The Hero
The Hero
Robyn Carr
The Thunder Point seriesThe Hero - Book 3With warmth and sensitivity, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr shows readers that falling in love can be the bravest act of all.In a moment of desperation, Devon McAllister takes her daughter and flees a place where they should have been safe and secure. She has no idea what is around the next bend, but she is pretty certain it can't be worse than what they've left behind. Her plan is to escape to somewhere she can be invisible. Instead, an unexpected offer of assistance leads her to Thunder Point, a tiny Oregon town with a willingness to help someone in need.As the widowed father of a vulnerable young boy, Spencer Lawson knows something about needing friendship. But he's not looking for anything else. Instead, he's thrown his energy into his new role as Thunder Point's high school football coach. Tough and demanding to his team, off the field he's gentle and kind…just the kind of man who could heal Devon's wounded heart.Devon thought she wanted to hide from the world. But in Thunder Point, you find bravery where you least expect it…and sometimes, you find a hero…
With warmth and sensitivity, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr shows readers that falling in love can be the bravest act of all.
In a moment of desperation, Devon McAllister takes her daughter and flees a place where they should have been safe and secure. She has no idea what is around the next bend, but she is pretty certain it can’t be worse than what they’ve left behind. Her plan is to escape to somewhere she can be invisible. Instead, an unexpected offer of assistance leads her to Thunder Point, a tiny Oregon town with a willingness to help someone in need.
As the widowed father of a vulnerable young boy, Spencer Lawson knows something about needing friendship. But he’s not looking for anything else. Instead, he’s thrown his energy into his new role as Thunder Point’s high school football coach. Tough and demanding to his team, off the field he’s gentle and kind...just the kind of man who could heal Devon’s wounded heart.
Devon thought she wanted to hide from the world. But in Thunder Point, you find bravery where you least expect it…and sometimes, you find a hero.
Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author
and USA TODAY bestselling author
“No one can do small-town life like Carr.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Wanderer
“Strong conflict, humor and well-written characters
are Carr’s calling cards, and they’re all present here....You won’t want to put this one down.”
—RT Book Reviews on Angel’s Peak
“This story has everything: a courageous,
outspoken heroine, a to-die-for hero and a plot that
will touch readers’ hearts on several different levels. Truly excellent.”
—RT Book Reviews on Forbidden Falls
“An intensely satisfying read.
By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional,
it won’t soon be forgotten.”
—RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley
“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”
—Library Journal on the Virgin River series
“The Virgin River books are so compelling—
I connected instantly with the characters
and just wanted more and more and more.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author
Debbie Macomber
The Hero
Robyn Carr
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
It’s with pride and gratitude that I dedicate this book
to Terri and Dave Miller, forever heroes in my eyes
and to countless other people.
Contents
Chapter One (#u1b11ab32-0116-50a7-b6b7-2411f8b0ee42)
Chapter Two (#u1397a95d-8dc2-53fc-bd04-84d6b7d9f5c0)
Chapter Three (#ud73e1745-16e8-508b-b666-4803fbc0f288)
Chapter Four (#u271147de-c3e2-548b-8a70-b2ba44fe9151)
Chapter Five (#uadc77f0e-bd8c-5e59-8251-13a69cb8ccb7)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Devon McAllister walked down a tree-lined back road, not really sure where she was but certain that she was far away from the family compound. She felt safe enough that she no longer took cover when she heard a vehicle approach. She’d been walking for at least eight hours and saw the first rays of light coming over the mountains behind her. This reassured her that she was traveling west, toward the coast. She carried her three-year-old daughter, Mercy, and a backpack stuffed with a few items of clothing and forty dollars that had been given to her by the kindhearted stranger who had given her a ride.
She was exhausted but would not stop to rest until she reached Highway 101. Every so often she would put Mercy down and hold her hand, but that made the walking unbearably slow. When she heard a vehicle, she just kept her head down, staring at the ground.
It was a truck—it drove past them, but then it stopped up ahead. It was cranberry-red and old, but in mint condition. A man got out and yelled to her. “Miss? Need a ride?”
She walked toward the vehicle. “Am I close to Highway 101?” she asked.
“I’m going that way. I’m on my way to work,” he said. “I can give you a lift.”
He was an older guy. He wore a red, white and blue ball cap and his cheeks and chin were stubbled in places that he’d missed with his razor. Though it was June, he wore a jacket. The early morning was misty, which told her she must be in a valley near the Pacific. “Where are you headed?” Devon asked.
“Thunder Point,” he said. “It’s a very small town on the coast in Coos County. I work at a beach bar and I open the place in time for breakfast. Been there a few years now. It’s mostly fishing towns around there.”
Well, she’d gotten out of Douglas County, but she wasn’t sure where Coos County was. She didn’t know where anything was—she rarely left the compound and had never been to any of the small coastal towns. Still, she knew that Highway 101 stretched as far north and south as she needed to get. Highway 5 was bigger and closer to the compound and if anyone was looking for a couple of runaways hitching rides, they’d probably start there. “How close to 101 is your town?”
“Plenty close. Want me to drop you there?”
She walked toward the truck. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re sure?”
“No trouble,” he said.
She put her backpack in the truck bed. Holding Mercy on her lap, she buckled them in together. She kept her head down, her hands tucked between her knees.
“Name’s Rawley Goode,” he said. She said nothing. “You got a name?”
“Devon,” Devon said. She shouldn’t use her real name. What if someone came poking around, asking if anyone had seen a woman named Devon? But she was almost too tired to lie. Not to mention nervous. At least she hadn’t said Sister Devon.
“Well, you’re not an escaped convict, are you, Devon?” he asked.
She looked at him. “Is there a prison around here?”
He smiled. “Just kidding,” he said. “Where you headed?”
For lack of a better answer she said, “Seattle. Eventually.”
He whistled. “You’re a long ways from there. What brings you to this old back road?”
She shrugged. “It’s where I was dropped off, but I’m heading for 101.”
“You hitchin’ rides?”
She nodded. Her ride over the mountain had been planned, but was kept secret. “Yes, 101 will have more traffic,” she said.
“Unless the police see you. Then it could get complicated.”
“I’ll watch.”
Devon wasn’t really headed to Seattle, but she just said that because that was where she came from originally. She thought there might be a shelter or charity of some kind in one of the bigger towns on the coast. “I don’t know this area very well. Is there a town or city near Highway 101 that’s pretty big? Big enough that it might have a shelter or maybe a hostel?” she asked him.
“Couple,” Rawley replied. “Listen, I have an idea. You decide exactly where you need to go and I’ll fix you up with transportation. How’s that?”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
“I been in your spot, hitchin’ rides, lookin’ for the easiest way to get from here to there, takin’ a little help sometimes. I normally went to the VA when I needed a little assistance.” He paused. “You got room for a little breakfast? ’Cause that’s my job in the morning—perking the coffee, warming up egg sandwiches, watching the sun come over the mountains. It’s not far from the highway, neither. I could show you a map while you and the little one eat something.”
“No, thank you. I have a couple of apples for later.”
“I know that look of no money,” he said. “Been wearin’ it and seein’ it for forty years now. No charge for the map. Or the breakfast. Then I’ll give you a ride to wherever you need to go to catch your next ride. It ain’t no gamble. I admit, I ain’t always been the best person in the world, but I ain’t yet done nobody harm. You can hang on to those apples.”
* * *
Rawley didn’t know for certain, but he was pretty sure the young woman was from The Fellowship—a small religious compound along the river in Douglas County. She was wearing their “uniform” or “habit” of overalls, sturdy shoes, long-sleeved T-shirt with one button at the neck and a long, thick, single braid down her back. He’d donated to the group a couple of times himself and had noticed that the women were all attired the same while the few men in evidence all wore their own combinations of jeans, plaid or chambray shirts, hats and down vests. A few months back, when Cooper had been renovating the old bait shop and turning it into a first-rate bar and café, Rawley had taken the used industrial-size washers and dryers, along with a lot of kitchen wares they couldn’t use, over to The Fellowship compound.
They were a private bunch, but he knew they had a roadside stand near their compound where they sold produce, quilts and woven goods. He’d only stopped once and had seen a group of them gathered around the stall, the women doing the business and the men helping with the heavy work, but mainly just presiding over everything. And he’d seen a few of them wandering around the Farmers’ Market in Myrtle Creek where they sometimes had a stand, again the women together in a tight knot and the men following along or standing behind them, watching.
He had never given the group a second thought until this morning when he found the young woman and her child walking down the deserted road at dawn. Now he wondered what that group was all about. Beautiful, young, smiling, soft-spoken women apparently watched over by big, silent men who were clearly in charge.
The girl seemed skittish, so Rawley played his cards close to his vest. As they drove the twenty minutes to the beach at Thunder Point he kept the conversation light, only saying things like Gonna be a right fine day and Fog’ll burn off the water early today and Should get up around seventy degrees, and that’s a heat wave on the ocean.
She kept very quiet, offering the occasional Mmm-hmm but nothing more. Her little girl rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and a couple of times they whispered quietly to each other. As they drove down the hill toward the bar she saw, for the first time, the beach sheltered by the rocky coastline, the bay studded with giant rocks and the fog at the mouth of the bay just lifting. All she said was, “Wow.”
“Pretty, ain’t she?” Rawley replied.
Moments later they arrived at the bar. Rawley parked out back behind the building and used his key to open the place up. It was 6:00 a.m.
“Come on inside, sit up at the bar and I’ll put on the coffee and heat up some eggs. Got some fruit, too. And Cooper, the owner, he likes his Tony Tigers—you or the little one like Frosted Flakes?”
“Anything is very generous,” she said. “And appreciated.”
“Like I said, I passed your way plenty of times. I got a lot to pay back.”
As he turned to get things started, Rawley noticed the coffee was already brewing. He looked out the window and saw a lone man out on the still bay on a paddleboard. That would be Cooper, getting in a little early morning exercise. And as he watched, a Razor ATV came across the beach with a big black-and-white Great Dane riding shotgun—Sarah, Cooper’s woman, must have a day off from the Coast Guard.
Good, he thought. Cooper and Sarah would be out on the water for a while. That would give him enough time to figure out what to do with Devon. Because obviously something needed to be done. A woman and a small child with a single backpack out walking the back roads at dawn with no money and no plan... It didn’t take a genius...
He wet a cloth with warm water and handed it to Devon in case she wanted to wipe the grime of the road from her hands and face, and she did so. Then wiped off her daughter’s hands and face, muttering a very soft “thank you” as she put down the cloth.
Rawley got started with the food. He put out a fruit plate, a box of Frosted Flakes, two bowls, utensils, a carton of milk, a couple of small glasses. Then he pulled two egg sandwiches out of the cooler and popped them in the microwave.
Devon served her little girl, sharing everything. When the egg sandwiches arrived she gave voice to her thoughts—“So much food.”
“Traveling makes a person hungry,” Rawley said. And then he poured himself a cup of coffee. While they tucked into their breakfast he wandered out to the deck to think. He wanted to see where Cooper and Sarah were, and give Devon and her little girl time to get some food in their stomachs. If he watched them eat, they’d try not to eat too much—a man who’d been hungry and had taken charity knew this.
Hamlet, the Great Dane, was tied to the dock while Sarah paddled out to join Cooper on the bay. Rawley propped open the doors to the deck so Cooper would know he was on duty and that the place was open for business. A few moments later as he stood on the deck with his cup of coffee, Cooper waved. Rawley lifted a hand back. Then he watched them glide over the calm water, chasing the fog out of the bay.
By the time he went back inside, Devon and her little girl had put away a good deal of food and that made him smile. He went back behind the bar with his coffee. “Fill you up?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” she said, giving her mouth a pat. “If you’ll write down your name and address for me, I’ll try to repay the kindness when I’m able.”
“I’d rather you pass it on, Devon,” he said. “That’s what I try to do when I can.”
“Of course. I’ll do that, too.”
“So. Looking for a larger town? One with a shelter?”
“That seems a good place for me to start,” she said.
“Mind if I ask? What put you in these straits?”
She took a breath and stroked her daughter’s back. “It’s not complicated. I lost my job and couldn’t find another. I got some benefits and food stamps, but it wasn’t enough to pay the rent and I didn’t have family to take me in. So, here I am.”
“What kind of work you lookin’ for?” Rawley asked.
Devon laughed a little bit. “I’ve been working since I was fifteen, I can do a lot of things. Office work, waitress work, worked in a nursing home for a while. I even worked on a farm. I cleaned, cooked, worked in child care a lot—once I was a teaching assistant in a preschool. I went to college. But none of those things paid enough to keep me and Mercy comfortable. I had a boyfriend, but he left. See?” she finished, tilting her head to one side. “Pretty simple. Just rotten timing. Bad luck.”
Rawley leaned on the bar. “You know, there’s this place on the river. Some kind of religious group. They call themselves The Fellowship. I could drive you out there, see if they’d take you in for a while, fix you up with some—”
“No!” she said hotly. “Please, no! If you could just give me a lift to the highway.”
He held up a callused hand. “Shh,” he said. “Devon, I know you’re from there. I don’t know why and you don’t have to tell me, but it’s pretty clear you needed to be out of the place if you’d drag your kid out in the dark of night and walk over a mountain.” He frowned. “She is your kid, ain’t she?”
“Of course!” She looked down. “I got a ride over the mountain. I should just get going....”
The child looked like her mother. Rawley was just checking. “Just sit. I can help you out here. You and the little one would be safe while you figure things out. You don’t have to be out on the highway, takin’ your chances.”
She just looked at him with those big blue eyes, her peachy lips parted. Her daughter continued to move Frosted Flakes around in her bowl, apparently oblivious to the conversation. “Why?” she whispered.
“I told you why. You need details? There was this war you’re too young to even know about and I came home a mess and no one wanted any part of me, of any of us. A lot of us wandered, just trying to forget or get the noise in our heads to stop. We had the VA but folks didn’t even know how to help Vietnam vets. Like I said, I took a lot of charity. I worked some here and there, slept on the street some, helped out at the VA some. Now—I got a house and a job. That’s my story. You keep yours till you feel safe. But, girl—we’re gonna have to make some changes ’cause I knew where you came from the second I seen you walkin’ down the road.”
Her eyes got pretty round at that, but she remained mute.
“The overalls, the braid... Once Cooper—the boss—gets in here and decides to start work for the day, I’ll take you somewhere to get clothes that don’t just holler commune-for-Christ or whatever that is you come from.”
“The Fellowship,” she reminded him quietly.
“And, if you are trying to keep a low profile around here it wouldn’t hurt to cut off that braid or something. You think that’s a good idea?”
She chewed her lip a little bit, thinking this over. When she did speak she said, “I know about Vietnam.”
“Be glad you don’t remember it.”
Thinking again she said, “Maybe I’m not far enough away. From the compound.”
“You think some of them might come lookin’ for you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, not really. They’re not bad people. But...”
Rawley let that hang a minute. “But?” he prompted.
“They didn’t want me to leave. And I did anyway. And we’re not going back,” she added vehemently.
He cleared his throat. “Then we play it safe. If you see any of ’em snoopin’ around, you better sound the alarm. I’ve been in this town almost every day for over four years and no one from that place ever came here. My house is in Elmore, a thirty-minute drive from here and I ain’t never seen any of ’em there, either. I guess there’s a chance some folks from around here have been to that produce stand, or what you call the compound, so I reckon getting yourself a new look makes sense. There’s just one thing you’re gonna have to do to make it work.”
“What’s that, Mr. Goode?”
She remembered his name. Sharp for someone who’d been up all night and was probably worn to a nub.
“Gonna have to trust a stranger, miss. That’s what.”
Again she dropped her gaze. “Last time I did that...”
“I can figure that much out without the whole story,” he said. “I thought that place was safe. A refuge. Bent on charity and good works. But if it was a good and decent place, you’d have left in daylight with money in your pocket. I’m old and I’m jaded but I ain’t stupid.”
“For a while, it was a refuge and it saved me. For a while.”
“Here’s what we do, miss. We get you some Walmart clothes and I’ll take you and the little miss here to my house. You’ll have a safe and warm place to lay your head. There’s food in the fridge. You might wanna pretend to be kin—like my second cousin’s daughter. I didn’t have no direct family.”
Devon actually smiled at that. “Neither did I, Mr. Goode.”
“Might wanna call me Rawley for good measure.”
“Rawley,” she said. “I’m not sure...”
“Devon, you’re stuck with trusting strangers right now. It ain’t safer thumbing rides on the highway, I guaran-damn-tee. This’ll at least give you time to think and be safe while you’re doing it.”
* * *
Spencer Lawson was new to Thunder Point. He’d taken the job of Athletic Director and coach at the local high school and he and his ten-year-old son were living in Cooper’s fifth wheel while looking around for a place to rent. He had to admit, while it was a little tight on space, especially in the bathroom, it was not only convenient but it was a pleasure to wake up every day and see the bay. He didn’t have much of a kitchen in the RV, but then he wasn’t much of a cook. Besides, right next door, Cooper had the equivalent of two kitchens and a nice big outdoor gas grill.
Spencer had been up for a while. With coffee still in his cup he decided to wander next door to Cooper’s place. He left Austin, sprawled crossways, asleep in the big bed. They’d been sharing a bedroom since moving into Cooper’s RV but sleeping with Austin was like sleeping with the entire fourth grade. Most nights Spencer escaped to the sofa in the living room. As he walked across the deck toward the open doors of the bar, he heard voices...a woman’s voice as she said, “No! Please, no!”
And he stopped. He heard Rawley shush her and say, “Devon, I know where you’re from. You don’t have to give me details and I don’t have to know why...”
Spencer saw Cooper and Sarah out on their boards, skimming across the bay smoothly, the movement of their paddles synchronized. Quietly he took a chair outside the opened doors, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation. In five minutes, he had the story—this was a young woman with a child who had run away from some kind of commune or religious order. And Rawley was not only going to help her, but he would help her keep it secret. While he was dying to walk into the bar and get a look at this young runaway, he didn’t want them to stop talking.
A few minutes later, Sarah and Cooper were coming in off the water. They stowed their boards against the dock and untied the dog from it. Hamlet made a beeline for the deck. This was Spencer’s cue. He stood and waited for them. First he greeted Hamlet and gave him a vigorous head and ear massage. “Hey, old boy! How’s it going, Ham?” Sarah and Cooper strolled leisurely up the stairs to the deck.
“What’s going on?” Cooper asked Spencer.
Spencer lifted his cup. “I’m out of coffee.”
“You’re always out of something,” Cooper said. “Come on in, Rawley can hook you up. I’m just guessing, but I bet you want breakfast, too.”
“I might, yeah.”
“Where’s the kid?”
“Sprawled across the bed. Snoring.”
Cooper chuckled.
Ham was waiting anxiously, tail wagging like mad, hoping he’d get a treat. The three of them—and Ham—all walked into the bar together. Right away they noticed the young woman with a long braid and a small child sitting at the counter. Rawley looked up from behind the bar and the little girl broke into a huge grin, pointed and said, “Mama! Pony in the house!”
The woman laughed, putting a hand up to her mouth. Her blue eyes twinkled.
Ham went to the child immediately. He was excellent with kids.
“Just a dog, kiddo,” Cooper said. “Want to give him his cookie? Look out, though. He’s got a real slobbery mouth but he never nips.” He fished a huge dog biscuit out of the jar on the bar and let the little girl hold it out toward Ham. She held it in a flat hand, as if feeding a horse. Then Cooper looked at the young woman and said, “Hi. I’m Cooper. This is my fiancée, Sarah. And this is my friend, Spencer.”
“This here’s my cousin’s daughter, Coop,” Rawley said. “Well, second cousin, maybe even removed. Devon. Visiting.”
Cooper tilted his head and queried with his eyes. “Devon...?”
But Rawley didn’t answer. He didn’t answer because he didn’t know Devon’s last name. Finally Devon said, “McAllister. And this is my daughter, Mercy.”
“Pleasure. Rawley, you should’ve mentioned you had company coming. You could have taken the day off.”
“It was a last-minute thing but, if you can spare me, I’d like to show her around a little bit. They might be tired from traveling, too, and I can leave ’em at home and come back...”
“Take the day off if you want it, Rawley. I can handle the shop. Landon will show up to help out when he gets his lazy butt out of bed. And I’ve always got Spencer...”
“You okay with that?” Rawley asked.
Spencer looked at this duo—mother and child. She was plain as a pancake, and yet she was beautiful. She looked very young—early twenties? She was vulnerable, that was instantly obvious. He immediately wondered how she’d gotten trapped in a commune that wouldn’t let her leave. He had this sudden urge to step in, to offer advice or shelter or something.
“Sure,” Cooper said. “If you need more time, just let me know so I can make arrangements. How long are you staying?”
Again, the young woman didn’t respond but Rawley said, “That’s up in the air. I told her she can stay for a few days or weeks—it ain’t like she’ll be in my way. If you’re sure you don’t mind, we’ll hit the road, then. You ready?” Rawley asked her.
“Thanks. Nice meeting you all.”
And the three of them moved slowly out the back door, climbed into Rawley’s truck and the engine roared to life. It was two minutes before the truck was traveling up the road to the highway.
Then Cooper looked at Sarah and Spencer. “Rawley doesn’t have any family.”
“Well, second cousin, removed...” Sarah said.
“With no warning they’re coming?” Spencer asked. “Nah, they’re not family. I’d bet my last dollar on that.” For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, Spencer didn’t tell them about the conversation he had overheard between Rawley and Devon.
“It does seem strange,” Cooper agreed. “Rawley’s a little odd, but he’s not, you know...?”
“A kidnapper? A serial killer?” Sarah offered.
“More likely he found ’em hitching or panhandling. People don’t know this about Rawley, but he’s generous. Softhearted. He doesn’t like to let on that he has a helpful nature. He’s on the gruff and silent side, but he’d give anyone the shirt off his back. When we went through all Ben’s things after he died, Rawley took the old clothes to the VA, but he washed ’em first. Bags full of ’em. He has a generous nature—he gives a lot. I’m not so much worried about that woman and her little girl as I am about Rawley. I hope they don’t fleece him.”
“Maybe you should talk to him,” Spencer suggested. “What if that’s what happened? What if she’s desperate and takes advantage of him?”
“Well, I could try,” Cooper said. “But it might be hard getting anything out of him. That Rawley...he takes pride in saying as little as possible.”
“That girl looks about fifteen,” Spencer said, frowning. “He must’ve found them in trouble somewhere.” He glanced toward the dishes on the bar. “He fed them.”
Two
Rawley drove Devon to the Walmart nearest his home. He parked in the big lot and looked at her. “Your people ever go to the Walmart?” he asked.
“Not that I know of,” she said. “And I never did while I was there. But I have some clothes.” The clothes were in the backpack left outside the fence for her. She hadn’t looked at them closely and didn’t know if they’d fit, but the backpack was stuffed with things for her escape.
He reached up to the sun visor overhead and pulled out a ball cap. “Tuck that braid up in this,” he said. “Get yourself a few things, grab some stuff for Mercy. Get yourself any other lady things you might need. Things no sixty-three-year-old bachelor would ever have laying around. I’ll get us some groceries. We’ll try to be quick and not make a stir—don’t want you to give yourself away. Can we do that?”
She nodded, tucking up her braid. “I have forty dollars,” she said.
