Reckless: Shades of a Vampire (10 page)

Emma clinches the bed, and closes her eyes.

She thinks of Michael.

“Where are you?” she cries out in her mind. “Where are you?”

Whap.

Whap.

Whap
.

Jeremiah thrashes his daughter, striking blows at the bottom of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs. With each lash, he is counting out loud the delivery: “One Mississippi,
whap,
two Mississippi,
whap
, …”

"You like it Daddy, don't you?" Emma says, in a tearful voice.

"I like making you behave," he says.

"You like spanking me Daddy. You like it."

"Don't get smart with me, child," he says, lashing her harder.

At ten Mississippi, Emma stops, turns, and starts walking out of the room.

He stops in the doorway.

“I am your father, Emma,” he says. “You will obey me as God commands. Now, get dressed and come to the breakfast table.”

He leaves the room, and Emma leans into her bed, clutching back tears, and dropping her gown to her ankles. Her buttocks and backs of her uppers thighs are searing, and swelling.

In a few minutes, she gathers her composure, wiping tears from her face, she feels her whelps, and rises to get dressed. Emma folds her gown neatly and places it into the drawer. She removes a lace bra, puts it on, and reaches into her closet for a dress.

She chooses a yellow one, slides it on, finds some shoes, slips them on, stops by the bathroom, uses it, comes her hair and pulls it back with barrettes over her ears, and walks to the breakfast table.

There’s a bowl of oatmeal waiting for her, along with a hot pot of coffee and a list of chores for the day.

“Good morning sunshine,” her mother says, as if nothing has happened. "It’s a blessed day.”

Emma doesn’t respond.

“You say, ‘Good morning’” her mother says.

Emma doesn’t respond. She wipes lingering tears from her eyes.

“You must greet the morning sun with the respect it deserves,” her mother says.

“Yes, mother,” Emma, says, hoping to end the conversation.

Emma pours some coffee from a pot on the table, and starts eating the oatmeal. Her father takes a seat at the table as he finishes refastening the buckle of his belt.

“Good morning,” he says. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Emma?”

“Oh?” she says.

“Yes. Let’s bow our heads,” her father says. “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for our many blessings…”

“It’s the sheriff,” she says.

“The sheriff? What does the sheriff want with us?” her father says.

Nobody responds.

There’s a knock at the door, and Jeremiah answers. Emma and her mother wait in the kitchen. Standing in the doorway is the county sheriff, Delmer Smith, and his deputy, Billy Cagle. Jeremiah has met the sheriff before at funeral services for church members. He’s never seen the deputy before.

“Afternoon, Preacher,” the sheriff says.

“Afternoon,” Emma’s father says.

“This is Billy. Billy Cagle. He’s a new deputy. We hired him last month from Fort Payne. Why he wanted to live town for the hills we’ll never know. Maybe he thinks he's gonna get my job one day. Anyway, we’re glad to have him.

“Hope we are not interrupting your lunch?”

“No, we just finished. Just waiting on a pumpkin pie to come out of the oven for dessert. Emma, my daughter, she was a bit late with it. But I’m sure it will be good.”

“Smells good,” Billy says.

“You can have a piece, if you like,” Jeremiah says.

“All right then,” says the sheriff, “do you mind if we come in for a few minutes? It won’t take long.”

“Sure. Come on in. Have a seat.”

The sheriff and the deputy take of their hats, walk into the den, and sit on the couch as Jeremiah suggested with a wave of his hand.

“Preacher, I don’t like to bring bad news, but I wanted to tell you that someone in your flock has gone missing.”

“Missing?”

“Missing.”

“I’m listening.”

“Josh. That’s who is missing. You know that boy that married Judith. Got a young girl. He works for TVA. Makes good money.”

“Go on.”

“Don’t know why she waited so long, but we got a call this morning from that wife of his that Josh hasn’t been home since Sunday. We’ve done some checking around and nobody has seen him since then.”

Emma and her mother are listening to the conversation from the kitchen. Her mother clutches Emma’s arm when the sheriff says Josh is missing.

“Oh, my,” she whispers.

