The souls of lost lake, p.33
The Souls of Lost Lake, page 33
“Well said, young lady,” Councilman Pitford acknowledged with a slow handclap.
Sanderson didn’t seem convinced. “There’s still the fact that the congregation questions the morality of this situation. It’s apparent there is something between the two of you and—”
Noah launched to his feet. His eyes sparked. Ava noticed it and wondered if anyone else did too. ’Cause she knew what it was to mess with them embers!
“Ava and I have remained pure and honorable. If you choose to believe otherwise, then it is on your conscience, not ours.”
“So you’re admitting there is something between the two of you?” Sanderson smiled smugly.
Noah set his jaw and glared down his nose at the man. “A man’s personal life is between him and God alone.”
“But you set the example for the pulpit, Reverend, and the community,” Sanderson barked. “This arrangement is not setting the example.”
“No.” Noah’s eyes were lit now. “We set the example. All of us who say we are men of faith. And you know, Sanderson? That’s the beauty of God’s grace. It’s understanding, it’s choosing to show grace. It’s holding each other accountable, yes, but it’s also not creating our own narrative and forcing others’ stories into it. Finding the truth which is nonnegotiable. That is our purpose.”
Ava stared at Noah. He’d taken a step toward Sanderson. Sanderson’s mouth set in a thin line. Officer Larson was fidgeting with the brim of his hat. Councilman Pitford was smiling openly.
Noah continued as if he were preaching from the pulpit and had the entire congregation eating out of his hand. “If I want to pursue Ava Coons, then I’ve a right to. I also have a responsibility to my congregation and to God to make sure I do it in a way that’s pure. Not held to man-made standards and precepts. I’ve no intention of her remaining here at the parsonage. Fact is, she’s already moved in with Hanny. So, you go right ahead and hold your lofty, pharisaical head up high, Sanderson, and tell me all the ways you’re superior in righteousness, and then—then—I’ll listen to your accusations based on pure judgment alone.”
Councilman Pitford clapped slowly once again. “Hear, hear!”
Sanderson glowered at the councilman.
Councilman Pitford offered Sanderson a nonplussed look. “He’s right! And we all were sure Miss Coons was ax-murdering people, and how wrong we were about that.”
“I’m not saying,” Noah concluded, his body relaxing a bit, “to ignore wrongdoing—or even the appearance of it—I’m just saying be sure before you ostracize people for what you assume to be some wrongdoing, to find out the truth. Like Ava said, so many are wandering the edges of community, wanting in, wanting fellowship, wanting to be part of a family, and we push them out.”
“He’s right,” Officer Larson said.
“You can’t be serious!” Sanderson swept his arm through the air. “They’ve been living here together for weeks.”
“I’m sure Hanny was checking in on them,” the councilman interjected.
Sanderson skewered him with a look. “As if that is enough to cease any carousing when she wasn’t here. Not to mention she’s half blind as a bat last I heard.”
“Oh, really?” Hanny’s wobbly, aged voice broke the tension. She leaned on her cane in the doorway, but Ava was sure she looked about as fierce as Noah. She waddled a few steps into the room. “I’m ashamed of you boys.” She wagged a finger at the men. “After all you put Miss Coons through. And for Pete’s sake and Moses’ sanity, have you even looked at yourselves? What gives you a place in this town and not Ava? Not Noah? Mr. Sanderson, have you even kept accounts of your own wife’s recent tête-à-têtes?”
“What does Sarah have to do with this?”
Yes. Ava waited, holding her breath. She’d been wondering the same thing. Ned’s accusation that she’d been involved with Matthew Hubbard seemed farfetched now. And considering it’d come from Ned, also unbelievable.
Hanny shook her head in disbelief. She clucked her tongue. “Ohhhh, Jason, Jason.” She smiled in pity at Sanderson, and her use of his first name reminded Ava of how much older and how grandmotherly Hanny truly was. “I can tell stories about your wife. How she snivels behind other women’s backs and embellishes such delicious stories about them. You know how Widower Frisk found out about Jipsy and Mr. Hubbard, don’t you?”
