Shadows on the Sand

by Gayle Roper

  “All I ever showed him was kindness.”

  Harl’s stomach turned. His noble leader sounded like a thwarted, whiny child.

  “And this is how he planned to repay me?”

  Looked like one too with his lip pushed out in an angry pout.

  Mike went back to reading. There were lots of disastrous things about The Pathway and about Mike’s misuse of the organization’s finances, but Jennie’s chapter was the pièce de résistance. With great emotion Jason told how he loved Jennie and wanted to marry her. He wrote of her sweet spirit and gentle heart. According to Jason, her desire to marry him was as strong as his to marry her—if you could believe him, and Harl did. He’d seen both Jason and Jennie plead with Mike. And anyone who read the book would believe too.

  Mike saw Jason’s request to marry Jennie as a challenge to his authority, especially when the kid asked that Mike do away with the premarriage night. Mike refused the request, choosing one of the older men for her as a mark of his position of unquestioned and unquestionable leader. And the premarriage night was to go on as always.

  “Allow one couple the right of selection,” he complained to Harl, “and before you know it, others will demand the same privilege. The beginning of the end.”

  When three of Mike’s lieutenants went for Jennie the night before her marriage, Jason followed them to Mike’s quarters in spite of Mike’s direct order that Jason be confined to his room. Jason forced his way into Mike’s garish bedroom with the huge bed draped in red gauzy material and topped with the velvet quilt that Marty had made, all red and beige and white.

  Harl couldn’t understand that quilt. Polygamy, okay. Great, in fact. But making the covering for the bed where your husband took one young woman after another? Marty was sicker than Mike, who was only doing what came naturally as the ultimate male authority figure.

  Harl watched from the video room as Jason pleaded and Jennie begged and Mike became ever more furious with them both. Harl watched the lieutenants drag Jason off by force. Then he’d watched Mike take the hysterical Jennie against her will.

  She was buried in the compound cemetery.

  Now, miles and weeks away in Seaside, Harl looked up as rain began to beat on the windows, pulling him from memories of that unbelievable night.

  “What if Jason wasn’t the one who took your missing disc, Mike?” As Harl had gone over that night just now, he realized Jason couldn’t have gotten to the video room. He’d been dragged away and locked up. All three of the men who dragged him off said he was never out of their sight the rest of that night.

  Mike looked startled. “If it wasn’t him, who?”

  “What if it was Andrea?” After all, she went missing too. And she was a thorn in everyone’s side, a rebel through and through.

  Mike scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a kid, and a girl at that.”

  “She escaped when no one escapes. And she’s managed to stay hidden for several weeks. Of course, she didn’t have a family to rush home to like Peoples. And we didn’t try to find her. We were all better off without her. Even her father agreed.”

  “Say it was Andrea, which I can’t believe. How would she even know about the disc?”

  “I don’t know,” Harl admitted. “But Jason was never alone all that night.”

  Mike rubbed his forehead, his anger gone. For the first time, Harl saw doubt in him. “Are we running out of time, Harl? Is it time to cut and run?”

  Yes! “Let me finish what I have to do, and then we can fade away. Just a couple of days more.”

  “It’s going smoothly?”

  “Very. It’ll provide a nice tidy income.” To join the income from all the other deals he’d worked with The Pathway’s funds, all funneled neatly through untraceable offshore accounts.

  Mike nodded. “Good. Now if we only knew where to find Andrea, we could tie up that loose end.”

  Harl smiled. Much as he couldn’t believe it, he had found that particular needle in the haystack. The odds had to be a million to one against, like walking down the street in New York City and bumping into your first grade teacher from San Francisco or like winning the one hundred million dollar lottery.

  But she was here, and he’d found her.

  26

  Andi’s head felt too heavy for her shoulders, the result of a restless night filled with dreams of Michael, barbed wire, and snakes writhing at her feet, rattles shaking, her terrified cries for help eerily silent.

