearson!”
No wonder she’d bolted. Caleb’s gut wrenched at the disdainful words and the prospect of what might’ve been said directly to Hope.
Elise noticed him first. “Caleb, is she okay? I only asked her to sit with me at church and then…” Elise sighed, indicating the harrumphing woman next to her had done the real damage. “I didn’t mean to upset her with my invitation.”
“I understand.” He too had put Hope off a time or ten with his offers of prayer. Like an echo in his brain, he remembered the jab of her crutch from the day prior when he’d prayed for her.
He was learning fast nothing about the woman was what they’d expected. Nor simple.
“Can you believe she won’t be attending Sunday sermon?”
Sorely tempted to give Ms. Miriam a good shake, he chose instead to walk in the Lord’s example. One couldn’t fight fire with fire, nor self-righteousness with self-righteousness.
Checking his temper, he stepped forward calmly to load Hope’s bags into his cart. “Some things, Ms. Miriam, you can’t be taught or told. Faith is one of them.”
“What can we do?” Elise asked quietly, clearly concerned. “It’s so sad. She used to love God.”
“You catch more flies with honey.” The quote came instantly to mind. Brian’s advice had never made more sense. “Hope needs love—unconditional love—just as Jesus gives us. Nothing is more powerful.”
Cart loaded, he tipped his hat. “I’ll see you around ladies around.”
“Caleb, wait.” Elise jotted something down on a slip of paper and handed it to him. “Give Hope my number. Tell her…tell her I still have the necklace.”
“I’ll do that.” Curious what she meant, he tucked the number in his pocket. “Ms. Miriam, good day.”
“Good day,” she grumped, clearly feeling chastened. That, or even more self-righteous.
Caleb pushed the cart into the sunny, warm day, spotting Hope poised on the bench seat of his truck, face propped on one hand and door dinging ajar as Noah leaned against the frame, angling a boot to the step as he jotted down notes.
So his brother had finally gotten around to making his report. What timing.
At least Noah had more finesse than Caleb. Despite poking an open wound, he still had Hope smiling. Laughing even as Caleb approached to the tune of, “So this Neil guy, you say we can cross him off our list? He’s too stupid to figure out a tracking device?”
“Maybe just move him to the bottom.”
So now she admitted her ex could be a suspect. The boy could charm the skin off a snake.
“Okay, I guess that’s all I need for now.” Noah flipped the notebook shut, turning serious. “Look, I’m with you, darlin’. The tracking device was probably just a coincidence. But take precautions anyway. Lock up at night. Don’t take any rides from strangers. You jive?”
Grabbing several plastic bags by the handle, Caleb lifted them into the truck bed. “Couldn’t hurt to listen to doctor’s orders either.”
“Sounds like a fine plan to me,” Noah agreed.
Hope smirked, rolling her eyes. “I’m tempted to make you wait on me hand and foot.”
“Let me know if you want to borrow a bell.” On that note, his brother dropped his booted foot to the ground, tipped his hat and sauntered off. “I’ll be in touch by tomorrow.”
Finished, Caleb parked the cart at the storefront and jogged back to the truck, climbing in.
“Elise wanted me to give you this. It’s her number.” Slamming his door shut, he plucked the paper from his front pocket and passed it to her. “She said to tell you she still has the necklace.”
“The necklace? Really?” Glancing at the slip of paper then to him, Hope seemed almost bewildered. “She kept hers?”
“I reckon. That’s what she said. You surprised?”
“Kinda. It was just plastic, with letter beads that spelled BFF. Kid stuff, you know? Though at the time, it seemed pretty important. I made one for her and a matching one for myself.”
“Did you keep yours as well?”
“Yeah…I guess I did. It’s in my jewelry box.” She glanced back at the store as they pulled out. “Even if I only saw her in the summer, Elise was my best friend.”
For a moment, Caleb glimpsed the vulnerable, friendship-hungry girl she’d once been. “She’s still your best friend. Some things like that never change.”
