Running:
Don't run at night. Unless you're on your treadmill. Headlights blind you. Deep holes only look like shallow shadows. But then, maybe you see better than me...
Writing:
Writing tip: Assume you can write, and pretty good. Then assume you can write better and do. The best way to do that is to set your work aside for a while and ignore it--don't even think about it. When you come back to it, do it with an open mind...
Nutritionists advise avoiding fattening foods. Honestly, you've got to indulge sometimes in cheesy biscuits!
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 21
Acting as if he had a special agenda and nothing
could deter him, not even a deep gutter, Matt gunned the engine to speed from
the hotel parking lot, jolting the SUV's occupants. Jenn felt helpless—a
hostage. Not that he'd put a gun to her head or anything that serious. But he’d
not only taken her, but taken shattered her comfort zone. Her trust in
him—acquired over a lifetime—had diminished in the past few days, but now in
shining daylight her fears had retreated more than she'd expected and a slim
measure of security had returned.
Which was right—her confidence in him, or the
nagging urge to be suspicious of everything he said and did? Her knees
nervously bumped up and down as they moved through morning traffic toward the
freeway. If he delivered her to the airport she'd forgive his crazy behavior.
If he drove on she'd turn on him like a mother bear defending her cub—nothing
to tangle with if you planned surviving.
Where was her willpower, strength and courage, she
wondered as they passed the airport turnoff. She'd done little more than
verbally protest. Salt Lake City fell behind them and Oregon lay ahead, along
with the vast unknown. She gazed out the window and wondered why she hadn’t
even tried to escape yet.
The answer was so simple it was pathetic. He'd
picked her up after an eighth grade school dance when she'd called him because
a group of boys she initially had liked were taunting her, daring her to go
with them. He didn't ask questions—just came and saved her. And he'd sat with
her on the front porch one night when Shawn was working late and something on
TV had creeped her out. Becoming irresponsible didn’t seem possible for
Matt—too against his nature. But how could she be sure?
She chewed her lip as she debated how she could
determine who Matt really was deep inside. Finally she broke the silence
between them. “Can I trust you now like I did back when we were kids?” She
studied his face for a reaction—a hint.
“Yeah.”
That was it—not even with a nod. No smile. She
pushed for more. “Prove it.”
“Look in the glove box.”
She opened the compartment and pulled out a brown
paper bag and dumped the contents in her lap. “Explain this,” she gasped,
leaning away from a handgun and ammunition.
“It's for you. Load it and put it in your purse.
Katie can't open it, can she?”
“She opens everything. It’s what toddlers do best.”
“Don't load it. Keep it out of her reach.”
“Why do I need this?” She examined it closer,
finding it as real as life.
“I hope you don’t.”
His short, uninformative answer didn’t help. “Tell
me why,” she demanded, sliding the gun back into the bag and everything into
the glove box.
“Self protection. Why else?”
Self protection involved more than firing at a
human silhouette at a firing range, and it scared her. She swallowed several
times. “Give me the truth.”
Matt smiled at the horizon, then faced her. “Let me
put it this way, Jenn. You're tough as nails and smarter than the average
clown, and that's good. You've got good sense and guts so you'll survive, but
sometimes it takes one more thing.” He waved toward the glove box. “That might
be the deciding factor. You still know how to load a gun, don't you?”
“I could probably do it if I had to.”
“We'll practice. You can get a feel for it, like
we're at a practice range, but more serious—like we’re aiming at real life.”
She’d had enough. She leaned her seat back, closed
her eyes and through clinched teeth said, “I’ve never aimed at playing cops and robbers.” He didn’t answer, but if he
had, she’d have given him an earful.
Minutes and miles melted away under rumbling tires,
and still, no matter how she lined up events over the past few days, she
couldn't decide if Matt had gone completely wacko, or not. Certain elements of
truth backed up his stories.
She hadn't reached a conclusion before they stopped
for a quick lunch of awful plastic-wrapped sandwiches from a gas station
convenience store. After returning to the road they traveled in silence until
Matt pulled off an uninhabited freeway exit. They drove down a bumpy dirt road
through sage brush, heading toward low hills. A knot formed in her stomach when
he stopped under a tree. “We're here, where ever that is,” he said.
She looked around. So, here was in Idaho—a desolate, dusty place. She thought of all the
times she’d told Katie we’re here when they had pulled into the driveway, or
arrived at Daisy’s, or stopped for ice cream. This here was nowhere.
Matt reached across her lap and opened the glove
box. “Let’s see what you can do.” He didn’t pull the gun out, but hopped from
the SUV and walked around it, opening Katie’s door. “It’s shady here so she’ll
be fine if she sleeps until we’re finished here.”