  A shower helped clear the Wednesday morning fuzziness, but she still felt fragile, like an expensive vase, the kind pronounced with a short a, one that might shatter with any pressure. She put on a rose-colored Carrie’s Café shirt, thinking its soft reflection on her face might disguise her pallor and the cheery color might make her feel better.

  “I’m coming to the café with you,” Clooney said as she came into the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to.” He’d already done so much, risked so much for her. He could have gotten in lots of trouble with the law for harboring her—if someone had cared enough to find her and make an issue of things. He even homeschooled her so she wouldn’t have to face questions at the local school about who she was and where she came from. Oh, and so she could catch up on her education. The Pathway wasn’t big on teaching much besides Michael’s warped thinking.

  Clooney held up a hand. “I’m coming. Not open to discussion.”

  She knew she could manage without him—she’d managed without him before—but it would feel good to have him beside her. Nobody had cared for so long. Not that she had any hope of dissuading him. He was like some giant guard dog, a German shepherd maybe or a Doberman, ready to protect his “person” from all things unpleasant or dangerous.

  He studied her drawn face. “What do you plan to tell Carrie?”

  “That I got sick?” She couldn’t say she got scared and ran. Too humiliating. Too revealing.

  “I suggest you just say you’re sorry and assure her it won’t happen again.”

  If he doesn’t show up again. Oh, God, please don’t let him show up again.

  She frowned. She was talking to God too much. It’s what came of listening to Carrie and Lindsay talk about Him as if He helped run the café. But someone had to help her, someone bigger than herself, bigger even than Clooney, and He seemed the sole possibility.

  Clooney took her hand and squeezed. “I’ll hang around this morning just to be sure you’re okay.”

  Andi felt tears and blinked against them as she gave him a quick hug. Clooney was her example of “love one another,” not Michael. Clooney let her see that he cared. He worried about her. Maybe he even loved her. He and she were their own little family, maybe a weird one, but one nonetheless.

  Andi’s hands were shaking when she arrived at the café with Clooney in tow. Would Carrie and the others accept her apology without pushing too hard to learn the reason she took off? She didn’t want anyone to know she’d known Jase before she came to live here. She didn’t want anyone but Clooney to know about her connection to The Pathway. And she didn’t want them to know she feared him.

  Her voice caught as she hesitated outside the back door. “Do you think Jase told Michael or someone that he saw me? Will they come after me?”

  “Ah, Andi.” He pulled her into a comforting hug. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed him, but his hug and his words were so soothing. She held on for a few minutes and felt temporarily safe.

  Funny how he was the one people always considered a deadbeat because he refused to get a nine-to-five job, and here he was, rock solid at her side.

  “He digs in the sand!” the aunts and uncles always said in scandalized voices at family gatherings—which he never attended.

  “It was the war,” others said in quiet tones of pseudounderstanding. “Posttraumatic stress, you know.”

  When she needed a place to stay, she figured he was enough counterculture, enough antiestablishment, that he wouldn’t f
eel compelled to either send her back or turn her over to the authorities. She’d figured right, and she loved him for his open arms.

  She drew back from his embrace and made herself stand alone. After all, she’d been on her own for more than three years. The minute she, Becca, Mom, and Dad drove through the gate of The Pathway’s compound, her family ceased to exist. She and Becca were given bunks in a large dorm for the unmarried teenage girls, a mirror of the large dorm across the compound where the unmarried boys lived. Mom was sent to the large building that housed the women and preteen children. Dad was given his own room in the beautiful lodge where the married men lived.

  It didn’t take Andi long to realize that Becca was the oldest in their dorm. And it didn’t take Michael long to arrange for her marriage.

  “He’s trying to control you,” Andi told Becca when the news of the impending nuptials was announced. “Tie you to this place.”

  “No, no, Andi. He’s thinking only of my happiness.”

  “But you don’t even know the man he’s picked! You don’t love him. You can’t.”

