Shadows on the Sand

by Gayle Roper

  “Any man who advertises himself as the modern incarnation of the archangel Michael, the field commander of the Lord’s army, has to be either quite strange or knowingly committing a fraud.” Greg took a bite of his cookie and sighed with pleasure. “Either way he’s dangerous.”

  “Are they polygamous like that FLDS group in West Texas?” Jem asked. “I can’t remember.”

  “They are,” Greg said.

  Mr. Perkins made a disgusted sound. “Perverts. I hope they all land in jail.”

  I patted his hand. “Easy there.”

  “I’m going to take a few minutes, okay, Carrie?” Andi looked pale and sounded breathless. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She reached under the counter and retrieved the Sudoku book she kept stashed there. “I’ll be in the booth in the back.”

  There was only one party in the place besides Greg, Jem, and Mr. Perkins. “Are they okay?” I cocked my head in the direction of the man and woman deep in conversation at booth one.

  “They’re just talking over coffee. They have their bill and said they didn’t want anything more.”

  I nodded. “Tell Ricky what you want to eat.”

  “I-I don’t want anything.”

  Another lost appetite. “Will Bill be in for breakfast?”

  “I-I’m not sure.”

  I studied the girl, thinking she looked off balance somehow. Greg was looking at her too. Was it Jase’s death? He’d been a friend, and his loss was bound to upset her. It certainly upset me. Or were things not going well in paradise in spite of her defense of Bill a few minutes ago? Perhaps Jase’s murder was making her wary of him, or perhaps the bruised wrist was having a warning-off effect after all.

  “Go sit,” I said, feeling sad for her. “I’ll have Ricky make you some of your favorite chocolate-chip pancakes and bring them when they’re ready.”

  With a weak smile, she turned and walked to the last booth, where she settled with her back to the door.

  Poor kid. I might not know her problem, but I knew the empty-stomach feel of your world spinning out of control.

  16

  The Pathway! Andi felt a chill deep in her bones. She kept her head down so no one would see what she feared was a panicked expression. When she’d assumed that Jase was a victim of random violence, she’d been okay. Real sad for him, of course, because she liked him and felt sorry for him, but not scared. After all, in life bad stuff happened, as she knew all too well.

  But the cops knew of Jase’s connection to The Pathway. If they learned that about him, would they learn the same thing about her? How would she stay safe if people knew? She was only sixteen. They might have the law on their side and make her go back. The thought made her break out in a cold sweat.

  She’d die first. She would!

  So the scary question was, did Jase die because of his connection to The Pathway?

  If that were the case, then she was dead too—if they found her.

  She shivered. Somehow they found him. Well, they would have his old address, the one right here where he had lived with his parents until he ran away. Jase used to talk about how much he missed the ocean, stuck as they were in the arid Southwest.

  “Sometimes I dream of diving under a wave,” he’d tell her and her best friend, Jennie. “And then I wake up here.” And he’d look with resignation at the barren landscape.

  “Do you ever think of going home?” Andi had asked, because she thought of going home all the time. And the idea of going down the shore was enough to make the saliva pool in her mouth.

  Jase would smile at Jennie. “Not really. Something more important than the Atlantic is here.”

  But he had gone home, and they’d found him. And he was dead.

  They would find her. She could almost feel them breathing down her back.

  Of course, he’d made it easy, coming home to Mommy. She’d thought she was so clever going to Clooney, her great-uncle on her mother’s side, even though she knew Jase lived mere miles from Clooney. But she wasn’t afraid of Jase, and where else could she go?

  Clooney had always fascinated her. Her mother called him “my weird uncle,” and he wasn’t typical, that was for sure. But he was interesting. And fun. When she was a kid and they came to Seaside for vacation, they always spent a day with Clooney. He’d take her and Becca digging for treasure. When they got tall enough, he let them use the metal detector.

  “Swing it back and forth, Andi. Nice and easy. You have to go slow and take your time.”

