by Jane Keeler
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I was afraid I’d lost you,” he whispered into her hair.
“Nah. You’re a good man, Westley Braxton. I’m not letting you go that easy.”
Chapter 11
It was a brilliant and beautiful afternoon, and Sarah and Westley took advantage of it to play Frisbee out in the yard. Fenton or one of his young friends had left the disc on Sarah’s porch; Westley remembered playing it as a teenager and convinced Sarah to give it a try.
Westley was developing quite a tan—over the past week he’d spent more time in shorts than business suits. Sarah had talked him into taking off his shirt as well. It was hot, she said. He might as well be comfortable, she said.
The gleam in her eye when she looked at him suggested that his comfort might not be the first thing on her mind, however.
They tossed the Frisbee back and forth for about an hour—Sarah turned out to be a natural at it, and Westley only won by a very narrow margin. He nevertheless took the opportunity to run around the yard with his arms up in the classic ‘champion’ pose, causing Sarah to laugh so hard she had to lean on a nearby tree. They shared a sweaty kiss and went back into the house.
Once they were inside Westley shucked off his shorts and grabbed her. He hadn’t made love like this in a long time—sweaty bellies slapping against each other in the dim room, bodies still scented with the musk of their exertions. When they finished they shared a final kiss and separated, still breathless.
Westley reached out and took her hand. He could feel their connection across the space between them. He could still feel it when they took their separate showers and Sarah went into the kitchen to fix dinner.
The phone rang.
He only heard Sarah’s side of the conversation: “Oh, God... Yes... No... His sister’s there with you? Okay.”
That did not sound good at all. Westley’s bad feeling didn’t get any better as Sarah rushed past him to the bedroom. He followed her with an increasing sense of foreboding. She changed into a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of hiking boots, then grabbed her bag of remedies and turned to face him.
“There’s a boy missing,” she said.
“I’ll help search,” he replied immediately.
“Good.” She gave him a brief smile. “I’ll fetch the flashlights while you get dressed. We’ll be walking through the woods in the dark, so cover up.”
Their tasks were only just completed when a car horn sounded out in the yard. In the passenger seat of Fenton’s four-door pickup was the brown-haired girl Westley had noticed on his first day in town. Gone were the artless attempts at flirtation—she had been crying and hung on to Fenton’s arm in genuine distress.
“Sabrina, why don’t you tell Miz Abbot what happened?” Fenton said.
“Ryan ran away again. He got into a fight with Dad and ran away.” The girl sniffled and rubbed her face on Fenton’s shirt. “He’s been acting really weird.”
“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Sarah asked.
“Old Man Norton’s barn maybe? He used to like it when it was still there.”
Fenton made a hard right and stepped on the accelerator.
“What did she mean—‘when it was still there’?” Westley whispered.
“Burned down five years ago,” Sarah whispered back.
They had a quiet conversation in the back of the truck.
“Has someone called emergency services?” Westley asked.
“There’s just the sheriff, and he doesn’t have any what you might call finesse.”
“How old is Ryan?”
“Sixteen if I remember rightly.”
“Oh. I was envisioning someone much younger.”
“Ryan Cooper is… a troubled boy.”
Fenton pulled over beside a black ruin. It was the burnt-out barn, but in the moonlight it looked monumental and forbidding.
Stacey tumbled out, screaming, “Ryan! Ryan, where are you?!”
Fenton said, “I’ll check the barn,” and headed off into the dark structure.
Sarah went after the girl and Westley followed. He didn’t turn on his flashlight—the moon cast enough light to see once his eyes had acclimated.
He didn’t know what he was looking for. What did Sarah mean—troubled? He decided that, as a stranger, it might be counterproductive for him to yell out the boy’s name. Instead he asked, “Sabrina, do you know what clothes your brother was wearing?”
“Black t-shirt and jeans,” she said.
He’d be practically invisible. Westley tried to remember his long-ago Boy Scout training and looked for broken branches and trampled vegetation that might indicate someone had made a trail into the woods. Nothing jumped out at him. He’d never been much of a Boy Scout.
Sarah stopped walking and stared at the barn. Westley blinked. For a moment it looked like heatwaves were shimmering around her—a good trick in the cool night air. She advanced towards the barn, slowing down and moving cautiously as she neared it.
“Ryan?” Sarah called out.
She held out her arm towards Westley and Sabrina, palm out. “Stay here,” she said quietly.
Sarah peered into the barn. She felt Ryan’s presence but couldn’t see him, so she opened all her senses and searched for Fenton. There he was—over by the hayloft, or the pile of half-burned boards where it used to be. He was looking up into what remained of it, and when he saw Sarah he motioned her towards him.
Fenton pointed up at a white smudge in the corner, which resolved itself into Ryan’s pale face.
The boy had taken off his clothes and smeared his body with soot and ash. He was shivering. His hands were tucked into his armpits and his elbows clenched against his sides, making his body as small as possible.
“Ryan, honey?” Sarah said quietly.
“Shhh. They’ll hear. They’ll hear and they’ll come and it won’t be good. It won’t. No, it won’t.” Ryan started rocking back and forth.