“Look,” Rawley said. “I know you’re worried. I know you’re suspicious of me and of everybody, and rightly so. But you’re not a prisoner, and even if you decide you can’t stick around you’ll want to stay clear of that camp. You shouldn’t look like you came from there. And you don’t have to run off in the night, all you have to do is say you need a ride somewhere and I’ll take you. Hang on to your forty dollars. You’ll need it, I figure.”
“I was there by choice,” she revealed. Until she wasn’t.
“Well, it’s your choice not to be there now. Let’s just get ’er done. Then you can relax and get a little rest.”
As for not making a stir, the second they walked in the door, little Mercy used her loudest voice to look around and say, “Mama! What is this place?”
It took Devon a second to recover, but recover she did. She pulled Mercy’s little hand and said, “Just a very big store, honey. Now please use your very quiet voice and come with me.” At least Mercy hadn’t called her Sister Devon. That was the way Jacob liked it; no one was a mother or a father, a husband or a wife—they were all brothers and sisters. Which made his behavior seem pretty damned incestuous.
Of course Devon remembered visiting a Walmart—it’s not as though she’d forgotten her life before the family. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and a cart and sped through the women’s and children’s clothes. Two pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts, two shirts, socks, underwear, tennis shoes. She bought the exact same items for Mercy. She added two hoodies, in case they had to flee in the night, and then a few incidentals including brushes, combs and toothbrushes. And—because he was right—she bought a pair of scissors. She had to stop looking like one of them.
She met Rawley by the checkout. Her heart was racing. So, here she was with a scruffy old guy who had given her a ride and now wanted to help her even more and just by the look of him alone she should be worried. But the tall, handsome, soft-spoken Jacob with the ready, welcoming smile, who had so much to offer when she was in need, had never worried her for a moment. And he was the one she should have been worried about!
In his cart Rawley had groceries and... She looked closely. He had a safety seat for Mercy for the truck. It was an old truck and the cab was small, but it had seat belts. She was touched beyond words. That safety seat meant so much more to her than all Jacob’s promises.
The new seat had to be strapped in by the door and there were no seat belts for the middle seat. She had to sit next to Rawley without belts while Mercy rode in the passenger seat. Still, it was better than walking or hitching.
Had it been possible, she would have held her breath all the way to Rawley Goode’s house. She kept telling herself she was safer in this old man’s truck, or in his home, than she would’ve been had she stayed with the family at the compound. She kept telling herself this was safer than hitching rides. Despite her racing imagination there was something she had not been prepared for. When they pulled into the driveway of a small brick home in a neat little neighborhood, she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. It was like the house she’d grown up in. When they went inside, she stopped right inside the door, right in the little living room, and almost collapsed in relief and emotion. This could be Aunt Mary’s place! The furniture was different but probably just as old, complete with those familiar doilies on the tabletops and arms of the Queen Anne chairs and sofa. It was small, the rug over the hardwood floor threadbare, the wood furniture distressed but polished. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”
She put Mercy on her feet. “Mama, where’s the kids?”
Devon got down on one knee. She put the bags she carried along with her backpack against the wall. “We’re having a vacation. And I think you need a nap.”
“I don’t want a bacation,” Mercy whined.
“We don’t have a choice. We have to.”
“I don’t want to has to!”
“Stop,” Devon said firmly. “Stop right now.” Then she hugged her close.
Rawley took the groceries straight to the kitchen and began putting things away. Devon just waited by the door, holding Mercy’s hand, afraid to invade the house. Momentarily he was back, handing her a slip of paper. “There’s two bedrooms upstairs and you’ll know which one is mine—it’s lookin’ mighty lived in. There’s food in the kitchen and I ain’t savin’ nothing for later—it’s all open season for you and Mercy. I eat at the bar and clean up dishes before coming home so you won’t see me till eight or so. This here’s a number for my phone.” Then he grinned. “You’re the first person to get it. I mean, Cooper has it, but only because he bought me the phone in the first place—he got tired of me never checkin’ in. You just call if you need something, or if something changes with you, or if... I don’t expect anyone will bother you here.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
He gave a shrug. “I could stay, Cooper wouldn’t mind. But if I was you, I’d still be nervous and me gone will give you a chance to think. Check over the place. Rest. Eat. Get comfortable. Pull the tags off your clothes. Nap. Whatever you need to do.” He opened the door. “There’s another room up there. It’s where I keep the TV. Extra blankets in the hall closet. Towels and that stuff, too.”
“I guess we should wash off the road,” she said.
He looked at his watch. “You got hours to do whatever you want.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goode.”
“It’s just Rawley,” he said. And then he was gone.
Overwhelmed, Devon sat on his worn old couch, pulling Mercy beside her. Mercy. She had wanted to name her Mary in the first place, after her aunt. Mary had been failing fast the last time she’d seen her alive. Five years ago.
Tears started to just run out of her blue eyes.
“We’re free,” she whispered to Mercy.
“Mama, where’s the kids?”
* * *
It was Sister Laine who had helped Devon find a way out of The Fellowship. Laine hadn’t been with the family long, not even six months. And, unlike some of the women, she was very independent and didn’t seem to get sucked into group thinking, nor did she vie for Jacob’s favors. She was careful, though. Disciplined and obedient. Around Jacob she seemed skittish, maybe frightened, but there were other times when she threw Devon a secret grin and wink, or maybe a startled look. She didn’t talk about her past, other than to say she’d come from a bad place and that Jacob had promised her peace and safety. It was implied she had been abused by a man. Laine’s story reminded Devon that they weren’t all the same no matter how much Jacob wished it so.
Laine learned that Devon wanted to leave the compound and that Jacob wouldn’t let her take Mercy. It was hardly secret—Devon had been making noises about leaving once she first learned she was pregnant. But Jacob said no, absolutely no, because Mercy was his child. So, for several years Devon and Mercy made the compound their home.
They were gathering eggs one morning when Laine whispered, “I know you want to leave.”
“No,” Devon said, hiding surprise, cautious in case of betrayal. “I’m very happy.”
“I know you want to go and if you do, I can help. If you turn on me, it will be bad, very bad. If you don’t want to go, just ignore me.”
But Devon said, “Help how?”
“Listen carefully. On June 9 there will be a hole in the fence behind the henhouse, right over there. There will be a backpack with some clothes, bottled water, a couple of apples and granola bars—look for it outside the fence behind a tree. At midnight there will be a truck down the road—the lights will be off. The driver will take you over the mountain. He won’t wait long. Go to the coast. You shouldn’t travel Highway 5, it’s too close to the compound and you’ll be found right away if anyone decides to look for you. If they look, they’ll only look as far as you can walk. Hitching a ride on Highway 101 is safer. If anything goes wrong, try to find a women’s shelter and tell your story. As a last resort, if you have no other way to get help, tell the police.”
“Why a last resort?”
“Because, Devon, once you tell, they might make a move on this place and everyone could be in danger. Jacob will fight back. So, only tell the police if that’s the only way you can be safe.”
“Why would you do this?”
She shrugged and said, “I fixed it up at the Farmers’ Market. I was planning to do it myself, but I think you should go first. I’ll figure out something.”
“Maybe we could both go,” Devon said, wondering if she’d lost her mind.
But Laine shook her head. “Two of us and Mercy traveling together would be too easy to track. If you get in a fix, tell someone what’s going on here. The moods, the threats, the little rages and the gardens. If you have to tell, tell to keep yourself safe. It is not safe here.”
“It was once. Or it seemed to be,” Devon said.
“It’s not safe now, I can tell. It’s time to get the children out. I think you know that. Now let’s find some eggs. And laugh at my jokes, for God’s sake!” Then she smiled. “You have this one chance. Do it.”
It’s time to get the children out. Those words struck fear in Devon’s heart and she knew she had to act. She had to take the chance that was being given to her. She had to trust Laine. But, once she had made her decision, Devon nearly counted her heartbeats until she and Mercy could escape.
Just as Laine had promised, everything was ready. And, before she knew it, she’d done it.
* * *
Rawley got back to the beach bar around two in the afternoon. He walked in on one of the most unlikely friendships he’d ever known about, and he’d known of some odd ones since Vietnam. Cooper was behind his bar and Spencer Lawson was sitting on a stool facing him. This was a fairly new friendship. As Rawley heard the story, Spencer had been married to an old fiancée of Cooper’s and the poor lady died. She had cancer or something, Rawley recalled. And several months before her death, blood work had been done and revealed that their ten-year-old son, Austin, was actually not Spencer’s biological son, but Cooper’s.
Well, now, Rawley thought. That’ll make or break a man.
But the men had worked it out. In fact, Spencer had just agreed to take a job in Thunder Point so both dads could live in the same town and be parents to one little boy. And ten-year-old Austin had the potential to be spoiled rotten.
“Hey, Rawley,” Cooper said. “How’s your cousin?”
“Huh? Oh, she’s okay. I left her to get a nap, relax or whatever.”
“How long you think she’ll stay?”
Rawley just shrugged. “Can’t say. Might be she doesn’t find an old Vet much fun to live with and just moves on.”
“Well, what brought her here?” Cooper asked.
“You are sure the nosiest som-bitch I know. I don’t have the details, don’t really need the details, but I gather it was a bad situation or something and she needs a place to roost a bit. Don’t matter. I’m happy to give her a bed. She’s got a kid—you don’t just ignore a kid. I don’t want them staying in some damn run-down hotel all alone just because I’m an old coot set in my ways.” He craned his neck and looked out the windows to the beach. “Speaking of kids...”
“Austin’s fishing off the dock with Landon,” Spencer said. “I have to go look at a house in town, even though Austin wants to live in that RV next door for the rest of his life.”
“Ain’t a bad place, as places go,” Rawley said. Cooper’s toy hauler had been operating as a guest house ever since he had finished off the upstairs of the bar into his apartment.
“I’m looking for something a little bigger in the bathroom and kitchen department.” Spencer laughed. “Not to mention less sandy.”
“If you could train someone to wipe his great big ten-year-old feet, you could beat that problem. Have you noticed how big his feet are? Is that normal?” Cooper asked.
“Well, it’s normal on St. Bernard puppies,” Spencer said.
Leaving the men to talk, Rawley went to the kitchen. There was always work to be done—cleaning, stocking, organizing. Now that Cooper had an apartment and a fiancée, he stayed out of there. Cooper could clean his own house, do his own laundry. Cooper liked taking care of the beach, raking up, hauling trash, making sure there was no detritus that could harm people or wildlife. He said it gave him an idea of who used the beach and what they used it for. He maintained his stock of paddleboards and kayaks. And he spent a lot of time visiting with folks in town, on the beach, on the dock, in the bar. Cooper was a natural people person. Rawley had never been much for visiting.
Rawley kept himself busy working around the bar and in the kitchen till about seven-thirty. With the longer days there was plenty of sunlight left; Cooper and Landon could handle the place without him until sunset when folks tended to quit for the day, except those who liked the beach at night and enjoyed their fires.
His phone hadn’t rung all day. He wondered what he’d find when he got home. He had absolutely no idea. She was skittish; she might be gone. The place could be upended, valuables stolen...not that he had much in the way of valuables. But nothing prepared him for what he found when he got there. He could hear the TV upstairs and didn’t want to startle her, so he called from the bottom of the stairs.
She came to the top of the stairs and looked down at him. Her hair was cut right up to the nape, kind of messy-cute, falling over her forehead haphazardly. Gone was that thick mane that hit her butt. “Up here, Mr. Goode,” she said. “Oh, my God, I haven’t seen TV in so long. We had popcorn—I hope that’s okay. You said anything. We didn’t eat much. There’s plenty left. But the TV—my daughter is in a trance. She’s never seen TV.” Then she laughed and her whole face lit up. “Well, she was in a trance and now she’s asleep right on the floor and I’m watching baseball. I love baseball. I haven’t seen a game in years!”
He chuckled and remained at the bottom of the stairs. “No TV at the camp, I take it,” he said.
“No TV, no newspapers, no internet access, no phones. No distractions, no commercialism, no propaganda. At least for us.” There was that grin again. “Oh, how I missed it!”
“Did you find something for Mercy to watch?” he asked.
“Evil cartoons. She was in heaven.”
“Have you eaten anything besides popcorn?” Rawley asked.
She nodded. “I scrambled some eggs and made some toast for Mercy. I had a sandwich, chips, soda...” She rolled her eyes. “Soda! It was so good! And then the popcorn. Should I turn off the TV now? So you can have peace and quiet?”
Rawley smiled. She looked lit up from the inside. He couldn’t remember being quite this pleased with himself. He shook his head. “I’m gonna get my newspaper and a cola. I like sports. I used to watch with my dad before he died—that’s why there’s two recliners up there. And you can watch the TV all night if you want to. It don’t bother me. Half the time I fall asleep in front of the TV.”
“Newspaper!” she said in a breath.
“I’ll share it with you.”
* * *
Mercy rarely asked about the other kids or the other sisters from the family once she was introduced to television and the undivided attention of one mother rather than six. They hardly ever left the house except to walk to the end of the street where there was a tiny park with swings and a slide, and that was just for a little exercise and fresh air. Every day Rawley brought them something new. First, a couple of toys for Mercy—a baby doll with a diaper bag filled with miniature supplies—this small child from a family compound didn’t know about diaper bags. Then he brought some crayons and coloring books and bubbles. Next, some library books—a few picture books for a three-year-old, a few novels he had asked a librarian to recommend for a thirty-year-old woman.
“Close enough,” she said with a smile. “I’m twenty-eight.”
Then he brought home a laptop computer. He said, “I thought maybe you might want to use this. It’s an old one Cooper let me have. Do you know how to use it?”
“I know how to use a computer, certainly. We just didn’t use the evil internet, which has probably grown to amazing heights in the last several years. And I can’t tell you how much I want to have a look!”
“I ain’t got no hookup. Cooper said to tell you to jump on some neighbor’s or store’s wireless—and I ain’t got the first idea how you do that.”
But Devon smiled. She’d have no trouble figuring it out.
For Devon, this time away from the compound was like sensory overload—there were so many new ideas to talk about, and programs to watch and articles to read. She was in ecstasy.
Then came several days of rain in a row, which conspired with Devon’s need to be immersed in the books, TV and computer. Rawley didn’t spend quite as many hours at work but Devon and Mercy were so happily occupied it seemed he’d barely left before he returned. She made a couple of dinners for the three of them and while Rawley wasn’t exactly talkative, he was companionable.
“How’s ’at computer working out?”
“It’s a revelation—you can find out anything.” Out of curiosity she checked out “communes in Oregon” online and found several references, but nothing really interesting. Compounds could mean a host of families, religious sects, cults and organizations ranging from non-certified health retreats and rehab facilities to known sovereign communities and anti-government separatists. She was fascinated and kept reading.
Then she found something that explained so much: a familiar name and story—Jacob Glover. Glover? They didn’t use last names—they claimed there was no need. But there was a picture, and it was definitely the Jacob she had known. He was well-known—he’d been convicted of fraud in the past. He was known as the leader of a cult who had recently been investigated for fraud, tax fraud, conspiracy and kidnapping. Huh? she thought. Well, taxes...yes, that was an issue. She remembered that very well indeed. It was one of his favorite rants, taken right from his manifesto. What am I but a poor farmer? We eat what we grow; we own our land; we don’t use any government resources—we educate our own and we pay our good money for supplies we can’t grow or breed or make. The only argument government has for our paltry income is our rare use of their roads! Property tax? For living? For paying our own way? I’ll die first!
She remembered thinking that was a compelling argument, but it was one that would never work. As for paltry income for little supplies—she was well aware that The Fellowship not only owned expensive farming equipment, but they also owned three black Lincoln SUVs with darkened windows that only the men drove. This could hardly be considered paltry by any stretch of the imagination. It was also hard to believe that the meager sale of apples, peaches, pears and vegetables brought in enough income for The Fellowship to purchase the equipment and the mammoth SUVs.
But kidnapping? There was not a chance The Fellowship could be accused of that! No one had ever come into the family unwillingly and if they ran away, Jacob looked the other way. At least he used to. When Greg had slipped away after just a few months, there was only sad disappointment. But when Caleb, who had been with the group for three years, left suddenly, Jacob’s anger roared. All three SUVs tore out of the compound and went in search, a search lasting days. But when he wasn’t found, the search was abandoned.
Then she realized that these investigations might be the reason Jacob and some of the others seemed to have changed in the past couple of years, becoming impatient and paranoid. When she’d first become a part of the group, gentleness and ease had seemed to dominate their way of life. But over the past couple of years anger and even desperation seemed to creep in. I’ll die first! The amount of time he spent writing—some of the women called his writings a diary, some a manifesto, others claimed it was his new bible—had increased. There had always been weapons that were kept locked up and managed by a few men, but they were for security and hunting, not because there was fear.
She looked up “cult,” though she knew well enough what one was. And she also knew that religious affiliation aside, The Fellowship was a cult. Synonyms were “gang,” “craze,” “sect” and “denomination dominated by extreme beliefs.” Not always a bad thing, the L.A. Police Department was referred to as the biggest gang in L.A. They were but a group of like-minded people, bent on a single purpose. In fact, it was that alone that had caused the rift for Devon. She was no longer of a like mind.
In one of her last conversations with Jacob, right before Laine had offered her a way out, she’d said, “I miss my individuality, that’s all. I don’t want to be isolated and I don’t want my daughter raised by six mothers. I want to pick my own books and music, read all the papers. I want to be a part of society again.”
“Even if society is bad? Wrong? Dangerous? Greedy?” he’d asked.
“If I’m here, then I’m not doing anything to make it better,” she’d offered.
He’d sighed deeply. Painfully. “This breaks my heart, but maybe it’s for the best, Devon. You’ve never really wanted to be a part of this, one of us.”
“I always did my share! I taught the children, helped with farming and ranching, tended animals—I did everything everyone else did, too.”
“Not everything,” he reminded her.
She bit her lip and looked down, astonished that he could make her feel guilty over a purely righteous act. Once she’d realized she had conceived Mercy and that Jacob had children with other women in The Fellowship, that other women in their group visited his bed frequently, she didn’t want to be a part of that group. She wanted a partner, not a never-ending family. When she’d made love to him, she had foolishly believed he loved only her, that he held the other women as sisters, family members, not lovers. He led her to believe that. “There were too many women. It wasn’t for me.”
“There were a few, and we were all of one family, one mind,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I was of a different mind. I will only have one intimate partner.”
“It’s not our way,” he said.
“It’s probably best that I separate now,” she said. “I gave my promised two years. In fact I gave more than two. I was committed and loyal even if I didn’t agree with everything.”
“Fine, then. You really don’t fit anymore. You hold yourself slightly above the rest of us, as if you’re better.”
Shocked and hurt, she’d blurted, “You’re the only one here who holds yourself above the rest of us!”
And he’d slapped her. He glared at her and was so angry. When she’d first come to this family, he was so gentle, so tolerant. But lately he’d become so short-tempered and his controlling nature was skyrocketing. “I think as the man who founded this Fellowship and works every day to hold it together and protect it, I can be afforded some respect!”
It was a black day that burned in her memory. That had been a year before she’d finally left.
She read on about Jacob. Investigated and interviewed for allegations of kidnapping and human trafficking.
She thought she knew what human trafficking was, but looked it up just the same. The recruitment of human beings by means of kidnapping, coercion or purchase for the purpose of exploitation, usually for labor or commercial sex trade....
And she knew. She just had never thought of women over twenty-one who went willingly being the victims of human trafficking—she’d always assumed underage prostitutes or child laborers in dingy, dangerous factories were the kinds of people who would be the victims of human trafficking.
Jacob had picked her up outside a shelter in Seattle, Washington. He’d invested an hour in conversation with her learning that she was alone, that she longed for a family and was needy, afraid and desperate. She also fit his profile of wanting fair-skinned and blue-eyed members for his group. He treated them all so sweetly and provided a shelter that was clean and had plentiful food. She was introduced to a few other women who’d joined the group for the same reason she had. They all worked hard to sustain it and to make it a success. Then they were all stripped of their identities—driver’s licenses, social security cards and other personal effects stored away...or perhaps destroyed.
And they all loved him. At one time, even Devon had had a deep love for him, or perhaps it was gratitude. Sometimes some of them joked behind his back in whispers: He’s penning a new bible, you know.
Devon remembered Laine’s words to her. Tell if you have to, Laine had said. Tell about the gardens.
While it was never discussed openly, they all knew that Jacob and the family financed their plentiful compound by their special gardens. No matter how well their organic gardens produced, the bounty of fresh fruit and vegetables was not enough to generate the kind of income needed to keep The Fellowship going. There were a couple of gardens that were kept concealed in a couple of warehouses. They used grow lights run on generators, going twenty-four hours a day and tended by only a few men. Devon had been a member of The Fellowship for a couple of years before she knew about their special cash crop—it was marijuana.
Jacob explained it to her by saying, “We are only growing medicinal herbs that the government wants to regulate. If they find out what we are doing they’ll take it all away. Strip us of everything. But it’s harmless and helpful and some states have even passed laws making it legal, which this state will eventually do, as well. Then, they’ll try to tax it to the moon. We have to grow our herbs in secret. The government would love to steal from us, which is not their right.”
Brother Jacob was a drug dealer. His cult, his Fellowship, was a cover. That’s why he kept the members close by, and why he had children with them knowing that would keep them tied to him.
Although there was nothing in her research to indicate he was being investigated for running and operating a grow-op, Devon knew the feds must be getting closer. It would explain his behavior—Jacob was now paranoid.
Three
Lieutenant Commander Sarah Dupre hadn’t worn her diamond engagement ring to work when she’d first gotten it. Rings on the flight line were a good way to lose a finger, for one thing. As well, she didn’t want any of her coworkers figuring her out, for another. But the day her deadline for accepting or rejecting the orders that would ship her to a Florida Coast Guard Station expired, she wore the beautiful ring to work. She had written the two letters—one, rejecting the assignment and two, resigning her commission and leaving the Coast Guard.
Her boss, Commander Buzz Bachman, accepted the letters for his files, though Sarah would send both to the command HR department herself.
“Gonna do it, huh?” he said. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised. But what’s next for you?”
And that’s when she thrust out her left hand, diamond glittering on the fourth finger.
“Whoa!” he said. “Throwing us over for a man? You?”
“Don’t say it like that,” she warned him. “It’s not like it was a rash or quick decision. And I think he’s a pretty good bet.”
“Well, hell, I like Cooper all right, but what are you gonna do?”
She grinned at him and shook her head. “As soon as the Coast Guard approves my separation, I’m going to take a vacation. At least through footfall season. And until we get Landon settled on a college.”
“When’s the wedding?” Buzz asked.
“We haven’t decided....”
“Big bash?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said with a laugh. “I had a big bash when I married Derek, and that didn’t take. I think it’ll be small, quiet and private. But we’re still talking about it.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t stand by the mailbox, waiting for my invitation?”
“Nothing personal...”
“Well, the boys are going to want to give you a bachelor party.”
She glanced down at herself. “I know it’s not immediately apparent in this flight suit, but I’m actually a girl.”
Buzz grinned at her. “That hasn’t stopped us in the past. Now get out of here. Go tell lover-boy you put your papers in.”
“That’s my exact plan,” she said.
Sarah drove past the turnoff to the town of Thunder Point and her house and drove the long way to Cooper’s bar on the other side of the beach, parking in the rear. When she walked in, he was moving the mop around the floor, something that needed to be done frequently, given all the sand that came in on the feet of friends and customers. He stopped abruptly and just smiled at her.