  And then it would ping, and he’d hand one of them the red plastic spade, and they’d dig up something, usually change. He always let them keep whatever they found. The year she was eight, Andi found enough money to buy a Seaside T-shirt. She’d worn it for the rest of the week, only taking it off when she was in the water.

  But no one in The Pathway knew about Clooney. Except Becca and Dad, but they wouldn’t tell, would they? Tears filled her eyes as she thought of them. Like she could trust either one.

  She put her hand on her stomach to still its rumbling. She felt all jittery, like she’d throw up.

  Maybe she was overreacting. She didn’t even know if they’d done anything to Jase. Of course, if they didn’t, who did? She stared at her bruised wrist and shivered.

  God, are You there? Can You hear me? I am so scared!

  It was all Michael’s fault. Michael, God’s commander. God’s warrior. Ha! Satan’s soldier was more like it.

  She hated him. Hated him!

  She first heard of The Pathway when then seventeen-year-old Becca became intrigued by the group. Somehow she had stumbled on to their Web site, and next thing Andi knew, Becca was mouthing their lame philosophy to anyone who was unlucky enough to be around.

  “You mean they’re the only guys in the whole world who have it right?” Andi asked. She might have been just thirteen at the time, but she knew a ridiculous position when she heard one. “What about all the other Christians through the ages? They were all wrong? And all the other religions? They’re wrong too? Only Michael and his little band are right? Don’t make me laugh.”

  “You just don’t understand,” Becca told her in a condescending manner.

  True enough. She didn’t. Still, the most astonishing thing wasn’t Becca’s gullibility. What Andi could not believe was her parents’ interest in this strange group. Soon all she heard was, “Michael said this” or “Michael said that.” It was enough to ruin every meal as she gagged on their words.

  They began watching Michael’s videos on YouTube.

  “Andi, come watch this!”

  “Andi, you’ll love what Michael says here.”

  “Oh, Andi, isn’t Michael amazing?”

  Granted he looked good—tall and powerful and authoritative. He had long black hair to his shoulders and brilliant, piercing blue eyes she thought weren’t the result of nature but contacts. He had presence, and as a result what he said sounded right—if you didn’t think about it too much.

  “Love one another,” Becca said dreamily after one slick bit of video manipulation. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”

  Andi frowned at her sister. “I think Jesus said that first. You can’t go wrong stealing your lines from Him.”

  Becca looked shocked at Andi’s blasphemy. “You are so lost!”

  “Maybe, but just because a guy has the same name as an angel doesn’t mean he is one or that he can save me. I’ve got two Michaels in my class, and they can’t save me either.”

  “You are so going straight to hell.” Becca stormed away.

  “Hey,” Andi called after her. “What happened to ‘love one another’?”

  As she endured the not-very-subtle efforts to convert her, Andi thought all her family had gone more-than-slightly insane. She couldn’t wait for the phase to pass as quickly and as completely as Becca’s infatuation with Justin Bieber.

  “I wish we could move to The Pathway’s compound,” Becca said almost every day.

  “It sounds wonderful, doesn�
��t it?” Mom said, her voice wistful. “No more troublesome neighbors or demanding bosses or living in fear of lawbreakers.”

  You’d have thought criminals stopped by every night to rob them.

  “No more income taxes,” Dad said with a smile.

  Which had to be wrong somehow. Everybody had to pay taxes. Even she knew that.

  “It would be wonderful to be part of such a loving community.” Mom smiled at Dad.

  Andi stared at her mother in disbelief. Was she crazy? Didn’t she realize that The Pathway wasn’t just ‘love one another’? It was also share one another. Was Mom really willing to share Dad with other wives?

  “They’re polygamous, Mom!”

  “Only if you choose that way,” Mom said.

  Andi looked at Dad, who nodded. He took Mom’s hand. “You mustn’t let that little detail keep you from appreciating the whole, Andi.”

  Little detail? Who was he kidding?

  “It would be heaven on earth to live there,” Becca said.

