2

Tremulous breaths hung frozen around Lillian’s head as she placed her suitcase in the trunk of the car. She turned on the headlights and swords of light penetrated the darkness that lay thick right before dawn. Driving around the circular drive, she allowed herself one last look at the well-manicured lawn and two-story brick house. Tears skated down icy cheeks as she moved toward the unknown.

Two faces peered out of an upstairs window. A silent hand lifted to the retreating taillights. She sighed, knowing she wasn’t meant to witness the farewell; her father had told her they would not see her off.

The past had not been all bad, had it? Recent years colored the good, shading the weeks and months more darkly than perhaps memory alone would have done. In their own way, her parents did love her. But since she had become a Christian, a gap had grown. She and Craig had prayed for them so many times during their five years of marriage. Now her prayers were uttered alone. Was it possible to love someone and not like them at the same time? She swallowed against the fullness that threatened to block her throat.

Accelerating onto the highway, the dream of a new life loomed large. She had left her parents’ home before, and memories wafted into her consciousness: her own two-story wood-framed house, a husband who adored her, their child. For a second she felt a glimmer of hope, but then with determination she tightened her jaw and shoved her foot harder on the gas pedal. Loneliness would be her retribution. Alone for the remainder of her life, the spinster lady living at the end of the street, the one all the neighborhood kids said hid a dark secret. Only for her, it would be true.

Why did one fail to appreciate what they had until it was gone? She would give anything for the chance to spend one more restless night beside her snoring husband, to feel his steady hands on her body, to have his kisses tell her all was good. Or to wrap her arms around her fussing toddler, feel her baby-softness and smell the scent of her newly bathed skin. To walk hand-in-hand with her at the mall, her sweet curls bobbling as she did her best to act grown-up. And the delightful messes at the table. Tears misted her eyes.

“God, I am so sorry. I am so sorry!” The words reverberated from windshield to roof to floor but the heaviness in her heart remained. Had her sorrow penetrated no further than the fabric and metal above her head? God, did you hear me?

She ached for the comfort and wisdom of Craig. He always knew what to say, how to handle every situation. More than that, he knew God. He would know if this move south was the right thing, or if she was going off on an old-fashioned snipe hunt. But Craig lay beside their daughter in the Greenlawn Cemetery, their charred bodies long cold, their souls soaring with the God she fervently sought, but whose Presence remained elusive.

Something about the offer in South Carolina had nagged at her from the start, but she had brushed the feeling away in her eagerness to see the job as an answer to her prayer. The fact that Francis Marion University had not yet posted the position made her squirm, but hey, God could do anything, couldn’t He?

She exhaled deeply, trying to rid herself of the doubt. This had to be God’s plan. If not, she was headed toward chaos. Craig always told her to trust, but she didn’t know if this move was jumping or trusting.

Outside the left-hand window, a line of red seeped across the horizon: the birth of a new day.

But to Lillian it looked as if God Himself had lighted the world on fire.

~*~

A clicking sound aroused Roger from his fitful sleep, and he lay in bed, mentally alert but immobile. He scanned the dark room, but nothing moved. When the air conditioning unit clicked off he relaxed, realizing what had awakened him. He rolled over, looked at the clock and a smile creased his face. Five in the morning.

Most likely Lillian had started her journey or was saying a last good-bye. She had no idea how final those moments would be.

Too wired to go back to sleep, he headed to the kitchen. Coffee, that’s what he needed. The gurgling of water in the coffeemaker blended with the metallic tick of the clock hanging on the opposite wall. Each tick marked one second. How many seconds must be endured before his adversary arrived?

Wandering the house, room by room, he thought of Ted and Trina. Lucky for him, they owned a bed and breakfast where Lillian could stay. He smirked in satisfaction.

Ted and Trina were nice people, and the next week would bring nothing but trouble for them. An unexpected surge of guilt grabbed his stomach and shoved it into his lungs. It’s not like I had a choice. He slammed his cup onto the counter, brown liquid flying over his hand, speckling the beige laminate. The McIverson Bed and Breakfast was the only place available. I had to send her there.