“I don’t see this every day,” he said. He leaned the mop against the wall and grabbed her against him. He gave her a hearty kiss, holding her tightly. He shook his head and smiled. “I flew helicopters for a living for fifteen years and you’re the only pilot I ever wanted to peel a flight suit off of.”
“I did it, Cooper,” she said. “You better not change your mind. I put in my papers.”
His grin deepened. “Well, now. You do realize there’s no exit date on the next deal you sign up for. Right?”
“You better not get sick of me, Cooper.”
“Let me at least try,” he said, going after her lips again.
A noise behind them didn’t do anything to disrupt their very passionate kiss. Then seventeen-year-old Landon said, “Let’s remember the rules, folks. Safety first. I hope we don’t have to have another one of those talks.”
Sarah couldn’t help but laugh against Cooper’s lips—Landon was echoing her constant reminder. Landon, big, strong, beautiful and in a serious relationship with a wonderful seventeen-year-old girl who happened to be the town deputy’s daughter, could easily be considered high-risk by his older sister. And of course Landon constantly chided her for her mothering. “Is he too big to spank?” she asked against Cooper’s lips.
“Well...by you,” Cooper said softly.
Again she laughed, leaning her forehead against Cooper’s shoulder. “At this moment, I am obscenely happy. Please don’t screw this up or dump me or cheat on me or divorce me.”
“All right,” he said, letting go of her. He turned her toward her brother.
“Rule number two,” Landon lectured, mimicking her again. “Discretion. We don’t want to embarrass people with our PDA.”
“We were alone, actually,” she said. “So, how about giving me a beer? I won’t turn you in for serving me. I’m celebrating. I did it—I put in my papers. I’m getting out.”
“Holy shit, are you kidding me? I didn’t think you’d do it!”
“You didn’t? I told you I was going to do it.”
“Yeah, but you like being the boss of things.” He pulled a bottle of beer out of the cooler and popped the top. He handed it to his sister. “Cooper, we are in trouble here. We should plan a strategy.”
“Take care of yourself, kid. I like it when she bosses me around.”
“You are so whipped. What are the rest of us men gonna think, you letting a woman get the upper hand like this? You should be ashamed.”
Cooper grabbed his mop. “I guess Eve would never get away with that, huh?” he said, mopping.
“That’s different,” Landon said with a big smile. “Eve is so not my sister. And when Eve is happy, I’m happy.”
“There you go,” Cooper said.
Rawley came into the bar with a rack of glasses, silently sliding them under the bar.
“Hey, Rawley, how’s it going?” Sarah asked. “Your cousin still around?”
Rawley stopped short as if he had to think about that. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Still at my house.”
“Not crowding you, huh?” Sarah asked. “Been a couple of weeks now, hasn’t it?”
“I dunno. Maybe ten days or so,” he said. “She don’t bother me none. Kinda nice, to tell the truth. Remember, I had my dad full-time for years—a young woman and little child don’t take half the care my dad did. She helps out around the place. I haven’t done a load of dirty clothes since she’s been here. Besides, she doesn’t know where she wants to go yet. She said she likes it around here. Well, she likes Elmore, anyway.”
“Where’s she from, again?”
“Seattle. But I don’t think she wants to go back there. Bad memories, I gather. She’s been talking about getting work. Hard deal when you have a kid. And there ain’t nothin’ in Elmore.”
“What kind of work?”
And suddenly Rawley seemed to light up. Shine. “She can do all kinda things. Cooking, cleaning, office work, you name it. She got herself some college degree right before she got in a relationship that didn’t work out. She studied education. She was gonna be a teacher for the real little kids, or something like that. I guess that’s what makes her such a good mom. She’s a fine mother. That little Mercy—she’s something. Real smart, real nosy.”
“Well, Rawley, I think you like having them around,” Sarah said.
Rawley shrugged. “It’s okay. I never thought I’d know what it felt like to be a grandpa.” He shrugged again. “I don’t hate it.” Then he turned and went back into the kitchen.
Sarah, Landon and Cooper exchanged smiles.
Rawley brought a second rack of clean glasses into the bar and Sarah said, “So—has your cousin looked for work around Thunder Point?”
“Not that I know about. You got something?”
“No. But Saturday is Dr. Grant’s open house for his new clinic. You should bring her. It’s not exactly a job fair, but everyone in town will be there. She could talk to people. Find out if anyone knows of any jobs or any child care or babysitting. In fact, maybe someone needs child care or babysitting. Wouldn’t that be convenient?”
Rawley thought about that for a minute. Then he said, “I’ll tell her. But I’m not much for parties or a lot of people.”
“Tell her, I’d be glad to take her,” Sarah offered. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
* * *
Devon hadn’t had a typical childhood, but it had been a safe and happy one. Devon’s mother, Rhonda, was a nurse who became close to her neighbor, Mary. Mary immediately took Rhonda under her wing knowing Rhonda was pregnant and alone. And since Mary was a day care provider working out of her home, it only followed that after Devon was born, Mary watched her while Rhonda worked. And Rhonda named Mary as Devon’s guardian, should anything happen.
And something did indeed happen. Poor Rhonda was struck by a drunk driver as she waited at the bus stop on her way home from work one evening. Devon had been only nine months old.
Devon knew Aunt Mary was not her real aunt, was not her mother’s older sister. What she didn’t know was that Mary waited tensely for years for some distant, unknown family member to appear and lay claim to Devon. She clung to that will and birth certificate with a miser’s zeal, ready to do battle with anyone who might try to take the little girl away.
Mary was old enough to be Devon’s grandmother, but she was a popular figure in the neighborhood, at their church and in Devon’s schools. She was kind, nurturing, energetic and helpful, and Devon’s friends had always loved her—especially the pizza parties and sleepovers. Mary was a great volunteer and she took responsibility as any parent would, participating in field trips and fund-raising, and when Devon was a cheerleader or on a team, Mary had never missed a game or meet. Never.
Mary had always told Devon she had pluck. And that she was tough. She was a survivor. She said the same things even when crises like Devon not making the championship girls volleyball team, or junior varsity cheerleading squad, or having to make do with a partial scholarship, instead of getting the big one. “I just won’t make it,” teenage Devon had wailed.
And Mary had said, “Girl, you will rise above this, and fast. You’re strong. Do you have any idea how many times people have to start over and make a new path? For myself, I can’t count the number of times! I buried two husbands before you were born! Lost the first in Vietnam and the second to cancer! And just when I thought my life would slide gentle into old age, who comes along but Miss Devon!” And then she would laugh and laugh. “The Lord blesses me with work and new ideas every day of my life!”
So Devon had grown up with a devoted parent and a house full of small children who were picked up by their parents by five. With the help of scholarships and part-time jobs, she’d attained a degree in early childhood education and had begun work on her Master’s when Mary first fell ill. Very ill. That’s when Devon had said, “I don’t have enough pluck for this. I’m not that strong.”
“You are if you want to be,” Mary had said. Not long after her hospitalization and subsequent death came Devon’s dark, frightening period when there was no work, not enough money for rent and the constant worry about how she would make it through the next day. She constantly reminded herself—I’m a smart, educated, hardworking person—how does this happen? She needed a miracle.
What do you need, sister? Tell me. Maybe I can help.
Why wouldn’t she love Jacob? Why wouldn’t she take to his Fellowship? She’d grown up helping to tend other peoples’ children and all she’d ever really wanted was a family of her own. Perhaps this was an unusual family by normal standards, but at least she felt safe and invulnerable. And she fell for Jacob, as did everyone else—he was not only sweet and kind but also commanding. Powerful. Charismatic. There was little doubt in her mind he was strong enough to keep all of them safe. He was just the miracle she thought she needed.
Little Mercy was quickening inside her by the time she’d been in The Fellowship for a few months. That was when she realized that Jacob was not in love with her—he was in love with everyone—or so he claimed. On reflection, Devon realized that Jacob was incapable of loving anyone but himself. As far as Devon knew, all six children in the family were biologically his and their mothers were all very special to him, all sharing his affection. Devon’s heart was broken and she was suddenly disillusioned. Who would hold her up and comfort her and support her now that she was pregnant? The only people she had were her sisters in the family.
There was Charlotte, who used to act out the children’s stories, making everyone scream with hysterical laughter. Lorna could bake like a demon and throw a softball like a pro. Priscilla, who they called Pilly, was prickly except on days following one of her visits with Jacob and for that the others teased her mercilessly. Reese was the oldest of them at thirty-five and though no one had elected her boss, she took on that role all the time, something for which the others were, by turns, either grateful or petulant enough to reduce her to tears. But Reese played an important role in the family—she was the one to deliver their children; she was a doula and a nurse. Mariah was the youngest, shyest, an innocent twenty years old, and all of them tried to shelter her from Jacob...and failed. And finally there was Laine, who hadn’t been with them long and was the most devilish, making them all laugh at themselves and at their weird family.
They squabbled, giggled, played games, sat up late with ice cream or popcorn and told stories, cried for their lost lives, raved in happy delirium for their happiness, spied on each other, sought each other for comfort.
She missed them so. Even the ones she didn’t like so much.
Mercy had been in no physical danger in the family—it was a family that loved and nurtured the children. The real danger was more subtle—having no independence, no identity, no clear choices; no view of the outside world. And then there were the men whose faces seemed to change regularly, the men who tended and moved the marijuana. The women all knew this wasn’t right, that it wasn’t just medicine, but as long as they were safe and happy they seemed comfortable turning a blind eye to the reality.
And then Jacob began to change. He seemed to move from the morally superior position in his rants to being angry, desperate and paranoid. Now that she’d read the online accounts of the investigation, it seemed obvious—he must have changed as the feds encroached and threatened his authority, turning him into a frantic and anxious man. That’s when the idea of leaving proved to be so much more difficult. He must have been afraid people who left The Fellowship would sell him out. Devon had actually thought about leaving for a long time. The minute her baby was born, Devon thought about leaving, trying to think of what she’d do, how she’d manage, because she didn’t want Mercy growing up in that compound in a pair of soft denim overalls and a long braid. But she didn’t want her to grow up hungry and afraid, either.
And now here she was, back at the beginning, living with a grandparent-type figure taking care of her in a comfortable old house in an old neighborhood.
She poured herself a cup of coffee in Rawley’s kitchen. Rawley and Mercy sat at the kitchen table together, coloring on large sheets of paper he’d brought home.
“What is it?” Mercy asked, pointing to Rawley’s drawing.
“You don’t know what that is? That’s a boat! I have to take you to town pretty soon, to the marina and show you the boats. Those fishermen catch all the fish and crab we eat.”
“How do they catch dem?”
“One of these days I’ll show you,” he told her. “And what’s that?” he asked, pointing to a scribbled picture.
“You,” she said. And then she giggled.
He studied the picture closely. Then he made a whole bunch of dots on the bottom of the drawing.
“What’s that?” Mercy asked.
“Whiskers,” he said, and then he grinned at her.
Rawley looked up at Devon. “Remember Cooper’s girl? Sarah? You met her that first morning.”
“Yes, sure.”
“She asked about you, asked if you was still around. I told her you liked it here, that you were talking about looking for work. She said you should come to the new doctor’s open house this weekend—everyone will be there. You can visit a little bit, ask around if anyone is hiring or looking for help. And you can get a feel for if anyone seems to recognize you—you’re going to have to step out of hiding if you really do want work.”
“I know,” she said. “And that’s why I left The Fellowship—I wanted to live in the world again. I wanted to read everything, hear everything, see everything. I know the world is hard and scary, I know. But, Rawley, prison is scary, too—even if it’s a fine, bountiful prison. I was a teaching assistant in an elementary school for a year—the teacher asked the eight-year-olds, ‘Would you rather be on a deserted island alone or with someone you hate?’ And one little boy answered, ‘With someone I hate so I’d have something to eat.’ We laughed so hard. But that’s what a pure, controlled, perfectly constructed and protected commune can be like. Everything is thought through, down to every chore, every meal, the schedules down to the minute, even what we wore so there’d be no competing or envy. Everything except what people feel. It’s a deserted island stocked with your favorite foods, cozy shelters, protection and comfort. And the inhabitants eventually eat each other.”
Rawley just stared at her for a long moment while Mercy scribbled on her page. Finally he said, “I gotta ask. If someone recognizes you, are you in danger?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Sometimes people left and it wasn’t given any notice, like everyone just looked the other way. Sometimes they left for good, but others would stay away for a few days and then return. I didn’t leave with permission. I was told I could not take my daughter away. But she’s my daughter.”
Rawley thought about this for a moment, then he said, “Hmm. So, you want to try the doc’s open house on Saturday?”
Again the shrug. “I have to do something. Right?”
“Devon, if you need to get farther away, like way far away, I’ll scrape up some money for a bus ticket.”
“I’m not sure what I should do. But I ask myself—why would they look for me here? Why would they look for me at all? They’re very busy—there are the gardens just starting to yield summer produce, there’s stock, there are children to tend. And they don’t like spending time on the outside. Jacob believes he’s being spied on by the government and by law enforcement, because they want his money and his property. I don’t know how true it is but that doesn’t matter—it’s what he thinks.”
“Jacob?” Rawley repeated.
“The founder. The leader of The Fellowship.” And then she gazed briefly toward Mercy.
Rawley seemed to understand at once. “Ah,” he said. “Well, you look different, Devon. You don’t stand out so much. You can be my second cousin, twice removed, takin’ refuge from a bad relationship, looking for work.”
“Think that would work?” she asked.
“I ain’t gonna kid you, chickadee—if someone from that camp of yours wanders into town and looks you square in the face, they’ll know you. But if one of ’em comes into town lookin’ for a blue-eyed blonde with a long ponytail, Thunder Point folks will say they don’t know any such person. But, you could always scream if you have to.”
“I can. And I used to run track in high school.”
That made him smile. “You got a driver’s license?”
“Had one,” she said. “When I joined The Fellowship, they took all my personal things and said they’d be stored for me. When you sneak out in the dark of night, you don’t get those things back.”
“Hmm. Guess that means you got no birth certificate.”
“Course not. But I think my driver’s license is still valid. I just don’t have it. And I memorized my Social Security Number. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re gonna have to get around, that’s why. I been working on another truck—one left to me. Eventually it’ll be as fine as that old classic red job, but for right now? It runs fine.”
* * *
When Devon and Mercy arrived at the beach bar, ready to go to the job fair, she found Sarah and Spencer sitting on the deck with coffee. She didn’t want to intrude, so she just said, “Hi. I’m here.”
“Whoa,” Spencer said, nearly jumping out of his chair. “It’s a whole new you!”
“That’s darling,” Sarah said, smiling. “Good cut—you look like a young Meg Ryan. It must’ve been hard to part with that long hair.”
“Nah, I was ready to let that go. It’s more trouble than you can imagine.” But she often found herself reaching for that long braid, running a hand down the back of her neck.
“Pull up a chair, we have time. I was just watching Cooper down on the beach.”
Rawley came out onto the deck. “If you want to leave Mercy with me, I’ll show her how we catch the fish. After Cooper gets done on the beach and comes up, we’ll go out on the dock. I’ll make sure she has a life vest.”
“I don’t want you to be stuck babysitting, Rawley,” Devon said.
“Let her go,” Spencer said. “I know how to run the bar if anyone shows up. Austin’s down there already, trying to empty the bay of fish.”
“And I think Landon’s coming in,” Sarah said. “He’ll help.”
“She can’t swim, Rawley,” Devon said nervously.
“She’s not gonna swim. She’s gonna fish. And she’s not gonna eat worms, either. I hope.” He reached for her hand and she looked up at his grizzled face and beamed. “Wanna catch some fish?” he asked her. And she nodded enthusiastically.
Sarah got up, draining her cup once she was standing. “I’m going to run upstairs and change—I’ve been out on the bay this morning. I’ll be back in a minute. Help yourself to coffee. Then we’ll make a run on Carrie’s catered delights at the open house.” And with that she was gone.
Neither Spencer nor Devon said anything until Rawley and Mercy were down the stairs and Sarah had closed the door to Cooper’s upstairs apartment. It was Spencer who said, “Rumor has it you’re thinking of sticking around awhile.”
Devon looked at him sharply. “There’s rumors about me already?”
He chuckled. “Not the scary kind, like that you dabble in witchcraft or eat puppies for breakfast. Rawley mentioned you were thinking about looking for work around here.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. Well, it all depends. I’m unknown here. If there were jobs, I’m sure people who have lived here a long time would have them.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? I’m from out of town. I came here for a job.”
“Really? What job?” Her interest was immediately piqued.
“I’m the new Athletic Director and coach at the high school.” Then he laughed. “Really, though, I’m a gym teacher in charge of gym teachers.”
She sighed audibly. “A dream job,” she said. “Is your wife athletic?”
He glanced away. “My wife passed away a few months ago. That’s why I wanted to move. Austin and I needed a fresh start.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “My gosh, I barely meet you and I put my foot in my mouth.”
“No harm done. And no, she wasn’t particularly athletic. She liked boating and a little waterskiing, but that was it. And I have to give her a lot of credit—she came to all the games I coached. Not sure she had fun,” he added with a laugh. “But she was there.”
“You must miss her so much,” she said.
“There are tough days. I try to take comfort in her relief. She fought a battle with cancer.... I’m glad that’s over for her....”
Devon swallowed hard. Yet another reminder that as bad as she thought her life to be on some days, here was a brave man who had weathered the ultimate storm—parting with a loved one who had suffered.
“And why Thunder Point? Just the job?” she asked.
“Not just the job, but I’m real happy about that. It’s a surprise, really. I was looking for something in Oregon because Cooper’s here.”
“Ah, you’re good friends....”
“We’re getting there. Cooper’s a pretty okay guy. He’s also Austin’s father.”
“I thought you were Austin’s father.”
He took a breath. “Well, it’s complicated, but here goes. We were living in Texas where I taught and coached. Just before Bridget passed away we learned that Austin is actually Cooper’s biological son. Cooper was engaged to Bridget way back—we honestly didn’t know. So we did the right thing—contacted Cooper, explained to Austin.” He gave a shrug. “So it goes. Life isn’t always cut-and-dried.”
“No kidding,” she said. Co-dads? Just what she needed—another commune. “And it’s working out?”
He gave a shrug. “So far. What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Uh-huh, you. Divorced? Widowed? And why Thunder Point?”
“Never married,” she said. “I was involved, that’s about it, and I am no longer involved. And Thunder Point was just the town at the end of the road. And, of course, Rawley is here and he’s been so kind.”
“Of course,” Spencer said. “And Mercy’s dad?”
Jeez, she thought. She’d better get used to people coming right out and speaking their minds. “Um, not a great father figure. I’m trying to keep a low profile.”
“Oh. He doesn’t know you’re here?”
“I hope not,” she said. “But he knows Mercy is with me.”
“Won’t he want you to come back to him?”
“Me?” she asked. “No, he was clear about that. We haven’t been involved in over three years. And before you pass judgment, he has other women and children—a veritable tribe. Now please, can we let the subject go?”
He frowned at her and she could read his mind. He was a single father; he would have opinions about a woman stealing away his child. He wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t be able to give her the benefit of the doubt. Nice as he seemed, she didn’t know Spencer well enough to trust him with the truth.
“All right,” Sarah announced, coming suddenly from within the bar. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“You bet,” Devon said, standing. “Let me wave to Mercy.”
“I can help with that,” Sarah said. She let go a piercing whistle and everyone on the beach, including Rawley and Mercy, turned toward the deck. They all waved at each other.
“That was awesome,” Devon said.
“Thanks. Cooper taught me.”
Four
When Sarah was slowly making her way up the road to Highway 101 with Devon in the passenger seat, she asked, “Does this outing make you nervous?”
“Oh, yes,” she confessed.
“Just take it slow—it’s not a job interview. I mean, if you hear of something promising, don’t hesitate, but probably the most important thing is just getting a feel for the Thunder Point people. They’re very nice. Sometimes nosy, but good, honest people.”
“I’ll try,” Devon said.
“Of course. Listen, I was divorced after one miserable year of marriage so I’m well aware of how hard it can be. In fact, I moved here a little over a year ago, before my divorce was even final. Getting your confidence back after something like that—it’s not easy.”
“Landon’s not your son?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “My younger brother. It’s been the two of us since he was six. Ten years of being a big sister slash single mother.”
“Wow. You did it on your own?”
“Our parents were killed in an accident—there weren’t any choices about it. And it worked out—more due to him than to my parenting skills, I’m sure. He’s a great kid.”
“And now? You’re engaged....”
That caused Sarah to glance at the ring. “I wasn’t divorced long when I met Cooper. I wasn’t going to get involved with a guy, especially one like Cooper, but he’s relentless. Thank God.”
“A guy like Cooper?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Sarah laughed. “One look at him and I took him for a player.”
“Player?” Devon asked.
“Doesn’t he, though? Look like the kind of guy who could give women a real run? But he’s not—he’s so committed, it’s almost shocking. I was the one on the run—he had trouble catching me. But I am now very, very caught. If you had told me two years ago I could be this happy, I’d say you were crazy. Out of every storm...”
Devon just listened, thinking players don’t always look the way they’re supposed to look. That sexy guy in the torn jeans and T-shirt who showed off his broad chest and muscled arms and shoulders is ready to settle down, but the one she fell for—so morally superior and always quoting scriptures—proved to be a bad choice.
“People don’t always look like who they really are.”
Sarah pulled off the highway and headed for town. “You don’t have to tell me, sister. I caught my husband banging the maid of honor. A stunning moment in my romantic history. So, this doctor’s office, this open house, it’s a small space. I’ll be close by, even if the gathering spills out onto the front sidewalk. If you do lose sight of me, I’ll be waiting at the diner across the street. All you have to do is say hello, visit a little and then let me know when you’ve had enough. And you don’t have to explain anything, even if you’re asked. You’re visiting your distant cousin because he offered, things are fine, you’re just looking around the area, you know...”
“I know,” she said, but in fact she was very grateful for this reminder. She didn’t have to answer those difficult questions—the kind Spencer asked.
Sarah parked across the street from the new Family Practice. There were some streamers and balloons and the front door was propped open. And yes, the office was small. It looked like a storefront in a row of storefronts, sitting right between the sheriff’s department and Carrie’s Deli.
The first person Devon met was Scott Grant, the new doctor, who was greeting people at the door. And the inside of his new practice was smaller than small. She counted room for ten chairs and a coffee table right inside the door, a counter with a swinging half door leading to the back. On the other side of the counter was one desk, some shelves, a desktop computer and a room divider that opened on the right side for people to pass into the back where there must be exam rooms. Though it was crowded, there was room for a small table covered by a festive tablecloth on which sat the snacks and punch bowl. This office space could easily be used for a dress shop, a greeting cards and notions store or a travel agency.
The next people she met were Carrie, her daughter, Gina, and granddaughter, Ashley. Ashley was filling cups with punch while Gina was putting out trays of bite-size sandwiches and cookies. Devon saw Carrie pull a cooler out from under the table and withdraw a storage container filled with a variety of hors d’oeuvres, which were then placed into a cute arrangement on a large tray.
There was a little polite small talk. She met Gina’s boss, Stu, who owned the diner; Gina’s husband, Mac, the town deputy; and a couple of neighboring business owners. Having noticed a few people wandering around in the back of the clinic area, Devon couldn’t resist. It was, after all, an open house. She walked behind the room divider and what she found was a series of cubicles and she knew what they were for. There was a treatment room with a bed, counter, sink, chair, supplies. Then another exam room. She found what must be the doctor’s office—there was a desk and shelves laden with books, and the door actually closed for privacy. There was what could pass for a very small break room containing a little table and two chairs, refrigerator, microwave, cupboards and sink.