  “Michael has selected him for me.” Becca smiled sweetly. “I have no doubt I will be very happy.”

  “But he already has a wife.”

  “He has three,” said Jennie, the girl with the bunk next to Andi. “He’s been married to Abby for ten years, to Patricia for six, and to Irene for five.”

  Andi grabbed her sister’s hand. “We’ll run away. You don’t have to do this.”

  “But I want to,” Becca said. “Michael has said it, and it shall be so.”

  Despair threatened to drown Andi. “I’ll never see you. You’ll be put in the house of the married women. I won’t have anyone.”

  “Oh, Andi.” Becca frowned, but it was a gentle frown, a “poor you” frown. “Can’t you see that your attitude is selfish? We are a community. We have to trust our leader.”

  But Andi did not, could not, would not trust Michael, especially when she realized that every bride spent the night before her marriage in Michael’s bed. The thought that she might someday be required to go to him brought bile up her throat in a rush. She’d rather die.

  Andi soon realized every girl was married the Saturday after her sixteenth birthday. Becca had been an older bride because she arrived at the compound two months short of nineteen. Andi, on the other hand, would be expected to marry at the appropriate time and to gladly accept the man chosen for her.

  Those who were raised here seemed to think such a situation was normal, except for Jennie, who had a secret boyfriend and wanted to marry him when it was time. She was as upset over Michael’s initiation process as Andi.

  “But we should be able to marry who we want, when we want,” Andi said out loud before she learned the folly of being outspoken. “I want to live a bit before I marry. I want to go to college, have a job, make some money, be independent.”

  Everyone frowned at her heresy. Even Jennie thought all those plans were ungodly because they were what Michael spoke against.

  “For the sake of the community we need to marry and have children,” Jennie told her. “The Bible says to be fruitful and replenish the earth.”

  “But at sixteen?”

  She was called before Michael for her sacrilegious ideas and assigned to Marty, his chief wife, for training in “correct thinking.” The one thing she learned was to keep her mouth closed.

  For almost three years she endured, hating every moment, planning, plotting, knowing she must escape before she became a zombie too. During that time her father took three brides, one each year, girls his daughters’ ages. The thought made her ill. How did her mother stand it? Yet every time she saw Mom, she looked peaceful. Paler, thinner, but peaceful. Or was the right word lobotomized?

  The year she was fifteen, Andi looked with desperation and despair for any possible means to get away. The compound was twenty miles from the nearest town, out in a dry barren area where nothing but cacti, lizards, scorpions, and snakes lived. Chain-link fencing with barbed wire curling evilly at its top ringed the compound. Andi knew that no matter what Michael said, it wasn’t to keep thieves out; it was to keep people in.

  When Stu and James appeared at the emergency room like a pair of scruffy angels the night of the rush to save the little kids, she bolted, knowing she’d never have a better opportunity. She’d been hiding with Clooney, convinced she was safe and secure here in Seaside. She’d even begun to relax and enjoy life. Until—

  Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she walked into the café. Carrie looked up from readying the cash register.

  “Are you all right?” She walked right up to Andi and gave her a hug.

  Andi had been steeling herself for anger or a lecture, and she had to blink back tears at Carrie’s warmth. “I’m sorry, Carrie. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Carrie looked at her, then at Clooney standing behind her. “I hope not, sweetie. I need to know I can depend on you.” She gave a little smile.

  Even this lecture was kind. “You can, Carrie. You can.”

  Carrie nodded. “Okay. Take the booths this morning. I’ll take the tables.”

  Andi felt herself sag with relief. The booths were the busiest seating and meant more tips. In giving them to Andi, Carrie was showing she had forgiven her. Andi looked over her shoulder at Clooney and grinned.

  He laid a weathered hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Good girl. I’m proud of you.” The words were so soft she almost didn’t hear them. She flushed with pleasure.

  Lindsay and Ricky waved to her from the kitchen.

  “Welcome back, kiddo.” Ricky blew her a kiss. “I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid they were going to make me wait tables.”