Jenn grabbed the gun and a handful of napkins she’d
stowed on top of it after lunch. One more here,
and she might cram the napkins down Matt’s throat. She tried to hand her gun
over, but he refused it. He watched her load it with shaking fingers. “If I
were one-hundred percent convinced you were a bad guy, I'd turn on you,” she
said.
He didn’t step back or get mad. “You can do it now
or anytime you want. I trust you, too, Jenn. With my life.”
“Trust is very—delicate.”
“I'm aware of that,” he replied.
“And slippery.”
“I know.”
“And not always deserved.”
“I agree.”
“Are you sure you want me to have a gun?”
“Absolutely.” He turned away, squinting at their
sun-drenched surroundings. “Let’s head up the road a bit so it’s not so loud
for Katie.” She followed like a lost puppy. He stopped and pointed. “See if you
can hit that tree stump. Aim for the dark spot. Bull's eye it to impress me.”
The moment she lifted the gun, training Nick had
insisted she receive kicked in. He’d told her she needed experience, but she’d
never agreed. As she sighted she recalled something Monica had said to her. She
lowered the gun and turned to Matt. “Did you know Monica found out I had a gun
and told me I ought to teach her how to use one?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “She could blow
the top off a match at thirty yards. I've seen her do it.”
Jenn turned back to the stump and aimed again.
“Then why did she say that?”
He shrugged. “Probably to keep her cover. See that
little leaf dangling over the dark spot? Knock it off.”
Jenn pulled the trigger. The leaf didn’t wiggle,
although a puff of splinters spit off the wood several inches away. Her next
shot sank into the wood further from the leaf, and the third missed by more
than a foot. “I'm out of practice and getting worse,” she complained.
Matt squatted down and shaded his eyes with his
hand. “Not by much. Nick liked to brag about you. Show me why.”
She held the gun steady despite the sick tingling
in her stomach from worrying about being in a deserted desert with Matt and not
knowing where her husband was. The trigger moved and the bullet hit closer to
the dark spot. “How about that?”
“Not bad, but not good enough. Nail it next time,
kid.”
“You were always impossible to please,” she
muttered. Her next shot wouldn’t impress her firearms instructors, much less
Matt. Again she tried, and again she failed. She reloaded her gun and popped
bullets in a circle around her target—all shy of dead center.
Moving behind her to watch, Matt said, “You’re
close, but no spaghetti. Can you tell what's holding you up?”
She shook her head and fired again. The hammer
clicked.
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Don't ever
take a shot with an empty gun. It's an easy way to get yourself killed. Count.
Remember your rounds.” He poured bullets into her hand. “Keep extras handy.
Always.”
His advice was a no-brainer. She wanted to throw
the black weapon in the dirt and stomp off, but she loaded it and turned back
to the stump. “If I was defending myself and Katie I’d be counting, and better
yet, I'd successfully stop someone if I hit near
the heart.” She squeezed the trigger and her shot sank into the wood inches
from the dark spot.
He shrugged. “Probably. Good is good, but better is
better.”
“Profound,” she sarcastically replied.
Jenn's next shot wasn't any better than the others.
The next one hit close enough to suit her—just an inch below the dark spot.
Matt pointed up, hinting. The following shot strayed to the right. She lowered
her arm and rubbed her elbow. When ready, she steadied her aim and the next
shot hit extremely close.
“Good,” Matt praised.
“Better. I like it. It’s good enough for me.”
“Not dead on yet, so only good.”
She lowered her gun and shot Matt an annoyed look.
“Good enough!”
He shrugged. “Maybe. If you say so.” His eyes
laughed.
Katie began fussing so she unloaded her gun and
offered it to him. He stepped back. “It's yours, not mine. You need it and I
don't. Keep it handy at all times. Never be without it.”
“Oh, give me a break,” she muttered. She headed
back to the SUV and climbed in. Matt cranked up the air conditioner and turned
around and drove back to the freeway with a dust cloud chasing them. She put on
sunglasses and leaned back when they hit smooth pavement. She closed her eyes.
“How far to Portland?”
“Check the atlas in the glove box,” he said. When
she found Idaho he reached over and pointed to a thin black line between tiny
dots. “We're somewhere near here.”
Her finger ran the length of the road and back.
“Katie won't last that long tied down.” She grabbed a pencil from her purse and
figured miles and multiplied them by hours. “I won’t either.”
Passing scenery did little more than occasionally
prick her interest. Monotony ruled. She tried to nap without kinking her neck,
and tried to occupy her mind with something interesting while she ignored Matt.
Each time a town filled the rear view mirror she refigured miles and time.
Perhaps an hour out of Boise, the brand new—never been through a car wash,
never encountered a rainstorm, and never raced through a red light—Mercedes SUV
sputtered and coughed. That woke her up.
End Chapter 21
If you've got a spare minute, please comment using 5 words or less. Thanks, dear reader!
No comments:
Post a Comment