Internal rationalization waged war with the white flag of truth. When he had shown up at church with the goal of meeting the couple, Trina had immediately invited him to the house for lunch. And now he was using them. But he had used people before. If Ted and Trina knew the story behind the woman soon to become their guest, they would welcome the chance to help him to correct a wrong.

He opened the living room blinds. A line of red seeped into the horizon: the birth of a new day. But to him it looked as if God Himself had lighted the world on fire.

~*~

As Lillian drove, the flames on the horizon faded to orange and yellow, giving birth to daylight and renewal. The sky continued to lighten, and the few clouds that dotted the endless blue looked like cotton candy, spun and light. Clear weather had been promised. How ironic. Sunshine on the day she entered the hurricane of change.

But Jesus rebuked the waves. Why did scripture keep coming to mind? Jesus might have rebuked the storm for the disciples, but she still grasped any piece of reality that would keep her afloat. Was she clinging to nothing more stable than a wish?

Mindless miles of highway rolled beneath her. Strangers in cars and semis, all moving toward destinations of their own. Her future lay at the end of one of the roads. God had to be the instigator. He promised good would come from bad, if she would just trust Him. OK, she trusted and the job ad had arrived. She wanted to do some good with what was left of her shambled life. Last night she had felt so confident, but now, in the isolation of her car, doubt crept in.

She remembered her first day at Ohio State University. Her parents had carried her suitcases, her computer, boxes of necessities she never used. They even helped make her bed. And then there was nothing more that needed to be done. As her mom and dad had walked across the parking lot, her fingernails dug into the plastic chair in front of the window, tears running down her face. The new had looked like a scary monster under the bed, but it had worked out. It would work out again.

Now, breathing out the tension, she eased her death-grip on the steering wheel. College had been one of the best times of her life. This change could be too.

The vibration of tires on pavement lulled her into a state of automation. She shifted from lane to lane as needed, exited when appropriate, slowed and accelerated, all without conscious thought. Traffic-weary air filtered through the freshener clipped to the vent, leaving behind the scent of vanilla. Which caused cancer sooner, air pollution or air jells that masked the toxins? What did it matter, anyway?

Ohio passed in a blur. At the Ohio River, she breathed deeply in and out, visualizing herself exhaling her fears, allowing her internal darkness to swirl from her nose like sulfur from a caldron. She cracked the car window to allow the imagined foul stench to escape, and along with it the vanilla sent from the deodorizer that most likely had planted seeds of cancer in her lungs. She smiled at her own fantasy. Her face felt strange. When had she smiled last? She couldn’t remember, but it felt good and she chuckled, hoping her demon had really been sucked out the window.

West Virginia arrived, draped in yellow and red splashes of autumn color: God’s latest fashions modeled by the trees. Gas for the car and a quick lunch. Sitting alone at a picnic table beside the combination gas station/markette, spearing day-old lettuce, she closed her eyes. The air remained cool but the sun warmed her face. She lowered her shoulders and sat quietly, content to just be. Sounds penetrated but didn’t disturb. Voices, indistinct, but there. Birds. And somewhere close by, running water.

Mixed with the scent of gasoline were hints of pine, real this time, and the smell of dried leaves. She smiled, remembering the maple leaves she and her sister used to rake only to jump into the pile, sending their hard work flying across the grass. The tree had been removed, deemed too messy. She missed the tree.

Another hunk of lettuce found its way into her mouth. A leaf drifted into her lap, and she worked to smooth its curling edges, feeling the veins that had provided life until the leaf had separated from the body.

That was how she felt: severed from her life, cut from her family, now drifting alone. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. Stop it! She might be alone, but life bubbled within her. Even though the mantle of guilt had become a constant second skin, she would survive.

~*~

Roger knew he should have gone to church this one last time. Especially today. But the goal for his religious affiliation had already been met, and he wasn’t accustomed to actions without a purpose. He and God stood on opposite sides of glory. There was no illusion on his part for which side he would end up on.

