“Don't worry,” she heard his voice say, “I'll continue praying for your soul. Just keep in mind, you don't want everyone back home knowing you're damaged goods now.”
He did know about her and Shadow. She felt as though she had been slapped. Peter had read her letters to Moriah. He knew. The horrified expression on her face gave her away. Now she knew that he knew.
He laughed aloud. “Bitch,” he said, shaking his head. “If you hadn't upset Mom so much that night, slutting yourself around at church, none of this would've happened.”
She watched him get back into his car and turn to her once more.
“You've only got yourself to thank for all of this.” He smiled at her.
Suddenly she felt drained, as though all the life had been sucked out of her, like in one of those vampire movies her roommate loved so much. She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head began to pound. In her mind now, she could see it all so clearly. She did not want to, but she could not stop the memories now.
The next day was her seventeenth birthday. In the room she shared with her sister, Moriah, who was away at a sleepover, she lay alone in her bed, before she had become afraid to be alone. As Bethanie drifted off to sleep, her hair still wet from the new shampoo she had purchased with her own money at the drugstore that day, the fragrance was a singular pleasure for her.
The house was quiet. Her door stood open a crack, the way she liked it when a figure appeared in the doorway that she took for her father. It was unusual for him to be awake at this hour, having to get up so early in the morning to open the bakery. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and moved to the edge of her bed. The light behind him prevented her from seeing his face clearly as he said, “It's time for you to become a woman.”
“I know, Daddy, but do I really have to? You know I get embarrassed when I have to stand up in front of the church.”
Instead of replying, he unzipped his blue jeans, and the sound of his belt buckle clanking as he did, pressed fear, old and new, into her heart. Glancing behind him at her closed door, she began to feel the tightening sensation of panic in her throat. “I didn't do anything wrong today, Daddy. I promise.” She swallowed hard as fear crowded her. “You already whipped me for holding hands at church. I promise I'll never do it again.”
He leaned down and put his hand over her mouth. The pungent odor of motor grease filled her nostrils, and she gagged. “It's time for you to learn how to pleasure a man.”
Removing his hand from her mouth, he pushed his erect penis in her face. “Put your mouth on it.”
Before she could move, the sound of the door opening and a shotgun being cocked drew his attention away from her. He turned.
“Get out,” came her mother's threatening voice from the open doorway.
He spun back around, clumsily trying to right his clothing. He managed to zip his jeans and turn around, taking one careful step towards her mother as he stared at the barrel of the loaded weapon.
“You get out this minute. I don't want to ever see you in this house again, Peter. You're no better than my Daddy. Do you understand me?”
Her brother's name did not register in Bethanie's brain as Peter started slowly for the door, his eyes riveted on his mother holding a shotgun pointed at his adolescent chest. When he was gone, she sat up in bed, frozen. Unable to move off the bed, she listened to her mother's eerily calm voice giving her instructions to follow her out to the backyard. Bethanie knew she had to get up, but she could not move. Her instructions were to go out to the backyard and wait for her mother there.
Outside, her father, dressed in cotton pajamas, the kind he always wore to bed, was already there, obviously awoken from his sleep. A horrible look was in his eye as he stood in front of her mother, between his son and the loaded gun.
And there was Peter, standing beyond his father, dressed in blue jeans, a leather belt, and white t-shirt with black grease stains all over the front from working on his old car. His expression was one she had never seen on him before, that of a deer caught in headlights. He looked scared.
This was all her fault, she told herself.
It had been Peter in her room that night, and all this time she had thought it was her father. Peter had been the one who had attempted to molest her, and she had blamed her father all these years for it. She was too confused to think straight. Why had he tried to do that to her? she asked herself. Why did Peter hate her so much? Was it a guilty conscience or did he still blame her? As questions swirled through her mind, she wrapped her arms around her middle and doubled over as a wave of nausea washed over her. She hurried over to the wooded section beside the house just before her stomach revolted. She stumbled over to one of the maples, kneeling beside the tree and holding on for dear life as her world began to spin out of control. She realized that the one thing she had dreaded most was about to happen. From this moment on, she would forever be estranged from her family. They would never be a part of her world again. And that thought filled her with fear beyond any kind she had ever known before. Because she knew the loss would kill her.
Numbly, Bethanie went about her business, checking on her owls and collecting pellets from their nest for the purpose of examination and counting. Her routine had become so much a part of her that she could do this in her sleep now, which allowed her to think as she worked. As her fingers sifted through the nesting material that Carol had so carefully arranged, she thought about her old home, West Virginia where her mother and siblings lived. Her mother had been taken from her life much in the same way Carol had been taken from her owlets' lives without warning. She had been left to pick up the pieces of her life after losing her mother, and she had done a lousy job of it. Her solution, if you could call it that, had been to run away and hide here on this campus, to immerse herself into another family, not of her own, but one that needed her just the same. She had been living as her owls lived, hiding in dark corners for her own safety and peace of mind, and she was now finding that she was ready to emerge from her corner. Shadow had rattled her peace of mind at first, but now, she wished more than anything he was there with her bestowing his peacefulness upon her when she needed it the most.
