Pearl Valley

by Felicia Rogers

  Pearl Valley

  By Felicia Rogers

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  PEARL VALLEY

  Copyright © 2014 FELICIA ROGERS

  ISBN 978-1-62135-272-3

  Cover Art Designed by AM DESIGN STUDIO

  To those wounded, whether by war or life.

  Prologue

  Trevor Jacobs held his cowboy hat in his hands and studied the lettering on the door. Wounded Soldiers.

  His therapist had suggested he seek out a support group…

  There are lots of people like you, men and women who served in the military only to come home wounded. Some adjust better than others but we’ve found that those who find friends in similar situations do better.

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “I’ve heard of a support group that is doing great things. Not in a monetary way, but rather in a spiritual way.”

  “I don’t know.” He crossed his legs and placed his hat in his lap.

  “It might help if you got rid of the hat.”

  Trevor narrowed his gaze. “I’m not getting rid of the hat.”

  “The hat serves as a reminder—“

  “I’m not getting rid of the hat.”

  The therapist threw up his hands. “Fine. Keep it. I just thought it—“

  “You know nothing about this hat. So let it go.”

  “Of course. Now about your injury…”

  “How many times have I told you? I’ve adjusted to my injury. I’ve lost my leg. It’s not coming back. I’ve dealt with that. What I can’t deal with is how to react when people look at me.”

  The therapist adjusted his glasses and read his notes. “Yes, I see that. You’ve been in several brawls.”

  “They started it.”

  “Trevor, you have to realize this is not an excuse for your behavior. You can’t break people’s noses or their fingers because they looked at you funny.”

  “I paid their insurance bill.”

  The therapist sighed and leaned forward. “Promise me you will visit this group. I think they can help you.”

  Trevor nodded.

  The door opened and a woman, with long brown hair and dark green eyes, walked out. “Hello. Can I help you?”

  He stuttered, “I–I—“

  “If you’re here for the meeting then just go on in. Rory will be here any minute.”

  Trevor took a step toward the entrance.

  “There you are, honey,” the lady called and walked away.

  Trevor turned. A man, carrying a young toddler on his hip, hobbled forward.

  “Sorry I’m late, love. Grandma just didn’t want to give her up.”

  The lady took the little girl and placed a kiss on the man’s cheek. “No worries. I kept the group occupied as much as I could.”

  “I’m sure they had a great time asking questions about your next novel.”

  “Hmm. You could say that.”

  “And did you reveal any big secrets?” he asked with a wink.

  “You should know me better than that.”

  “Indeed, I do, Sparkles.” He patted the little girl on the head. “You go with mummy, Angel. I’ll see you soon.”

  The little girl giggled and squirmed in her mother’s arms. The man walked toward him.

  “Are you coming in?” he asked.

  Trevor nodded and walked inside. Chairs sat in a circular pattern. Men mingled. Some had missing arms, legs, or eyes. Some had burn marks or twitched uncontrollably. Some were alone, and some had caregivers.

  Trevor took a seat and shoved his hat on his head. The man he’d walked in with took a seat as well, and the rest in attendance followed suit.

  “Welcome to the meeting of Wounded Soldiers. My name is Rory Chance. I’m an ex-British military officer wounded in wartime.” He lifted his pant leg and knocked against his prosthesis. “As we go around the room, I want you to introduce yourself. You can tell about your injury, or you can keep it to yourself. The idea here is to share our experiences and help other each to work through them. But I have no intentions of dictating when you share.”

  Trevor squirmed. His time came. He introduced himself but kept his injury and the details to himself. The meeting lasted an hour and when it ended, Rory approached him.

  He held out his hand and Trevor clasped it. “Nice to meet you, Trevor.”

  Trevor nodded and sipped at one of the drinks provided.

  “I noticed you didn’t share your injury.”

  “Yep. You said we didn’t have to.”

  Rory laughed under his breath. “This is true, I did. But I also said keeping things to yourself causes you to have trouble healing.”

  “Then I guess I will have trouble healing.”

  “My guess is you already are having trouble.”

  Trevor cleared his throat and studied the shiny tile floor.

  “I’m betting that you need help and you want to talk, but you’ve not found the right person to talk to.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Call it a hunch.” Rory placed his hand on Trevor’s back and led him to the snack table. “Listen, my wife and I are having a get-together this weekend. Why don’t you come over and join us? Lots of the people in the group will be there.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “At least say you’ll think about it.”

  “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  Trevor left the meeting and traveled to his apartment. The sparsely decorated rooms were only temporary. As soon as Rory Chance made him better, he was out of here.

  Chapter One

  Two years later…

  Trevor expertly maneuvered the stretch cab truck into the narrow parking space. Not even ten in the morning and the place was already packed.