Then she heard Sarah’s voice asking the doctor when he would be open for business. “Monday. I’m planning on being open Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday—but I’ll come in if someone needs me. I’m keeping some E.R. hours in Bandon,” he said, then laughed. “I’m working in Bandon to afford this practice. I still have some equipment on the way—most of it is small and portable for now. I doubt I’ll ever have an X-ray but I have a small lab and can do simple tests here. It’s a very compact little setup. And I’m planning to run some specials.”
“Oh?” Sarah asked him.
“Cut-rate school and sports physicals and, in the fall, ten-dollar flu shots.” Devon smiled as she noticed his chest puff up a little.
It was sweet, she thought. Handsome young doctor, brand-new practice, good ideas for bringing in new patients.
“Who’s helping you?” Sarah asked.
“I’m doing everything myself, so far. I need an R.N. or, even better, a physician’s assistant, but no one really wants to work for a part-time practice, and I’m afraid it’ll be a while before I can give up the Bandon E.R. to keep this place open six days a week. I can cover for a good nurse, but the paperwork is going to kill me. What I really need is a top-notch office manager, one who can triage patient needs and keep the forms moving whether I’m here or not.”
“Well, I’m going to be out of work by the end of the summer, but I have no idea what a person does in a doctor’s office,” Sarah responded.
But I do, Devon thought. It had been a long time, but she’d been a clerical worker in a small neighborhood doctor’s office. She knew how to keep charts organized and up-to-date, file insurance claims, schedule appointments, all that sort of thing. She wondered if she’d find the courage to put herself out there. And just as she was considering this, she was snagged by a woman.
“So, you’re the new girl. From Seattle, I hear.”
Devon looked around a little nervously and the woman laughed.
“Believe me, there’s only one new girl that I know of,” she said. “How do you like the town?”
“I’ve hardly seen it,” Devon said.
“I’m Lou McCain. That’s my nephew, the big guy who won’t leave Gina alone. Come with me, I want to know all about you.”
The woman turned, clearly expecting to be followed, and Devon did so. She wasn’t about to argue.
Lou sat down on one of the chairs in the small waiting room and patted the chair beside her. Devon took the chair obediently, hoping this woman didn’t ask difficult questions because she would be impossible to refuse.
“Your name?”
“Oh,” she said, and laughed self-consciously. “Devon. How do you do.”
“Splendid, thank you. Now, tell me all about yourself. Where are you from? What brought you to Thunder Point? How long will you stay? What do you do?” Then she laughed. “I’m sorry—I’m used to dealing with middle-school kids and my nephew’s kids, who I help raise. I’m an eighth grade English teacher. It’s made me very direct. Kids that age live by the ‘literal minimal’ law—if you give them a question they can answer with one word, they will.”
So will I, Devon thought.
“I grew up in Seattle. I’ve been kind of a...well, I was in a relationship, but I wasn’t married. I was...ah...you know.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m still single at just a titch over sixty. Never married. However, I’ve had a relationship or two along the way. Just maybe more than two. Never lived with a man, however. I’m thinking about it now, though. My nephew just got married and Gina has moved in with us. It’s very fun, but we are bursting at the seams. And I do have this wonderful... Oh, you don’t want to know about that....”
“Sure I do,” Devon said.
“But where are you staying, darling?” Lou asked.
“My very distant cousin, Mr. Rawley Goode,” she said. “Just when I didn’t know where to go or what to do, he offered me a place. And it gives me time to think about what to do next.” Then she smiled. “I’m also a teacher, though it’s been years.”
“Really? What age?”
“I have a degree in early childhood development. I’d just gotten started on my master’s when I was...sidetracked, I guess you could say. I became a mother.”
Lou smiled. “It sounds like you made good use of your time. We could use a preschool here. Desperately so. But the town can’t afford it and paying tuition would be something most people here could not afford. A couple of people have run the numbers but the bottom line wasn’t good.”
“But is there a day care?” Devon asked.
Right at that moment a young woman entered the office holding the hands of two preschoolers. She was welcomed warmly and Dr. Grant came from the back to greet them. He seemed very happy to see them; he picked up the little girl and ruffled the little boy’s hair.
“The doctor’s children,” Lou explained. “Very cute. They’re three and four. And yours is...?”
“My daughter is three,” she said. “Right now she’s fishing off the dock with Rawley.”
“Day care, you asked,” Lou reminded her. “There are a couple of women in town who babysit in their homes for working parents, but no official day care center. People tend to rely on friends, neighbors and family for that sort of thing. Will you be looking for a sitter?”
“If I manage to find a job, I will,” she said. “How long have you lived here?” Devon asked Lou.
“Here? A little over four years, but I grew up not far from here in Coquille and lived there all my life until Mac took this assignment. As I’m sure you’ve been told, he’s the law in this little town—Sheriff’s deputy with a few other deputies that work for him. It’s a little office, right next door. I’ll be honest—I didn’t want to move, but I’m glad I did. I love the school where I teach and I’ve made good friends.”
“I don’t suppose they’re looking for a kindergarten teacher?”
Lou put a hand on hers. “Not that I know of, sweetheart. But there are a lot of schools in other towns not too far away.”
“I’ll have to call around. I’ve been at Rawley’s house for almost two weeks. I’d better either find a job or move on.”
“Where would you go?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Not back to Seattle?”
“No. I don’t have any family there anymore. I think it’s time for a fresh start. Somewhere.”
“A fresh start as a single mom,” Lou said with a warm smile. “How exciting!”
Devon felt her stomach clench. “Exciting?”
“Yes, exciting!”
Devon just shook her head. “I don’t know. My future looks pretty uncertain right now. And before my daughter came along, I had some pretty lean times....”
“In my life, there seemed to have been cycles—for five to ten years things were up, then followed a long struggle, then things would swing up again. Up and down. I don’t think life is very consistent. But the secret is knowing there’s no limit to the number of times you can reinvent yourself!”
* * *
As the little doctor’s office got busier and more crowded, Devon excused herself and told Sarah she wanted to walk around the town a bit and would be back.
It wasn’t a new or highly polished town, but it was pretty. Devon walked down the sidewalk in one direction then crossed the street and went the other way. She passed lots of small shops, taking note of a store that sold secondhand clothes. There were pots of geraniums hanging from lampposts, window boxes holding roses, and while some of these stores had peeling paint, others looked freshly scrubbed and painted. She peeked inside the diner, an old-fashioned establishment with booths and counter stools. All that seemed missing was a jukebox. She headed down the street toward the marina.
All she had seen from Cooper’s was a marina with some boats, but it was so far across the beach she wasn’t sure what kind of boats there were or how many there were. She was surprised to see big fishing boats, trawlers, sailboats, crabbers. She walked down the street that led to the boat launch and dock. There was a big restaurant at the west end of the marina.
She felt the beach pulling her. It was like seeing a movie from her former life. There was a woman jogging down the beach, reminding Devon she used to love running. She ran track in high school. She saw a volleyball net set up down the beach and a few people batting the ball around. Out on the water were a couple of people on paddleboards and one kayaker heading out toward the mouth of the bay where the frothing Pacific waited. The surrounding hills were steep and rocky and beyond this protected bay, mountains rose in the distance.
It felt like a pocket of safety. And people were living. Having fun. Being part of the real world where everything was not limited or controlled. Devon made up stories about them in her head. The woman was jogging on her day off; the paddleboarders were on a date; the volleyball players were high school or college students; the kayaker was... Wow, she realized it was Landon! He was working his arms and shoulders like a demon.
As she traversed the beach and neared the volleyball game, a runaway ball came close to her. She dashed for the ball. She flipped it into the air and served it back to the players with all her strength, sending it sailing a great distance.
“Whoa!” one of the boys shouted. “Lady, you’re on my team!”
Devon laughed gaily and gave them a wave.
In her former life, she’d worked while attending school and she’d lived with Aunt Mary. She had belonged to a gym. She liked to run, play summer softball with friends, go to ball games and clubs. She hadn’t had much of a savings account and she’d had to supplement her scholarships with loans, but that was the life of a student. It was fun and fulfilling and tense and pressured and exciting. It was normal.
In Jacob’s world Tuesday would look like Monday had—the only variable was the weather. They worked. They were not without their own kind of fun, but it was very odd and lopsided. No one pulled on their spandex and went outside the fence and jogged down the road. They didn’t load up in a car and head for the movies or the library or the coffee shop. They were all in good shape because their work was hard and physical but it was rare that they took a break from work to throw a ball around. Sometimes they’d get a little game of hide-and-seek going and let it go out of control. Most of their diversion was just a private thing between the women—popcorn, stories, a food fight in the kitchen while making cookies late at night.
But not only was there very little change, there was very little possible. Jacob’s plan was simple: everyone would be safe and well cared for inside his walls and under his domination. Big Daddy. The world would end, but they would be safe together. They did not need to think as individuals or to have personal goals; they would not experience the heartbreak or the triumph of success in the mean real world.
There’s no limit to the number of times you can reinvent yourself!
The volleyball came back at her and she served it back at the players again, better than before, and they cheered! She danced around a little for them, arms in the air. And for the first time since leaving the family she thought, Maybe it’s not a choice between either yielding my free will and identity to The Fellowship, or experiencing complete devastation and danger on my own. Maybe there is a place in the middle. Maybe she could have her own life again! Why not? Not everyone in the world lived in a commune run by a controlling, bible-beating, drug-dealing man!
She looked at Cooper’s place and saw him. He was on the deck, leaning on the rail, watching her.
It was time to go back. She turned and went back across the beach to town. She peeked in the diner and when she saw Sarah and Lou sitting there with another woman, she went in. She was introduced to Ray Anne, a small, compact blonde about the same age as Lou but so different in appearance—bleached hair, sexy clothes and flashy, while Lou was attractive in a much more sedate and conservative way.
“Sarah, I want to talk with the doctor for a second before we leave. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, Devon,” Sarah said, looking a little bewildered.
Taking a couple of deep breaths as she crossed the street, she went back into the open house. The crowd had thinned a little. Dr. Grant was talking to Mac, Lou’s nephew. Dr. Grant held his daughter on his hip. She stood back a bit, a little nervous, until both men stopped talking and turned her way, their brows raised in question.
“Dr. Grant, I’ve been looking for openings, for work, and as it happens I’ve worked in a doctor’s office. It’s been a long time, just over five years, and I was only part-time, but I know how to do all the things a medical secretary does. I answered the phones, I’m up to speed on HIPAA regulation, have filed insurance claims, scheduled appointments, all that. The doctor said I did a good job, but she closed her practice. It was just less than a year of experience but it was an ob-gyn practice and there are hardly any crazier, more demanding patients, especially with a doctor who gets called out a lot for deliveries, leaving people waiting. So, if you’re looking for someone... I mean, would you consider me? If there’s no one else? I heard you say you didn’t have anyone and...”
He smiled at her. “I’d love to talk about it,” he said. “Can you come to the office Monday morning?”
She let out her breath. Even though she was well aware he might not find her qualified, she felt as though she’d just shed thirty pounds! “Yes,” she said. “If you’re sure...”
“I’d love to hear more about your short career in obstetrics,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll be here by eight and stay till five or so. Anytime you’re free.”
“Thank you,” she said in a breath. “I’ll, ah, see you. Monday. Yes. And thanks for letting me come to your open house!”
“I’m glad you stopped in.”
* * *
After better than a year of pounding the pavement looking for work in Seattle, followed by four years in a commune, Devon had a job interview. All those old feelings of vulnerability and fear rose to the surface once again.
She had worried all weekend about what to say, how to say it, how to talk about her work history with that long five-year gap and not come off looking like some freak or loser. She had learned during her struggle to find employment that many people thought the poor, jobless, homeless citizens were all drunks, addicts, lazy or lunatics. They didn’t recognize how many of them were senior citizens, war veterans and other victims of the failing economy. The high rate of business closures and escalating unemployment rate made it tough for anyone to find work. Many of the jobless were well educated and hardworking, just like herself.
Though she was very nervous about her meeting with Dr. Grant, she was also determined. And it was Rawley who gave her the courage to see it through. He said, “Listen here, miss. If you find yourself a job, it’s a start. And if you don’t get the job, it don’t matter. We’ll go on the same, and you’ll just try again.”
“I just don’t know why you’re so kind to me, a perfect stranger,” she said.
“Like I told you before, I been on your end of things and I have a lot to pay back. And two, you ain’t hardly a stranger anymore.”
She left Mercy with Rawley at the beach bar. Cooper gave her a lift across the beach to town first thing in the morning. She was waiting when Dr. Grant unlocked his office door. He was surprised and seemed pleased to see her. While he brewed some coffee in that tiny break room, they chatted about general things—how she liked the beach, the town, the people she’d met. She asked him how long he’d been in Thunder Point and was very surprised to learn he’d only been in Oregon for about a year, working in Bandon, and had found a house to rent in Thunder Point only a month ago. He had come from Vancouver.
“And I’m originally from Seattle,” she said. “That’s where I grew up.”
When the coffee was brewed they sat down at the small table and Dr. Grant explained that he needed someone who was comfortable doing a wide variety of tasks. He was looking for someone who could manage the office; field phone calls; keep ahead of the paperwork; schedule patients; call in prescriptions and keep the office open six days a week, even though he would only be in for four of those days.
“I have two small children, my wife is deceased and I have another part-time job in Bandon. I need someone with good management skills to help me make the best use of my time, so that I can take care of my family responsibilities. And it goes without saying I need someone who’s good with people.”
“The woman who brought your children to the open house—I thought she must be your wife?” Devon asked.
“My babysitter,” he said with a laugh. “I’d be lost without her. Her name is Gabriella and I’ve known her and her family for a long time. So—this job? Is this something you think you can do?”
Devon stood and pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket.
“Resume?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I made a list of all the things I remember doing for Dr. Stadler. Imogene Stadler, if you want to try to locate her. She closed her office and joined an OB group, which left several of us out of work.” Then Devon detailed for Dr. Grant her extensive list of experience—filing; transcribing; writing prescriptions for the doctor to sign; taking patient histories; processing referrals; answering phones, to name a few. “There were times I was needed in the exam room as a chaperone and I learned to hand instruments to the doctor. I also went through lab tests, put results in charts and generally made sure Dr. Stadler had what she needed. Then there were things that just happened unexpectedly—the doctor’s seven-year-old threw up at school and I went to get her. We had an elderly patient suffer a stroke in the waiting room—and I swear it was nothing I did! I called more than one ambulance—a good number of OB patients want to see the doctor to ask if they’re really in labor. Never a good idea. If you have to ask...” She shrugged. Then she handed him the paper. “That’s everything I can remember. It’s been five years.”
He took the page and glanced at it. “Great. You appear to be well qualified.”
“I have a degree from the University of Washington—early childhood development. I was a teacher’s aide in kindergarten very briefly. It was a private school and it closed when funding ran out.”
“Is that your goal? To teach again?”
“I did love it, but these days any job is a good job. And I also liked working in the doctor’s office very much.”
“I think you’re just the person I’m looking for,” he said with a smile.
“Well, maybe not,” she said, bolstering herself. She sat straighter in her chair and lifted her chin. “I have a three-year-old and no babysitter. Yet, that is—I decided to find work before I looked for a sitter.”
He smiled at her. “That isn’t going to be a problem. I can help you with that.”
“Oh. That would be amazing. There is one thing I think you should know, though. My lifestyle before coming here wasn’t...typical. I lived with a group of people for four years. I worked very hard, and was very motivated, but I was mainly a domestic and a mother. And when I left, I left with no money and the clothes on my back. Mr. Rawley Goode, a distant cousin, has given us a place to stay.” Then she looked down.
Dr. Grant said nothing for a while. When she looked up, his face was gentle. “I take it you left a bad situation.”
She nodded. “I left before it became worse, before my daughter paid the price.”
“We’ll keep this between us if you like. But a word of advice, Devon. Never feel embarrassed about taking your life back.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d like to hire you for a trial period. I have to protect the practice, so I’ll have to do a background check, just to make sure you’re not a criminal or wanted or anything that would put us in jeopardy. You’ll have access to prescriptions and drugs and I have to be diligent.”
She smiled at him. “I’ve never even had a traffic ticket. And I never have taken drugs—unless you count beer. I was a college student once, after all.”
“Understood,” he said, smiling back. “If you check out and if you do a good job of managing the office, we’re a team. All of this could take as long as a month. I’ll start you at this salary,” he said, writing a figure on a notepad, sliding it toward her. Six hundred a week! Her mouth fell open and she blinked. “If all goes well and everything checks out, I’ll double your pay in a month.”
Her hand actually went to her heart and she fought the urge to go limp. “But...but what about work clothes...I don’t... I can’t...”
“I’ll get you a uniform. A couple of sets of nurse’s scrubs. You’ll need white tennis shoes.”
“I can do that.”
“Do you need an advance on your pay?”
“No, but... Well, to do a background and check my employment and college transcripts, you’ll have to look for the name Devon Anne McAllister. I’ve been concerned that someone is looking for me. I don’t know that for sure, but someone...the man I lived with could come looking for me. If he were to ask people...”
Scott Grant was frowning. “Were you abused, Devon?”
Clear-eyed and calm, she answered, “He forbade me to leave. We weren’t married but he said I was free to go without my daughter. Of course I couldn’t do that. I left without his approval.”
Scott Grant folded his hands on the small table. “You’re clear now, aren’t you? That’s abuse? Right?”
“It could be a lot of things, I guess.”
“Should you talk to Deputy McCain about your experience?” he asked.
“No, I should try to get on with my life.”
“If I understand the law, you are, as the mother, the assumed custodial parent in an unmarried situation. The biological father has rights, and he can assert those rights legally. But preventing you from removing your child from his home would be considered custodial interference. Now, if you refused to acknowledge his legal rights, you would be guilty of the same. But this is a court matter.”
She shook her head. “He will never go near a lawyer or courtroom.”
“I see. Well. Before we start working together, I’d like us to make an agreement. I’ll help you as much as I can. I’d like you to give me your word—if you discover this man is looking for you, I want you to talk to Mac. He’s a good man. You can trust him. He would know what advice to give you.”
She nodded. “I can agree to that. I’d rather just put it all in the past.”
“Understandable.” He sipped from his cup. “So? Tomorrow at eight?”
“You weren’t planning on working on Tuesdays,” she reminded him.
“Tomorrow will be different. We’ll call it orientation. Bring your daughter and we’ll take her to my house together to meet Gabriella. I’ll check with her tonight, but I have no doubt she’ll be happy to take on one more three-year-old. I think the kids will like having a playmate. I think it will work for you.”
“Do you know how much she’ll charge?” she asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know, but Gabriella is very nurturing and reasonable. We’ll talk about it with her in the morning.”
“Okay. Yes, that’s wonderful.” When Devon stood, she found her legs were weak, her knees shaky. She put out her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for giving me this chance. I promise I’ll do a good job.” She took a breath. She was exhausted. She smiled tremulously. “That took more energy than you can imagine.”
He stood as well, taking her hand. “You’ve had some struggles, haven’t you, Devon?”
“You have no idea,” she said on a breath.
“Then I’m glad I can be the one to offer you a chance to turn things around. From this moment on, it’s all up to you.”
Five
As Devon walked back across the beach, her spirits rose with each step. In her previous life, things had been so impossible! And now, at her very first try at finding a job, she was found acceptable. In fact Dr. Grant said “highly qualified”! It was beyond her imagination. She had tears running down her cheeks before she even realized it. She wiped at them impatiently.
When she was halfway across the beach, she stopped and looked out past the big rocks to the Pacific. There was a boat out there, a mere spec on the horizon. Sarah’s brother was on his paddleboard and it appeared he had a young boy along for the ride. The sun was high and bright; the air almost balmy. She passed a young mother with two small children playing on the beach, a stroller and a little cooler beside her towel. Mercy would like that—to be able to play and read and romp on the beach under a warm summer sun.
And she thought, God, if I’m lucky enough to make a life for myself and my child in this small place, I swear I will never complain about anything again!
She was halfway up the beach stairs when she saw him again. Spencer was just coming down. As he made to pass her on the stairs, he frowned and stopped. He reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. “You all right?”
He must have noticed her tears. She wiped her cheeks and smiled a little. “I got a job,” she said in a faint whisper. She cleared her throat and tried that again. Louder. Stronger. “I got a job!”
He smiled at her. “Good for you. Where?”
“In the doctor’s office. Full-time!”
He just laughed, silently.
She pushed past him and ran the rest of the way up the stairs and into the bar. There was just Cooper behind the bar, putting things away. She knew her smile was huge and her cheeks bright with excitement. “Where is Rawley?”
“Well, now. Looks like that job interview went well,” Cooper said with a smile. “They’re in the kitchen. Rawley is making bread with Mercy—a first. I hope she’s taken charge. He’s never done that before.”
With a laugh, she darted into the kitchen. With a stool propped up to the counter, Mercy was kneading green dough, rolling it out and making snakes. “What are you two doing?” she asked.
“Mercy said she was good at making bread and pie crust,” Rawley explained. “I thought green would be fun.” He wiped his hands. “How’d it go?”
“I got it,” she said in a near whisper. “I start tomorrow. And unless there’s some problem I don’t know about, I can share Dr. Grant’s babysitter. He’s a single father with two little kids, so he knows it can get complicated for single parents.”
“Good for you,” he said. “How’s ’at feel?”
“Oh, Rawley, you can’t imagine.” Her eyes teared up again. “All weekend I prepared myself for the inevitable—that he wouldn’t find me qualified. Or even that I wouldn’t look the part. You just can’t imagine...”
He turned to grab his coffee. “I reckon I can imagine.”
“I should...ah...look around for a place of my own,” she said.
He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a half smile. “That so? Last time I looked, you didn’t have no truck full o’ furniture.”
“Maybe there’s something furnished,” she said. “We don’t need much.”
“You do that if you want to, but it ain’t necessary. I got used to the two of you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were cousins. Family. Ain’t hardly had any family. My mother, she passed when I was barely a man. I had no brothers or sisters and, don’t tell anyone, but there ain’t never been cousins. And there sure weren’t no woman who could stand a crazy old vet like me.”
Devon just laughed. She put a hand on his arm, bringing a slight blush to his cheeks. “You’re the furthest thing from crazy I know.”
“Is ’at right? Well, don’t tell Cooper. He thinks he’s doing me a good deed, keeping me in the bar like this, giving me work because I’m an odd one.”
“You’re not,” she said. “And I think Mercy loves you a little bit. I should pay you rent at least,” Devon said.
Rawley sipped his coffee then put down his cup. He leveled old blue eyes at her. “Here’s the deal, missy. I know how important it is to you to be independent—you wasted no time telling me. What I’d like most of all is for you to find your way. You had a trial or two getting this far, you have a kid...it’s high time your luck changes a little bit. It would do me good, being part of someone’s luck changing. It’ll probably do me more good than you. That old house is paid off. If you want to help with food, you go on ahead.”
