Down the Dirt Road (31 page)

     Grabbing up another letter, she vowed not to shed a single tear as she read it.  After all, these sheets of paper were a historical record of a major historical event.  If she kept that in mind, maybe she could get through a few more without crying.  A part of her felt guilty for even reading them, the letters were private feelings and thought that Grayson had never actually intended her to see.  If she could bear that in mind, her emotions might stay in check.

My Dear Jennie,

     It has been dark for over an hour.  I write to you by flashlight, hidden under the cover of my bunk.  In another hour I am leading a team of men into the desert on a fact finding mission of which I really cannot talk about.  It is not my first such trip but tonight I  can’t seem to shake the feeling of dread that keeps haunting me.  Because I have no idea what lies out there awaiting me, I want to tell you
something.  Something I should have said that day under the tree, something I pray I will have the opportunity to say to you in person, no matter how much I am certain you do not want to hear it.  But I fear that if I do not say it now, get it down on paper I may not have the chance ever again. 

    Jennie Marshall, I love you and I want to marry you one day.  Raise a houseful of little girls as beautiful as their Momma and spend every day for the rest of my life showing you how much I treasure you.

    I must go now, the other guys are beginning to suit up for the mission.  I count the days until this
is over and I can go home to the
little farm town in the middle of nowhere where everyone knows your business as much as your name.  I move forward through each day only because I know it brings me one day closer to the chance to
win your heart.

    Until we meet again,

    Grayson

    Swiping at the stream of tears once again trailing down her cheeks, she studied the date on the corner of the piece of paper.  5 December.   The last letter he wrote before he
disappeared.  She grabbed up the stack of letters left to read- more than half of them stared back at her.  The one she had just finished should have been the very last. 

    Reaching for her pen and paper, she fought the wetness in her eyes as she wrote her reply to the last letter.

Dear Grayson,

     If I could go back in time I would return to the night you wrote your last letter and beg you not to go on that mission. 

    I know now that I love you too.  It wouldn’t take you a bit of convincing to get me to marry you but I want a brood of handsome little boys that all look exactly like their Daddy and could sweet talk the habit off a nun.

    I wish I had been so sure of my future when you were here
trying to get my attention in your quiet, gentle way.  I would give it to you in a heartbeat had  I known my own emotions at all. Please find a way to come home to me.

   Love always ,

Jennie

    Completely drained of all emotion, Jennie fell asleep in her bed surrounded by
the envelopes. Even in her exhausted, emotional state she was
reluctant to surrender
the onl
y connection she had to Grayson and the future she would never know.

Three Months Later

26.

   The sun shone brightly in the crystal blue sky.  Wisps of clouds that remi
nded her of the cotton candy at
the county fair when she was a child puffed their way
across the sky
over
her
head.  A chorus of birds chirped and sang their way through the nest making process.  Nearly every beam in the barn held a newly constructed avian home awaiting the moment of egg laying.  Spring had sprung nearly overnight.  Mother nature had been harsh- the winter months usually cool but mild had been frigid and full of unexpected snowfalls.  A week ago, snow banks sat six feet high on either side of the driveway.  On this morning the
ground was muddy b
ut clear, the banks of white now
small dirty piles quickly turning to slush.

     The melting snow and mild temperatures lightened her mood considerably.  Jennie spent the past three months muddling through work and chores and snow removal under grey skies and a heavy heart.
  A bird had perched on her wi
n
dow sill that morning singing her a song of hope and new life.  It was the first time since that fateful package had arrived on her doorstep a few days before Christmas that she actually felt like smiling.  Even the thought of going to work in a few minutes couldn’t seem to dampen her mood. 

   The nightmares had begun on Christmas Eve.  Every time she settled in and closed her eyes, begging sleep to rescue her, her dreams were full of images of war and torture and pain.  Barely a night passed by in three months that she hadn’t experienced at least one horrific dream waking her with her own screams.  Momma stopped checking in on her months ago, resigned to the fact that her little girl suffered n
ight terrors; one more thing the older Marshall woman
felt powerless to change.

    
Tucking the feed bucket in under the utility bench where she had begun storing it when the old nail in the central post rusted clear through she steeled her shoulders aga
inst another day at the factory and walked toward the door of the barn.

     Two years ago the job had seemed like the perfect solution to their money problems after Daddy died.  It was a testament to his legacy as well- what had been good
enough
for John Marshall for over two decades had been plenty good enough for his daughter.  The work was hard, her palms had
become
rough
en
ed with calluses and blisters, her back ached and her feet were always sore from standing
on a concrete slab
eight or more hours at a time.
  There was nothing dainty or delicate or ladylike about the work she did making reams of paper.  Even her clothing had taken on a sort of utilitarian appearance.  Jeans, work boots and a denim button down top were a far cry from the cute dresses and linen tanks she used to wear every day.  She was a mere shadow of the teenager she had been when Grayson first asked her out.  She highly doubted were he alive and well she would be anything he would want now. 