“Maybe.” Making an expression he couldn’t quite read, she folded the paper back in half and tucked it in her purse. “I’ll call her if I get the time to, I guess.”
Hope had no job. No obligations. Nothing to do but sit around and heal. It seemed to Caleb all she had was time.
She was a woman who was surrounded by high, thick walls. Walls he prayed God would crumble into dust so the real Hope could shine through. Beneath the pain and anger he suspected lay a beautiful, wonderful person with the heart of gold and spirit of a child.
As Caleb veered onto Main Street, he got an idea. “Hey, wanna listen to some music?”
“Sure.”
With that, he plugged in his favorite Christian rock CD.
Chapter Eight
Seriously, again?
Hope had finally drifted off, what…ten seconds ago? Now here she was, awake once more and dwelling on Eden Ranch and Retreat. Its possibilities.
Images of bible school, memories of happier times and of childishly fashioned necklaces of pink and purple, would not rest. The off switch to her brain had clearly developed a tick. Maybe she had overdone it today, as Caleb had insisted.
Maybe she should’ve called Elise instead of being so…so…
She was afraid, really. Fearful rekindling the friendship would change her. Terrified of being sucked in only to be disappointed.
The day had been long, filled with errands and chores—at least attempted, no thanks to Caleb’s protests and constant takeovers. He’d refused to let her fold laundry. Denied her the task of preparing meals. Even thwarted her from unpacking. He just couldn’t seem to understand how she needed to busy herself to keep her mind off what she’d learned about her father’s plans that morning and so many other matters, Neil suddenly being very last on the list.
She was more concerned her car wouldn’t turn out a total loss.
On and on the fitful night trudged. Sleep taunted her, coming and going with dreams so vivid, she swore she was awake anyway. Caleb’s words niggled. Echoed in her brain.
He hoped one day you’d take over for him.
Frustrated, she tossed to her side.
In fact, he was confident you would.
Did this pillow have to be so lumpy? Flipping it over, she buried her fist in it several times to no avail and wished it wasn’t too late to call Elise.
This night would never end.
In the otherwise silence of the house, Hope’s bedside clock marched to time, each tick an echo in her head.
Crazy, she swore she just heard the steps creak.
Yup, she was losing it.
But there it was again, the moan of old wood under weight. Samson let out a low growl.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Chills crawled along her spine as Samson whimpered then gave a halfhearted yap. Peering past the covers she discovered the dog at her feet was simply dreaming. Lucky him.
It was most likely just the old house settling. Or the pipes creaking. She listened carefully several more minutes then decided a glass of warm milk would set her right.
Besides, the urge to reread through that folder had grasped her like a pit bull’s bite and wouldn’t quit shaking.
Hurling back the covers, she hauled herself
from bed and onto her crutches. Oblivious, Samson slept on.
Crossing the dark room, she searched blindly on the dresser for her glasses, found them and slipped them on. She debated turning on the light but silly as it sounded, she didn’t want to rouse the sweetly sleeping Samson. Then he’d be up, start sniffing and need to be taken out.
Exiting the room, she started down the hall, the utter darkness raising the hairs on her neck. There was another creak. A shuffle.
What was that?
“Hello? Is…anyone there?” Fear, swift and strong, froze like ice over her. “Caleb? Are you downstairs?”
Heart lurching, her hand searched frantically along the wall, finding the switch and flicking it to no avail.
What’d happened to the electricity?
Someone was in the house with her. She could feel it in her bones. Swore she heard them breathing.
Oh God, she had to get out of here!
The darkness seemed to come at her from all sides as she ventured in the direction of the staircase, unsteady on her crutches. Deep inside, she realized there was no escape. Something terrible was coming. An attack was imminent but from which direction to expect it?
Then suddenly, a face, horrid and contorted. A monster’s countenance—no, the devil’s face, glowing in the darkness. Horned and blood red with huge, sharp teeth, hair sticking straight up. Terrifying.