“It’s okay Ryan, Fenton and I can help you.”
“The Shining Ones. The Shining Ones foretold. Heritance of the lizard and the lamb? You shine and glow. Have you come to claim me?”
Shit, Sarah thought. How was she supposed to respond to that? She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. Well, here goes nothing…
“They’re waiting for you outside,” she said. “We’ll take you to them, but first you have to come down to us.”
Ryan stopped rocking. “Is it a test? I must defy the Dark Ones, the living shadows?” His wide eyes darted back and forth, looking at something only he could see.
Sarah had an inspiration. “It’s a test, but you mustn’t defy them. Be quiet like a mouse and sneaky like a cat. Come down soft and silent. You can do it.”
Come on, Ryan, she mentally urged the boy. The longer he stayed up there, the greater the chances that one of those rotten timbers would break and bring that section of the barn down on top of all their heads. He was moving, praise God, he was moving.
Ryan uncurled and crawled towards what remained of the ladder. Fenton took a position beside it, his arms up, ready to catch the boy if he fell.
Sarah let out the breath she had been holding. Ryan was back on the ground. He calmed down with Sarah and Fenton on either side of him.
“Did I pass the test?” he whispered.
“You did good, really good.” Sarah reassured him.
“I have to go out, but I’ll be right back,” Fenton said. He returned quickly with a silver emergency blanket, which he wrapped around the boy.
“Shining! I’m shining.” Ryan’s hands caressed the reflective material.
“That’s right, dear, you are,” Sarah murmured. She and Fenton guided him out of the barn to Westley and Sabrina.
Westley saw a flash of silver, then Sabrina screamed and ran towards the three figures coming out of the barn.
So this is Ryan, Westley thought. The boy had black dirt smeared over his body, streaks of it marring h
is face, but he seemed calm enough now.
Sabrina’s eyes were bright and fixed on her brother. She touched the boy’s arm, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Mister Braxton,” Fenton said. “Sir? Can you drive? Me and Gramma will get in the back with Ryan.” He handed Westley the keys to his truck.
“Where are we going? This boy needs a doctor.” Westley said.
“Nearest hospital with mental care is almost fifty miles away.” Sarah said.
“We can’t afford a hospital,” Sabrina whined.
“I’ll pay for it,” Westley said. “What about your parents, Sabrina? Shouldn’t we take you home, or at least call them?”
“Dad’s dead drunk by now. Mama went away.”
“Ah. We’re all going to the hospital then. Can someone give me directions?”
The trip took almost an hour. At least there were no new contretemps during the drive. Ryan leaned back in his seat and hummed quietly to himself. Sabrina sniffled from time to time, but it seemed to be tears of relief more than anything else.
They didn’t get out of the hospital until after midnight. Around ten o’clock Westley had decided to go on a food run. He and Sarah hadn’t eaten dinner, and he was pretty sure the young people hadn’t either. KFC was the only thing open, so he returned with a big bucket of fried chicken and fixings that he dished out for Sabrina and Fenton. Sarah had gone in with Ryan to consult with the doctor.
Everyone’s heads turned when she came back out by herself.
“The doctor said he would do better to stay here for at least a couple of weeks. They have a treatment program for teenagers that sounds pretty good.”
Sabrina wailed and threw herself into Sarah’s arms. The girl stood there, shuddering slightly, while Sarah comforted her.
“C’mon dear, let’s go say goodbye.” Sarah took the girl’s hand and led her down the corridor to see her brother. When they came out again Sabrina seemed resigned, if not happy.
“It’s okay, honey. The doctors know how to take care of him and make him better,” Sarah said.
“I’ll bring you down to visit him every weekend,” Fenton said. “He’ll like that.” Fenton patted the girl on the shoulder, bringing a smile to her face.
“Is that food?! I’m starving,” Sarah said. “Sabrina honey, have you eaten yet? You should eat.”
Sabrina accepted her food, but didn’t put fork to it.
“One time, when I was eight and Ryan was eleven, we were playing hide and seek? And I thought it would be a good idea to hide in the cistern ,cuz it was dry and it was a really good place and he never found me. But I was too little and I couldn’t get out. I screamed and screamed and he got the pillows off the couch and I stood on them and he pulled me out. We got in soooo much trouble.”
“He sounds like a resourceful young man,” Westley said.
“We had to wash all the cushions really, really good,” Sabrina said.
“At least you weren’t stuck in the cistern anymore.” Westley smiled at the girl.
“No I wasn’t.” Sabrina concentrated on her dinner, digging in with a dainty voraciousness.
Westley wondered when she had last eaten. What sort of parents left the cistern open when there were small children around? Sabrina and Ryan’s parents, obviously. Sabrina was calming down and regaining her maturity. She’d been so upset before that she’d reverted to the mannerisms of a much younger child.
He caught Sarah’s eye. She was watching him, her eyes dark and a faint smile on her face. As they were leaving, she put her arm around his waist and gave him a brief hug. Her lips were warm against his cheek as she kissed him.