“Usually in this type of situation, the boy has run off. And he’ll either come around the time he finds out there aren’t any better hens in the coop, or he’ll turn up with another one anyway,” the sheriff says. “But Judith seems certain that Josh wouldn’t run off.

“And everybody we talked to that had seen him in the last week said everything seemed all right. Some folks saw him at the picnic here on Labor Day. Some folks saw him at work last week. And Judith saw him at home over the weekend until Sunday evening.

“She says she went to church and he wanted to stay home. She says when she got home Josh wasn’t there. His truck was gone, and so were he.

“Gone like a freight train, gone like yesterday … however the song goes.”

“Well, my goodness,” Jeremiah says. “How disturbing. Sounds like Judith needs some prayer. God helps those in need. We’ll get the congregation praying.”

“Yes sir,” says the deputy. “She’s in need all right. Darn near inconsolable. She’s sure Josh is done dead or would have come back for his daughter. Loved that little girl, she says. About the only way he’s dead considering we ain’t found his truck or neary a sign so far today is if somebody killed him.

“But sheriff here says we haven’t had a killing around here in decades. So that don’t make much sense. We’ll have to assume he run off unless something turns up and hope that he turns back up.”

“We’ll pray for that,” Emma’s father says.

“Yep,” the sheriff says, “you might want to get by there and see Judith since she and Josh go to your church. That’s why we came by. Spec you might want to pay her a visit seeing as how she’s doing.”

“Tough for a gal. Got it good with a husband who makes good money then disappears off leaving you and the baby behind. One minute you have. The next minute you have not.

“Don’t know how she’ll make ends meet till she can find her another. She’s still young, and ain’t too bad looking, but leftovers aren’t in demand like a fresh cooked meal, if you know what I’m saying,” the sheriff says, nudging his arm toward Jeremiah with a sly grin on his face.

“Amen,” Emma’s father says. “But don’t worry. We’ll get by the house to see about Judith and her daughter. That’s what we are here for, to serve the Lord and His people.

“I appreciate you gentlemen coming by the let me know. I hadn’t heard anything about it.

“Guess Judith was too ashamed to speak up till she just had no choice,” the sheriff says. “Huh. Neary a sign of Josh. You never know with these things. He may turn up tomorrow. Act like nothing happened.

“But it isn’t looking good right now.”

“No,” Jeremiah says.

Emma's father stands up, as if to see the men out the door. The men keep their seat.

“Let’s hope he fell into a hole, or something like that, and can get back out. If he’s gone to thinking all wrong and done something dumb, he’ll be good as dead anyway. The Bible says, ‘
If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbor, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death
.’”

“You sure put it hard. But who’s to argue with the good book.

“Anyhow, Preacher,” says the deputy. “If you don’t mind. We need one more thing before we head out the door.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“We would like to talk to your daughter for just a minute.”

“Emma?”

“Yes, sir. We’re just trying to make contact with everybody who talked to Josh in that past week.”

“Well, I don’t know that Emma has ever talked to Josh. Judith, sure – yes. But not Josh.”

“That’s not what I understand, sir,” the deputy says. “Judith says she and Josh talked to Emma at the Labor Day church picnic. Judith says your daughter was the last person besides herself seen talking to Josh.”

“Oh, sure, well, now. I see. Okay. Let me call her.

“Emma! Emma. Can you come in here dear?”

Emma walks into the room. Her mother follows close behind. The sheriff and the deputy stand up, holding their hats in hand.

“Afternoon ma’am,” the deputy says, tipping his head.

“Howdy Miss,” the sheriff says.

“We are sorry to bother you,” says the deputy. “I understand you are making a pumpkin pie. Sure smells good. But we need to talk with you just a minute. A really short minute.

“Josh has gone missing. Judith’s Josh. You talked to him at the Labor Day picnic, I believe. It’s just a shame, he’s got that little girl and all, and Judith is plum worried. Nobody has seen him in days. Ain't seen him. Ain’t seen his truck.”

Truck? Truck!

Emma gasps internally, turning pale on the outside.

“You okay ma’am?” the sheriff asks Emma.

Emma clears her throat, and gathers herself.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” she says. “It’s just that Josh has a young daughter and all. Why, I did talk to him at the picnic for a moment. Didn’t really know him before. But to think he left that young daughter behind and all, well, it just rattled me.”