  It would be worse than any prison in the world to live there! Thank goodness Dad had his job and they had the house. They couldn’t go anywhere.

  Then came the day that Dad didn’t go to work.

  “Girls,” he said as he sat at the breakfast table with them. “You’re not going to school today.”

  Andi stared. Something was wrong. Dad was fanatical about their schoolwork.

  “Are you sick?” Fear twined around her heart. A brain tumor. That had to be it. That would explain both his presence on a workday and his enthrallment with The Pathway.

  “I’m fine. In fact, I’m wonderful.”

  Andi had to admit he looked more relaxed and rested than she’d ever seen him. “Then why aren’t you at work?”

  “I gave notice a month ago and finished yesterday. I am now free to follow my rightful destiny. We are all free to follow after God.” He grinned at Mom, winked at Becca, and patted Andi’s hand.

  “You quit your job?” Andi couldn’t believe it. How would they pay their bills? How would they eat? How could she talk him into getting her a new cell phone, a wonderful pink one with all kinds of apps? And one of those cool iPods?

  “And yesterday your mother and I signed the papers on the sale of the house. We’re moving to southern Arizona.”

  Andi stared at him. “You sold our house?” He couldn’t do that without telling her and Becca, could he? It was their house too. But he had. “Mom?”

  She just smiled, obviously happy with the news. Of course it wasn’t news to her. She’d known about everything for a long time and not said a word either.

  Andi felt nothing so much as betrayed by those she thought she could trust. She was dizzy with their disregard for her life and feelings, her wants and needs.

  She’d never lived anywhere but here, and she didn’t want to. The place might be a little old, but it had a great yard with big trees, and she and Becca each had their own room. And friends. They had friends. Yes, Becca’s were lame, but hers were great. She didn’t want to leave them or lose them! Eighth grade was hard enough when you knew everybody, but if you had to change schools and start all over?

  And southern Arizona? Why southern Arizona?

  The answer struck her like a blow to the face. The Pathway! Why it took her so long to figure out when she had lived with the hysterical rhetoric for weeks she didn’t know. The dizziness intensified, and she had to blink several times to clear her vision.

  Andi began to cry. “We can’t go there! We can’t! Mom, tell him we can’t!”

  But Mom just smiled, already looking like the mindless women who smiled vacantly on The Pathway’s Web site.

  Becca grabbed Dad in a great bear hug. “Oh, Daddy, this is wonderful!”

  “We’re leaving after lunch,” Dad announced. “You’ve got the whole morning to pack what you need. You can take one suitcase each. Remember we’re going to hot weather, and remember the dress code.”

  Andi stared at her father in horror. The dress code! Ugly, shapeless dresses. Stupid, flat tie shoes. Hair in awful knots at the back of the head. No jeans ever, at least for the women. The boys and men all wore jeans. They looked like normal people, though Andi doubted they were. If they were, they wouldn’t be living on The Pathway’s compound.

  “We’re leaving today?” She was going to hyperventilate and pass out. She knew it. “What’s the rush?”

  “There’s no rush,” Dad said with an unruffled calm that was eerie and frightening. “We’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

  Mom nodded like the little marionette she was fast becoming.

  “But I haven’t! I haven’t been thinking of it at all.” Tears slid down Andi’s cheeks, and her throat hurt so bad she could hardly get her words out. “I’m not going.” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You can’t make me.”

  Dad’s expression turned stern. “You are only thirteen. I can and will make you.”

  She stared at him. Was he right? Could he make her? With a terrible sinking feeling, she knew he was right. She might be feisty, but she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t take care of herself, and the law wouldn’t even let her try. Not yet. But the minute she could, she was leaving that place. She didn’t know where she’d go, but she would not stay at that compound a minute longer than she had to.

  “How am I going to say good-bye to Heather and Joss?” Her voice rose to a squeak as she realized she couldn’t even call them because they were at school like normal people.

  “You’re going to make wonderful new friends,” Mom said, so zoned out on happiness that Andi wanted to puke.

