Down the Dirt Road (33 page)

    “You… and …Jennings?  Really?”  Flores’s voice was deathly quiet, her eyes taking on a haunting sadness.  It that moment it was obvious to Jennie that the other woman shared her deep sadness for Grayson…and perhaps her love. 

    They sat quiet, studying each other for a long moment.  Jennie could see the myriad of emotions in Marisol’s eyes as she worked through the situation in her cops’ mind.

   “I’m sorry, Marisol.  I didn’t mean to upset you.  It’s been an emotional day, I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you.”

    “It’s OK, Marshall.  It’s been rough around…since… you know.  Jennings was…is… a good guy.  We went through the academy together… Anyway, let’s get photos of those bruises and then I am going to get down to the mill and see about that camera footage.” 

    Officer Flores rose from her chair, instantly back to all business.  Twenty minutes later they had pictures of her injuries and Jennie’s signed statement in hand.  Jennie thanked Marisol who promised to keep her updated and left the station emotionally sapped and physically drained.  With any luck Momma would be in her room sleeping or visiting with Uncle Tommy when she
got home.  She was in no mood
to tell anyone else about what had happened to her.

2
7.

   Just as she had hoped, Uncle Tommy’s truck was in the drive when she pulled off the old dirt road and into the muddy driveway.  It was well past six o’clock in the evening and the sun was making its way over to the western horizon in a glorious spring display of twilight.  The warmth of the sun during the day had tricked her into thinking that summer was closer than it was.  The early evening light reminded her that it was really only march.

    She moved quickly through the evening chores, in no mood to do anything but serve the animals’ most basic of
needs; food and water.
  Forcing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich down with a glass of milk served its purpose for her as well.  The food was tasteless but her growling stomach insisted she fill it. 
By the time she collapsed on her bed she could barely keep her eyes open.  She must have dozed off almost immediately, fully clothed and all, because it was completely dark in her room when she heard the sound of her uncle’s truck pulling out of the drive.

     Listening to the sounds of her mother settling in for the night, Jennie waited until she was sure Elise wouldn’t leave her room again before going down the hall to the bathroom.
  Every muscle in her body was wrought with tension but she wasn’t even interested in a hot bath, just bed.

    
Ten minutes later sleep enveloped her like a warm blanket as she prayed for a dreamless, restful night.

    Just her luck that God
was
n’t
taking prayer requests that night.

  
The heavy air hung still and quiet.  Too still.  The night was absent of any sound.  Where were the chirping crickets, the bullfrogs and the night owls?  Why was she so hot when it was only mid March?  A full moon rose high
above her head illuminating the land around her.  Sand stretched for miles and miles in every direction.  Sand, like at the beach.  But, where was the water?  The crashing waves and singing seagulls?  All she heard was the overwhelming quiet and the faint voices of a language she was unable to understand.

   The desert.  She was in the desert.  What desert?

  The voices moved closer.  Still she couldn’t place the language, she had never heard anything quite like it.

   Ducking behind a green jeep, she stayed perfectly still, listening to the voices as they grew louder and louder.  And then one single word stood out among all the others-“American” followed by harsh laughter.

  Daring to peek out around the end of the jeep, she caught sight of the men the voices belonged to.  Foreigners for certain, dressed in camouflage with white scarves wrapped around their heads and heavy rifles slung over their shoulders.

   Grayson.

    His name hit her with a start. They had said the word “American”- were they talking about the American
prisoner- the soldier missing in action?  She closed her eyes in concentration, trying hard to catch another English word- some indicator that they were the captors of the man she loved.

   When her eyes opened again she was no longer standing in the desert but deep inside a cave.  From somewhere in the distance water dripped methodically. 
The space was dimly lit by rough torches propped every ten feet or so against the rock walls.  The same voices, in a language she couldn’t decipher spoke- louder this time.  Evil laughter filled the cavern punctuated by a scream.  The scream of a man in extreme agony.  The scream of a man being torture in ways no human should ever experience.

   From somewhere in the distance a loud banging sounded.  Increasingly insistent, she tried to ignore it but the sound filled the cave drowning out all other noises- even the agonized scream of someone  who could only be one man.

   
“Jennie!  Jennie, wake up! It’s me, Momma!”  Through the fog of sleep she heard her mother calling out to her, the sound of her fists pounding against the wood panel door she must have locked before she fell asleep.

    “Hmmm…”   She mumbled as she forced her eyes open against their desire to stay firmly closed.  Rolling off the side of the bed with a loud thump, she made her way across the room and pulled open her bedroom door to the very upset face of her mother.

    “Jennie!  Are you all right, sweet pea?  You were screaming…”
    “I’m fine, Momma, really, I am.  Sorry I woke you.”  She yawned.  Her entire body still felt heavy with sleep.  All she wanted to do was sink back into her bed and close her eyes again.

    “You were dreaming again.”  It was a statement, not a question.  Momma’s mind stayed sharp despite the damage her disease was doing to her body.
  “What are on God’s earth are you dreaming of, Jennie girl?  Your screams are filled with terror.  They chill me to the bone.”

    “I am sorry I woke you up Momma.”  She had absolutely no desire to revisit that particular nightmare anytime soon.  The echo of Grayson agony still rang loud and clear within her mind.  For the first time ever, she found herself wishing God had found enough mercy to have let him die a long,
long time ago.  If his reality was anything at like her nightmares, she would pray for his death just to spare him the torture. 