Sanderson’s face was red.
Hanny smiled patronizingly. “Of course you don’t. It was a rumor your wife was circulating for quite a while. That, and about Hubbard and Ava too.” She tapped her index finger to her chin. “I wonder . . . if your Sarah had kept her wagging tongue quiet, would Ned have even killed Mr. Hubbard?” Hanny gave an exaggerated intake of breath. “Fact is, maybe Sarah is morally responsible for the murders!”
“That is nonsense!” Mr. Sanderson exploded.
“And so are your unfounded accusations against Noah and Ava,” Hanny snapped. She pounded her cane on the floor. “I rest my case.”
Councilman Pitford snorted, as if Hanny were truly in a court of law and defending the reverend and Ava from false accusations.
Sanderson smashed his hat on his head. He opened his mouth to retort, but apparently, upon hearing how Sarah’s slanderous rumormongering had set into motion the recent horrible events, he changed his mind. Snapping his mouth shut, he gave them all a curt nod. “Good day.” With that, Sanderson let himself out of the parsonage.
Officer Larson and Councilman Pitford both offered small smiles.
“I believe we’ve concluded this conversation,” Officer Larson stated.
“Thank you,” Noah said.
“However,” the officer added, “unfortunately, I’ve no say over what the church decides regarding your pulpit.”
“I understand,” Noah nodded.
“Good day, then.” Officer Larson replaced his hat on his head, as did Councilman Pitford.
The front door closed behind them.
Noah, Hanny, and Ava all stood in silence. Until Hanny laughed and waved the tip of her cane toward the door where the men had exited.
“Bunch of goons, they are.” She leveled her hazy eyes on Ava. “With Councilman Pitford head of the church board, you’ll be fine. I can see he isn’t taken in by all the lies. Good man, he is. Now. There’s the issue of you two. All swoony-eyed and—”
“We’re not—”
“Pshaw, Noah Pritchard!” Hanny waved him off. “It’s plain as the nose on your face you have a thing for this girl. Backwoods country girl meets preacher from back east. It’s quite the match, I’d say.” Hanny moved to leave, then paused. “Oh, and I think you’d best tell the girl about Emmaline before you find yourself in another hot mess.”
Wren
Pippin hadn’t compensated for the fact that what could hold a six-year-old child captive was not something that could hold her. Wren pulled the canvas side of the deer blind off the ground enough to slide through. Sitting outside, she followed the chain she was tied to until she reached the bolt that was twisted into the base of a tree.
“Jasmine?” Wren called softly.
“Yes?” The little girl sniffled. She was frightened, and rightfully so. Wren wished they could see each other for the sake of Jasmine, but they couldn’t with Wren outside the blind.
“It’s going to be a bit, but I’m right here, honey. I’m not leaving you.”
“Okay,” the watery voice replied.
Wren set to work trying to twist the screwed-in bolt from the trunk. It was tight, rusted, and the trunk was already swollen over it. Her ankle was bleeding again from the zip ties she’d worn earlier. Her wrists zip-tied together didn’t help much either. For the next hour or so—she’d lost track of the time—Wren grunted and cajoled the circular steel bolt to turn. She moved it a few millimeters, but then it became harder to budge again.
“Arwen?” Jasmine’s voice called from the blind. “Are you still here?”
“Yes. I’m here,” she reassured her. Wren’s fingers were bleeding where they’d scraped the bark on the tree. She readjusted and tried again, and again, then gave a small “whoop!” when it turned. This time it was easier. “Jasmine, I think I’ve got it!”
A few minutes later, the bolt finally came free from the trunk, and the chain dropped to the ground. There was no way to detach herself from the chain without cutting the zip tie, so Wren hefted it into loops around her arms.
She hurried around to the front of the blind, dropping the chain and using her bound hands to unzip the door. She pushed her way in. “Jasmine, I’m free.” She wanted to run now, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave the little girl behind. “I’m going to find where your chain is bolted and work on that. Okay? We’ll get out of here.”