Wicked.
It lunged at her, making the most horrific sound. The floor disappeared from beneath her feet and she pitched backward, hurling down the stairs in a messy combination of crutches, sliding and shrieking.
Please God! “Please!”
The last thing she heard was Samson barking, loud and aggressive and then…thwack! Oblivion.
* * * *
In the foggy aftermath of a deep slumber, Caleb bolted upright, certain something was wrong. In the not so far distance, an engine roared to life, tires grinding and spitting gravel. Immediately alert, he hurled himself out of bed as if it were on fire. “Hope!”
Wasting only enough time to pull on some jeans, check the bullets in his .357 SiG and commandeer a flashlight, he bolted out the door barefoot.
Boots required far too much effort. There’d been a time he slept ready-to-go, never sure what might happen, but that period in his life was like a distant dream.
Now he was a different man. A Ranger no longer. A barefoot civilian praying it wasn’t too late.
Twigs cracked under the blows of his feet, the ground cold and moist. The night sky was ominously clouded, not a star to be seen between the jagged branches crisscrossing overhead.
Every step screamed of Caleb’s slow gait. His weakness.
Lord, please, he prayed. Let him move faster. Let him save Hope.
What seemed an eternity later, he thumped across the rear deck, using his key to thrust open the back door. “I’m armed!”
Her sobs filled the pitch black house, broken and scared. Without flicking a switch, he knew the power had been cut—not so much a nightlight or the smallest clock glowed.
Just utter darkness, thick and threatening.
“Hope, I’m here.” Caleb found a wall, pressing his back to it. Inch by inch, he advanced toward the sound of her cries. “Is he still inside?”
He…Neil. Who else could it be?
“I don’t…” She hiccupped and gasped. “I don’t know. It’s so dark.”
His light flashed through the kitchen, the living room, searching for an intruder, though considering the vehicle he’d heard, he was inclined to believe they were alone now.
“Where are you?”
“The stairs,” she moaned. “I’m stuck.”
“Okay, hang on, honey. I’m coming.”
He found her suspended upside down on the staircase. By some miracle, her crutch had lodged in the rail and against the opposite wall, pinning her arm and creating a barrier that cradled her from a treacherous fall.
“I got you, sweetheart.” Resting the flashlight to the stairs and holstering his weapon, he tugged at the wedged crutch, freeing it up, then slid a hand under each of her shoulder blades and guided her to sitting. “Where are you hurt?”
“I think…” Drawing a deep breath, she glanced frantically into the pitch dark behind her. “I think I’m okay. I passed out.”
Despite her claim, he ran his hands up and down her arms and legs, checking for bleeding or breaks. “What happened?”
“I…” Her voice caught in her throat, breathing ragged. “I fell I guess.”
“You fell? That’s it?” Now why didn’t he believe that?
“I…” In the glimmer the flashlight provided, she gawked up at him with huge, haunted eyes, struggling to catch her breath. “I saw the devil.”
The devil?
She shook with terror staggered with disbelief and confusion. So small, so scared.
Her glasses laid several steps above them, luckily undamaged, and Caleb appropriated them to her face.
“Okay, to your feet.” Grabbing his flashlight, Caleb flung her arm around his shoulder, supporting her. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
“No!” Her body jerked in his grasp and he caught her just in time. “No, I’m not going up there!”
“Okay, relax.” Tightening his grip on her, he turned them around. “We’ll go downstairs. Where’s Samson?”
“I don’t know. He was barking…going crazy. Do you think something happened to him?”
The thought made Caleb’s stomach clench.
“That little bruiser? He’s around here somewhere, chewing something to shreds.” Kicking aside the crutches, he guided her down the stairs one at a time. Once he deposited her safely on the couch, he pulled his pistol from his waistband. “I have to go to the basement and check the breakers.”