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Robyn Carr
The Thunder Point seriesThe Hero - Book 3With warmth and sensitivity, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr shows readers that falling in love can be the bravest act of all.In a moment of desperation, Devon McAllister takes her daughter and flees a place where they should have been safe and secure. She has no idea what is around the next bend, but she is pretty certain it can't be worse than what they've left behind. Her plan is to escape to somewhere she can be invisible. Instead, an unexpected offer of assistance leads her to Thunder Point, a tiny Oregon town with a willingness to help someone in need.As the widowed father of a vulnerable young boy, Spencer Lawson knows something about needing friendship. But he's not looking for anything else. Instead, he's thrown his energy into his new role as Thunder Point's high school football coach. Tough and demanding to his team, off the field he's gentle and kind…just the kind of man who could heal Devon's wounded heart.Devon thought she wanted to hide from the world. But in Thunder Point, you find bravery where you least expect it…and sometimes, you find a hero…
With warmth and sensitivity, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr shows readers that falling in love can be the bravest act of all.
In a moment of desperation, Devon McAllister takes her daughter and flees a place where they should have been safe and secure. She has no idea what is around the next bend, but she is pretty certain it can’t be worse than what they’ve left behind. Her plan is to escape to somewhere she can be invisible. Instead, an unexpected offer of assistance leads her to Thunder Point, a tiny Oregon town with a willingness to help someone in need.
As the widowed father of a vulnerable young boy, Spencer Lawson knows something about needing friendship. But he’s not looking for anything else. Instead, he’s thrown his energy into his new role as Thunder Point’s high school football coach. Tough and demanding to his team, off the field he’s gentle and kind...just the kind of man who could heal Devon’s wounded heart.
Devon thought she wanted to hide from the world. But in Thunder Point, you find bravery where you least expect it…and sometimes, you find a hero.
Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author
and USA TODAY bestselling author
“No one can do small-town life like Carr.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Wanderer
“Strong conflict, humor and well-written characters
are Carr’s calling cards, and they’re all present here....You won’t want to put this one down.”
—RT Book Reviews on Angel’s Peak
“This story has everything: a courageous,
outspoken heroine, a to-die-for hero and a plot that
will touch readers’ hearts on several different levels. Truly excellent.”
—RT Book Reviews on Forbidden Falls
“An intensely satisfying read.
By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional,
it won’t soon be forgotten.”
—RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley
“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”
—Library Journal on the Virgin River series
“The Virgin River books are so compelling—
I connected instantly with the characters
and just wanted more and more and more.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author
Debbie Macomber
The Hero
Robyn Carr
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
It’s with pride and gratitude that I dedicate this book
to Terri and Dave Miller, forever heroes in my eyes
and to countless other people.
Contents
Chapter One (#u1b11ab32-0116-50a7-b6b7-2411f8b0ee42)
Chapter Two (#u1397a95d-8dc2-53fc-bd04-84d6b7d9f5c0)
Chapter Three (#ud73e1745-16e8-508b-b666-4803fbc0f288)
Chapter Four (#u271147de-c3e2-548b-8a70-b2ba44fe9151)
Chapter Five (#uadc77f0e-bd8c-5e59-8251-13a69cb8ccb7)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Devon McAllister walked down a tree-lined back road, not really sure where she was but certain that she was far away from the family compound. She felt safe enough that she no longer took cover when she heard a vehicle approach. She’d been walking for at least eight hours and saw the first rays of light coming over the mountains behind her. This reassured her that she was traveling west, toward the coast. She carried her three-year-old daughter, Mercy, and a backpack stuffed with a few items of clothing and forty dollars that had been given to her by the kindhearted stranger who had given her a ride.
She was exhausted but would not stop to rest until she reached Highway 101. Every so often she would put Mercy down and hold her hand, but that made the walking unbearably slow. When she heard a vehicle, she just kept her head down, staring at the ground.
It was a truck—it drove past them, but then it stopped up ahead. It was cranberry-red and old, but in mint condition. A man got out and yelled to her. “Miss? Need a ride?”
She walked toward the vehicle. “Am I close to Highway 101?” she asked.
“I’m going that way. I’m on my way to work,” he said. “I can give you a lift.”
He was an older guy. He wore a red, white and blue ball cap and his cheeks and chin were stubbled in places that he’d missed with his razor. Though it was June, he wore a jacket. The early morning was misty, which told her she must be in a valley near the Pacific. “Where are you headed?” Devon asked.
“Thunder Point,” he said. “It’s a very small town on the coast in Coos County. I work at a beach bar and I open the place in time for breakfast. Been there a few years now. It’s mostly fishing towns around there.”
Well, she’d gotten out of Douglas County, but she wasn’t sure where Coos County was. She didn’t know where anything was—she rarely left the compound and had never been to any of the small coastal towns. Still, she knew that Highway 101 stretched as far north and south as she needed to get. Highway 5 was bigger and closer to the compound and if anyone was looking for a couple of runaways hitching rides, they’d probably start there. “How close to 101 is your town?”
“Plenty close. Want me to drop you there?”
She walked toward the truck. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re sure?”
“No trouble,” he said.
She put her backpack in the truck bed. Holding Mercy on her lap, she buckled them in together. She kept her head down, her hands tucked between her knees.
“Name’s Rawley Goode,” he said. She said nothing. “You got a name?”
“Devon,” Devon said. She shouldn’t use her real name. What if someone came poking around, asking if anyone had seen a woman named Devon? But she was almost too tired to lie. Not to mention nervous. At least she hadn’t said Sister Devon.
“Well, you’re not an escaped convict, are you, Devon?” he asked.
She looked at him. “Is there a prison around here?”
He smiled. “Just kidding,” he said. “Where you headed?”
For lack of a better answer she said, “Seattle. Eventually.”
He whistled. “You’re a long ways from there. What brings you to this old back road?”
She shrugged. “It’s where I was dropped off, but I’m heading for 101.”
“You hitchin’ rides?”
She nodded. Her ride over the mountain had been planned, but was kept secret. “Yes, 101 will have more traffic,” she said.
“Unless the police see you. Then it could get complicated.”
“I’ll watch.”
Devon wasn’t really headed to Seattle, but she just said that because that was where she came from originally. She thought there might be a shelter or charity of some kind in one of the bigger towns on the coast. “I don’t know this area very well. Is there a town or city near Highway 101 that’s pretty big? Big enough that it might have a shelter or maybe a hostel?” she asked him.
“Couple,” Rawley replied. “Listen, I have an idea. You decide exactly where you need to go and I’ll fix you up with transportation. How’s that?”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
“I been in your spot, hitchin’ rides, lookin’ for the easiest way to get from here to there, takin’ a little help sometimes. I normally went to the VA when I needed a little assistance.” He paused. “You got room for a little breakfast? ’Cause that’s my job in the morning—perking the coffee, warming up egg sandwiches, watching the sun come over the mountains. It’s not far from the highway, neither. I could show you a map while you and the little one eat something.”
“No, thank you. I have a couple of apples for later.”
“I know that look of no money,” he said. “Been wearin’ it and seein’ it for forty years now. No charge for the map. Or the breakfast. Then I’ll give you a ride to wherever you need to go to catch your next ride. It ain’t no gamble. I admit, I ain’t always been the best person in the world, but I ain’t yet done nobody harm. You can hang on to those apples.”
* * *
Rawley didn’t know for certain, but he was pretty sure the young woman was from The Fellowship—a small religious compound along the river in Douglas County. She was wearing their “uniform” or “habit” of overalls, sturdy shoes, long-sleeved T-shirt with one button at the neck and a long, thick, single braid down her back. He’d donated to the group a couple of times himself and had noticed that the women were all attired the same while the few men in evidence all wore their own combinations of jeans, plaid or chambray shirts, hats and down vests. A few months back, when Cooper had been renovating the old bait shop and turning it into a first-rate bar and café, Rawley had taken the used industrial-size washers and dryers, along with a lot of kitchen wares they couldn’t use, over to The Fellowship compound.
They were a private bunch, but he knew they had a roadside stand near their compound where they sold produce, quilts and woven goods. He’d only stopped once and had seen a group of them gathered around the stall, the women doing the business and the men helping with the heavy work, but mainly just presiding over everything. And he’d seen a few of them wandering around the Farmers’ Market in Myrtle Creek where they sometimes had a stand, again the women together in a tight knot and the men following along or standing behind them, watching.
He had never given the group a second thought until this morning when he found the young woman and her child walking down the deserted road at dawn. Now he wondered what that group was all about. Beautiful, young, smiling, soft-spoken women apparently watched over by big, silent men who were clearly in charge.
The girl seemed skittish, so Rawley played his cards close to his vest. As they drove the twenty minutes to the beach at Thunder Point he kept the conversation light, only saying things like Gonna be a right fine day and Fog’ll burn off the water early today and Should get up around seventy degrees, and that’s a heat wave on the ocean.
She kept very quiet, offering the occasional Mmm-hmm but nothing more. Her little girl rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and a couple of times they whispered quietly to each other. As they drove down the hill toward the bar she saw, for the first time, the beach sheltered by the rocky coastline, the bay studded with giant rocks and the fog at the mouth of the bay just lifting. All she said was, “Wow.”
“Pretty, ain’t she?” Rawley replied.
Moments later they arrived at the bar. Rawley parked out back behind the building and used his key to open the place up. It was 6:00 a.m.
“Come on inside, sit up at the bar and I’ll put on the coffee and heat up some eggs. Got some fruit, too. And Cooper, the owner, he likes his Tony Tigers—you or the little one like Frosted Flakes?”
“Anything is very generous,” she said. “And appreciated.”
“Like I said, I passed your way plenty of times. I got a lot to pay back.”
As he turned to get things started, Rawley noticed the coffee was already brewing. He looked out the window and saw a lone man out on the still bay on a paddleboard. That would be Cooper, getting in a little early morning exercise. And as he watched, a Razor ATV came across the beach with a big black-and-white Great Dane riding shotgun—Sarah, Cooper’s woman, must have a day off from the Coast Guard.
Good, he thought. Cooper and Sarah would be out on the water for a while. That would give him enough time to figure out what to do with Devon. Because obviously something needed to be done. A woman and a small child with a single backpack out walking the back roads at dawn with no money and no plan... It didn’t take a genius...
He wet a cloth with warm water and handed it to Devon in case she wanted to wipe the grime of the road from her hands and face, and she did so. Then wiped off her daughter’s hands and face, muttering a very soft “thank you” as she put down the cloth.
Rawley got started with the food. He put out a fruit plate, a box of Frosted Flakes, two bowls, utensils, a carton of milk, a couple of small glasses. Then he pulled two egg sandwiches out of the cooler and popped them in the microwave.
Devon served her little girl, sharing everything. When the egg sandwiches arrived she gave voice to her thoughts—“So much food.”
“Traveling makes a person hungry,” Rawley said. And then he poured himself a cup of coffee. While they tucked into their breakfast he wandered out to the deck to think. He wanted to see where Cooper and Sarah were, and give Devon and her little girl time to get some food in their stomachs. If he watched them eat, they’d try not to eat too much—a man who’d been hungry and had taken charity knew this.
Hamlet, the Great Dane, was tied to the dock while Sarah paddled out to join Cooper on the bay. Rawley propped open the doors to the deck so Cooper would know he was on duty and that the place was open for business. A few moments later as he stood on the deck with his cup of coffee, Cooper waved. Rawley lifted a hand back. Then he watched them glide over the calm water, chasing the fog out of the bay.
By the time he went back inside, Devon and her little girl had put away a good deal of food and that made him smile. He went back behind the bar with his coffee. “Fill you up?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” she said, giving her mouth a pat. “If you’ll write down your name and address for me, I’ll try to repay the kindness when I’m able.”
“I’d rather you pass it on, Devon,” he said. “That’s what I try to do when I can.”
“Of course. I’ll do that, too.”
“So. Looking for a larger town? One with a shelter?”
“That seems a good place for me to start,” she said.
“Mind if I ask? What put you in these straits?”
She took a breath and stroked her daughter’s back. “It’s not complicated. I lost my job and couldn’t find another. I got some benefits and food stamps, but it wasn’t enough to pay the rent and I didn’t have family to take me in. So, here I am.”
“What kind of work you lookin’ for?” Rawley asked.
Devon laughed a little bit. “I’ve been working since I was fifteen, I can do a lot of things. Office work, waitress work, worked in a nursing home for a while. I even worked on a farm. I cleaned, cooked, worked in child care a lot—once I was a teaching assistant in a preschool. I went to college. But none of those things paid enough to keep me and Mercy comfortable. I had a boyfriend, but he left. See?” she finished, tilting her head to one side. “Pretty simple. Just rotten timing. Bad luck.”
Rawley leaned on the bar. “You know, there’s this place on the river. Some kind of religious group. They call themselves The Fellowship. I could drive you out there, see if they’d take you in for a while, fix you up with some—”
“No!” she said hotly. “Please, no! If you could just give me a lift to the highway.”
He held up a callused hand. “Shh,” he said. “Devon, I know you’re from there. I don’t know why and you don’t have to tell me, but it’s pretty clear you needed to be out of the place if you’d drag your kid out in the dark of night and walk over a mountain.” He frowned. “She is your kid, ain’t she?”
“Of course!” She looked down. “I got a ride over the mountain. I should just get going....”
The child looked like her mother. Rawley was just checking. “Just sit. I can help you out here. You and the little one would be safe while you figure things out. You don’t have to be out on the highway, takin’ your chances.”
She just looked at him with those big blue eyes, her peachy lips parted. Her daughter continued to move Frosted Flakes around in her bowl, apparently oblivious to the conversation. “Why?” she whispered.
“I told you why. You need details? There was this war you’re too young to even know about and I came home a mess and no one wanted any part of me, of any of us. A lot of us wandered, just trying to forget or get the noise in our heads to stop. We had the VA but folks didn’t even know how to help Vietnam vets. Like I said, I took a lot of charity. I worked some here and there, slept on the street some, helped out at the VA some. Now—I got a house and a job. That’s my story. You keep yours till you feel safe. But, girl—we’re gonna have to make some changes ’cause I knew where you came from the second I seen you walkin’ down the road.”
Her eyes got pretty round at that, but she remained mute.
“The overalls, the braid... Once Cooper—the boss—gets in here and decides to start work for the day, I’ll take you somewhere to get clothes that don’t just holler commune-for-Christ or whatever that is you come from.”
“The Fellowship,” she reminded him quietly.
“And, if you are trying to keep a low profile around here it wouldn’t hurt to cut off that braid or something. You think that’s a good idea?”
She chewed her lip a little bit, thinking this over. When she did speak she said, “I know about Vietnam.”
“Be glad you don’t remember it.”
Thinking again she said, “Maybe I’m not far enough away. From the compound.”
“You think some of them might come lookin’ for you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, not really. They’re not bad people. But...”
Rawley let that hang a minute. “But?” he prompted.
“They didn’t want me to leave. And I did anyway. And we’re not going back,” she added vehemently.
He cleared his throat. “Then we play it safe. If you see any of ’em snoopin’ around, you better sound the alarm. I’ve been in this town almost every day for over four years and no one from that place ever came here. My house is in Elmore, a thirty-minute drive from here and I ain’t never seen any of ’em there, either. I guess there’s a chance some folks from around here have been to that produce stand, or what you call the compound, so I reckon getting yourself a new look makes sense. There’s just one thing you’re gonna have to do to make it work.”
“What’s that, Mr. Goode?”
She remembered his name. Sharp for someone who’d been up all night and was probably worn to a nub.
“Gonna have to trust a stranger, miss. That’s what.”
Again she dropped her gaze. “Last time I did that...”
“I can figure that much out without the whole story,” he said. “I thought that place was safe. A refuge. Bent on charity and good works. But if it was a good and decent place, you’d have left in daylight with money in your pocket. I’m old and I’m jaded but I ain’t stupid.”
“For a while, it was a refuge and it saved me. For a while.”
“Here’s what we do, miss. We get you some Walmart clothes and I’ll take you and the little miss here to my house. You’ll have a safe and warm place to lay your head. There’s food in the fridge. You might wanna pretend to be kin—like my second cousin’s daughter. I didn’t have no direct family.”
Devon actually smiled at that. “Neither did I, Mr. Goode.”
“Might wanna call me Rawley for good measure.”
“Rawley,” she said. “I’m not sure...”
“Devon, you’re stuck with trusting strangers right now. It ain’t safer thumbing rides on the highway, I guaran-damn-tee. This’ll at least give you time to think and be safe while you’re doing it.”
* * *
Spencer Lawson was new to Thunder Point. He’d taken the job of Athletic Director and coach at the local high school and he and his ten-year-old son were living in Cooper’s fifth wheel while looking around for a place to rent. He had to admit, while it was a little tight on space, especially in the bathroom, it was not only convenient but it was a pleasure to wake up every day and see the bay. He didn’t have much of a kitchen in the RV, but then he wasn’t much of a cook. Besides, right next door, Cooper had the equivalent of two kitchens and a nice big outdoor gas grill.
Spencer had been up for a while. With coffee still in his cup he decided to wander next door to Cooper’s place. He left Austin, sprawled crossways, asleep in the big bed. They’d been sharing a bedroom since moving into Cooper’s RV but sleeping with Austin was like sleeping with the entire fourth grade. Most nights Spencer escaped to the sofa in the living room. As he walked across the deck toward the open doors of the bar, he heard voices...a woman’s voice as she said, “No! Please, no!”
And he stopped. He heard Rawley shush her and say, “Devon, I know where you’re from. You don’t have to give me details and I don’t have to know why...”
Spencer saw Cooper and Sarah out on their boards, skimming across the bay smoothly, the movement of their paddles synchronized. Quietly he took a chair outside the opened doors, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation. In five minutes, he had the story—this was a young woman with a child who had run away from some kind of commune or religious order. And Rawley was not only going to help her, but he would help her keep it secret. While he was dying to walk into the bar and get a look at this young runaway, he didn’t want them to stop talking.
A few minutes later, Sarah and Cooper were coming in off the water. They stowed their boards against the dock and untied the dog from it. Hamlet made a beeline for the deck. This was Spencer’s cue. He stood and waited for them. First he greeted Hamlet and gave him a vigorous head and ear massage. “Hey, old boy! How’s it going, Ham?” Sarah and Cooper strolled leisurely up the stairs to the deck.
“What’s going on?” Cooper asked Spencer.
Spencer lifted his cup. “I’m out of coffee.”
“You’re always out of something,” Cooper said. “Come on in, Rawley can hook you up. I’m just guessing, but I bet you want breakfast, too.”
“I might, yeah.”
“Where’s the kid?”
“Sprawled across the bed. Snoring.”
Cooper chuckled.
Ham was waiting anxiously, tail wagging like mad, hoping he’d get a treat. The three of them—and Ham—all walked into the bar together. Right away they noticed the young woman with a long braid and a small child sitting at the counter. Rawley looked up from behind the bar and the little girl broke into a huge grin, pointed and said, “Mama! Pony in the house!”
The woman laughed, putting a hand up to her mouth. Her blue eyes twinkled.
Ham went to the child immediately. He was excellent with kids.
“Just a dog, kiddo,” Cooper said. “Want to give him his cookie? Look out, though. He’s got a real slobbery mouth but he never nips.” He fished a huge dog biscuit out of the jar on the bar and let the little girl hold it out toward Ham. She held it in a flat hand, as if feeding a horse. Then Cooper looked at the young woman and said, “Hi. I’m Cooper. This is my fiancée, Sarah. And this is my friend, Spencer.”
“This here’s my cousin’s daughter, Coop,” Rawley said. “Well, second cousin, maybe even removed. Devon. Visiting.”
Cooper tilted his head and queried with his eyes. “Devon...?”
But Rawley didn’t answer. He didn’t answer because he didn’t know Devon’s last name. Finally Devon said, “McAllister. And this is my daughter, Mercy.”
“Pleasure. Rawley, you should’ve mentioned you had company coming. You could have taken the day off.”
“It was a last-minute thing but, if you can spare me, I’d like to show her around a little bit. They might be tired from traveling, too, and I can leave ’em at home and come back...”
“Take the day off if you want it, Rawley. I can handle the shop. Landon will show up to help out when he gets his lazy butt out of bed. And I’ve always got Spencer...”
“You okay with that?” Rawley asked.
Spencer looked at this duo—mother and child. She was plain as a pancake, and yet she was beautiful. She looked very young—early twenties? She was vulnerable, that was instantly obvious. He immediately wondered how she’d gotten trapped in a commune that wouldn’t let her leave. He had this sudden urge to step in, to offer advice or shelter or something.
“Sure,” Cooper said. “If you need more time, just let me know so I can make arrangements. How long are you staying?”
Again, the young woman didn’t respond but Rawley said, “That’s up in the air. I told her she can stay for a few days or weeks—it ain’t like she’ll be in my way. If you’re sure you don’t mind, we’ll hit the road, then. You ready?” Rawley asked her.
“Thanks. Nice meeting you all.”
And the three of them moved slowly out the back door, climbed into Rawley’s truck and the engine roared to life. It was two minutes before the truck was traveling up the road to the highway.
Then Cooper looked at Sarah and Spencer. “Rawley doesn’t have any family.”
“Well, second cousin, removed...” Sarah said.
“With no warning they’re coming?” Spencer asked. “Nah, they’re not family. I’d bet my last dollar on that.” For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, Spencer didn’t tell them about the conversation he had overheard between Rawley and Devon.
“It does seem strange,” Cooper agreed. “Rawley’s a little odd, but he’s not, you know...?”
“A kidnapper? A serial killer?” Sarah offered.
“More likely he found ’em hitching or panhandling. People don’t know this about Rawley, but he’s generous. Softhearted. He doesn’t like to let on that he has a helpful nature. He’s on the gruff and silent side, but he’d give anyone the shirt off his back. When we went through all Ben’s things after he died, Rawley took the old clothes to the VA, but he washed ’em first. Bags full of ’em. He has a generous nature—he gives a lot. I’m not so much worried about that woman and her little girl as I am about Rawley. I hope they don’t fleece him.”
“Maybe you should talk to him,” Spencer suggested. “What if that’s what happened? What if she’s desperate and takes advantage of him?”
“Well, I could try,” Cooper said. “But it might be hard getting anything out of him. That Rawley...he takes pride in saying as little as possible.”
“That girl looks about fifteen,” Spencer said, frowning. “He must’ve found them in trouble somewhere.” He glanced toward the dishes on the bar. “He fed them.”
Two
Rawley drove Devon to the Walmart nearest his home. He parked in the big lot and looked at her. “Your people ever go to the Walmart?” he asked.
“Not that I know of,” she said. “And I never did while I was there. But I have some clothes.” The clothes were in the backpack left outside the fence for her. She hadn’t looked at them closely and didn’t know if they’d fit, but the backpack was stuffed with things for her escape.
He reached up to the sun visor overhead and pulled out a ball cap. “Tuck that braid up in this,” he said. “Get yourself a few things, grab some stuff for Mercy. Get yourself any other lady things you might need. Things no sixty-three-year-old bachelor would ever have laying around. I’ll get us some groceries. We’ll try to be quick and not make a stir—don’t want you to give yourself away. Can we do that?”
She nodded, tucking up her braid. “I have forty dollars,” she said.
“Look,” Rawley said. “I know you’re worried. I know you’re suspicious of me and of everybody, and rightly so. But you’re not a prisoner, and even if you decide you can’t stick around you’ll want to stay clear of that camp. You shouldn’t look like you came from there. And you don’t have to run off in the night, all you have to do is say you need a ride somewhere and I’ll take you. Hang on to your forty dollars. You’ll need it, I figure.”
“I was there by choice,” she revealed. Until she wasn’t.
“Well, it’s your choice not to be there now. Let’s just get ’er done. Then you can relax and get a little rest.”
As for not making a stir, the second they walked in the door, little Mercy used her loudest voice to look around and say, “Mama! What is this place?”