A hot shower should ease some of the tightness in his back and neck. He closed the bedroom door and engaged the deadbolt. In the bathroom, the click of a second lock assured his privacy. Even though steam coated the glass shower doors, the deadbolts allowed him to enjoy the shower without worry over unexpected guests. He should know. The pounding water had masked his approach on at least two occasions. It wouldn’t happen to him.

When the shower turned cold, he buffed himself dry, wrapped a towel around his waist, and trimmed his short beard. He unbolted the bathroom door, muscles tense until he examined the bedroom door. Finding it closed and locked, he entered the room and dressed for the day. Strapping his watch onto his wrist, he glanced at the time and frowned. Tapping on the crystal, noting the second hand moved as usual, he still matched the time to his bedside clock. The shower should have taken more than 20 minutes. It was going to be a long day.

Too early to eat lunch, but if he walked to one of the local diners, maybe Joe’s, since it was the furthest away; it would kill at least two hours. He chuckled over his choice of verbs, his own private joke. Besides, he could use the exercise. His dead end job robbed him of his coveted gym time, but soon keeping in shape would be a choice and not a requirement.

As he locked the door to the house, a sense of isolation gripped him. He should be surrounded by his wife and daughter. But here he was, alone. Stop it! He might be alone, but life bubbled within him. Even though the mantle of guilt had become a constant second skin, he would survive.

~*~

Seeing the “Welcome to Virginia” sign on the side of the road, Lillian felt as if she had finally entered the south. Towering pines lined the highway, so different from the maples in Cleveland. She flexed tight fingers one hand at a time, feeling the burn as she bent each muscle. Had her decision to make the fourteen-hour drive in one day been a mistake? No one watched for her at the end of the road. The light salad eaten at the gas station sat heavy in her stomach.

Glad when a roadside rest appeared, she pulled off. Half a dozen cars, mostly SUVs, had claimed the spots closest to the restroom. She pulled her stiff body from the seat, and stretched; her back cracked with each movement.

The restroom stood on top of a small knoll, and people walked up and down the cement path, their purposeful strides reminding her of ants going to and from the nest. Surrounding the walkway, yellow and pink mums still bloomed in beds mulched with pine needles. Empty picnic tables stood off in the distance, perhaps intentionally placed away from the smells and contamination of the main attraction.

A man dressed in blue workman’s overalls emptied the metal trash receptacle just outside the double, glass doors, placed the full bag into his two-wheeled cart, and replaced the bag with a clean one.

She smiled at him as she passed.

He tipped a finger to his eyebrow. “Ma’am.”

A giggle bubbled up her throat. Ma’am? After using the facilities, she hummed as she slipped coins into a vending machine secured behind metal bars. Why didn’t I pack snacks? We always used to pack snacks, Craig and I…

Her newfound levity evaporated as quickly as it had come. The bleakness of reality felt heavier after experiencing freedom, if only for a few minutes. She walked back to the car, her head down. Was discouragement always to ride in the passenger seat of her life?

She punched the locks on her doors, started the engine, and lowered each window just an inch. As she pulled the candy bar from the wrapper, chocolate clung to her fingertips. She gasped as horror filled her. Her fingers, they were charred and black. Just like Craig. Just like Susan. Gasping, she threw the candy and it stuck to the passenger window, looking like an appendage severed from its burnt body. Gagging, she bolted from the car.

Hanging over the bathroom sink, the terror faded into the vortex of the swirling water. What in the world had happened? She had never reacted like that before. Suddenly she felt as heavy as the boulder sitting outside the door, as though gravity itself tugged at her, trying to pull her into the bowels of the earth. Could her dad be right? Fingers of doubt tickled along the edges of her mind. Maybe leaving home wasn’t the answer. She stood and patted cool water on her face as red-rimmed eyes stared back at her from the mirror. The room spun and she grabbed the sink. In a blur, she heard a voice.

“Can I help you? Are you sick?”

She slumped forward and felt hands grab her before she lost consciousness.

~*~

“Try to breathe slowly. I’m a registered nurse.”

Lillian felt a hand at her wrist. Coldness seeped through the back of her jeans and shirt, but she lacked the energy to do anything about it. She opened her eyes and a middle-aged woman smiled; soft wrinkles formed around her mouth.