“No!” Frantic fear twisted on her face. “You can’t leave me!”
“Sweetheart, do you know how to use one of these?”
Her “have you gone crazy?” glare provided all the answer he needed. “You just cock,” he displayed with his thumb. “Aim,” he pointed. “And fire.” His finger tapped the trigger. “Easy.”
She glanced at the weapon. “I don’t think you can shoot the devil.”
“Do you want the lights out ’til morning?”
“No.” The word trembled from her.
Carefully, he laid the gun in her quivering grasp. “Just don’t shoot me.”
“Right. Okay.” She gave a high-pitched nervous laugh and Caleb made his way from the room on the defense.
Sure enough, in the basement he discovered the breakers had been tripped. Flicking them on, he returned power to the house then proceeded to turn on every light he encountered on his way back to Hope, whom he found not on the couch as he’d left her but cowering against the furthest wall. Trembling, the .357 vibrating in her grasp.
Many times Caleb had witnessed the kind of fear that left a body backed in the corner, sweat beading upon the brow.
But never had it touched him so deeply.
A swarming blend of tenderness and compassion brewed deep in his soul as he knelt before her, brushing her unruly bangs from her face. “Sweetheart, he’s gone.” Gently, he pulled the weapon from her grasp and reunited it with his waistband then guided her to her feet. She felt so weak in his grasp, Caleb didn’t think twice about scooping her into his arms. “I heard a vehicle take off and that’s how I knew you were in trouble.”
“A vehicle?” As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she buried her moist face in his bare chest intimately, her tears creating trails. “But it was…oh God…”
Was the devil, she’d told him. Caleb, however, while certainly spiritual, tended to be the more sensible type.
Someone had attacked her.
“Take deep inhales. Try to relax. It’s over, okay?” Laying her on the couch, he again smoothed the thick curls from her face as she sputtered something about horns. “When you get yourself calmed down, we’ll talk, okay?”
She nod
ded violently, as if explaining to him were the most important thing in the world.
Several sniffles and big breaths later, she wiped fingers across her face. From his back pocket, he pulled his handkerchief. “Here. Don’t worry, it isn’t used.”
“Thank you.” She honked rather unladylike and despite the situation, he had to resist the urge to laugh. “My dad carried one of these. I always had to borrow it during church.”
“Feeling a little better?”
“Yeah.” With a swallow, she crossed her arms at her chest and only then did he notice the pretty, sleeveless white nightgown she wore.
He wasn’t exactly dressed for a ball, either.
Clearing his throat, Caleb stood and faced away. Would she be disgusted by the multitude of scars upon him? From her hushed gasp, indeed.
His first instinct was to fetch a robe for her—and a shirt for himself—but he knew she wasn’t ready to be left alone yet.
Just then, a scratch came at the front door. Alarm triggered, Caleb withdrew his gun and motioned for Hope to be quiet and stay put.
The pawing grew louder, accompanied by whining. “Samson?”
Back to the wall, Caleb cracked the door and the dog zipped beneath his feet. “He must’ve chased the intruder.”
Glancing outside, Caleb’s eyes swept across the shadows lingering in the murky night. The barn. The fencing. His truck. Nothing out of ordinary.
“Guess you scared ’em off, huh boy?” As Caleb shut and bolted the entryway, the puppy tumbled and rolled past the couch, fighting with something red in his mouth.
“What’s that?”
Reaching down, Caleb commandeered the strip of torn red, silky fabric. Cheap polyester.
Turning it over, he discovered a tag. Clever Costumes.
“Well, I never…” He held it for Hope to see. “Our evidence, thanks to Samson. Your devil was wearing a Halloween get-up.”
“But…why?”
“Suppose he wanted to scare you. It was no ‘devil’, that’s for sure. At least not of supernatural nature.” Given the confusion on her face, he figured pointing out the obvious was worth a shot. “Now, the crutch in the rail—that was all God.”
The question was, would she see that?
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