     Momma studied her for a long time before she spoke again.  “You aren’t going to tell me are you, Jennie girl?”

    “It’s nothing Momma, really.  I have been under a lot of stress at work, I guess it just comes out in my sleep.”  She didn’t mention that work wouldn’t be a problem for her any more now that she no longer had a job.

     “Maybe I can help?  Did ya’ ever think of that?  I might be worn and decrepit from this damned disease but I am still your mother.  I can still try and chase your monsters away if you will only let me…”  Elise’s eyes shone with tears threatening to spill over at any minute as she looked
deep
into her only daughter’s eyes.

   “There aren’t any monsters Momma.  At least not of my own.  There is nothing you can do to make this go away.”   Her voice was sad, resigned.  The dreams would never go away, of that she was certain.  Not until someone knew what had become of Private Grayson Jennings, United States Army.

    Momma reached for her hands.  Jennie shivered as her mother’s icy cold fingers clasped her hands weakly.  Maybe it was the cold sweat of her nightmare that made Momma feel so cold but she doubted it. 

    “I love ya’ Jennie girl.  You know that right?  I know I haven’t been much of a momma to ya’ since your Daddy passed on but I still love you very much and I am so proud of you.  The way you have taken care of things…of me… Your Daddy would be proud of ya’, ya know that right?”

    “I don’t know ‘bout that Momma but I try.  I really do try.  Now I think you should get back in back.  Your fingers are icy cold.”

     Momma pulled her hands back and tucked them into the pockets of her heavy flannel robe.  “It is pretty chilly up here tonight.”

    They both knew it wasn’t but Jennie nodded in agreement anyway.  “It is. I don’t you want you windin’ up in the hospital so let’s get you back in your bed, ‘k Momma?”

    Steering her mother back down the hall toward her bedroom, Jennie followed the older woman as she made her
way to her bedroom.  She couldn’t help but notice the way her mother dragged her feet in a sort of shuffle walk.  For a moment she questioned whether her daddy hadn’t done things the right way- living his life fully right up  until the final moment when he died quickly and almost painlessly.  Momma’s disease was slowly debilitating her, taking away the vigor the once active and vibrant woman
had exhibited.  The sad irony of it all was the disease was likely brought on by the stress of losing the man she had loved and cherished deeply so quickly and without any warning.

    Were her own nightmares a manifestation of the same sort of stress?

    It took barely a minute to settle her mother back into her bed.  Tucking the heavy quilts in around the frail body felt oddly reminiscent of the days when her Momma used to comfort her when she was ill.

     “’Night, Momma’” she whispered through the door as she closed it quietly but Elise was already fast asleep.  The excitement if the middle of the night heart to heart had worn her out completely.  It would be many hours before Jennie saw her Momma awake again.

     If she were lucky, the rest of her night-it was already three thirty- would be sound and dreamless.  Of course, it’s not like she had a job to wake up for in the morning.  Memories of Adam Johansen pinning her to the table and grabbing at her breasts made her stomach churn.  Tomorrow she would call the police department and speak with Marisol Flores.  Hopefully her statement and the video footage would be enough to brand the bastard as a sex offender for the rest of his life.

   
The thought of Adam being treated well in jail offered her a bit of comfort as she slipped back into a fitful sleep.

2
8.

     She must have forgotten to turn off her alarm clock.  Barely two hours had passed since tucking Momma back into bed when the incessant thing began ringing loudly, drawing her form the first dreamless sleep she had had in months.

   The sun was just making its appearance over the horizon.  Birds chirped and somewhere in the distance a rooster crowed.  Jennie groaned into her pillow.  Now that she was up she had to go to the barn and do the morning chores. 
She would never be able to fall back asleep knowing she had all those animals out there waiting for breakfast. 

   As she sat up and hung her feet over the edge of the bed, she rubbed her eyes
.  All the memories from the day before came rushing back in a flood of emotions. Adam Johansen, the trip to the police department, her nightmare, the things Momma had said.  She was emotionally exhausted before she even slipped her feet into her slippers.

    She had to go back to the police department and see if Adam had confessed but first she needed a shower in the worst way.  She felt the need to scrub away Adam’s disgusting touch.  By the time she was done showering and dressing her stomach rumbled loudly reminding Jennie that all she had eaten the night before was a peanut butter sandwich.  The smell of eggs and frying bacon made their way up the stairs.  Momma was up early.  After their middle of the night rendezvous, she had expected the older woman to sleep well into the morning.

   “Good mornin’, Momma.”  Jennie’s greeting wasn’t nearly as cheerful as she had hoped it would be but Momma didn’t seem to notice.

    “Mornin’ sweet pea.  You hungry?”

      Her stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear and laugh.  “Yeah, I guess I could eat.”

     A fresh, steaming cup of tea waited for her at her usual seat at the table.  Jennie took a sip but it was still way too hot to drink.
  Instead she watched as Momma cooked and thought about her childhood when Momma never let her miss a hot meal for breakfast.  For a few moments everything felt normal again, the way things used to be.  Momma’s movements were slower, more deliberate than the smooth, coordinated dance she used to choreograph in the kitchen but it felt good to be in there together, the way used to be when Daddy was still alive.

   “How didja’ sleep, Jennie girl?”  Momma placed a plate of scrambled eggs, piping hot bacon and sour dough toast in front of her and sat down in the chair opposite of where Jennie sat.