It took Devon a second to recover, but recover she did. She pulled Mercy’s little hand and said, “Just a very big store, honey. Now please use your very quiet voice and come with me.” At least Mercy hadn’t called her Sister Devon. That was the way Jacob liked it; no one was a mother or a father, a husband or a wife—they were all brothers and sisters. Which made his behavior seem pretty damned incestuous.
Of course Devon remembered visiting a Walmart—it’s not as though she’d forgotten her life before the family. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and a cart and sped through the women’s and children’s clothes. Two pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts, two shirts, socks, underwear, tennis shoes. She bought the exact same items for Mercy. She added two hoodies, in case they had to flee in the night, and then a few incidentals including brushes, combs and toothbrushes. And—because he was right—she bought a pair of scissors. She had to stop looking like one of them.
She met Rawley by the checkout. Her heart was racing. So, here she was with a scruffy old guy who had given her a ride and now wanted to help her even more and just by the look of him alone she should be worried. But the tall, handsome, soft-spoken Jacob with the ready, welcoming smile, who had so much to offer when she was in need, had never worried her for a moment. And he was the one she should have been worried about!
In his cart Rawley had groceries and... She looked closely. He had a safety seat for Mercy for the truck. It was an old truck and the cab was small, but it had seat belts. She was touched beyond words. That safety seat meant so much more to her than all Jacob’s promises.
The new seat had to be strapped in by the door and there were no seat belts for the middle seat. She had to sit next to Rawley without belts while Mercy rode in the passenger seat. Still, it was better than walking or hitching.
Had it been possible, she would have held her breath all the way to Rawley Goode’s house. She kept telling herself she was safer in this old man’s truck, or in his home, than she would’ve been had she stayed with the family at the compound. She kept telling herself this was safer than hitching rides. Despite her racing imagination there was something she had not been prepared for. When they pulled into the driveway of a small brick home in a neat little neighborhood, she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. It was like the house she’d grown up in. When they went inside, she stopped right inside the door, right in the little living room, and almost collapsed in relief and emotion. This could be Aunt Mary’s place! The furniture was different but probably just as old, complete with those familiar doilies on the tabletops and arms of the Queen Anne chairs and sofa. It was small, the rug over the hardwood floor threadbare, the wood furniture distressed but polished. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”
She put Mercy on her feet. “Mama, where’s the kids?”
Devon got down on one knee. She put the bags she carried along with her backpack against the wall. “We’re having a vacation. And I think you need a nap.”
“I don’t want a bacation,” Mercy whined.
“We don’t have a choice. We have to.”
“I don’t want to has to!”
“Stop,” Devon said firmly. “Stop right now.” Then she hugged her close.
Rawley took the groceries straight to the kitchen and began putting things away. Devon just waited by the door, holding Mercy’s hand, afraid to invade the house. Momentarily he was back, handing her a slip of paper. “There’s two bedrooms upstairs and you’ll know which one is mine—it’s lookin’ mighty lived in. There’s food in the kitchen and I ain’t savin’ nothing for later—it’s all open season for you and Mercy. I eat at the bar and clean up dishes before coming home so you won’t see me till eight or so. This here’s a number for my phone.” Then he grinned. “You’re the first person to get it. I mean, Cooper has it, but only because he bought me the phone in the first place—he got tired of me never checkin’ in. You just call if you need something, or if something changes with you, or if... I don’t expect anyone will bother you here.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
He gave a shrug. “I could stay, Cooper wouldn’t mind. But if I was you, I’d still be nervous and me gone will give you a chance to think. Check over the place. Rest. Eat. Get comfortable. Pull the tags off your clothes. Nap. Whatever you need to do.” He opened the door. “There’s another room up there. It’s where I keep the TV. Extra blankets in the hall closet. Towels and that stuff, too.”
“I guess we should wash off the road,” she said.
He looked at his watch. “You got hours to do whatever you want.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goode.”
“It’s just Rawley,” he said. And then he was gone.
Overwhelmed, Devon sat on his worn old couch, pulling Mercy beside her. Mercy. She had wanted to name her Mary in the first place, after her aunt. Mary had been failing fast the last time she’d seen her alive. Five years ago.
Tears started to just run out of her blue eyes.
“We’re free,” she whispered to Mercy.
“Mama, where’s the kids?”
* * *
It was Sister Laine who had helped Devon find a way out of The Fellowship. Laine hadn’t been with the family long, not even six months. And, unlike some of the women, she was very independent and didn’t seem to get sucked into group thinking, nor did she vie for Jacob’s favors. She was careful, though. Disciplined and obedient. Around Jacob she seemed skittish, maybe frightened, but there were other times when she threw Devon a secret grin and wink, or maybe a startled look. She didn’t talk about her past, other than to say she’d come from a bad place and that Jacob had promised her peace and safety. It was implied she had been abused by a man. Laine’s story reminded Devon that they weren’t all the same no matter how much Jacob wished it so.
Laine learned that Devon wanted to leave the compound and that Jacob wouldn’t let her take Mercy. It was hardly secret—Devon had been making noises about leaving once she first learned she was pregnant. But Jacob said no, absolutely no, because Mercy was his child. So, for several years Devon and Mercy made the compound their home.
They were gathering eggs one morning when Laine whispered, “I know you want to leave.”
“No,” Devon said, hiding surprise, cautious in case of betrayal. “I’m very happy.”
“I know you want to go and if you do, I can help. If you turn on me, it will be bad, very bad. If you don’t want to go, just ignore me.”
But Devon said, “Help how?”
“Listen carefully. On June 9 there will be a hole in the fence behind the henhouse, right over there. There will be a backpack with some clothes, bottled water, a couple of apples and granola bars—look for it outside the fence behind a tree. At midnight there will be a truck down the road—the lights will be off. The driver will take you over the mountain. He won’t wait long. Go to the coast. You shouldn’t travel Highway 5, it’s too close to the compound and you’ll be found right away if anyone decides to look for you. If they look, they’ll only look as far as you can walk. Hitching a ride on Highway 101 is safer. If anything goes wrong, try to find a women’s shelter and tell your story. As a last resort, if you have no other way to get help, tell the police.”
“Why a last resort?”
“Because, Devon, once you tell, they might make a move on this place and everyone could be in danger. Jacob will fight back. So, only tell the police if that’s the only way you can be safe.”
“Why would you do this?”
She shrugged and said, “I fixed it up at the Farmers’ Market. I was planning to do it myself, but I think you should go first. I’ll figure out something.”
“Maybe we could both go,” Devon said, wondering if she’d lost her mind.
But Laine shook her head. “Two of us and Mercy traveling together would be too easy to track. If you get in a fix, tell someone what’s going on here. The moods, the threats, the little rages and the gardens. If you have to tell, tell to keep yourself safe. It is not safe here.”
“It was once. Or it seemed to be,” Devon said.
“It’s not safe now, I can tell. It’s time to get the children out. I think you know that. Now let’s find some eggs. And laugh at my jokes, for God’s sake!” Then she smiled. “You have this one chance. Do it.”
It’s time to get the children out. Those words struck fear in Devon’s heart and she knew she had to act. She had to take the chance that was being given to her. She had to trust Laine. But, once she had made her decision, Devon nearly counted her heartbeats until she and Mercy could escape.
Just as Laine had promised, everything was ready. And, before she knew it, she’d done it.
* * *
Rawley got back to the beach bar around two in the afternoon. He walked in on one of the most unlikely friendships he’d ever known about, and he’d known of some odd ones since Vietnam. Cooper was behind his bar and Spencer Lawson was sitting on a stool facing him. This was a fairly new friendship. As Rawley heard the story, Spencer had been married to an old fiancée of Cooper’s and the poor lady died. She had cancer or something, Rawley recalled. And several months before her death, blood work had been done and revealed that their ten-year-old son, Austin, was actually not Spencer’s biological son, but Cooper’s.
Well, now, Rawley thought. That’ll make or break a man.
But the men had worked it out. In fact, Spencer had just agreed to take a job in Thunder Point so both dads could live in the same town and be parents to one little boy. And ten-year-old Austin had the potential to be spoiled rotten.
“Hey, Rawley,” Cooper said. “How’s your cousin?”
“Huh? Oh, she’s okay. I left her to get a nap, relax or whatever.”
“How long you think she’ll stay?”
Rawley just shrugged. “Can’t say. Might be she doesn’t find an old Vet much fun to live with and just moves on.”
“Well, what brought her here?” Cooper asked.
“You are sure the nosiest som-bitch I know. I don’t have the details, don’t really need the details, but I gather it was a bad situation or something and she needs a place to roost a bit. Don’t matter. I’m happy to give her a bed. She’s got a kid—you don’t just ignore a kid. I don’t want them staying in some damn run-down hotel all alone just because I’m an old coot set in my ways.” He craned his neck and looked out the windows to the beach. “Speaking of kids...”
“Austin’s fishing off the dock with Landon,” Spencer said. “I have to go look at a house in town, even though Austin wants to live in that RV next door for the rest of his life.”
“Ain’t a bad place, as places go,” Rawley said. Cooper’s toy hauler had been operating as a guest house ever since he had finished off the upstairs of the bar into his apartment.
“I’m looking for something a little bigger in the bathroom and kitchen department.” Spencer laughed. “Not to mention less sandy.”
“If you could train someone to wipe his great big ten-year-old feet, you could beat that problem. Have you noticed how big his feet are? Is that normal?” Cooper asked.
“Well, it’s normal on St. Bernard puppies,” Spencer said.
Leaving the men to talk, Rawley went to the kitchen. There was always work to be done—cleaning, stocking, organizing. Now that Cooper had an apartment and a fiancée, he stayed out of there. Cooper could clean his own house, do his own laundry. Cooper liked taking care of the beach, raking up, hauling trash, making sure there was no detritus that could harm people or wildlife. He said it gave him an idea of who used the beach and what they used it for. He maintained his stock of paddleboards and kayaks. And he spent a lot of time visiting with folks in town, on the beach, on the dock, in the bar. Cooper was a natural people person. Rawley had never been much for visiting.
Rawley kept himself busy working around the bar and in the kitchen till about seven-thirty. With the longer days there was plenty of sunlight left; Cooper and Landon could handle the place without him until sunset when folks tended to quit for the day, except those who liked the beach at night and enjoyed their fires.
His phone hadn’t rung all day. He wondered what he’d find when he got home. He had absolutely no idea. She was skittish; she might be gone. The place could be upended, valuables stolen...not that he had much in the way of valuables. But nothing prepared him for what he found when he got there. He could hear the TV upstairs and didn’t want to startle her, so he called from the bottom of the stairs.
She came to the top of the stairs and looked down at him. Her hair was cut right up to the nape, kind of messy-cute, falling over her forehead haphazardly. Gone was that thick mane that hit her butt. “Up here, Mr. Goode,” she said. “Oh, my God, I haven’t seen TV in so long. We had popcorn—I hope that’s okay. You said anything. We didn’t eat much. There’s plenty left. But the TV—my daughter is in a trance. She’s never seen TV.” Then she laughed and her whole face lit up. “Well, she was in a trance and now she’s asleep right on the floor and I’m watching baseball. I love baseball. I haven’t seen a game in years!”
He chuckled and remained at the bottom of the stairs. “No TV at the camp, I take it,” he said.
“No TV, no newspapers, no internet access, no phones. No distractions, no commercialism, no propaganda. At least for us.” There was that grin again. “Oh, how I missed it!”
“Did you find something for Mercy to watch?” he asked.
“Evil cartoons. She was in heaven.”
“Have you eaten anything besides popcorn?” Rawley asked.
She nodded. “I scrambled some eggs and made some toast for Mercy. I had a sandwich, chips, soda...” She rolled her eyes. “Soda! It was so good! And then the popcorn. Should I turn off the TV now? So you can have peace and quiet?”
Rawley smiled. She looked lit up from the inside. He couldn’t remember being quite this pleased with himself. He shook his head. “I’m gonna get my newspaper and a cola. I like sports. I used to watch with my dad before he died—that’s why there’s two recliners up there. And you can watch the TV all night if you want to. It don’t bother me. Half the time I fall asleep in front of the TV.”
“Newspaper!” she said in a breath.
“I’ll share it with you.”
* * *
Mercy rarely asked about the other kids or the other sisters from the family once she was introduced to television and the undivided attention of one mother rather than six. They hardly ever left the house except to walk to the end of the street where there was a tiny park with swings and a slide, and that was just for a little exercise and fresh air. Every day Rawley brought them something new. First, a couple of toys for Mercy—a baby doll with a diaper bag filled with miniature supplies—this small child from a family compound didn’t know about diaper bags. Then he brought some crayons and coloring books and bubbles. Next, some library books—a few picture books for a three-year-old, a few novels he had asked a librarian to recommend for a thirty-year-old woman.
“Close enough,” she said with a smile. “I’m twenty-eight.”
Then he brought home a laptop computer. He said, “I thought maybe you might want to use this. It’s an old one Cooper let me have. Do you know how to use it?”
“I know how to use a computer, certainly. We just didn’t use the evil internet, which has probably grown to amazing heights in the last several years. And I can’t tell you how much I want to have a look!”
“I ain’t got no hookup. Cooper said to tell you to jump on some neighbor’s or store’s wireless—and I ain’t got the first idea how you do that.”
But Devon smiled. She’d have no trouble figuring it out.
For Devon, this time away from the compound was like sensory overload—there were so many new ideas to talk about, and programs to watch and articles to read. She was in ecstasy.
Then came several days of rain in a row, which conspired with Devon’s need to be immersed in the books, TV and computer. Rawley didn’t spend quite as many hours at work but Devon and Mercy were so happily occupied it seemed he’d barely left before he returned. She made a couple of dinners for the three of them and while Rawley wasn’t exactly talkative, he was companionable.
“How’s ’at computer working out?”
“It’s a revelation—you can find out anything.” Out of curiosity she checked out “communes in Oregon” online and found several references, but nothing really interesting. Compounds could mean a host of families, religious sects, cults and organizations ranging from non-certified health retreats and rehab facilities to known sovereign communities and anti-government separatists. She was fascinated and kept reading.
Then she found something that explained so much: a familiar name and story—Jacob Glover. Glover? They didn’t use last names—they claimed there was no need. But there was a picture, and it was definitely the Jacob she had known. He was well-known—he’d been convicted of fraud in the past. He was known as the leader of a cult who had recently been investigated for fraud, tax fraud, conspiracy and kidnapping. Huh? she thought. Well, taxes...yes, that was an issue. She remembered that very well indeed. It was one of his favorite rants, taken right from his manifesto. What am I but a poor farmer? We eat what we grow; we own our land; we don’t use any government resources—we educate our own and we pay our good money for supplies we can’t grow or breed or make. The only argument government has for our paltry income is our rare use of their roads! Property tax? For living? For paying our own way? I’ll die first!
She remembered thinking that was a compelling argument, but it was one that would never work. As for paltry income for little supplies—she was well aware that The Fellowship not only owned expensive farming equipment, but they also owned three black Lincoln SUVs with darkened windows that only the men drove. This could hardly be considered paltry by any stretch of the imagination. It was also hard to believe that the meager sale of apples, peaches, pears and vegetables brought in enough income for The Fellowship to purchase the equipment and the mammoth SUVs.
But kidnapping? There was not a chance The Fellowship could be accused of that! No one had ever come into the family unwillingly and if they ran away, Jacob looked the other way. At least he used to. When Greg had slipped away after just a few months, there was only sad disappointment. But when Caleb, who had been with the group for three years, left suddenly, Jacob’s anger roared. All three SUVs tore out of the compound and went in search, a search lasting days. But when he wasn’t found, the search was abandoned.
Then she realized that these investigations might be the reason Jacob and some of the others seemed to have changed in the past couple of years, becoming impatient and paranoid. When she’d first become a part of the group, gentleness and ease had seemed to dominate their way of life. But over the past couple of years anger and even desperation seemed to creep in. I’ll die first! The amount of time he spent writing—some of the women called his writings a diary, some a manifesto, others claimed it was his new bible—had increased. There had always been weapons that were kept locked up and managed by a few men, but they were for security and hunting, not because there was fear.
She looked up “cult,” though she knew well enough what one was. And she also knew that religious affiliation aside, The Fellowship was a cult. Synonyms were “gang,” “craze,” “sect” and “denomination dominated by extreme beliefs.” Not always a bad thing, the L.A. Police Department was referred to as the biggest gang in L.A. They were but a group of like-minded people, bent on a single purpose. In fact, it was that alone that had caused the rift for Devon. She was no longer of a like mind.
In one of her last conversations with Jacob, right before Laine had offered her a way out, she’d said, “I miss my individuality, that’s all. I don’t want to be isolated and I don’t want my daughter raised by six mothers. I want to pick my own books and music, read all the papers. I want to be a part of society again.”
“Even if society is bad? Wrong? Dangerous? Greedy?” he’d asked.
“If I’m here, then I’m not doing anything to make it better,” she’d offered.
He’d sighed deeply. Painfully. “This breaks my heart, but maybe it’s for the best, Devon. You’ve never really wanted to be a part of this, one of us.”
“I always did my share! I taught the children, helped with farming and ranching, tended animals—I did everything everyone else did, too.”
“Not everything,” he reminded her.
She bit her lip and looked down, astonished that he could make her feel guilty over a purely righteous act. Once she’d realized she had conceived Mercy and that Jacob had children with other women in The Fellowship, that other women in their group visited his bed frequently, she didn’t want to be a part of that group. She wanted a partner, not a never-ending family. When she’d made love to him, she had foolishly believed he loved only her, that he held the other women as sisters, family members, not lovers. He led her to believe that. “There were too many women. It wasn’t for me.”
“There were a few, and we were all of one family, one mind,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I was of a different mind. I will only have one intimate partner.”
“It’s not our way,” he said.
“It’s probably best that I separate now,” she said. “I gave my promised two years. In fact I gave more than two. I was committed and loyal even if I didn’t agree with everything.”
“Fine, then. You really don’t fit anymore. You hold yourself slightly above the rest of us, as if you’re better.”
Shocked and hurt, she’d blurted, “You’re the only one here who holds yourself above the rest of us!”
And he’d slapped her. He glared at her and was so angry. When she’d first come to this family, he was so gentle, so tolerant. But lately he’d become so short-tempered and his controlling nature was skyrocketing. “I think as the man who founded this Fellowship and works every day to hold it together and protect it, I can be afforded some respect!”
It was a black day that burned in her memory. That had been a year before she’d finally left.
She read on about Jacob. Investigated and interviewed for allegations of kidnapping and human trafficking.
She thought she knew what human trafficking was, but looked it up just the same. The recruitment of human beings by means of kidnapping, coercion or purchase for the purpose of exploitation, usually for labor or commercial sex trade....
And she knew. She just had never thought of women over twenty-one who went willingly being the victims of human trafficking—she’d always assumed underage prostitutes or child laborers in dingy, dangerous factories were the kinds of people who would be the victims of human trafficking.
Jacob had picked her up outside a shelter in Seattle, Washington. He’d invested an hour in conversation with her learning that she was alone, that she longed for a family and was needy, afraid and desperate. She also fit his profile of wanting fair-skinned and blue-eyed members for his group. He treated them all so sweetly and provided a shelter that was clean and had plentiful food. She was introduced to a few other women who’d joined the group for the same reason she had. They all worked hard to sustain it and to make it a success. Then they were all stripped of their identities—driver’s licenses, social security cards and other personal effects stored away...or perhaps destroyed.
And they all loved him. At one time, even Devon had had a deep love for him, or perhaps it was gratitude. Sometimes some of them joked behind his back in whispers: He’s penning a new bible, you know.
Devon remembered Laine’s words to her. Tell if you have to, Laine had said. Tell about the gardens.
While it was never discussed openly, they all knew that Jacob and the family financed their plentiful compound by their special gardens. No matter how well their organic gardens produced, the bounty of fresh fruit and vegetables was not enough to generate the kind of income needed to keep The Fellowship going. There were a couple of gardens that were kept concealed in a couple of warehouses. They used grow lights run on generators, going twenty-four hours a day and tended by only a few men. Devon had been a member of The Fellowship for a couple of years before she knew about their special cash crop—it was marijuana.
Jacob explained it to her by saying, “We are only growing medicinal herbs that the government wants to regulate. If they find out what we are doing they’ll take it all away. Strip us of everything. But it’s harmless and helpful and some states have even passed laws making it legal, which this state will eventually do, as well. Then, they’ll try to tax it to the moon. We have to grow our herbs in secret. The government would love to steal from us, which is not their right.”
Brother Jacob was a drug dealer. His cult, his Fellowship, was a cover. That’s why he kept the members close by, and why he had children with them knowing that would keep them tied to him.
Although there was nothing in her research to indicate he was being investigated for running and operating a grow-op, Devon knew the feds must be getting closer. It would explain his behavior—Jacob was now paranoid.
Three
Lieutenant Commander Sarah Dupre hadn’t worn her diamond engagement ring to work when she’d first gotten it. Rings on the flight line were a good way to lose a finger, for one thing. As well, she didn’t want any of her coworkers figuring her out, for another. But the day her deadline for accepting or rejecting the orders that would ship her to a Florida Coast Guard Station expired, she wore the beautiful ring to work. She had written the two letters—one, rejecting the assignment and two, resigning her commission and leaving the Coast Guard.
Her boss, Commander Buzz Bachman, accepted the letters for his files, though Sarah would send both to the command HR department herself.
“Gonna do it, huh?” he said. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised. But what’s next for you?”
And that’s when she thrust out her left hand, diamond glittering on the fourth finger.
“Whoa!” he said. “Throwing us over for a man? You?”
“Don’t say it like that,” she warned him. “It’s not like it was a rash or quick decision. And I think he’s a pretty good bet.”
“Well, hell, I like Cooper all right, but what are you gonna do?”
She grinned at him and shook her head. “As soon as the Coast Guard approves my separation, I’m going to take a vacation. At least through footfall season. And until we get Landon settled on a college.”
“When’s the wedding?” Buzz asked.
“We haven’t decided....”
“Big bash?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said with a laugh. “I had a big bash when I married Derek, and that didn’t take. I think it’ll be small, quiet and private. But we’re still talking about it.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t stand by the mailbox, waiting for my invitation?”
“Nothing personal...”
“Well, the boys are going to want to give you a bachelor party.”
She glanced down at herself. “I know it’s not immediately apparent in this flight suit, but I’m actually a girl.”
Buzz grinned at her. “That hasn’t stopped us in the past. Now get out of here. Go tell lover-boy you put your papers in.”
“That’s my exact plan,” she said.
Sarah drove past the turnoff to the town of Thunder Point and her house and drove the long way to Cooper’s bar on the other side of the beach, parking in the rear. When she walked in, he was moving the mop around the floor, something that needed to be done frequently, given all the sand that came in on the feet of friends and customers. He stopped abruptly and just smiled at her.
“I don’t see this every day,” he said. He leaned the mop against the wall and grabbed her against him. He gave her a hearty kiss, holding her tightly. He shook his head and smiled. “I flew helicopters for a living for fifteen years and you’re the only pilot I ever wanted to peel a flight suit off of.”
“I did it, Cooper,” she said. “You better not change your mind. I put in my papers.”
His grin deepened. “Well, now. You do realize there’s no exit date on the next deal you sign up for. Right?”
“You better not get sick of me, Cooper.”
“Let me at least try,” he said, going after her lips again.