  “I don’t want new friends! I like my old ones just fine.”

  “Go pack, Andi.” Dad’s voice was firm.

  “One suitcase?” How could she pack a whole room in one suitcase?

  “One suitcase. We don’t want to be encumbered with the world.”

  Encumbered with the world? Those were Michael’s words; they had to be. “I like my encumbrances,” she said defiantly.

  “Things get in the way of life,” Dad said. “Michael tells us they are like terrible chains binding us, weighing us down. We don’t want them or need them.”

  I want them! I need them!

  “We want to be free!” He threw his arms wide, and Mom, laughing at his joy, ducked as one of his hands sailed past her face.

  While the three of them rejoiced and celebrated, Andi shriveled inside.

  God, how can You let this happen? Don’t expect to hear from me anymore if You don’t fix things fast.

  As they drove from the Philadelphia suburbs to The Pathway’s compound in the middle of nowhere, her parents and Becca talked nonstop about how wonderful their lives would now become. They would be part of a larger family, part of God’s blessed ones.

  But Andi knew better.

  17

  When Ricky called that Andi’s pancakes were up, I carried them to her. I found her staring at her Sudoku book as it lay open before her. She grunted thanks as I put the plate down. Without looking at me, she began slathering butter on her food, then drenching it with maple syrup.

  I grinned as she licked her lips as she worked. She might say she wasn’t hungry, but she still had an unconscious olfactory response to the enticing scent of the chocolate-laced food. One of the best parts of having the café was seeing the delight people experienced as they enjoyed good food.

  But she didn’t take that first bite. She just sat there as the pancakes cooled.

  I slid onto the bench across from her. “What is it, Andi? What’s wrong?”

  She finally looked at me, her eyes wide and uncertain. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m fine.”

  “I don’t know what I mean either.” I’d have felt better about that “I’m fine” if her voice hadn’t quivered. “Are you feeling sick?”

  “Of course not. I’m fine. I never get sick.” After a second’s hesitation she said, “It’s just that Jase is dead.”

  I nodded
. Was that it? Did she care enough about Jase to be bothered to the point of not eating? She’d only known him for a couple of weeks. Or was it another guy, big and burly and sometimes violent, who concerned her?

  “Are you worried about Bill?”

  She gave me what looked like a forced smile. She cut off a bite of pancake. “Bill’s okay. I’m not the least worried about him.” Seeing my skepticism, she repeated herself. “Bill’s okay.”

  I wasn’t convinced, and I didn’t think she was either. “Well, if something’s wrong, you know you can always talk to me about it, right?”

  “I know, and I will,” she lied, all false sincerity. “Thanks.”

  She was never going to seek me out, and I couldn’t force her to. It seemed I didn’t have Mary P’s magic when it came to needy sixteen-year-olds.

  I rose and left Andi to her food as the café’s door opened and a stranger came in. He had brown hair and eyes and was solid looking rather than handsome, more workhorse than racing thoroughbred.

  “Fred.” Greg stood and held out his hand. “Carrie, we’re going to take a booth, okay?”

  “Sure. What can I get you, Fred?”

  “Are those homemade sticky buns I see?” Fred eyed the display counter where the calorie-laden, scrumptious pastry lay.

  “They are,” I said. “Want one grilled?”

  “They slice them in half,” Greg said, “then butter and grill them. Delicious.”

  Fred practically drooled in anticipation. “I’ll take one and coffee.”

  “Give me one too,” Greg said.

  To fill the holes left by not eating his eggs? I’d have thought the sugar cookie would have done that. “Coming right up.”

  The door opened again, and Bill Lindemuth strolled in, cocky as ever.

  Mr. Perkins pointed his index finger at Bill before anyone had a chance to say hello. “You know they found Jase? The guy you punched out?”

  “Mr. Perkins,” I said. “Easy there.”

  Bill frowned and looked uncomfortable.

  “They found him floating in the bay. Dead.” Mr. Perkins glared.