The Ruth Valley Missing (16 page)

I shook my head, my face wet with
tears, my body soaked in sweat. “It’s not a dream. They’re real. They’re going
to kill me.”

“No one is going to hurt you. I
won’t let that happen.” He crawled under the comforter, laying back into the
pillows and pulled me close, laying my head on his chest. “I’ll be right here.”

I curled up against him, shaking and
sniffling. Slowly, the shaking subsided. With Jack’s arms around me, I drifted
off.

~~~

Awaking to the sound of running
water, I hugged a pillow to my chest. I grabbed the bottle of pills from the
nightstand, hoping to numb the pain that sleep kept at bay. Pangs of hunger
gnawed at my stomach, but the pain of moving from the warm embrace of the bed
outweighed my desire for food.

I closed my eyes, only to open them
again when I heard my name come softly from the doorway. Jack stood there, hair
wet and disheveled, in jeans and a t-shirt.

“I’m headed downstairs. I’ll bring
up some breakfast if you’re up to it.”

I blinked, the weight of my eyelids
heavy, and nodded. Jack smiled and disappeared as I faded in and out, listening
to the rhythmic sounds of pans and dishes clink below.

When I opened my eyes again, I was
greeted to a plate of eggs, toast, and juice on a tray. Jack sat on the edge of
the bed, waiting for me to sit up before placing the tray in front of me.

I started slowly, the vicodin in my
system leaving me queasy, but gained momentum as I continued. I sipped my
orange juice in silence, Jack sitting there, watching.

“If I didn’t feel so miserable, I’d
be a lot more self-conscious about you staring at me while I eat,” I joked.

Jack gave me a partial smile. “I
didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s ok. I’m a little more awake
now.”

Jack placed his hand on my leg. “Are
you up to talking about what happened?”

I chewed on a slice of toast, slowly
and quietly. I didn’t know exactly how to start telling him what happened. I
took a deep breath and hesitated. ”I’m not sure what happened. I was in the
woods, being held. But I don’t know who they were or why.”

“A house in the woods? There’s
nothing out there, James.”

“I was there, Jack. I don’t know
where exactly, but I didn’t imagine it.” I paused, closing my eyes before
continuing, “I know it sounds crazy, but I think Sister Marjorie was there.”

“Why would you think that?”

I put down my orange juice. “I can’t
be certain. But I know...I know...that smell...I know it...” I faded out, the
lump in my throat forming again, the tears following the heavily traveled path
down my face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.
We don’t need to figure anything out right now.”

I shook my head. “I’m just in a lot
of pain. And tired.” I pushed the tray of food away from me, Jack picking it up
and setting it on the floor. The vicodin was already taking its effect. “I’m
gonna lay back down for a while.”

“Of course. Rest.”

Jack disappeared through the door,
while I fell back asleep.

It had been a couple of days since I
left the bedroom at Jack’s let alone the house. The combination of vicodin and
the fear of what was next kept me from venturing beyond the safety of the
little room. Jack brought me meals, checked in on me, and made me feel safe. It
was difficult to abandon that feeling.

But here I was, standing on the
porch, breathing in the early morning air, the cold freezing the wet hair piled
on top of my head.

“Geez, James, what are you doing out
here?” Jack walked up behind me, throwing a coat over my bare arms and handing
me a cup of coffee.

“I needed to breathe some fresh air.
Anyways,” I turned to face him, “you must be tired of waiting on me.”

I meant to make a joke, but Jack
looked at me with nothing but concern on his face. “I’m glad you’re here. I
don’t want you pushing yourself to get on your feet until you’re ready.”

Jack sat on the front porch swing,
patting the bench for me to join him. I grabbed my coffee and sat next to him.
He threw an arm around me and pushed off, making the swing sway as I gingerly
tucked my legs underneath me. He looked at me and asked, “What are you going to
do now?”

I had been thinking for some time
about that question, and had yet to come up with a definitive answer. “I don’t
know. I feel like I need to figure out what happened to me.”

“But James, what if someone comes
after you again?” I closed my eyes, feeling the pain of everything all over.
“If they did this much the first time, I don’t want to think about what they
might do next time.”

“I know. But if they did it to me...”
I stopped short as we watched a figure walk up the long wooded driveway to the
porch. As the figure came close enough into view, the white and black collar
made my heart stop.

Father Mike.

Jack shot up off the bench, but I
grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He looked down at me and I whispered, “It’s
fine.”

Jack nodded, but refused to sit
down, sliding my hand down into his. Father Mike walked up the steps, greeting
us both. “I heard that you weren’t doing well, Jameson. Thought I would stop by
and see how you are.”

I felt Jack’s grip tighten. “Yeah,
awful stomach bug she caught. Still reeling a bit from it.”

I was surprised but grateful at
Jack’s quick thinking. I wasn’t ready to share what happened with anyone.
Particularly Father Mike.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I spoke up. “Thank you, Mike. Can we
offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

“Coffee would be great.”

Jack was still squeezing my hand,
now looking down at me, eyes narrowed. “Do you mind getting the Father some
coffee, Jack?”

He answered, motionless. “I’ll have
to make a fresh pot.”

“We’ll catch up while you make some
more. I could use some myself.” I squeezed his hand back, trying to let him
know that it was okay to leave me alone.

“I’ll be right back,” he finally
answered, his jaw clenched. As he headed inside, Father Mike sat down on the
swing. He waited a moment before speaking.

“So you’re doing well now, Jameson?”

“Getting there.”

He stared at me, a puzzled look on
his face. “Glad to hear it.”

“Actually, Father, I need to thank
you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes. You know that issue we
discussed? About moral obligation?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly.

“I think you are right. I think that
it would be unwise to take action solely based on a gut feeling. It’s important
to have evidence of wrongdoing before moving forward.”

“That seems wise.”

“But at the same time, I think it is
important to do everything you can to help your brother. So if you think harm
could come to someone by not acting, then it’s on you to do what you can to
find evidence so you can act. Don’t you think?”

Father Mike stared at me, chewing on
his bottom lip, his eye giving a slight twitch. As I adjusted in my seat, I
felt a pull on one of my stitches and winced.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”
Father Mike leaned in, placing a hand on my arm as I sat forward, breathing
slowly past the pain.  

“You don’t get to ask that,” I said,
yanking my arm away.

He stepped back, brow furrowed, as
Jack came out of the door. “Looks like I still had a cup in the pot.” Jack held
the coffee out to Mike. “James, I’ve got a fresh pot brewing for you.”  

Mike straightened and held up his
hand, refusing the cup. “Thank you, but I remembered I have somewhere I need to
be. You’ll both forgive me.”

“Of course,” I smiled.

“I’ll see you both on Sunday?”

Jack and I both nodded and Father
Mike headed down the drive. Once out of view, I slumped in my seat, letting out
a sigh. Jack sat down next to me. “What was that about, James?”

“I’m not sure.”

But I was starting to get some
ideas.

I sat in the diner, writing
furiously in my notebook, stopping only to shovel in heaps of the special of
the day, beef pot pie.

“You’re quiet today. And hungry.”
Emma motioned towards my empty dish. I looked up, feeling badly for saying barely
a word since I entered.

“Sorry, Emma. Still feeling a little
out of it since I was sick.”

She nodded, “At least you have your
appetite, right?”

I nodded. “Speaking of which, what
do you recommend for dessert today?”

“We have a real nice sweet potato
pie. Freshly whipped cream on top.”

“Bring it on.”

Emma went off as I scanned through
the town newsletter and continued making notes. Sunday there was a potluck
dinner right after church, all the parishioners encouraged to stay, eat, and
socialize. It was precisely what I needed.

“You gonna be there?” Emma was back
with my pie, leaning over my shoulder staring at the newsletter. I casually
flipped my notebook over.

“Maybe. If I’m feeling up to it.”

Emma nodded, “I understand. I want
you to come, but don’t push yourself. I miss havin’ you around. Don’t want you
gettin’ sick again.”

“Me neither.”

Emma took a quick look around and
sat for minute, leaning in. “I heard Jack took care of you while you were sick.
So romantic!”

“Probably more so if I wasn’t so
miserable most of the time.” I thought about walking Jack through stitching me
up and the bathroom rug covered in my blood. “Still romantic though, I guess.”

“I think so.” She hopped out of the
seat, voice returning to normal. “I’ll look for you on Sunday. Rest up so you
feel well enough.”

“I will.”

I meant that last part. I had grand
plans of resting the remainder of the week for Sunday. But my Sunday plans were
far grander than Mass and a potluck dinner.