A noise behind them didn’t do anything to disrupt their very passionate kiss. Then seventeen-year-old Landon said, “Let’s remember the rules, folks. Safety first. I hope we don’t have to have another one of those talks.”
Sarah couldn’t help but laugh against Cooper’s lips—Landon was echoing her constant reminder. Landon, big, strong, beautiful and in a serious relationship with a wonderful seventeen-year-old girl who happened to be the town deputy’s daughter, could easily be considered high-risk by his older sister. And of course Landon constantly chided her for her mothering. “Is he too big to spank?” she asked against Cooper’s lips.
“Well...by you,” Cooper said softly.
Again she laughed, leaning her forehead against Cooper’s shoulder. “At this moment, I am obscenely happy. Please don’t screw this up or dump me or cheat on me or divorce me.”
“All right,” he said, letting go of her. He turned her toward her brother.
“Rule number two,” Landon lectured, mimicking her again. “Discretion. We don’t want to embarrass people with our PDA.”
“We were alone, actually,” she said. “So, how about giving me a beer? I won’t turn you in for serving me. I’m celebrating. I did it—I put in my papers. I’m getting out.”
“Holy shit, are you kidding me? I didn’t think you’d do it!”
“You didn’t? I told you I was going to do it.”
“Yeah, but you like being the boss of things.” He pulled a bottle of beer out of the cooler and popped the top. He handed it to his sister. “Cooper, we are in trouble here. We should plan a strategy.”
“Take care of yourself, kid. I like it when she bosses me around.”
“You are so whipped. What are the rest of us men gonna think, you letting a woman get the upper hand like this? You should be ashamed.”
Cooper grabbed his mop. “I guess Eve would never get away with that, huh?” he said, mopping.
“That’s different,” Landon said with a big smile. “Eve is so not my sister. And when Eve is happy, I’m happy.”
“There you go,” Cooper said.
Rawley came into the bar with a rack of glasses, silently sliding them under the bar.
“Hey, Rawley, how’s it going?” Sarah asked. “Your cousin still around?”
Rawley stopped short as if he had to think about that. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Still at my house.”
“Not crowding you, huh?” Sarah asked. “Been a couple of weeks now, hasn’t it?”
“I dunno. Maybe ten days or so,” he said. “She don’t bother me none. Kinda nice, to tell the truth. Remember, I had my dad full-time for years—a young woman and little child don’t take half the care my dad did. She helps out around the place. I haven’t done a load of dirty clothes since she’s been here. Besides, she doesn’t know where she wants to go yet. She said she likes it around here. Well, she likes Elmore, anyway.”
“Where’s she from, again?”
“Seattle. But I don’t think she wants to go back there. Bad memories, I gather. She’s been talking about getting work. Hard deal when you have a kid. And there ain’t nothin’ in Elmore.”
“What kind of work?”
And suddenly Rawley seemed to light up. Shine. “She can do all kinda things. Cooking, cleaning, office work, you name it. She got herself some college degree right before she got in a relationship that didn’t work out. She studied education. She was gonna be a teacher for the real little kids, or something like that. I guess that’s what makes her such a good mom. She’s a fine mother. That little Mercy—she’s something. Real smart, real nosy.”
“Well, Rawley, I think you like having them around,” Sarah said.
Rawley shrugged. “It’s okay. I never thought I’d know what it felt like to be a grandpa.” He shrugged again. “I don’t hate it.” Then he turned and went back into the kitchen.
Sarah, Landon and Cooper exchanged smiles.
Rawley brought a second rack of clean glasses into the bar and Sarah said, “So—has your cousin looked for work around Thunder Point?”
“Not that I know about. You got something?”
“No. But Saturday is Dr. Grant’s open house for his new clinic. You should bring her. It’s not exactly a job fair, but everyone in town will be there. She could talk to people. Find out if anyone knows of any jobs or any child care or babysitting. In fact, maybe someone needs child care or babysitting. Wouldn’t that be convenient?”
Rawley thought about that for a minute. Then he said, “I’ll tell her. But I’m not much for parties or a lot of people.”
“Tell her, I’d be glad to take her,” Sarah offered. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
* * *
Devon hadn’t had a typical childhood, but it had been a safe and happy one. Devon’s mother, Rhonda, was a nurse who became close to her neighbor, Mary. Mary immediately took Rhonda under her wing knowing Rhonda was pregnant and alone. And since Mary was a day care provider working out of her home, it only followed that after Devon was born, Mary watched her while Rhonda worked. And Rhonda named Mary as Devon’s guardian, should anything happen.
And something did indeed happen. Poor Rhonda was struck by a drunk driver as she waited at the bus stop on her way home from work one evening. Devon had been only nine months old.
Devon knew Aunt Mary was not her real aunt, was not her mother’s older sister. What she didn’t know was that Mary waited tensely for years for some distant, unknown family member to appear and lay claim to Devon. She clung to that will and birth certificate with a miser’s zeal, ready to do battle with anyone who might try to take the little girl away.
Mary was old enough to be Devon’s grandmother, but she was a popular figure in the neighborhood, at their church and in Devon’s schools. She was kind, nurturing, energetic and helpful, and Devon’s friends had always loved her—especially the pizza parties and sleepovers. Mary was a great volunteer and she took responsibility as any parent would, participating in field trips and fund-raising, and when Devon was a cheerleader or on a team, Mary had never missed a game or meet. Never.
Mary had always told Devon she had pluck. And that she was tough. She was a survivor. She said the same things even when crises like Devon not making the championship girls volleyball team, or junior varsity cheerleading squad, or having to make do with a partial scholarship, instead of getting the big one. “I just won’t make it,” teenage Devon had wailed.
And Mary had said, “Girl, you will rise above this, and fast. You’re strong. Do you have any idea how many times people have to start over and make a new path? For myself, I can’t count the number of times! I buried two husbands before you were born! Lost the first in Vietnam and the second to cancer! And just when I thought my life would slide gentle into old age, who comes along but Miss Devon!” And then she would laugh and laugh. “The Lord blesses me with work and new ideas every day of my life!”
So Devon had grown up with a devoted parent and a house full of small children who were picked up by their parents by five. With the help of scholarships and part-time jobs, she’d attained a degree in early childhood education and had begun work on her Master’s when Mary first fell ill. Very ill. That’s when Devon had said, “I don’t have enough pluck for this. I’m not that strong.”
“You are if you want to be,” Mary had said. Not long after her hospitalization and subsequent death came Devon’s dark, frightening period when there was no work, not enough money for rent and the constant worry about how she would make it through the next day. She constantly reminded herself—I’m a smart, educated, hardworking person—how does this happen? She needed a miracle.
What do you need, sister? Tell me. Maybe I can help.
Why wouldn’t she love Jacob? Why wouldn’t she take to his Fellowship? She’d grown up helping to tend other peoples’ children and all she’d ever really wanted was a family of her own. Perhaps this was an unusual family by normal standards, but at least she felt safe and invulnerable. And she fell for Jacob, as did everyone else—he was not only sweet and kind but also commanding. Powerful. Charismatic. There was little doubt in her mind he was strong enough to keep all of them safe. He was just the miracle she thought she needed.
Little Mercy was quickening inside her by the time she’d been in The Fellowship for a few months. That was when she realized that Jacob was not in love with her—he was in love with everyone—or so he claimed. On reflection, Devon realized that Jacob was incapable of loving anyone but himself. As far as Devon knew, all six children in the family were biologically his and their mothers were all very special to him, all sharing his affection. Devon’s heart was broken and she was suddenly disillusioned. Who would hold her up and comfort her and support her now that she was pregnant? The only people she had were her sisters in the family.
There was Charlotte, who used to act out the children’s stories, making everyone scream with hysterical laughter. Lorna could bake like a demon and throw a softball like a pro. Priscilla, who they called Pilly, was prickly except on days following one of her visits with Jacob and for that the others teased her mercilessly. Reese was the oldest of them at thirty-five and though no one had elected her boss, she took on that role all the time, something for which the others were, by turns, either grateful or petulant enough to reduce her to tears. But Reese played an important role in the family—she was the one to deliver their children; she was a doula and a nurse. Mariah was the youngest, shyest, an innocent twenty years old, and all of them tried to shelter her from Jacob...and failed. And finally there was Laine, who hadn’t been with them long and was the most devilish, making them all laugh at themselves and at their weird family.
They squabbled, giggled, played games, sat up late with ice cream or popcorn and told stories, cried for their lost lives, raved in happy delirium for their happiness, spied on each other, sought each other for comfort.
She missed them so. Even the ones she didn’t like so much.
Mercy had been in no physical danger in the family—it was a family that loved and nurtured the children. The real danger was more subtle—having no independence, no identity, no clear choices; no view of the outside world. And then there were the men whose faces seemed to change regularly, the men who tended and moved the marijuana. The women all knew this wasn’t right, that it wasn’t just medicine, but as long as they were safe and happy they seemed comfortable turning a blind eye to the reality.
And then Jacob began to change. He seemed to move from the morally superior position in his rants to being angry, desperate and paranoid. Now that she’d read the online accounts of the investigation, it seemed obvious—he must have changed as the feds encroached and threatened his authority, turning him into a frantic and anxious man. That’s when the idea of leaving proved to be so much more difficult. He must have been afraid people who left The Fellowship would sell him out. Devon had actually thought about leaving for a long time. The minute her baby was born, Devon thought about leaving, trying to think of what she’d do, how she’d manage, because she didn’t want Mercy growing up in that compound in a pair of soft denim overalls and a long braid. But she didn’t want her to grow up hungry and afraid, either.
And now here she was, back at the beginning, living with a grandparent-type figure taking care of her in a comfortable old house in an old neighborhood.
She poured herself a cup of coffee in Rawley’s kitchen. Rawley and Mercy sat at the kitchen table together, coloring on large sheets of paper he’d brought home.
“What is it?” Mercy asked, pointing to Rawley’s drawing.
“You don’t know what that is? That’s a boat! I have to take you to town pretty soon, to the marina and show you the boats. Those fishermen catch all the fish and crab we eat.”
“How do they catch dem?”
“One of these days I’ll show you,” he told her. “And what’s that?” he asked, pointing to a scribbled picture.
“You,” she said. And then she giggled.
He studied the picture closely. Then he made a whole bunch of dots on the bottom of the drawing.
“What’s that?” Mercy asked.
“Whiskers,” he said, and then he grinned at her.
Rawley looked up at Devon. “Remember Cooper’s girl? Sarah? You met her that first morning.”
“Yes, sure.”
“She asked about you, asked if you was still around. I told her you liked it here, that you were talking about looking for work. She said you should come to the new doctor’s open house this weekend—everyone will be there. You can visit a little bit, ask around if anyone is hiring or looking for help. And you can get a feel for if anyone seems to recognize you—you’re going to have to step out of hiding if you really do want work.”
“I know,” she said. “And that’s why I left The Fellowship—I wanted to live in the world again. I wanted to read everything, hear everything, see everything. I know the world is hard and scary, I know. But, Rawley, prison is scary, too—even if it’s a fine, bountiful prison. I was a teaching assistant in an elementary school for a year—the teacher asked the eight-year-olds, ‘Would you rather be on a deserted island alone or with someone you hate?’ And one little boy answered, ‘With someone I hate so I’d have something to eat.’ We laughed so hard. But that’s what a pure, controlled, perfectly constructed and protected commune can be like. Everything is thought through, down to every chore, every meal, the schedules down to the minute, even what we wore so there’d be no competing or envy. Everything except what people feel. It’s a deserted island stocked with your favorite foods, cozy shelters, protection and comfort. And the inhabitants eventually eat each other.”
Rawley just stared at her for a long moment while Mercy scribbled on her page. Finally he said, “I gotta ask. If someone recognizes you, are you in danger?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Sometimes people left and it wasn’t given any notice, like everyone just looked the other way. Sometimes they left for good, but others would stay away for a few days and then return. I didn’t leave with permission. I was told I could not take my daughter away. But she’s my daughter.”
Rawley thought about this for a moment, then he said, “Hmm. So, you want to try the doc’s open house on Saturday?”
Again the shrug. “I have to do something. Right?”
“Devon, if you need to get farther away, like way far away, I’ll scrape up some money for a bus ticket.”
“I’m not sure what I should do. But I ask myself—why would they look for me here? Why would they look for me at all? They’re very busy—there are the gardens just starting to yield summer produce, there’s stock, there are children to tend. And they don’t like spending time on the outside. Jacob believes he’s being spied on by the government and by law enforcement, because they want his money and his property. I don’t know how true it is but that doesn’t matter—it’s what he thinks.”
“Jacob?” Rawley repeated.
“The founder. The leader of The Fellowship.” And then she gazed briefly toward Mercy.
Rawley seemed to understand at once. “Ah,” he said. “Well, you look different, Devon. You don’t stand out so much. You can be my second cousin, twice removed, takin’ refuge from a bad relationship, looking for work.”
“Think that would work?” she asked.
“I ain’t gonna kid you, chickadee—if someone from that camp of yours wanders into town and looks you square in the face, they’ll know you. But if one of ’em comes into town lookin’ for a blue-eyed blonde with a long ponytail, Thunder Point folks will say they don’t know any such person. But, you could always scream if you have to.”
“I can. And I used to run track in high school.”
That made him smile. “You got a driver’s license?”
“Had one,” she said. “When I joined The Fellowship, they took all my personal things and said they’d be stored for me. When you sneak out in the dark of night, you don’t get those things back.”
“Hmm. Guess that means you got no birth certificate.”
“Course not. But I think my driver’s license is still valid. I just don’t have it. And I memorized my Social Security Number. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re gonna have to get around, that’s why. I been working on another truck—one left to me. Eventually it’ll be as fine as that old classic red job, but for right now? It runs fine.”
* * *
When Devon and Mercy arrived at the beach bar, ready to go to the job fair, she found Sarah and Spencer sitting on the deck with coffee. She didn’t want to intrude, so she just said, “Hi. I’m here.”
“Whoa,” Spencer said, nearly jumping out of his chair. “It’s a whole new you!”
“That’s darling,” Sarah said, smiling. “Good cut—you look like a young Meg Ryan. It must’ve been hard to part with that long hair.”
“Nah, I was ready to let that go. It’s more trouble than you can imagine.” But she often found herself reaching for that long braid, running a hand down the back of her neck.
“Pull up a chair, we have time. I was just watching Cooper down on the beach.”
Rawley came out onto the deck. “If you want to leave Mercy with me, I’ll show her how we catch the fish. After Cooper gets done on the beach and comes up, we’ll go out on the dock. I’ll make sure she has a life vest.”
“I don’t want you to be stuck babysitting, Rawley,” Devon said.
“Let her go,” Spencer said. “I know how to run the bar if anyone shows up. Austin’s down there already, trying to empty the bay of fish.”
“And I think Landon’s coming in,” Sarah said. “He’ll help.”
“She can’t swim, Rawley,” Devon said nervously.
“She’s not gonna swim. She’s gonna fish. And she’s not gonna eat worms, either. I hope.” He reached for her hand and she looked up at his grizzled face and beamed. “Wanna catch some fish?” he asked her. And she nodded enthusiastically.
Sarah got up, draining her cup once she was standing. “I’m going to run upstairs and change—I’ve been out on the bay this morning. I’ll be back in a minute. Help yourself to coffee. Then we’ll make a run on Carrie’s catered delights at the open house.” And with that she was gone.
Neither Spencer nor Devon said anything until Rawley and Mercy were down the stairs and Sarah had closed the door to Cooper’s upstairs apartment. It was Spencer who said, “Rumor has it you’re thinking of sticking around awhile.”
Devon looked at him sharply. “There’s rumors about me already?”
He chuckled. “Not the scary kind, like that you dabble in witchcraft or eat puppies for breakfast. Rawley mentioned you were thinking about looking for work around here.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. Well, it all depends. I’m unknown here. If there were jobs, I’m sure people who have lived here a long time would have them.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? I’m from out of town. I came here for a job.”
“Really? What job?” Her interest was immediately piqued.
“I’m the new Athletic Director and coach at the high school.” Then he laughed. “Really, though, I’m a gym teacher in charge of gym teachers.”
She sighed audibly. “A dream job,” she said. “Is your wife athletic?”
He glanced away. “My wife passed away a few months ago. That’s why I wanted to move. Austin and I needed a fresh start.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “My gosh, I barely meet you and I put my foot in my mouth.”
“No harm done. And no, she wasn’t particularly athletic. She liked boating and a little waterskiing, but that was it. And I have to give her a lot of credit—she came to all the games I coached. Not sure she had fun,” he added with a laugh. “But she was there.”
“You must miss her so much,” she said.
“There are tough days. I try to take comfort in her relief. She fought a battle with cancer.... I’m glad that’s over for her....”
Devon swallowed hard. Yet another reminder that as bad as she thought her life to be on some days, here was a brave man who had weathered the ultimate storm—parting with a loved one who had suffered.
“And why Thunder Point? Just the job?” she asked.
“Not just the job, but I’m real happy about that. It’s a surprise, really. I was looking for something in Oregon because Cooper’s here.”
“Ah, you’re good friends....”
“We’re getting there. Cooper’s a pretty okay guy. He’s also Austin’s father.”
“I thought you were Austin’s father.”
He took a breath. “Well, it’s complicated, but here goes. We were living in Texas where I taught and coached. Just before Bridget passed away we learned that Austin is actually Cooper’s biological son. Cooper was engaged to Bridget way back—we honestly didn’t know. So we did the right thing—contacted Cooper, explained to Austin.” He gave a shrug. “So it goes. Life isn’t always cut-and-dried.”
“No kidding,” she said. Co-dads? Just what she needed—another commune. “And it’s working out?”
He gave a shrug. “So far. What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Uh-huh, you. Divorced? Widowed? And why Thunder Point?”
“Never married,” she said. “I was involved, that’s about it, and I am no longer involved. And Thunder Point was just the town at the end of the road. And, of course, Rawley is here and he’s been so kind.”
“Of course,” Spencer said. “And Mercy’s dad?”
Jeez, she thought. She’d better get used to people coming right out and speaking their minds. “Um, not a great father figure. I’m trying to keep a low profile.”
“Oh. He doesn’t know you’re here?”
“I hope not,” she said. “But he knows Mercy is with me.”
“Won’t he want you to come back to him?”
“Me?” she asked. “No, he was clear about that. We haven’t been involved in over three years. And before you pass judgment, he has other women and children—a veritable tribe. Now please, can we let the subject go?”
He frowned at her and she could read his mind. He was a single father; he would have opinions about a woman stealing away his child. He wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t be able to give her the benefit of the doubt. Nice as he seemed, she didn’t know Spencer well enough to trust him with the truth.
“All right,” Sarah announced, coming suddenly from within the bar. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“You bet,” Devon said, standing. “Let me wave to Mercy.”
“I can help with that,” Sarah said. She let go a piercing whistle and everyone on the beach, including Rawley and Mercy, turned toward the deck. They all waved at each other.
“That was awesome,” Devon said.
“Thanks. Cooper taught me.”
Four
When Sarah was slowly making her way up the road to Highway 101 with Devon in the passenger seat, she asked, “Does this outing make you nervous?”
“Oh, yes,” she confessed.
“Just take it slow—it’s not a job interview. I mean, if you hear of something promising, don’t hesitate, but probably the most important thing is just getting a feel for the Thunder Point people. They’re very nice. Sometimes nosy, but good, honest people.”
“I’ll try,” Devon said.
“Of course. Listen, I was divorced after one miserable year of marriage so I’m well aware of how hard it can be. In fact, I moved here a little over a year ago, before my divorce was even final. Getting your confidence back after something like that—it’s not easy.”
“Landon’s not your son?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “My younger brother. It’s been the two of us since he was six. Ten years of being a big sister slash single mother.”
“Wow. You did it on your own?”
“Our parents were killed in an accident—there weren’t any choices about it. And it worked out—more due to him than to my parenting skills, I’m sure. He’s a great kid.”
“And now? You’re engaged....”
That caused Sarah to glance at the ring. “I wasn’t divorced long when I met Cooper. I wasn’t going to get involved with a guy, especially one like Cooper, but he’s relentless. Thank God.”
“A guy like Cooper?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Sarah laughed. “One look at him and I took him for a player.”
“Player?” Devon asked.
“Doesn’t he, though? Look like the kind of guy who could give women a real run? But he’s not—he’s so committed, it’s almost shocking. I was the one on the run—he had trouble catching me. But I am now very, very caught. If you had told me two years ago I could be this happy, I’d say you were crazy. Out of every storm...”
Devon just listened, thinking players don’t always look the way they’re supposed to look. That sexy guy in the torn jeans and T-shirt who showed off his broad chest and muscled arms and shoulders is ready to settle down, but the one she fell for—so morally superior and always quoting scriptures—proved to be a bad choice.
“People don’t always look like who they really are.”
Sarah pulled off the highway and headed for town. “You don’t have to tell me, sister. I caught my husband banging the maid of honor. A stunning moment in my romantic history. So, this doctor’s office, this open house, it’s a small space. I’ll be close by, even if the gathering spills out onto the front sidewalk. If you do lose sight of me, I’ll be waiting at the diner across the street. All you have to do is say hello, visit a little and then let me know when you’ve had enough. And you don’t have to explain anything, even if you’re asked. You’re visiting your distant cousin because he offered, things are fine, you’re just looking around the area, you know...”
“I know,” she said, but in fact she was very grateful for this reminder. She didn’t have to answer those difficult questions—the kind Spencer asked.
Sarah parked across the street from the new Family Practice. There were some streamers and balloons and the front door was propped open. And yes, the office was small. It looked like a storefront in a row of storefronts, sitting right between the sheriff’s department and Carrie’s Deli.
The first person Devon met was Scott Grant, the new doctor, who was greeting people at the door. And the inside of his new practice was smaller than small. She counted room for ten chairs and a coffee table right inside the door, a counter with a swinging half door leading to the back. On the other side of the counter was one desk, some shelves, a desktop computer and a room divider that opened on the right side for people to pass into the back where there must be exam rooms. Though it was crowded, there was room for a small table covered by a festive tablecloth on which sat the snacks and punch bowl. This office space could easily be used for a dress shop, a greeting cards and notions store or a travel agency.
The next people she met were Carrie, her daughter, Gina, and granddaughter, Ashley. Ashley was filling cups with punch while Gina was putting out trays of bite-size sandwiches and cookies. Devon saw Carrie pull a cooler out from under the table and withdraw a storage container filled with a variety of hors d’oeuvres, which were then placed into a cute arrangement on a large tray.
There was a little polite small talk. She met Gina’s boss, Stu, who owned the diner; Gina’s husband, Mac, the town deputy; and a couple of neighboring business owners. Having noticed a few people wandering around in the back of the clinic area, Devon couldn’t resist. It was, after all, an open house. She walked behind the room divider and what she found was a series of cubicles and she knew what they were for. There was a treatment room with a bed, counter, sink, chair, supplies. Then another exam room. She found what must be the doctor’s office—there was a desk and shelves laden with books, and the door actually closed for privacy. There was what could pass for a very small break room containing a little table and two chairs, refrigerator, microwave, cupboards and sink.
Then she heard Sarah’s voice asking the doctor when he would be open for business. “Monday. I’m planning on being open Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday—but I’ll come in if someone needs me. I’m keeping some E.R. hours in Bandon,” he said, then laughed. “I’m working in Bandon to afford this practice. I still have some equipment on the way—most of it is small and portable for now. I doubt I’ll ever have an X-ray but I have a small lab and can do simple tests here. It’s a very compact little setup. And I’m planning to run some specials.”