“We don’t know for sure anybody has been left behind. We just know his wife is plum worried and he ain’t been seen in days. Nobody has seen his truck or nothing.”

Emma didn’t see Josh’s truck that night, and she hasn’t once thought about Josh’s truck, until now. It’s probably at the Denton farm, she thinks, parked out of the way so nobody would see him. Certainly he drove it there and parked nearby.

“I’ve got to find it,” Emma thinks to herself as the deputy talks.

Her pulse is quickening and her eyes are darting.

“I’ve got to find the truck,” she thinks, hoping she hasn’t said it out loud.

“Anyway,” the deputy says, “Judith said she and Josh talked with you at the picnic and we wanted to ask you if you noticed anything strange. Did he say anything thing that surprised you? Anything odd?”

“Odd? No,” Emma says.

“Well, I don’t even know Josh. Why, just because you talk to a person doesn’t mean you know a person. Judith asked me to sit by them. That’s all. I don’t know Josh. We barely talked at all.”

The deputy studies Emma’s response. The sheriff, however, seems satisfied.

“I know ma’am,” he says. “I’m sorry we had to bother you. We’ll be on our way now.”

Emma hurries back into the kitchen to check on her pie in the oven. Her father showed the sheriff and the deputy to the door.

“Smells good,” her mother says, noting the fresh pie.

“I guess we should take this over to Judith,” Emma says.

“Yes, Dear. I’ll tell your father and get ready to go. That’s just awful about Josh.”

“What did you two talk about at the picnic anyway, Emma?”

“Nothing mother, nothing at all. He talked about Judith and his daughter. That’s it.

“Jeremiah,” her mother calls. “Get ready. We are going to take this pie over to Judith.”

Fifteen minutes later Emma’s father starts the car, waiting for Emma and her mother to come out with the pie and a jug of fresh sweetened ice tea her mother has made. Her father honks the horn.

“C’mon!”

Emma comes out of her room, where’s she’s been changing clothes. She’s wearing a black dress.

“Emma,” her mother says. “This isn’t a wake. Josh has just gone missing. I doubt he’s dead. Go put on another dress right now.”

“I…” Emma stammers. “Sorry.”

Emma goes back to her room and changes into a light brown dress. She puts on a jacket, gets the pumpkin pie and gets in the car as does her mother, who brings the jug of tea.

Judith and Josh live just a few miles away, and the car is quiet on the ride. The Sand Mountain landscape is a beautiful yet staid mix that only late fall can bring, with green yet dry grass, deep blue sky and trees thinking of adding a hint of color.

They arrive at the house and an elderly woman let’s them in. She says she’s Josh’s great-grandmother.

“Judith is in there,” the lady tells them. “But be warned. I declare. Just a basket case. She’s just a basket case.

“Hard to blame her. You get a good man. You don’t want to lose him. Child seems to think he’s not coming back. I just think he got lost for a spell. He’ll be back.”

They find Judith sitting on a couch, crying, and holding tissues.

“Preacher,” she says, reaching her hand up to Jeremiah's. “Thank you and your family for coming. Thank you all for coming.”

“We’re praying for you, Judith. We’re praying for Josh, too. Praying that he hasn’t gotten lost. Praying that he has fallen in harm’s way. Praying he’s nearby, and will be home soon.

“But you know, Judith. We don’t get to pick when our time comes. We just put our trust in God and deal with the hand he deals us.”

Judith’s crying intensifies, laced with intermittent audible sobs. Her daughter nestles at her feet holding a blanket, seemingly unaware of the drama.

“I don’t understand,” Judith says, “why Josh hasn’t come home. Sunday morning he seemed so happy. Like he had the world by its tail. Like he had something to look forward to. I haven’t seen him so excited in quite some time.

“I said I was going to church. He said he was going out, but would be home soon. He went. Never came back.”

“How did he go?” Emma asks. “I mean, how did he leave? Did he drive?”

“Well, yes, he drove. I think. His truck is gone.”

“What kind of truck did he drive?”

Judith looks at Emma with a furrowed brow.

“What kind was it?” Emma says. “What color was it?”

“A small Ford Ranger. Gray. About 10 years old.”