“Who’s with you? I can get them.”

Lillian felt numb. Where was she? The ceiling was made of exposed wood. The skylights were dirty. She would have to clean them. Someone had spray painted “Missy loves David.” The rest area. That’s why the skylight hadn’t been cleaned. Who cared in a rest area? She tried to focus on the face peering over her.

“What car are you driving? I can get your companion.”

“I’m alone.” She licked her dry lips, the words tasting bitter, as she struggled to sit up.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

Her head spun and she placed a hand on the floor. “I’ll be all right. I think I drove too long without a break.”

“Did you have lunch?”

“A salad.”

“Maybe your blood sugar dropped. Let me get you a candy bar.”

“No, please…” She shifted to her knees and then stood. The room swayed, but soon steadied. “I feel better.” She forced a smile.

The woman continued to stare at her with concern. “Let me help you to your car, at least.”

“I think I’ll get a can of pop and sit outside on the bench for awhile. Really, I’m fine.”

The woman took her arm. “Do you want to get your soda before you sit down?”

Parked cars lined the lower sidewalk, hers among them. Her heart lurched as she saw a man opening her car door. No, she had parked further down, but in her fright, she had not locked her car. How long had she been gone? Most likely, someone had helped himself to her purse by now. “I…uh…”

“What kind of pop do you like?”

“Anything. I don’t really care, but you don’t have to do this. I have money…”

“And it’s in the car. I can see it on your face. Not a problem.”

After purchasing a can of lemon-lime soda, the two women settled on a bench. Lillian lifted her face to the sun, the warmth penetrating her skin and giving renewed energy.

A middle-aged couple passed, holding hands and smiling as though life were the best.

An ache crept into her heart. It should have been like that for her.

The air smelled clean in spite of the traffic in the parking area. A large lady, her flowered caftan fluttering around her, tugged on the leash of a small white dog, trying to pull him up the sidewalk. The dog won, and the lady retreated down the sidewalk.

After a few sips of pop, Lillian’s stomach relaxed and strength flowed back into her muscles. Even so, she felt reluctant to leave the relative security of her spot on the bench.

“So tell me about yourself,” the woman said.

How could she summarize her life to include all the good, all the drama, all the unknown? Since childhood, she had been told not to talk to strangers. As an attorney, she had learned the hazards of taking others at their word without proof. She glanced at the woman beside her. About her size but with graying hair cut short. She seemed to radiate strength and caring as her soft blue eyes focused on Lillian, curious but not invasive.

Lillian took a deep breath. “Well, I was a spoiled rich girl who married an amazing middle-class man and together we had a fantastic little girl. Then two years ago they died, and I am heading to South Carolina to try to put my life back together.”

“Oh, my dear child!” The woman wrapped her arms around Lillian and pulled her close.

Lillian stiffened, but then, as though touched by the sun itself, she melted into the woman’s embrace. It felt so good to be cared for, to have someone feel compassion for her.

The woman placed her hands on Lillian’s shoulders. “You have suffered so much. And yet, here you are, going on with your life.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

The woman patted Lillian’s folded hands. “Indeed, you do. I have seen people give up under less bitter circumstances.” She smiled softly. “God has an amazing plan for you.”

Not wanting to offend the woman, Lillian took a slow sip of her soda.

“You see that camper down there?” The lady pointed toward the truck parking area.

“The blue one?”

The lady laughed. “Oh, not that one. The gray one beside it.”

The gray camper had been around a few years. Not shiny like the blue one, the gray body had dulled and the decals were mostly worn away.

“That camper is my life right now. My husband has Alzheimer’s; his memory is still intact but slipping. We bought this camper many years ago, always intending to travel the states, but never got around to it. Now we’re doing it.” She glanced at the camper, then back to Lillian. “You know, I didn’t plan to stop here. Mother Nature had not called, if you know what I mean. But Harry and I have this little game going. We want to visit a rest area in every state. So I pulled in, saw you washing your hands, and I knew you needed help.”