  Everyone laughed at the absurdity, and just like that, life was back to normal. Or at least as normal as Andi’s life got these days.

  27

  I watched Andi for the first half hour, but she seemed to be okay after whatever had set her off yesterday. Soon I was busy with my own tables, and I noticed the girl only peripherally. It was a busy morning, what with the glorious Indian summer weather drawing people to the shore for their last hurrah of the year. The chill that had come with last evening’s rain was burning off under the sun’s golden warmth, and while the ocean might have become a tad cold for most, the beach would be wonderful for walking and tossing a Frisbee and flying kites. I envied Clooney his metal detector and shovel and promised myself a walk in the sand after work.

  Greg wandered in around nine thirty, a bit early for him, and I did my usual happy dance at the sight of him. I still couldn’t believe he’d kissed me last night, and I knew I must be smiling like an idiot.

  His eyes sought me out as soon as he walked in, and he winked at me. I grinned back with all the maturity of a smitten puppy. The cloak of despair he’d worn for the past three years seemed to have disappeared, and it was because of me! I bit my lip to keep from bursting into song.

  “Here, Greg.” Clooney stood. He’d hung around longer than I expected, I guessed to make certain Andi was fine. “I’ve been sitting on your stool. I’ve got to get going. There’s gold in them thar beaches, and it’s calling to me.”

  “It’s a great day for digging.” Greg slid onto the vacated stool.

  I waved good-bye to Clooney and hurried to give Greg his coffee. “The usual?”

  Greg nodded. “Sure.”

  I was turning to enter his order when he laid a hand on my arm.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like a bowl of cereal. You’ve got those little boxes, don’t you?”

  “Frosted Flakes, cornflakes, Raisin Bran, and Froot Loops.” I had a terrible thought as I recited the choices. If he started eating cereal, he wouldn’t need the café. He could pour a bowl at home, and I wouldn’t see him every day.

  “Frosted Flakes.” He nodded for emphasis. “It’s a milestone.”

  “Okay.” A milestone? “Coming right up.”

  Andi sailed past with breakfast
for the twosome at booth three. “Uh, Carrie, your quartet at table five is ready to jump up and down to get your attention. Maybe you should hold hands after hours.” She grinned.

  I looked down and sure enough, Greg held my hand in his. I’d been so rattled at the thought of not seeing him daily that I hadn’t felt him slide his hand down my arm and take hold.

  Heat flooded my face as I hurried to table five, which wanted some more butter for their pancakes. I kept busy for the next hour, hoping I’d have some free time before Greg had to leave. As I walked back and forth to enter orders and then to pick them up, I heard snippets of his discussion about crime and punishment with Mr. Perkins. One bit caught my attention, and I stopped on my way to pick up an order.

  “That guy who tried to run you over,” Mr. Perkins said. “I bet he’s out on bail.”

  Greg nodded. “He is. In fact he and the furniture rental company are coming to the Sand and Sea Friday afternoon to reclaim their belongings.”

  Mr. Perkins harrumphed. “He should have forfeited them after his behavior.”

  I hadn’t thought about Chaz Rudolph for the last couple of days. “He’s still in Seaside?”

  “He can’t leave until after his trial,” Greg said.

  “Where’s he staying?” Mr. Perkins asked the question that had just occurred to me.

  “Backseat of his Hummer?” I suggested as I picked up an order of fried eggs over easy with hash browns and sausage and a side of whole wheat toast.

  “It was repossessed by the car dealership,” Greg said.

  Mr. Perkins all but purred. “Some justice in the world after all.”

  “I can’t quite bring myself to feel sorry for him.” I set one of Lindsay’s giant bran muffins laced with raisins and peaches on a plate for the wife of the fried eggs.

  “Excuse me. I’m here about the sign in the window?”

  I turned and saw a young woman about my age. “You’re here about a job?” I was afraid to blink in case she’d disappear like a mirage.