  Stepping out, his boots struck the cracked pavement. The brim of his hat sheltered his eyes as he studied the rickety building.

  The grocery store sat on a small lot surrounded by trees. Pavement, with eroding white lines, decorated the front. In the distance the landscape was dotted with two-story farmhouses, barns, and cattle.

  A crying baby drew his attention. A young woman stopped in the road and stared at him. He smiled and she waved as she hurried toward her car. Maybe she wouldn’t have been as scared, if he wasn’t hiding half his face behind his favorite hat.

  Did it matter? People were always staring at him in an awkward manner for one reason or another. Might as well give them a reason he didn’t mind being stared at for.

  Sighing, he headed for the building. The automatic doors whined loudly as they slowly opened. A whoosh of cold hair smacked him in the face, and he pushed past it and stepped inside.

  Only one of the ancient cash registers at the multiple checkout stations were manned. All the others sat empty. The teenager behind the register arched her painted-on brow. She lifted her hand and patted her hair. The gum in her mouth came out shaped like a bubble and popped then landed on her face and stuck to her chin. She scrambled to clean it off, and Trevor looked away to hide his laughter. He looked at the candy bar rack behind him. When ample time had passed, he faced her and cleared his throat. She looked at him, a red hue covering her cheeks.

  She said, “C-can I—I he
lp you?”

  He nodded. “I’m looking for a Miss Jane Dossett. Do you happen to know where I can find her?”

  The girl, whose name tag read Sally, frowned. Instead of answering, she pushed a button next to the register and spoke into a microphone. “J-Jim, c-can you c-come to register one?”

  A clomping of running feet had him turning. An elderly man with gray hair and wrinkles, that made him look like a Shar-Pei dog, shuddered to a halt.

  “Sally, what in the world is it now? And how many times have I told you that you don’t have to yell register one when that is the only register we got open at the time. It just confuses me.”

  The man slowed, and Sally pointed a shaky finger in his direction. Taking the motion as an indication he should speak, Trevor said, “I’m looking for Jane Dossett. Can you help me?”

  The man scratched his head. “I’m not rightly sure. Jane Dossett, you say?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And she lives here? In Pearl Valley? ‘Course I know some Dossetts, why our very own mayor is a Dossett, but I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of a Jane Dossett, and that would be a might unusual, if you get my meaning.”

  Trevor nodded. He understood. The town was small, and everyone here knew everyone else. He gnawed on his lip and looked around. Maybe he should just pick up a snack and be on his way. The grocery store appeared to be a dead end.

  A woman approached and laid her groceries on the conveyor belt. Trevor tipped his hat and moved out of the way.

  “Hello, Mrs. Green. How are you this morning?”

  “I’m just fine. And you?”

  “Nothing to complain about.” The store manager paused before adding, “Hey, Mrs. Green, do you know a Jane Dossett? This feller here seems to be looking for some lady by that name, and I can’t rightly think on who he might be speaking of.”

  Mrs. Green rolled her eyes, faced Trevor, and said, “Don’t you mind old Jim. I believe you’re looking for Janie Belle. I think I seen her old beat-up truck down by the school. Did you know her father is the mayor, and he makes her volunteer at every business in town at least once a month? Why, that girl must be plum wore out.”

  Jim said, “Well, I’ll be. I guess you might be right, Mrs. Green.”

  “Of course I am. There was never no doubt.”

  Trevor listened to the volley of words. When they finished talking, he thanked them and started toward the door.

  “Hey, son, do you need something for that leg?” asked Jim.

  “What?” asked Trevor.

  “Well, I just noticed you was limping, and I was going to tell you we got a mighty fine doctor here in town. He might be able to help you out.”

  Trevor swallowed and struggled to cover his rising temper. “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.”

  “I’m just telling you, that boy has been known to work miracles in the seven years he’s been here. It wouldn’t take but a moment for him to check you out.”

  Trevor bent and lifted the hem of his pants. Jim’s eyes widened and he studied Trevor’s face.

  “I’m afraid there isn’t much he can do for me.”

  ****

  Janie whistled. Teenagers chatted amicably beneath her. They giggled and the ladder shifted.

  “Hey down there, pay attention.”

  “Sorry, Miss Dossett.”

  Janie rolled her eyes and stretched to her full height. The high school gym was almost decorated for the spring formal. The last thing that needed hanging was the twisted crepe paper. She’d been working all day to get it up, and now she was almost finished.

  The gym doors opened, and a whoosh of warm air struck her legs. The kids all turned at once, and the ladder rocked.

  “Whoa!” yelled Janie as she reached for the gym mats attached to the wall to try and keep the ladder from toppling over.

  The ladder stabilized, and she looked down to find a tall man, his head covered in a cowboy hat, holding the ladder in place.