Lillian listened to the gentle flow of the woman’s words, soothing and earnest. The stranger would have been a great counselor.

“Do you believe in God?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you know this meeting was no accident. I don’t know what your future will bring, but God knows, and He knew you needed a kind word right now, at this rest area.” The woman squeezed Lillian’s hand and stood. “I had better get back to Harry before he comes looking for me or wanders off, which he does sometimes.” She paused and looked long into Lillian’s face. “God be with you, dear one.”

Lillian watched until the woman and her camper disappeared around the building toward the highway. She tossed the empty pop can into the metal container and walked toward her car, searching her mind for the lady’s name. Had she ever told her? The woman had not even asked for hers.

Her feet quickened as she approached the unlocked car. Surely, her purse would be gone. And what if someone took the car keys just to be hateful? Squinting in the bright light, there didn’t appear to be anyone in the car. The doors were all closed, even though she couldn’t remember closing hers.

Cautiously, she moved forward and glanced into the driver’s window. Her purse, which she had left on the passenger seat, was gone. Choking back tears and words of self-recrimination, she jerked open the car door. A folded strip of paper lay on the driver’s seat. She picked up the paper, a grocery store tape, and read the note scratched on the back:

“I saw you run from your car. I put your purse under the seat, and cleaned up the chocolate bar. The car keys are under the seat, too. I hated to leave them there, but felt out-of-sight was better than in the ignition. I hope you are all right.” There was no signature.

She stared at the paper. Who would do something that kind? She retrieved her purse and digging inside, found her wallet, credit cards and money. With surprise, she leaned back against the seat of the car. The day had started as a challenge and she had asked for God’s protection. He had provided a lady with no name and someone willing to clean and protect her car. Amazing.

She picked up the insulated cup that sat in the holder below the dash, a gift from her sister Beth. Bits of sand and tiny sea shells swirled in mock-ocean water. She would miss Beth, but her sister, in her residency in medical school, seldom had time to come home.

On impulse, she dug in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Beth’s number came up. It always did. She seldom called anyone else. The phone made jingling sounds as the number was automatically dialed.

“Dr. Goodson.”

“Beth, it’s Lillian.”

“Lilly! I didn’t bother to check caller ID. How are you?”

“Do you have time to talk? I figured you would be on duty, but…”

“Hey, you’re my sister. Barring a cardiac arrest or severed artery, I can take a few minutes’ break. Are you alone?”

“I’m sitting at a roadside rest in Virginia.”

A sigh sounded thorough the receiver. “So you left?”

“I had to.”

“I know.” Silence filled the line for a few seconds. “Will you be all right? You know you can always come and stay with me in Chicago.”

“And do what? I love you for the offer, but I need to work. Sitting around all day is driving me crazy. Besides, I would never see you. Residents keep awful hours.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Bets, you won’t believe what just happened.” She shared the two strange encounters.

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, just know God is taking care of me.”

“Well, just be careful, OK?”

“You sound as if you don’t agree with my move. Do you know something I don’t?”

“No, really, I’m on your side, sis. Listen, I’m trying to get off for Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll come home, too! We can stay up all night and talk, just like we used to.”

Laughter filled the phone. “You steal Dad’s flashlight and I’ll get the snacks.”

“I miss you, Beth.” The ache of loneliness tugged at her heart. Tears filled her eyes.

“I miss you too. And Lillian, I worry about you.”

“Beth, I told you—”

“I know what you told me, and I believe you, but let me worry if I want to. You’re my sister, what else can I do?”

“You can pray for me.”

“Did I tell you I’ve been attending the chaplain’s services on Sunday when I have time? He’s made me think, Lilly.”

Lillian smiled. “Put that on our agenda for Thanksgiving. I want to hear all about it.”

Muffled voices filtered through the phone. “Sis, I’ve got to go, but I love you.”

“I love you too.” Lillian pushed end and wiped tears from her eyes.

How easy it would be to just stay here, to fall asleep in the Virginia rest area. For a precious period of time, all would be as it had been. Before the trial that distracted her from what was important. Before the fire. Sighing, she turned on the ignition.