Jasmine’s eyes were enormous, frightened, and the dark circles under them told Wren she was dehydrated, malnourished, and exhausted. Still, the brave little girl nodded, and Wren set to work on Jasmine’s chain.
It was turning dusk by the time Wren wrestled the second bolt from the tree. Her fingernails were broken, her fingers bloodied and burning. Her neck muscles had cramped from her position, and the ties had bitten into the skin on her wrists, leaving them raw.
A sense of euphoric elation stabbed through Wren as she stumbled back to the blind. “Jasmine! I got it! You’re free!”
The girl hurtled toward Wren at the door, the chain around Jasmine’s foot clanking. She threw her arms around Wren’s neck, knocking Wren backward. She wanted to hold Jasmine, but with her hands still bound, that was impossible.
“Okay.” Wren leveled her gaze on Jasmine. “I need you to help loop the chain over my hands, and then you’re going to need to carry yours. It’ll be heavy, but we can do this.”
Jasmine was eager. Both filled with a sense of hope.
Soon Wren and Jasmine were pushing their way through the woods and into the brush. She was a little trouper, but Wren kept an eye open for Pippin. She had the nervous feeling of being watched, the hairs prickling on the back of her neck. Where they were in relation to the Coons home ruins and Lost Lake, she had no idea, yet Wren couldn’t help the uneasiness she felt growing as darkness set in. She couldn’t still the vision that Ava Coons would come raging from the trees, ax in hand.
A large crash ahead of them sent Wren ducking behind some trees. Jasmine followed, pressing against Wren for security. Balancing her chain around her exhausted, cramped arms, Wren huddled with the child.
“Shhh,” she whispered.
Jasmine nodded wordlessly. The chain she was holding clanked as Jasmine inadvertently dropped it to the ground. Probably to relieve her arms, but the noise made Wren wince.
The night sky was no friend in spotting what had made the crash. Wren hoped it was a coyote. Even a black bear would be more welcome than Pippin returning to the blind. What was his end goal? He had to know people would miss her sooner rather than later?
Just as Wren was about to call it safe, a lone shaft of light from a flashlight bobbed through the woods. She crouched lower, drawing Jasmine to her side. Every prayer, every ounce of faith was poured into this moment. The light lifted, disappeared, then flicked back on. It was joined by a second shaft. Wren closed her eyes, willing her breathing to stay steady. If it was Pippin, would she be able to fight her own brother to escape? Jasmine’s little hand slipped into hers. She was reminded of a day that she’d never recall, but a day that had happened when Pippin had picked her up as a newborn and hustled her away from her birth mother. An innocent. Taken. From that day forward, she had been displaced. Lost.
A shout filtered through the trees. Wren shrank farther into the bushes, thorns snagging in her hair. She drew Jasmine into the shelter of her side. The warmth of the trembling girl awakened in Wren something she’d never felt before. A sense of protectiveness. Of nurturing. She would fight for this little girl with everything she could muster. Just like Patty had, in her own quiet way, fought for her.
47
She heard her name floating through the woods. Like a breeze, it brushed across her face. Wren stiffened.
“Wren!”
Hope shot through her. A search party? How would they know to come here? This area was far from the search grid originally combed for Jasmine. There would be no reason for anyone to know to search here.
Wren remained hunkered low, thankful that Jasmine sensed the need for utter silence.
“Wren!”
The voice called again. Another joined. “Wren!”
Now a chorus of voices. Lights streaming through the woods.
“It’s a search party,” Wren breathed. She sensed Jasmine look up at her. Whispering in Jasmine’s ear, she gave instructions. “I think it’s a search party. I’m going to find out. You stay here and do not move. Don’t come out until it’s me calling for you. Do you understand?”
Jasmine nodded.
Wren could see the wide-eyed whites of Jasmine’s eyes. She planted a kiss on the top of Jasmine’s dirty hair, then moved from her position. “Stay,” she directed again. The last thing she needed was to find out these people were not safe and drag Jasmine deeper into something.
“Wren!”
The light was closer now. It swept the forest floor.