It would still be several weeks before Carol could be returned to the nest. Bethanie only hoped that Mike would not presume her dead, since barn owls mate for life, and begin looking for a new mate before she had a chance to return.
“Hang on, Mike,” she whispered earnestly to him. “Be patient.”
And as if in reply, there on his heart-shaped face, he wore a round-eyed expression that seemed to say, “I will.”
“I tell you what, let's make a deal. Since you can wait until your love returns, I'll do the same,” she said, her brown hair bobbing across her shoulders as she vigorously nodded. “And when he returns, I'll make sure he knows exactly how I feel about him.” She nodded again, this time beaming. “I'll tell Shadow...” her voice trailed off to barely a whisper as the full force of her determination struck her, “that I love him. Do we have a deal?”
Then he winked at her.
Call it fate, karma, or destiny, whatever it was, it was about to suck. She just had a sinking feeling as she returned to Shadow's cabin from checking on her owls, pack on her back. Emerging from the thick covering of trees that shaded the side yard of Shadow's cabin, what she saw sent her reeling backwards under the cover of those trees where she could hide. Seeking refuge behind one of the oak trees, she saw two police cars parked side by side, one behind Shadow's pick-up truck and one blocking the end of the driveway.
Fear took hold of her at once, rendering her unable to move or to even think as she watched in horror as two uniformed policemen, flanking him on both sides removed Shadow from the cabin. His hands were bound behind his back in handcuffs. He wore jeans and his hair fell wet, hanging loosely about his shoulders. Without a shirt on his back, he was not given the dignity of getting properly dressed before he was taken. Her heart was breaking at the scene unfo
lding before her eyes, rendering her powerless and overwhelmed, wanting to cry out even before she realized that her voice had betrayed her.
At that moment she took a step forward to speak her own guilt, Shadow saw her. Their eyes met and anticipating her need for justness, he shook his head before she could speak, warning her not to move, not to say a word.
So she remained under the cover of bushes and trees, calling herself a coward a thousand ways in the seconds she hid there. How could she simply sit there and watch when she knew why they were taking him away? He was being arrested for what the two of them had done, together. Breaking and entering intoHenry Bord Jr.'s condo had been a mutual decision and a consequence in which she should be allowed to share.
The police cruisers made u-turns one at a time then drove down the driveway towards the police station, taking Shadow away from her in just the same way her mother had been driven from her. She knew for certain in that moment that God was punishing her. He was punishing her for partaking in the sins of the flesh. She blamed herself completely for everything that was happening, and the weight of her own guilt was crushing her soul.
Entering the silence of the empty cabin, she padded up the stairs to her bedroom, knowing exactly what she had to do. She would write a letter, confessing to being an accomplice. Knowing full well she could not face the possibility of testifying against Shadow in another trial as she had done against her mother, she would confess to her part and then run away. She was getting good at it by now.
Peering at herself in the mirror, she saw a new person looking back at her. Her brown hair was still the same. Her eyes the same shade of blue, but something in them had changed. There was something there that had not been before, something estimable and tangible because she had learned something from her time with Shadow. Something she would take with her for the rest of her life. She would be better off for having known him.
Then a thought struck her as she looked down where two toothbrushes hung above the sink. She would never see him again. Her whole life up to then seemed to culminate in that one moment as she removed her toothbrush from the ceramic tile hanger, leaving his there alone. As she stood looking at the space where it had been, her heart began to ache and an unexpected grief stole into her chest. Pain of realization coiled inside her. She closed her eyes at the image of the woman in the mirror staring back at her and left the bathroom. She would never be with Shadow again.
Packing up her few belongings from the guest room dresser, she found, inside her dresser, an unopened letter from her sister postmarked one week ago that she must somehow have missed after reading the crushing letter from her brother.
Dear Bethanie,
I hope you are doing better now that you've settled in some with Shadow. I've been so worried about you since you last wrote that your owls had been killed. I hope that you can find who did it. How cruel can people be to kill innocent birds?
Don't worry about anything here. Abigail and Claudia are both happy as can be now that they're married. Claudia walks around like she's the Queen of Sheba, wearing a real diamond on her finger. I don't let it bother me. Especially now that I'm getting married too. Do you remember Daddy's friend, Mark Hawkins? The one that took over his bakery for him after he died. Well, his son, Marcus, asked me to marry him! Can you believe it? Your baby sister, marrying at seventeen? That's the same age as Mother when she married Daddy. Sorry if me talking about him as if he was still alive makes you sad. Peter won't let me talk about Mother at all.
Anyway, I'm so excited I can't hardly stand it. I've been packing up my room the last few days. Which brings me to why I'm writing to you. I think that's how Peter found your letters. I had to warn you. I took them out of their hiding spot. Stupid of me. And he read them. He's real mad that you're living with a man. I thought he was gonna tear the house down. He said he was gonna go get you and make you come home. And if you didn't, he would make you sorry. Then he said that if that Indian gave him any trouble, he'd kill him. Whatever you do, be careful, Bethanie! You know what he's like when he's angry. And whatever you decide, know how much I love you. Come and visit me as soon as you can.
