Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  Emily led Bunny to the car and buckled her in.

  Bunny roused herself enough to murmur, “My sister, Jean, is expecting me to call.”

  “Well, you can call her from my place. I’m fixing you a nice cup of cocoa, and then you are getting out of those filthy clothes, having a bath and getting right into bed. You are in no condition to go anywhere else for the time being.”

  Chapter 29

  Sing a new song to the Lord.–Psalm 96:1

  Bunny was finishing her morning walk and approaching her bungalow, when she noticed a snowflake drift before her eyes. She saw more flakes highlighted against the dark green of the fir trees.

  “It looks like we may get a white Christmas this year,” she thought, with a brief flicker of pleasure.

  By the time she reached her door, Bunny was speckled with snow.

  The few icy crystals which clung to her wool gloves melted quickly once inside the warm house.

  She settled on the sofa with her coffee, with the cats snuggling beside her, and Bunny thought how good it was to be back in her own little home.

  Emmy had wanted Bunny to live at her place, permanently, but Bunny knew she needed to be back on her own to come to terms with everything.

  Jean thought Bunny’s depression was the result of a twice-broken heart.

  Bunny was sure she had come to terms with her feelings for Max. They had been a mixture of hormones and an attempt to find her lost youth.

  She was already off-balance when Max stepped back into her life and was defenseless in the face of her long-time physical attraction to him. But even acknowledging that, she had been strongly tempted to return to the hospital to beg Max for another chance.

  She’d felt both devastating pain and a huge relief when she heard Max was already discharged and had flown to his island paradise to recuperate.

  What truly shattered Bunny’s peace of mind, however, was her willingness to turn her back on her faith in the face of temptation.

  It was a stunning glimpse into the weakness of her own character.

  The image she treasured of herself as a strong Christian was a distortion of the truth.

  While she had willingly (proudly?) proclaimed herself to be a “sinner, saved by grace” and a work in progress, deep down she felt herself to be superior to her weaker brothers and sisters in Christ.

  Now she knew she was among the weakest of the weak.

  Twelve-step programs teach admitting one has a problem is the beginning of the healing process.

  Perhaps seeing herself more clearly was the first step toward wholeness for Bunny. Or perhaps not. All Bunny’s certainties about herself and her own character had been wiped away.

  She had no doubts about God, though.

  His character was never-changing. He was with her every step of the way and He was with her still.

  She prayed continuously for forgiveness and guidance.

  Bunny would start a new job on Monday.

  She was going to work for the local discount store, after all. Not as a greeter, though. She would be working in the business office as a clerk. The pay was enough to meet her basic needs.

  God continued to provide.

  God was providing for Walter, too. Although he committed horrific crimes and could never be in free society, Walter was a victim, too, and was equally one of God’s beloved children.

  He was getting the psychiatric help he needed, now, in a good prison hospital.

  Bunny and Emily had visited him there.

  They had gone so Bunny could face her fears and forgive Walter, as a spiritual exercise.

  Seeing him there, reverted to the defenseless child he once was, freed Bunny to truly forgive and feel compassion for the man.

  She had forgiven Max, again, too.

  It was not his fault he had never been the man Bunny imagined him to be.

  She continued to pray for God to find him on that island and for Max to accept His salvation.

  The task before Bunny, now, was to forgive herself.

  Her other sister, Linda, invited Bunny to come and stay on her potato farm outside the small town of Wendell in southern Idaho. Bunny was tempted to accept the offer and put Clark’s Hallow and all its memories behind her. Only inertia seemed to be preventing her from making the move.

  Bunny hadn’t the strength to overcome the gravity of her depression, just now.

  In time, with God’s help and the support of her friends, Bunny hoped she would be ready to make the decisions necessary to begin to plan for her future.

  For now, she was only capable of coping with the mundane challenges and routine of life in Clark’s Hallow.

  It would be a Clark’s Hallow without her oppressive husband, without an unhinged murderer stalking the streets...and without Max. Only time would tell what sort of life that might be.

  Sitting quietly, gazing into the fire and pondering her situation, Bunny noticed the build-up of ash beneath the grate. It was beginning to inhibit airflow around the burning logs and the flames were subsiding.

  As she shifted the ash with the little fireplace shovel, the blaze increased, but she knew the fireplace would have to be cleaned out before she could make a new fire in the morning.

  It was a good illustration of her life, Bunny thought.

  Right now, she was only able to shift aside the suffocating ashes of her painful memories. As soon as she felt strong enough to face them and clear them out of her mind, she would be ready for a fresh start.

  Comforted by the thought, she dropped another small log onto the flames.

  She would clean the grate tomorrow. This would keep her warm enough ... for now.

  If only it were as easy to clean her dreams of the fantasies which filled her sleep... Visions of life with a born-again Max.

  

  Max Banks sat in a canvas-sling beach chair, nestled in the sand beside a small table under a palm tree at a beachfront bar in Bonaire, in the Netherlands Antilles.

  He sipped his rum and tonic and watched the nearby surf teasing at the feet of a strolling couple.