Wren stepped from behind the tree, holding her arms up as the light shone into her face. “It’s me! Please! Lower the light!”
“Oh my gosh!” the person responded, dropping the light beam. “I found her!” It wasn’t a voice she recognized. Wren stumbled toward them cautiously, her chain still looped around her tied wrists and dragging to where it connected with her ankle.
“Please help me,” she begged.
The light came nearer as the person rushed toward her. It illuminated his face, his gray hair.
“Mr. Sanderson!” Wren collapsed to the forest floor.
Wayne raced to her, dropping to his knees beside her. Concern was etched into the crags of his face. The flashlight lay on the ground beside him, casting its beam up. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Wren’s reassurance made him relax until he noticed the chain.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” He whipped a jackknife from his pocket and in two clean strokes sliced through the zip ties. The chain fell to the earth.
Wren whimpered as she moved her arms back into a more normal position. Her muscles were sore and cramping.
A few more people joined them, charging through the forest in anticipation.
Wren lifted her eyes to meet Troy’s. A smile split his face, but he turned as another person surged past him. Eddie dropped beside Wayne, and without a word he was holding her.
“Thank God! I thought I’d lost you too.”
Tears came then. Happy ones, scared ones, and the ones that said everything a person could feel but not put into words. She buried her face in Eddie’s shoulder before remembering Jasmine. Drawing back quickly, she met his questioning expression. Troy reached out and rubbed her shoulder. She knew he needed the physical connection to be assured she was okay. Wren wouldn’t cheat him of that.
“Let’s get you on your feet,” Wayne instructed.
Eddie helped Wren stand.
“Wait.” Wren stopped them.
Eddie was studying the raw skin at her wrists as Troy kicked at the chain in a pile on the forest floor.
A few more searchers joined them. She was about to mention Jasmine when her eyes attached to Ben. Ben. He’d joined the search for her? Even in the pain of his own missing daughter!
“Oh my gosh! Oh no!” Wren cried, excitement flooding her. She spun away from Eddie, hustling past Troy.
“Wren!” Eddie shouted.
She ignored him and dodged behind the cluster of trees, where Jasmine was still huddling. Obedient. Shaking. Jasmine stared up at her.
“Honey.” Wren reached out a hand. “Come with me.”
“I’m scared,” Jasmine whispered.
“Don’t be. It’s time to go home.”
Wren wasn’t sure she would ever forget the impact of the moment when they entered the hospital emergency room and Meghan’s cries echoed through the halls as she held her baby girl. The Rivieras huddled together, embracing each other, Jasmine held in Ben’s arms and Meghan wrapped around them both. Her eyes briefly met Wren’s with a sincere and tearful look of gratitude.
A nurse urged Wren past them. She followed, reaching behind her for Eddie’s hand. The nurse opened a room and motioned for the bed.
“In here. The doctor will see you shortly. We’ll get your wounds cleaned and treated. The police have questions for you as well. The doctor may want to do an X-ray on your wrists to make sure there’re no fractures.”
She wouldn’t argue. Wren had wondered that herself. Ever since the adrenaline of being found had worn off, her wrists throbbed exponentially. She slid herself onto the hospital bed, swinging her legs onto the mattress. Eddie stood off to the side as the nurse laid a warm blanket over her.
“You can leave your shoes on,” she said. “If you get cold, the button to call us is right there. But we won’t be long.”
“Thank you,” Wren sighed as her head lowered to the pillow. She wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced such luxury as a hospital bed and pillow. She almost laughed at the idea, but then exhaustion was fast seeping into the marrow of her bones.
Eddie sank into a chair, his arms resting on his bare knees. His gray shorts were frayed at the hem. His shirt was a camp T-shirt, and he’d jammed a baseball cap onto his head. He had a small growth of whiskers. His eyes were tired. Sorrowful. Yet he stared at her with such an encompassing hunger that Wren almost felt nervous. Eddie had never looked at her with such rawness, so openly, so undisguised.
“I’m okay,” she assured him.
Eddie smiled a little. “I got back today, and no one could find you. The police called Dad about the break-in at our place.”