   So
,
her life continu
ed on-
a myriad of responsibilities and a destiny of being self sufficient, independent and …alone.

     And she would be all alone one day
sooner than she liked,
she feared.  Momma had resigned herself to her room most days.  If Jennie had to venture a guess, Momma’s health was failing fast. 
She didn’t look much different, it was just a feeling Jennie had. 
She only prayed her mother wouldn’t require the services of a nursing facility when the end was near but the likelihood is that she would.
  Jennie shrugged off the overwhelming sadness that always accompanied such thoughts and steeled herself for the upcoming shift at work.  She had begun to truly despise going to work each day.  Her new supervisor, a snot
-
nosed, know it all who had a false sense of security in his rugged not so good looks had begun making her time at work very uncomfortable.

    
Maybe that was where her new fashion sense had come from.  Making herself as unattractive to the boss as possible could have been one reason for her homely look as of late. 
What did it really matter anyway?  The chickens were impressed as long as she brought feed.

    Twenty minutes later she stood outside the factory and bid the beauty of spring goodbye as she entered the windowless facility just as she had every week day since the week after her father’s death.  This time however, she carried with her a strong sense of foreboding.

    Shaking off the heavy feeling and chalking it up to another nightmare filled night she made her way to the time clock where she signed in, donned her hair net and safety glasses and headed to another day of paper making.

     By the time she took her lunch break, Jennie had all but forgotten about the heavy feelings that had come to work with her.  The employee eating area was mostly empty
save for one other person
when she entered with her paper sack of leftovers from dinner the evening before.  One small table sat empty in the
far
corner of the room, the same table she had eaten her lunch at every day she had come to work.
  The meatloaf in her dish was more than half gone when Adam
Johansen
, her supervisor entered the room. 

     “Jennie!  Fancy meeting you here!”

      “You told me to take lunch, Adam.  Where did you expect me to go?”
     There was something odd about the look in his eye that made her nervous.  The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and gooseflesh broke out all over her arms.

      “Nowhere.  You are
exactly
where you should be.”
  He lowered his voice to an almost ominous level as he eyed her, openly examining every inch of her body.  The lust in his eyes made her sick.

      The small windowless room su
ddenly drew in tight around her
. 
Likely sensing the looming danger, th
e only other person in the space got up quickly and left without looking at either Jennie or Adam.  They were alone and all Jennie could think of was her need to get out of that room and as far from Adam as she could.  Throwing her half eaten meal into the paper bag she had carried it in and dropped the whole thing in the trash can as she made her way toward the door.
  Unfortunately, Adam blocked her path.

    “Going somewhere?”  Adam’s sneer was scary.  Her pulse quickened as
fear began to consume her.  She knew
without a doubt she had to get away from that man as quickly as possible. 

     “Excuse me, Adam.  I have to run to the ladies room before my break ends.”  She tried to keep her voice light but the tremor on her words gave her away.  He
blocked her way to the exit stepping right as she attempted to pass him on one side and moving quickly to the left when she changed direction.  Reaching behind him, he pushed the door to the cafeteria closed and locked it.

    Jennie squared her shoulders, praying to God the fear wracking every cell of her body wasn’t evident on her face because Adam’s intentions were very, very evident on his.

     “What are you doing Adam?”

     “Giving us a little well deserved privacy.  His fingers worked the buckle on his belt lazily as he eyed her with a frightening hunger.

      “This is the lunchroom, Adam, there is no privacy in here.”

      “That my dear is where you are mistaken.  It is nearly two in the afternoon.  There are no more lunch breaks for any department and ten minute breaks don’t begin for
nearly forty five minutes.  Plenty of time for us to have a little
time alone.”

    She took two purposeful steps away from him, attempting to position herself in direct line with the door.  “I don’t WANT any time alone.  I want to get back to work.”  She stepped forward, two more steps closer to the door.

    “DON’T even think about it!”  Adam’s hand shot out and shoved her chest, knocking her back against a table against the wall.  He ripped the belt from his jeans and worked the button and the fly all the while eyeing Jennie like she was an impressive cut of beef hanging in the butcher’s meat case.

    Jennie panicked, her eyes shot around the room looking for something, anything that could help her.  “I’ll scream!  Someone will hear!”

   “Who Jennie?  Who’s gonna hear you over a
ll those presses and pulp mixers
?  I’ll tell y
ou who.  NO ONE!”  He pressed a finger to her cheek
following the line down her jaw to her chin.
The move was meant to be sensual but was nothing but repulsive.
Jennie resisted the urge to vomit;
she had a feeling that action wouldn’t help her situation at all.

    Before she could react, Adam was pressed against her knocking her back on the table top and holding her wrists over her head with one surprisingly strong hand.  His other had yanked the hem of her shirt out of her jeans and was clumsily groping her breasts.  Jennie struggled against the assault letting loose the loudest scream she could muster earning her a slap
against her cheek that was so h
ard her vision went black and filled with little bursts of white
light
.