  Shifting his weight a bit, he winced as the movement caused discomfort to his slowly mending ribs and ankle.

  It would not be long before he was able to begin therapy to restore full use to his leg.

  Max was eager to get back into his scuba gear and plunge into the beautifully serene world beneath those waves.

  The time spent back in California assumed an unreal quality to Max. Part of it was dreamy, but much was a nightmare.

  It was just as well he had so little memory of his ordeal at Dinks Dodd’s old house.

  He thought he remembered going up the stairs and falling down again, but he could recall little beyond that.

  His concussion left him decidedly muddled, even after his rescue.

  When Max began to think clearly, he learned he had already been in the hospital for several days. As soon as he was well enough for discharge, he arranged to finish his convalescence here on the island he loved.

  It was good to be back, but he was still adjusting.

  He had to admit to himself he was just a little bit lonely.

  The feeling of abandonment he experienced in the hospital lingered, even now, as he regained his health and renewed old acquaintances among the other cruisers.

  He realized Bunny was with him for selling the newspaper, but it was not like her to hold a grudge.

  Max thought, after sharing an experience such as the police described to him, she would have come to see him.

  When Banks had asked about her, he was told she wasn’t badly injured, so he expected her to visit, at least to make sure he was okay and to say goodbye.

  It still puzzled him that she had not.

  “It was too bad about Bunny...if only she had been able to get over her outdated Baptist sensibilities...Bonaire and Bunny. That would have been quite a combination,” he murmured into his glass.

  Draining it quickly, Max motioned to the waiter for just one more.


  Ω

  Vain Pursuits

  Book Two, Bunny Elder Adventure Series

  JB Hawker

  Copyright © 2013 J.B Hawker

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10:

  1482696479

  ISBN-13:

  978-1482696479

  DEDICATION

  For Anna and Carla, Italian daughters of my heart

  Chapter One

  Lord, God of my master Abraham, if you will, please grant success to the journey on which I have come. Genesis 24:40

  The severely blonde flight attendant wrestled impatiently with her serving cart while making halting progress along the narrow aisle between banks of cramped gray seats in a Lufthansa Airbus high above the Atlantic Ocean. Turning from side to side she grimly dealt out pre-packaged dinner trays to the restless passengers.

  Although her icy pale hair and crisp blue uniform remained unruffled, the stewardess was obviously near the end of her tether from long hours of forced congeniality with the fretful mass of economy-class passengers assigned to her care.

  A creased and crumpled, though still dignified, elderly man, inching back to his seat from a thoroughly disheartening visit to the claustrophobic restroom, inadvertently blocked the attendant’s forward progress.

  Peremptorily rapping the old fellow’s shoulder, she hissed sharply with Prussian authority, “You must not block the aisles! Return to your seat, immediately.”

  With a gasp, the man recoiled, stumbled and landed without ceremony in the soft lap of a petite middle-aged woman.

  Mortified, he attempted to scramble to his feet, but the serving cart bumped him back onto his startled seat mate.

  The old gentleman creaked stiffly to his feet as soon after the flight attendant’s passing as possible, trembling with humiliation and repressed rage.

  “Please excuse me, madam. I am so terribly sorry. Have I injured you?”

  The man addressed his fellow victim in very slightly accented English as he attempted to regain his composure.

  “Oh, no, not at all. I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry about it. That certainly wasn’t your fault. Brünnhilde’s assault would have done in a lesser man, I assure you. You are lucky to have survived.”

  Bunny Elder replied with a wry smile, as she straightened her khaki skirt and pushed a lock of graying blonde hair back into place behind one ear.

  “Yes, well, it would appear there are reasons why this particular airline was never touted as part of the ‘friendly skies.’ Thank you for being so gracious. My name is Parma, by the way, Anthony Parma.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Anthony. I’m Bunny.”

  “Bunny?” Parma raised an eyebrow as he asked.

  “Oh, that’s just a nickname, really. My given name is Leveline, I’m afraid. I’m Leveline Elder on my driver’s license, but when I have a choice, I’m just Bunny.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Elder.”

  “Bunny, please.”

  “Yes, well, I am pleased to meet you...Bunny. Again, I apologize for the unfortunate nature of our meeting. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”

  “Thanks. You too,” Bunny replied as Parma squeezed his way into the window seat a few rows back.

  “Well, that certainly perked things up, Linda. I didn’t expect to have charming men falling into my lap when you invited me on this trip,” Bunny addressed the diminutive dark-haired woman beside her.

  Linda looked up from the book she was reading, blinking her startlingly blue eyes as though just waking from a dream.

  “What are you talking about, Bunny?”

  Bunny could not believe it. Her older sister had not even noticed all the commotion going on mere inches away.

  Linda had been engrossed in reading for most of the ten hours they had been in the air.