The sun accomplished its journey across the sky. North Carolina rolled on forever. Jives, the Australian voice on the GPS, kept her moving, one route to the next, one gas station to the next, all looking the same. Fast food for supper, a burger this time, washed down with a chocolate milkshake. She imagined her mother’s scowling face as the contraband food entered her body. She smiled and savored the fat and calories even more.

~*~

The sun arched across the sky. Roger had been tense all day and was ready for the action to start. Sitting with nothing to do while she drove from Cleveland to Darlington was harder than a day at his deadbeat job. He hated his job, hated this town, hated his life. For the past two years, he had been on stage with no intermission. The play needed to end.

He glanced at his wrist and sighed. How many times had he looked at his watch? If he had one wish, it would be for time to fly. Just for today. But then, no one had ever offered to grant him a wish. No, Roger Jenkins had to fight and scrap for everything he ever had, and today would be no different.

Soon he would be able to head to Ted and Trina’s. Nothing unusual about that. Many nights he, and sometimes the annoying Paul Studler, would settle on the front porch. Trina almost always provided cookies, and Trina’s dad, Bill, would entertain them with stories from his childhood. Who knew life had changed so much? Black-and-white TV and home-delivered milk and bread?

Should he try to eat something before he headed out? He opened the refrigerator door, and smelled the milk. Still good, and enough left in the jug for a bowl of cereal. He reached for a bowl in the cupboard beside the refrigerator, red plastic, on sale at the thrift store at the time he had bought the house. Service for one. The raisin bran box felt light as he lifted it from the shelf. Only crushed sediment remained in the bottom of the plastic liner.

He threw the bowl into the sink where it cracked into pieces. He pulled a tight hand down his face, nostrils flaring as he gripped the side of the sink. Most of his life he had been able to control his temper, but lately, it was getting harder. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. Better get control and not let this rage come spilling out around Lillian. She had to trust him. That was part of his game.

Scanning the kitchen, he found a package of cookies stashed on top of the microwave. Sitting at the table, for all appearances a respectable gentleman ready for a Sunday snack, he munched on the chocolate cookies. The empty cupboards didn’t bother him; he didn’t plan on living there much longer. There was one good thing about living alone. No one cared what he ate. He savored the fat and calories even more.

~*~

An hour into South Carolina, as dusk settled in, Jives announced the anticipated exit from the interstate. At the traffic light, Lillian hyper-extended her aching back. Since Virginia, the trip had gone smoothly. Not far now. She opened the rear windows wider and warm air brushed against her skin. It had been cold at home.

She bristled with tension. She was about to start her new life. Was she ready? Anticipation of a new, quiet existence calmed her. No one knew her in Darlington, and she would keep to herself as much as possible. Craig used to say that people can only be happy when they live within God’s will. She squeezed the steering wheel. Well, this move had better be in God’s will because there it was, the sign for Darlington. Just five more miles.

Restaurants and hotels lined the state route. The smell of steak made her mouth water, but no time to stop now. A farmer’s market and a technical college both flanked the right side of the street. On the left were fields with bits of cotton clinging to stubble.

The road narrowed to two lanes. Smaller businesses, a hair salon, the front window of a house with a poster offering alterations, refrigerators lining the walk of a used furniture store. Nothing like Cleveland with its many lanes of traffic and high-rise buildings.

Finally, Darlington city limits. She sighed, anticipating the journey’s end. What if the bed and breakfast turned out to be a one-star dive? Bedbugs and dirty sheets? She blew a stray curl off her face, frustrated that she had not thought to do a web-search in spite of the great flyer. But as tired as she was, she could survive anything for a night.

The thought of destiny’s end, perhaps a soak in a tub of hot water and a good night’s sleep in clean sheets and no bugs sent tingles of anticipation through her. This was Darlington. No cameras flashing. No TV crews. No hostile stares. No sirens. No one asking her for matches. A strange sensation filled her. Was it hope?

Pulsing blue lights reflected in the rearview mirror. She slowed to allow the vehicle to pass, but the cruiser pulled behind her. Fear coursed through her veins. Had fate followed her after all?