Love Always, Your Sister,
Moriah
I have to get back to my sister, she thought as she closed the letter and slid it into her backpack. She did not want to leave Shadow. With all of her heart, she had hoped that she could continue living inside the dream in which she had found herself. But there was no future in it. And her sister needed her, needed to know there was life outside of the four walls of their home. If she left now, there might be some hope of reconciliation.
Going back to the dresser, her hands came across the nightgown she had been wearing the night she and Shadow had faced the skinwalker. And to her surprise, on the sleeve that the skinwalker had touched when he had grabbed her, the blood remained, staining the delicate white fabric.
She gasped as a spark of hope bloomed in her chest. This stained nightgown was the proof Shadow needed to prove his innocence. If they could prove that the blood on the sleeve belonged to the deer that had been gutted and hung inside the barn made up to look like a woman, they could prove that Shadow had nothing to do with it. And if the blood belonged to the girls', then the skinwalker would be proven guilty.
After writing out a thorough confession of her part in the breaking and entering plan, she scribbled a note, pinning it to the nightgown. Dear Shadow, I hope this helps, I cringe to think that I may have had the proof we needed in my possession all this time and didn't even know it. Thanks for everything. -Bethanie.
Her heart broke as she placed her handwritten note on the kitchen counter along with one of the three twenty-dollar bills that her brother had given her for her bus fare home, if she ever decided to swallow her pride and come crawling back home. She wanted to say more in the note, to tell him that she loved him, but she really did not know how. And she hoped that if he did not know how she really felt about him, her leaving would be somehow easier.
She truly did not want to leave. Shadow was the only love she had ever known. But as hard as it was to walk out of his cabin, thinking that she may never set eyes upon Shadow again, it was time for her to face the facts. I really am damaged goods, she told herself. What hope do I have of ever finding someone to love me the way he did?
He had offered her safety, a place to live when she had nowhere to go, and passion, but not the promise of a commitment. And she knew herself well enough to know that she could not live without marriage. She had to leave.
Chapter 11
Green shoots broke up from beneath the ground in the field where her owls hunted, bringing the hope of healing. Bethanie needed to say goodbye to her owls. Mike and his brood must be out hunting, she said aloud to herself, hopefully not out searching for a replacement for Carol. After placing her belongings, her bag and her crossbow that had been a gift from Shadow the day he taught her to use it, on the ground beside her, she climbed the rungs of the pole to the nest and found it empty. She could not spot Mike, but from her perch high up above the fields of fescue grass, she surveyed the patchwork quilt design of the fields surrounding her. And in the distance, she saw a large figure, a man, walking towards the cattle barn at the far end of the campus.
Her first thought was that it was the skinwalker, making a brazen appearance in broad daylight, much as he had done the day he grabbed her by the arm. There had to be a very good reason for him to be outside right now on a still deserted campus, instead of sneaking around at night as he usually did.
Careful not to be seen by him, forgetting all about her crossbow, she followed him to the barn. Hiding behind the sliding door, she watched from the outside as he appeared to be searching for something inside. Over his head the fluorescent lights shown down, and although his face was obscured by the grotesque mask he wore, she recognized the dress as being the one she and Shadow had seen in Bord Jr.'s condominium. As he turned, she caught a glimpse of his face and a surprised gasp escaped her lips, causing her to
have to duck back behind the door to prevent being seen.
From her hiding place, she struggled to catch her breath as she braced herself against the outside wall of the metal building, counting the seconds until he found her. In her shocked state, she had given herself away. She knew that face. It belonged to President Bord, the president of Ferra College. But what was the president of the school doing dressed as the mythological creature? Was he the one responsible for terrorizing the school? What if he had taken the girls and closed the school to hide what he had done? Shadow had told her that President Bord's theory was that the girls had run away. Was that just a convenient lie to cover up the truth he had known all along?
Suddenly he was gone. She had not seen him leave when he grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream but a strong hand clamped down over her mouth, pulling her backwards off her feet and dragged her on her heels into the seclusion of the barn. The man she had trusted for three years was an incredibly strong foe and all the more so for the element of surprise. Her last thought before everything went black was to call for Shadow, but she could not, and he could not help her.
When Bethanie opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was or how long she had been out. She tried calling out to Shadow, but her head hurt so badly that just that simple movement made her stomach sick.
“He's in jail, Bethanie,” the skinwalker, President Bord, answered from nearby. “It's a long time coming, and it's what he deserves.”
As she tried to orient herself to where his voice was coming from, she moaned at the slight movement of her head. A tear ran down her cheek at the physical pain of knowing that Shadow would not be coming. Little did she know however that outside the thin, four walls of her prison, an abandoned shack behind Feazell Cemetery, the hissing cry of her barn owl rang out in the darkness where it was circling the small building and keeping a steady watch over her.
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