  While Bunny was struggling to find a comfortable sitting position, attempting to do the blood-clot-prevention exercises promoted by the in-flight magazine, praying not to crash, frantically studying her Italian-English dictionary, resisting the urge to visit the nasty airplane toilet, trying vainly to sleep and worrying about the jet lag ahead, like any rational modern air traveler, Linda was oblivious to it all, lost in one romance novel after the other.

  Bunny envied Linda’s ability to escape into a fictional world. She did not admire her choice of reading material, however.

  Bunny thought intimate romantic details were better left to one’s imagination. She found these books with their blow by blow, as it were, descriptions of “then he did this and she did that” with heaving bosoms and pulsing manhood, off-putting, manipulative and salacious.

  Bunny supposed she was out of step with modern culture, but although she didn’t find even the most inventive sex acts offensive in their proper context, she didn’t want to read about them.

  “Oh, never mind,” she sighed. “Here’s our dinner.”

  The haughty attendant had missed their row of seats on her first pass, due to Mr. Parma’s accident, but being more efficient than pleasant, she approached now with the plastic trays.

  “To drink?” she queried.

  Bunny requested bottled water. She’d read somewhere airline water was contaminated and she was taking no chances.

  Her sister risked all by having brewed coffee.

  The food lacked color, texture and flavor, but fortunately, there was not much of it.

  After returning her empty tray, Bunny tried to concentrate on the après dinner movie.

  It was an equally distasteful bit of fluff called Down with Love, so she removed her headphones, wriggled back to get as comfortable as possible, and began to muse on the events which led her to this child-sized seat on a seemingly interminable flight to Italy-of-all-places.

  It was a blessing Linda could lose herself in novels just now. Not only was she escaping the tedium and discomfort of this flight, but it was also helping her to cope with the recent loss of her husband to cancer.

  Bunny could have wished for a similar balm a few years before after her own husband’s sudden death. However, it would have required some incredibly gripping fiction to block out Eustace’s murder and the horrific events which followed.

  Bunny was unable to concentrate on much of anything in those first few months.

  Linda and Walt provided a much needed refuge when they invited Bunny to leave her small hometown in Northern California and join them on their potato farm near Wendell, Idaho.

  Lacking a compelling reason to decline their offer, Bunny made the move from the mountain community of Clark’s Hallow, giving up her low-paying job at a discount department store to share the bucolic life of her sister and brother-in-law.

  Bunny had been in the high desert of south-central Idaho only a few months when Walt began his battle with late-stage colon cancer.

  In a matter of weeks, Bunny became less an object of charity and more of a help and support to her sister.

  Linda gradually devoted more and more of her own time to nursing Walt.

  It was a shame, Bunny thought. For many years Linda also carried the major burden of care for the sisters’ elderly mother.

  That cantankerous woman died, at the age of ninety-seven, the summer before Bunny moved to Idaho.

  Bunny felt her sister deserved some release from the constant caretaking.

  She was glad Linda found a little relief from her cares in books.

  After Walt died, Linda seemed rudderless.

  Bunny could usually find her sister sitting on the veranda, staring out over the dry fields and rocky plain beyond, wringing her hands absently, with tears tracking down her smooth, ivory cheeks.

  Bunny could understand how devastated Linda was by Walt’s death. Not only was she grieving for her beloved life partner, but she had lost her nurturing identity as well.

  Her torpor was so profound Bunny was afraid for her older sister’s mental health.

  One afternoon Linda abruptly left her wicker rocker and with a look of renew
ed purpose trotted down the steps to the basement storeroom.

  Bunny followed to find her sister kneeling on a multi-colored braided rug unpacking box after box of tissue-wrapped Nativity sets.

  Bunny knew of Linda’s collection. She had admired it just the previous Christmas; their last before Walt died.

  Linda had been collecting the holiday figurines for more than thirty years and had crèches of nearly every design imaginable. These included rustic olivewood carvings from the Holy Land, daintily painted bone china sets, miniatures that fit into the palm of one’s hand, and large hand painted plaster creations with camels standing eighteen inches tall.

  Bunny’s particular favorite was an antique scrimshaw scene with the entire Nativity ensemble carved from a single piece of ivory.

  Her sister’s taste was eclectic, however, so the collection contained a few sets Bunny found almost painful to look at; the worst example being a cloyingly sweet group of figures with all the Biblical characters portrayed by big-headed, round-eyed children. There was something jarring to Bunny about a toddler Madonna.

  Bunny was surprised to find her sister unpacking the collection in mid-summer, but was relieved to see Linda taking an interest in something, at last.

  That same day Linda had startled Bunny by announcing her desire to be known to everyone, thereafter, as Taffy, the affectionate nickname Walt had given her.

  When Bunny had begun to object to the name change, Linda had pointed out, as Bunny had discarded “Leveline” in favor of her own childhood nickname, she was in no position to criticize.

  It was shortly after that day Taffy began to speak of her long-cherished dream of possessing an authentic Italian presepio from one of the master nativity artists in Naples.

  The Italians have a tradition of creating elaborate nativity sets which goes back almost to the first animated portrayals of Christ’s birth initiated by St. Francis of Assisi.