  “Come on down, miss. I’ll hold it steady.”

  Frozen with fear, it took a few moments for her to move.

  He said, “Am I going to have to come up and get you? I can do it, but then I’ll be putting both our lives in the hands of these kids down here, and I don’t think you want me to do that.”

  Janie shook her head and slowly descended. When her foot touched the ground, she felt unsteady. She shot her hand out, and it landed on the well-muscled arm of the man before her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, drawing his brows together.

  She nodded and closed her eyes as she waited for the stars to disappear. “I’ll be fine if you can just give me a minute.”

  She felt the pressure of his hand as he guided her to the bleachers and helped her sit down.

  “Place your head between your knees.”

  “Are you sure? I mean won’t that make me more dizzy?”

  “Are you going to question everything I say?”

  Obeying his firm words, Janie placed her head between her knees.

  “Now breathe real deep. Give it a few minutes and then lift your head real slow. I’ll be right beside you when you come up.”

  The deep breaths calmed her rapid pulse, and when she opened her eyes, the stars were gone. She lifted her head slowly and stared at his face. He smiled, showing a row of perfectly white teeth.

  “Do you feel okay?”

  He’d positioned his arms on either side of her, like in a big hug, so if she toppled in either direction he was ready to catch her. Staring at his face, she found she couldn’t answer.

  A swoop of dark blond hair peeked out from under the rim of his cowboy hat. Blue eyes dominated his face. Even as she watched, the shape of his lips changed. The once-bright smile morphed into a deepening frown.

  “Listen, little lady, you are starting to worry me. If you don’t tell me how you feel, I might have to call that miracle of a doctor that I hear lives close by.”

  Janie widened her eyes and placed her hand on his forearm. “Oh, please don’t do that. I’m fine. I just need to catch my breath.”

  He looked down at her gloved hand, and she quickly drew it behind her back. The question in his eyes didn’t dissipate, and instantly her hackles rose.

  She stood unsteadily to her feet. He grabbed her again, and she pushed him away. Anger filled her tone as she said, “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I–I—” he stuttered.

  “Look, you aren’t supposed to be here. The school is closed, and we’re working on decorations. So state your business.”

  He reached around to his back pocket, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he turned in a complete circle kind of like a cat chasing its tail. When he finished, he said, “I must have left it in the truck.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But again I say that you shouldn’t be here. So if you won’t leave on your own, then I will have the police escort you out.” She turned to walk away, but he snagged her shirt sleeve and stopped her.

  “Hey, wait a minute. I was told by Old Jim that I could find Jane Dossett here, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

  “Jane Dossett?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I’m looking for Jane Dossett.”

  “Why would you be looking for her?”

  The man ran an agitated hand along his chin. Janie swallowed and waited for his answer.

  “Because I was told she might be able to help me.”

  Chapter Two

  Janie didn’t reply and he added, “I just need to go to my truck and retrieve the letter. Will you let me back in?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He limped toward the front doors, and Janie gnawed on her lip. Why was he looking for her? And what had happened for him to limp so badly?

  When he returned, he handed over a thick, cushiony envelope. She drew out the pages and he said, “I don’t mind if you read it. That is, if when you’re finished, you don’t mind pointing me toward Jane Dossett.”r />
  She nodded but didn’t speak as she read the letter:

  Trevor,

  How have you been getting along? It seems like a long time since I’ve seen you. At least two years, right? Eve is growing so big you probably wouldn’t recognize her. And now I have a son, Joshua! God is good.

  Look, I know this is going to seem odd, like it is coming out of the blue or something, but I had a dream last night. Hannah, who normally is up for any hare-brained scheme, thought I was a little crazy in wanting to share it with you, but I know it is the right thing to do.

  In my dream we were having dinner in a quaint restaurant in some one-horse Texan town, and some guy kept staring at your leg. You got all upset and you punched him. Of course, this landed us in jail. While there, you kept telling me that you wished someone could help you. That someone could help you work through the stares, through the mockery.

  In the cell next to us was a man with a Bible. He stood on his feet, and he yelled out the name Jane Dossett.

  The rest of this letter contains copies of newspaper clippings I found with anyone and everyone named Jane Dossett. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with it. But I knew I had to pass it along.

  May God be with you in your search,

  Rory Chance

  Janie lifted her gaze. Trevor shrugged. Flipping through the pages of research that Rory had dug up on everyone named Jane Dossett, she was surprised to find her name at the end.

  The article shown was one with her covering her face. The white of a glove caused a glare on the camera lens. The words beneath spoke briefly of an accident then proceeded to comment on how a glove company had donated hundreds of pairs of gloves for her use.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  Trevor scuffed the floor with his boot. “I’m here to find Jane Dossett.”

  “Have you looked for all these others?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “Not was I was looking for.”