“Oh?” Sarah asked him.
“Cut-rate school and sports physicals and, in the fall, ten-dollar flu shots.” Devon smiled as she noticed his chest puff up a little.
It was sweet, she thought. Handsome young doctor, brand-new practice, good ideas for bringing in new patients.
“Who’s helping you?” Sarah asked.
“I’m doing everything myself, so far. I need an R.N. or, even better, a physician’s assistant, but no one really wants to work for a part-time practice, and I’m afraid it’ll be a while before I can give up the Bandon E.R. to keep this place open six days a week. I can cover for a good nurse, but the paperwork is going to kill me. What I really need is a top-notch office manager, one who can triage patient needs and keep the forms moving whether I’m here or not.”
“Well, I’m going to be out of work by the end of the summer, but I have no idea what a person does in a doctor’s office,” Sarah responded.
But I do, Devon thought. It had been a long time, but she’d been a clerical worker in a small neighborhood doctor’s office. She knew how to keep charts organized and up-to-date, file insurance claims, schedule appointments, all that sort of thing. She wondered if she’d find the courage to put herself out there. And just as she was considering this, she was snagged by a woman.
“So, you’re the new girl. From Seattle, I hear.”
Devon looked around a little nervously and the woman laughed.
“Believe me, there’s only one new girl that I know of,” she said. “How do you like the town?”
“I’ve hardly seen it,” Devon said.
“I’m Lou McCain. That’s my nephew, the big guy who won’t leave Gina alone. Come with me, I want to know all about you.”
The woman turned, clearly expecting to be followed, and Devon did so. She wasn’t about to argue.
Lou sat down on one of the chairs in the small waiting room and patted the chair beside her. Devon took the chair obediently, hoping this woman didn’t ask difficult questions because she would be impossible to refuse.
“Your name?”
“Oh,” she said, and laughed self-consciously. “Devon. How do you do.”
“Splendid, thank you. Now, tell me all about yourself. Where are you from? What brought you to Thunder Point? How long will you stay? What do you do?” Then she laughed. “I’m sorry—I’m used to dealing with middle-school kids and my nephew’s kids, who I help raise. I’m an eighth grade English teacher. It’s made me very direct. Kids that age live by the ‘literal minimal’ law—if you give them a question they can answer with one word, they will.”
So will I, Devon thought.
“I grew up in Seattle. I’ve been kind of a...well, I was in a relationship, but I wasn’t married. I was...ah...you know.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m still single at just a titch over sixty. Never married. However, I’ve had a relationship or two along the way. Just maybe more than two. Never lived with a man, however. I’m thinking about it now, though. My nephew just got married and Gina has moved in with us. It’s very fun, but we are bursting at the seams. And I do have this wonderful... Oh, you don’t want to know about that....”
“Sure I do,” Devon said.
“But where are you staying, darling?” Lou asked.
“My very distant cousin, Mr. Rawley Goode,” she said. “Just when I didn’t know where to go or what to do, he offered me a place. And it gives me time to think about what to do next.” Then she smiled. “I’m also a teacher, though it’s been years.”
“Really? What age?”
“I have a degree in early childhood development. I’d just gotten started on my master’s when I was...sidetracked, I guess you could say. I became a mother.”
Lou smiled. “It sounds like you made good use of your time. We could use a preschool here. Desperately so. But the town can’t afford it and paying tuition would be something most people here could not afford. A couple of people have run the numbers but the bottom line wasn’t good.”
“But is there a day care?” Devon asked.
Right at that moment a young woman entered the office holding the hands of two preschoolers. She was welcomed warmly and Dr. Grant came from the back to greet them. He seemed very happy to see them; he picked up the little girl and ruffled the little boy’s hair.
“The doctor’s children,” Lou explained. “Very cute. They’re three and four. And yours is...?”
“My daughter is three,” she said. “Right now she’s fishing off the dock with Rawley.”
“Day care, you asked,” Lou reminded her. “There are a couple of women in town who babysit in their homes for working parents, but no official day care center. People tend to rely on friends, neighbors and family for that sort of thing. Will you be looking for a sitter?”
“If I manage to find a job, I will,” she said. “How long have you lived here?” Devon asked Lou.
“Here? A little over four years, but I grew up not far from here in Coquille and lived there all my life until Mac took this assignment. As I’m sure you’ve been told, he’s the law in this little town—Sheriff’s deputy with a few other deputies that work for him. It’s a little office, right next door. I’ll be honest—I didn’t want to move, but I’m glad I did. I love the school where I teach and I’ve made good friends.”
“I don’t suppose they’re looking for a kindergarten teacher?”
Lou put a hand on hers. “Not that I know of, sweetheart. But there are a lot of schools in other towns not too far away.”
“I’ll have to call around. I’ve been at Rawley’s house for almost two weeks. I’d better either find a job or move on.”
“Where would you go?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Not back to Seattle?”
“No. I don’t have any family there anymore. I think it’s time for a fresh start. Somewhere.”
“A fresh start as a single mom,” Lou said with a warm smile. “How exciting!”
Devon felt her stomach clench. “Exciting?”
“Yes, exciting!”
Devon just shook her head. “I don’t know. My future looks pretty uncertain right now. And before my daughter came along, I had some pretty lean times....”
“In my life, there seemed to have been cycles—for five to ten years things were up, then followed a long struggle, then things would swing up again. Up and down. I don’t think life is very consistent. But the secret is knowing there’s no limit to the number of times you can reinvent yourself!”
* * *
As the little doctor’s office got busier and more crowded, Devon excused herself and told Sarah she wanted to walk around the town a bit and would be back.
It wasn’t a new or highly polished town, but it was pretty. Devon walked down the sidewalk in one direction then crossed the street and went the other way. She passed lots of small shops, taking note of a store that sold secondhand clothes. There were pots of geraniums hanging from lampposts, window boxes holding roses, and while some of these stores had peeling paint, others looked freshly scrubbed and painted. She peeked inside the diner, an old-fashioned establishment with booths and counter stools. All that seemed missing was a jukebox. She headed down the street toward the marina.
All she had seen from Cooper’s was a marina with some boats, but it was so far across the beach she wasn’t sure what kind of boats there were or how many there were. She was surprised to see big fishing boats, trawlers, sailboats, crabbers. She walked down the street that led to the boat launch and dock. There was a big restaurant at the west end of the marina.
She felt the beach pulling her. It was like seeing a movie from her former life. There was a woman jogging down the beach, reminding Devon she used to love running. She ran track in high school. She saw a volleyball net set up down the beach and a few people batting the ball around. Out on the water were a couple of people on paddleboards and one kayaker heading out toward the mouth of the bay where the frothing Pacific waited. The surrounding hills were steep and rocky and beyond this protected bay, mountains rose in the distance.
It felt like a pocket of safety. And people were living. Having fun. Being part of the real world where everything was not limited or controlled. Devon made up stories about them in her head. The woman was jogging on her day off; the paddleboarders were on a date; the volleyball players were high school or college students; the kayaker was... Wow, she realized it was Landon! He was working his arms and shoulders like a demon.
As she traversed the beach and neared the volleyball game, a runaway ball came close to her. She dashed for the ball. She flipped it into the air and served it back to the players with all her strength, sending it sailing a great distance.
“Whoa!” one of the boys shouted. “Lady, you’re on my team!”
Devon laughed gaily and gave them a wave.
In her former life, she’d worked while attending school and she’d lived with Aunt Mary. She had belonged to a gym. She liked to run, play summer softball with friends, go to ball games and clubs. She hadn’t had much of a savings account and she’d had to supplement her scholarships with loans, but that was the life of a student. It was fun and fulfilling and tense and pressured and exciting. It was normal.
In Jacob’s world Tuesday would look like Monday had—the only variable was the weather. They worked. They were not without their own kind of fun, but it was very odd and lopsided. No one pulled on their spandex and went outside the fence and jogged down the road. They didn’t load up in a car and head for the movies or the library or the coffee shop. They were all in good shape because their work was hard and physical but it was rare that they took a break from work to throw a ball around. Sometimes they’d get a little game of hide-and-seek going and let it go out of control. Most of their diversion was just a private thing between the women—popcorn, stories, a food fight in the kitchen while making cookies late at night.
But not only was there very little change, there was very little possible. Jacob’s plan was simple: everyone would be safe and well cared for inside his walls and under his domination. Big Daddy. The world would end, but they would be safe together. They did not need to think as individuals or to have personal goals; they would not experience the heartbreak or the triumph of success in the mean real world.
There’s no limit to the number of times you can reinvent yourself!
The volleyball came back at her and she served it back at the players again, better than before, and they cheered! She danced around a little for them, arms in the air. And for the first time since leaving the family she thought, Maybe it’s not a choice between either yielding my free will and identity to The Fellowship, or experiencing complete devastation and danger on my own. Maybe there is a place in the middle. Maybe she could have her own life again! Why not? Not everyone in the world lived in a commune run by a controlling, bible-beating, drug-dealing man!
She looked at Cooper’s place and saw him. He was on the deck, leaning on the rail, watching her.
It was time to go back. She turned and went back across the beach to town. She peeked in the diner and when she saw Sarah and Lou sitting there with another woman, she went in. She was introduced to Ray Anne, a small, compact blonde about the same age as Lou but so different in appearance—bleached hair, sexy clothes and flashy, while Lou was attractive in a much more sedate and conservative way.
“Sarah, I want to talk with the doctor for a second before we leave. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, Devon,” Sarah said, looking a little bewildered.
Taking a couple of deep breaths as she crossed the street, she went back into the open house. The crowd had thinned a little. Dr. Grant was talking to Mac, Lou’s nephew. Dr. Grant held his daughter on his hip. She stood back a bit, a little nervous, until both men stopped talking and turned her way, their brows raised in question.
“Dr. Grant, I’ve been looking for openings, for work, and as it happens I’ve worked in a doctor’s office. It’s been a long time, just over five years, and I was only part-time, but I know how to do all the things a medical secretary does. I answered the phones, I’m up to speed on HIPAA regulation, have filed insurance claims, scheduled appointments, all that. The doctor said I did a good job, but she closed her practice. It was just less than a year of experience but it was an ob-gyn practice and there are hardly any crazier, more demanding patients, especially with a doctor who gets called out a lot for deliveries, leaving people waiting. So, if you’re looking for someone... I mean, would you consider me? If there’s no one else? I heard you say you didn’t have anyone and...”
He smiled at her. “I’d love to talk about it,” he said. “Can you come to the office Monday morning?”
She let out her breath. Even though she was well aware he might not find her qualified, she felt as though she’d just shed thirty pounds! “Yes,” she said. “If you’re sure...”
“I’d love to hear more about your short career in obstetrics,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll be here by eight and stay till five or so. Anytime you’re free.”
“Thank you,” she said in a breath. “I’ll, ah, see you. Monday. Yes. And thanks for letting me come to your open house!”
“I’m glad you stopped in.”
* * *
After better than a year of pounding the pavement looking for work in Seattle, followed by four years in a commune, Devon had a job interview. All those old feelings of vulnerability and fear rose to the surface once again.
She had worried all weekend about what to say, how to say it, how to talk about her work history with that long five-year gap and not come off looking like some freak or loser. She had learned during her struggle to find employment that many people thought the poor, jobless, homeless citizens were all drunks, addicts, lazy or lunatics. They didn’t recognize how many of them were senior citizens, war veterans and other victims of the failing economy. The high rate of business closures and escalating unemployment rate made it tough for anyone to find work. Many of the jobless were well educated and hardworking, just like herself.
Though she was very nervous about her meeting with Dr. Grant, she was also determined. And it was Rawley who gave her the courage to see it through. He said, “Listen here, miss. If you find yourself a job, it’s a start. And if you don’t get the job, it don’t matter. We’ll go on the same, and you’ll just try again.”
“I just don’t know why you’re so kind to me, a perfect stranger,” she said.
“Like I told you before, I been on your end of things and I have a lot to pay back. And two, you ain’t hardly a stranger anymore.”
She left Mercy with Rawley at the beach bar. Cooper gave her a lift across the beach to town first thing in the morning. She was waiting when Dr. Grant unlocked his office door. He was surprised and seemed pleased to see her. While he brewed some coffee in that tiny break room, they chatted about general things—how she liked the beach, the town, the people she’d met. She asked him how long he’d been in Thunder Point and was very surprised to learn he’d only been in Oregon for about a year, working in Bandon, and had found a house to rent in Thunder Point only a month ago. He had come from Vancouver.
“And I’m originally from Seattle,” she said. “That’s where I grew up.”
When the coffee was brewed they sat down at the small table and Dr. Grant explained that he needed someone who was comfortable doing a wide variety of tasks. He was looking for someone who could manage the office; field phone calls; keep ahead of the paperwork; schedule patients; call in prescriptions and keep the office open six days a week, even though he would only be in for four of those days.
“I have two small children, my wife is deceased and I have another part-time job in Bandon. I need someone with good management skills to help me make the best use of my time, so that I can take care of my family responsibilities. And it goes without saying I need someone who’s good with people.”
“The woman who brought your children to the open house—I thought she must be your wife?” Devon asked.
“My babysitter,” he said with a laugh. “I’d be lost without her. Her name is Gabriella and I’ve known her and her family for a long time. So—this job? Is this something you think you can do?”
Devon stood and pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket.
“Resume?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I made a list of all the things I remember doing for Dr. Stadler. Imogene Stadler, if you want to try to locate her. She closed her office and joined an OB group, which left several of us out of work.” Then Devon detailed for Dr. Grant her extensive list of experience—filing; transcribing; writing prescriptions for the doctor to sign; taking patient histories; processing referrals; answering phones, to name a few. “There were times I was needed in the exam room as a chaperone and I learned to hand instruments to the doctor. I also went through lab tests, put results in charts and generally made sure Dr. Stadler had what she needed. Then there were things that just happened unexpectedly—the doctor’s seven-year-old threw up at school and I went to get her. We had an elderly patient suffer a stroke in the waiting room—and I swear it was nothing I did! I called more than one ambulance—a good number of OB patients want to see the doctor to ask if they’re really in labor. Never a good idea. If you have to ask...” She shrugged. Then she handed him the paper. “That’s everything I can remember. It’s been five years.”
He took the page and glanced at it. “Great. You appear to be well qualified.”
“I have a degree from the University of Washington—early childhood development. I was a teacher’s aide in kindergarten very briefly. It was a private school and it closed when funding ran out.”
“Is that your goal? To teach again?”
“I did love it, but these days any job is a good job. And I also liked working in the doctor’s office very much.”
“I think you’re just the person I’m looking for,” he said with a smile.
“Well, maybe not,” she said, bolstering herself. She sat straighter in her chair and lifted her chin. “I have a three-year-old and no babysitter. Yet, that is—I decided to find work before I looked for a sitter.”
He smiled at her. “That isn’t going to be a problem. I can help you with that.”
“Oh. That would be amazing. There is one thing I think you should know, though. My lifestyle before coming here wasn’t...typical. I lived with a group of people for four years. I worked very hard, and was very motivated, but I was mainly a domestic and a mother. And when I left, I left with no money and the clothes on my back. Mr. Rawley Goode, a distant cousin, has given us a place to stay.” Then she looked down.
Dr. Grant said nothing for a while. When she looked up, his face was gentle. “I take it you left a bad situation.”
She nodded. “I left before it became worse, before my daughter paid the price.”
“We’ll keep this between us if you like. But a word of advice, Devon. Never feel embarrassed about taking your life back.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d like to hire you for a trial period. I have to protect the practice, so I’ll have to do a background check, just to make sure you’re not a criminal or wanted or anything that would put us in jeopardy. You’ll have access to prescriptions and drugs and I have to be diligent.”
She smiled at him. “I’ve never even had a traffic ticket. And I never have taken drugs—unless you count beer. I was a college student once, after all.”
“Understood,” he said, smiling back. “If you check out and if you do a good job of managing the office, we’re a team. All of this could take as long as a month. I’ll start you at this salary,” he said, writing a figure on a notepad, sliding it toward her. Six hundred a week! Her mouth fell open and she blinked. “If all goes well and everything checks out, I’ll double your pay in a month.”
Her hand actually went to her heart and she fought the urge to go limp. “But...but what about work clothes...I don’t... I can’t...”
“I’ll get you a uniform. A couple of sets of nurse’s scrubs. You’ll need white tennis shoes.”
“I can do that.”
“Do you need an advance on your pay?”
“No, but... Well, to do a background and check my employment and college transcripts, you’ll have to look for the name Devon Anne McAllister. I’ve been concerned that someone is looking for me. I don’t know that for sure, but someone...the man I lived with could come looking for me. If he were to ask people...”
Scott Grant was frowning. “Were you abused, Devon?”
Clear-eyed and calm, she answered, “He forbade me to leave. We weren’t married but he said I was free to go without my daughter. Of course I couldn’t do that. I left without his approval.”
Scott Grant folded his hands on the small table. “You’re clear now, aren’t you? That’s abuse? Right?”
“It could be a lot of things, I guess.”
“Should you talk to Deputy McCain about your experience?” he asked.
“No, I should try to get on with my life.”
“If I understand the law, you are, as the mother, the assumed custodial parent in an unmarried situation. The biological father has rights, and he can assert those rights legally. But preventing you from removing your child from his home would be considered custodial interference. Now, if you refused to acknowledge his legal rights, you would be guilty of the same. But this is a court matter.”
She shook her head. “He will never go near a lawyer or courtroom.”
“I see. Well. Before we start working together, I’d like us to make an agreement. I’ll help you as much as I can. I’d like you to give me your word—if you discover this man is looking for you, I want you to talk to Mac. He’s a good man. You can trust him. He would know what advice to give you.”
She nodded. “I can agree to that. I’d rather just put it all in the past.”
“Understandable.” He sipped from his cup. “So? Tomorrow at eight?”
“You weren’t planning on working on Tuesdays,” she reminded him.
“Tomorrow will be different. We’ll call it orientation. Bring your daughter and we’ll take her to my house together to meet Gabriella. I’ll check with her tonight, but I have no doubt she’ll be happy to take on one more three-year-old. I think the kids will like having a playmate. I think it will work for you.”
“Do you know how much she’ll charge?” she asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know, but Gabriella is very nurturing and reasonable. We’ll talk about it with her in the morning.”
“Okay. Yes, that’s wonderful.” When Devon stood, she found her legs were weak, her knees shaky. She put out her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for giving me this chance. I promise I’ll do a good job.” She took a breath. She was exhausted. She smiled tremulously. “That took more energy than you can imagine.”
He stood as well, taking her hand. “You’ve had some struggles, haven’t you, Devon?”
“You have no idea,” she said on a breath.
“Then I’m glad I can be the one to offer you a chance to turn things around. From this moment on, it’s all up to you.”
Five
As Devon walked back across the beach, her spirits rose with each step. In her previous life, things had been so impossible! And now, at her very first try at finding a job, she was found acceptable. In fact Dr. Grant said “highly qualified”! It was beyond her imagination. She had tears running down her cheeks before she even realized it. She wiped at them impatiently.
When she was halfway across the beach, she stopped and looked out past the big rocks to the Pacific. There was a boat out there, a mere spec on the horizon. Sarah’s brother was on his paddleboard and it appeared he had a young boy along for the ride. The sun was high and bright; the air almost balmy. She passed a young mother with two small children playing on the beach, a stroller and a little cooler beside her towel. Mercy would like that—to be able to play and read and romp on the beach under a warm summer sun.
And she thought, God, if I’m lucky enough to make a life for myself and my child in this small place, I swear I will never complain about anything again!
She was halfway up the beach stairs when she saw him again. Spencer was just coming down. As he made to pass her on the stairs, he frowned and stopped. He reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. “You all right?”
He must have noticed her tears. She wiped her cheeks and smiled a little. “I got a job,” she said in a faint whisper. She cleared her throat and tried that again. Louder. Stronger. “I got a job!”
He smiled at her. “Good for you. Where?”
“In the doctor’s office. Full-time!”
He just laughed, silently.
She pushed past him and ran the rest of the way up the stairs and into the bar. There was just Cooper behind the bar, putting things away. She knew her smile was huge and her cheeks bright with excitement. “Where is Rawley?”
“Well, now. Looks like that job interview went well,” Cooper said with a smile. “They’re in the kitchen. Rawley is making bread with Mercy—a first. I hope she’s taken charge. He’s never done that before.”
With a laugh, she darted into the kitchen. With a stool propped up to the counter, Mercy was kneading green dough, rolling it out and making snakes. “What are you two doing?” she asked.
“Mercy said she was good at making bread and pie crust,” Rawley explained. “I thought green would be fun.” He wiped his hands. “How’d it go?”
“I got it,” she said in a near whisper. “I start tomorrow. And unless there’s some problem I don’t know about, I can share Dr. Grant’s babysitter. He’s a single father with two little kids, so he knows it can get complicated for single parents.”
“Good for you,” he said. “How’s ’at feel?”
“Oh, Rawley, you can’t imagine.” Her eyes teared up again. “All weekend I prepared myself for the inevitable—that he wouldn’t find me qualified. Or even that I wouldn’t look the part. You just can’t imagine...”
He turned to grab his coffee. “I reckon I can imagine.”
“I should...ah...look around for a place of my own,” she said.
He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a half smile. “That so? Last time I looked, you didn’t have no truck full o’ furniture.”
“Maybe there’s something furnished,” she said. “We don’t need much.”
“You do that if you want to, but it ain’t necessary. I got used to the two of you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were cousins. Family. Ain’t hardly had any family. My mother, she passed when I was barely a man. I had no brothers or sisters and, don’t tell anyone, but there ain’t never been cousins. And there sure weren’t no woman who could stand a crazy old vet like me.”
Devon just laughed. She put a hand on his arm, bringing a slight blush to his cheeks. “You’re the furthest thing from crazy I know.”
“Is ’at right? Well, don’t tell Cooper. He thinks he’s doing me a good deed, keeping me in the bar like this, giving me work because I’m an odd one.”
“You’re not,” she said. “And I think Mercy loves you a little bit. I should pay you rent at least,” Devon said.
Rawley sipped his coffee then put down his cup. He leveled old blue eyes at her. “Here’s the deal, missy. I know how important it is to you to be independent—you wasted no time telling me. What I’d like most of all is for you to find your way. You had a trial or two getting this far, you have a kid...it’s high time your luck changes a little bit. It would do me good, being part of someone’s luck changing. It’ll probably do me more good than you. That old house is paid off. If you want to help with food, you go on ahead.”
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Робин Карр
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The Thunder Point seriesThe Hero – Book 3With warmth and sensitivity, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr shows readers that falling in love can be the bravest act of all.In a moment of desperation, Devon McAllister takes her daughter and flees a place where they should have been safe and secure. She has no idea what is around the next bend, but she is pretty certain it can′t be worse than what they′ve left behind. Her plan is to escape to somewhere she can be invisible. Instead, an unexpected offer of assistance leads her to Thunder Point, a tiny Oregon town with a willingness to help someone in need.As the widowed father of a vulnerable young boy, Spencer Lawson knows something about needing friendship. But he′s not looking for anything else. Instead, he′s thrown his energy into his new role as Thunder Point′s high school football coach. Tough and demanding to his team, off the field he′s gentle and kind…just the kind of man who could heal Devon′s wounded heart.Devon thought she wanted to hide from the world. But in Thunder Point, you find bravery where you least expect it…and sometimes, you find a hero…