~~~

“Why, Miss Quinn, I wasn’t expecting
you to come in today. I heard you had a nasty bout with the flu?” Joan smiled
at me as I stood in the bookstore doorway.

I nodded, still feeling a little
guilty about lying, but Jack figured the flu was a good cover for why I wasn’t
about town for a while. He thought it was best that we didn’t tell anyone what
happened until he could investigate, not wanting to tip off whoever was
responsible. “I’m feeling better, a little weak, but I needed to get out of the
house. I brought you some tea and scones from the bakery. I felt bad about not
being able to come in and give you much of a break.”

“Don’t be silly. This place is so
dead most of the time, it’s really not a big deal if I need to close up for a
few hours. Would you like to sit for a bit? You look worn out.”

Despite the flu being a lie, I was
still recovering from my injuries, so the pain throughout the day was taking
its toll. “Thanks, Joan. That’s probably a good idea.”

“How are things going with you and
Jack?” Joan smiled, warm and friendly.

I shook my head. “Word in this town
spreads super-fast. I can’t get over it.”

“Well, there isn’t a whole lot of
excitement around here, which we love for the most part. But yeah, if there is
something new happening, you can bet everyone will know it. Heard you sat in
with the knitting circle a little bit ago. Now that is a group who likes to
know the latest. And if they don’t, you can be sure they’ll make something up.”

Joan’s tone was friendly and matter of
fact, as if there was no judgment attached to the circle of gossip. “You know,
Joan, when I was there, you came up.”

She nodded, looking unsurprised.
“Discussing my husband, I’m sure.”

“Sorry about that.”

“They don’t say it to my face, but
they all think I’m crazy for thinking he didn’t just up and leave me for some
other woman.”

“Can I ask, what do you think
happened?”

Joan sighed and set down her tea. “I
don’t know. There were no warning signs, you know? Ed and I had a good
marriage. It had its moments like any other marriage, but honestly, even if
things were bad, he adored our boys. He wouldn’t leave them behind.”

“So it’s just a feeling you have?” I
tried to hide the disappointment in my voice.

Joan looked down and went to sip her
tea, replying almost inaudibly, “Mostly.”

“Joan,” I leaned in and placed a
hand on hers, “there’s something else, isn’t there? You can tell me. I promise
this won’t end up the topic of conversation in the knitting circle. Or anywhere
else for that matter.”

Joan looked around and leaned in.
“Ed drove a vintage truck. Spent a lot of time and energy on the thing. I even
joked that it was ‘the other woman’ in our relationship. Well, I have a friend
in the city that swore she saw his truck at a used car dealership close to
her.”