When they finally got home to bed, Westley held her close against him as the moonlight drifted in through the window and moved slowly across the floor.
Chapter 12
Braxton Industries’ site survey teams had finally gathered enough information for preliminary reports—enough to present to the board for approval.
“I need to go back to New York,” Westley said. He looked across the lunch table at Sarah. They’d only known each other for a couple of weeks, but it felt more like years. How quickly he’d become accustomed to the sight of her face. First thing in the morning. Last thing at night.
The thought of going back to his apartment to exist without her made him feel like a rock was strapped to his chest. “Come with me. I want to show you the city.”
“Oh, Westley, my dear…” Sarah stared down at her hands.
The rock was crushing the life out of him.
“I can’t leave. Someone has to look after Sabrina. And Ryan, once he gets out of the hospital,” she said.
“I have a lot to do in preparation for the building process. It will take a month or more. I… I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
Westley’s eyes burned. It was only a month, he thought. They could still talk on the phone. Why did it feel like forever? He wanted to tell her he loved her, beg her to come with him, offer her anything if only she’d say she would be with him always, but he didn’t. As comfortable as he felt with Sarah, he couldn’t face opening up like that. It would work out. Probably. Almost certainly.
A lot could happen in a month. Suppose she met someone else? Like who—Earl? His mind jeered. He calmed down a little. His mind had a point.
God, but he would miss her.
He knew she wouldn’t budge. In fact she was absolutely right. Those children needed someone to care for them; their parents certainly weren’t up to the task. There were likely many others like them here in this small town.
He’d never thought about it before, immersed as he had been in the joys and pleasures of Sarah’s company, but she played an important role in Hannahs Branch. He brightened up a bit—more prosperity for the town meant less work for Sarah.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.
“I’ll miss you every day you’re gone,” she replied.
Sarah blinked rapidly. It’s only a month, she told herself. He’ll come back. Probably. Almost certainly. She wanted to ask for reassurance, tell him she loved him, beg him to come back. She didn’t.
They’d only been together a couple of weeks. Maybe it was just a fling for him. Once he was back in New York, in his usual surroundings, maybe she’d fade to just a pleasant memory. She had no claim on him and wouldn’t presume to dictate what he should do.
She knew the next month would drag on endlessly, but she would just have to endure it.
God, but she would miss him.
They didn’t make love that night. They slept on their own sides of the bed. The distance between them was already growing.
The next morning, his bags packed in the car, Westley kissed her goodbye.
“I’ll call as often as I can,” he said.
“Please do, I’d love to hear from you.”
“Too bad I don’t have any muffins to take with me this time.” Westley tried to smile.
“They were good, weren’t they? Naomi is a dab hand with muffins.”
“New York has lots of good restaurants, but those were special.”
“Please, just go.” Sarah’s hand covered her brow. She ducked her head to hide her tears.
Westley marched to his rental car. After one final backward look, he got in and drove away.
Chapter 13
One month turned into two turned into six. Sarah sat on her front porch step, looking out at her winter garden. Most of the perennials were asleep and the annuals lay dead and buried.
Something cold and wet touched her arm. You lay down beside her and put his head in her lap. She sighed and dug her fingers into his winter coat.
“Arabella around, boy?”
You snuffled around her pockets, looking for a treat.
“How you doing, Miz Abbot?” Arabella sat down on Sarah’s other side. Her serious little face looked out at Sarah from a slightly too-large puffy red coat and a fluffy pink hat with pompoms on it.
“I
guess I’m doing, Arabella.”
The little girl put an arm around her and hugged her. “He’ll come back, you’ll see,” she said.
“I hope so, dear. I surely do hope so.”
The last time she and Westley had talked he’d told her he had to testify at the trial of an industrial spy he’d helped to catch in their office.
The environmental impact assessment for the project factory was moving along, but might take several more months. Sarah wished it would move along faster.
She missed Westley. She missed their passionate nights together (and afternoons, and the occasional morning). She missed his calm intelligence. She missed his appreciation of her cooking. She missed his steady presence at her side.
It wasn’t until she felt the chill breeze against her face that she realized she was crying. Arabella patted her hand and You tried to lick away her tears.
“Aaah, dog-breath!” Sarah said, ineffectually fending him off, breathlessly caught between laughter and sobs. She hugged You and Arabella to her with a heart that was a curious mixture of full and empty.
Westley put the phone down only to have it ring again five minutes later. He glared at it. Where was Jeannette? Oh yes, he remembered. He’d sent her on an errand. He picked up the phone.
“Yes?” he said.
“Um… Hello, is this Braxton Industries?”
“Yes.”
“Can I talk to Westley Braxton?”
“Speaking.”
“If you make it worth my while I can tell you something very interesting about one of your employees.”
Westley checked the caller ID. “You’ll have to give me more than that.”
“Well, it’s someone very close to you. Someone you trust, you might say.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Oh, I keep my eyes open. Only the other day I saw your peep at lunch with someone I know for a fact is in the business of buying. If you’re in the business of selling. If you know what I mean.”