 
GRACE'S SECRET

by

Hope Walker

Grace's Secret

Copyright 2012 by Hope E Walker

Smashwords edition

This is a work of fiction.

Cover Design Copyright 2012 by Hope E Walker

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the author

Excerpt from Co-Dependent

Excerpt from Ink Slinger

# CHAPTER 1

After putting my bright green bikini bottom on, I grab my top from the mossy stump on the shoreline of the lake. Fumbling from nerves, it takes me longer to put it on than it did taking it off, but I wasn't the one who had taken it off. Flipping my golden, bouncing curls over, I tie the strings and then toss my hair back into place, giving my sexiest smile to my onlooker.

Trevor stood there leaning against a cypress tree with his arms folded across his chest, shyly watching me dress. His timid smile was contagious and it made me blush. It's amazing that after what he and I did, that it's his bashfulness that turns my face pink. Not that having sex with Trevor Donovan isn't enough to make a girl blush, but it's the meaning behind the grin that paints my cheeks.

Thinking back to that morning, if someone would've told me I would be sprawled out on a private sandy beach at the lake, letting Trevor make love to me, not once, but twice this afternoon, I probably would've smacked him or her in disgust.

Don't get me wrong, it doesn't repulse me because of his looks. No, definitely not because of his blonde messy hair, icy blue eyes, tan muscular body, and a face that could easily be plastered over any magazine. The shock would be from the fact that Trevor Donovan isn't mine to have sex with, or mine to have impure thoughts about.

Trevor Donovan belongs to my angelic older sister. He's Heidi's true love, the one she's saving herself for her wedding day. They both have plans to open up their own children's bible study camp after finishing school. Heidi and Trevor are our church's role models for the younger fellowship. They have plans to marry after college, and then to adopt many children. It's enough to make me gag.

I, on the other hand am not an angelic sister, with having slept my way through high school, and now my college. Using my sexy golden locks, long legs and a body most models would die for, I get pretty much anything I want.

My sister has the same tools I have. After all, we're identical twins. She's the elder by two minutes. Although she and I are the polar opposites, we're best friends. With all my sleazing around, I never go after a guy my sister shows the slightest interest with, which hasn't been many up until Trevor came along.

When she and Trevor began dating two years ago, my jealousy consumed me. I couldn't figure out why a hot guy like Trevor would ever go for Heidi, but after getting to know the new boy in church, I realized that they were made for each other.

Trevor shares all the same interests as Heidi. Both wanting to help children. Both taking pledges to remain virgins until they're to wed. They believe that they were put on this earth to be parents to those who had none. It's sickening, but I backed off and let the two have each other. I love my sister unconditionally, and I know she loves me the same.

Trevor has become a daily fixture in our home. Our parents adore him. I adore him. He's sweet, funny, sexy, helpful, and he treats my sister with more respect than I will ever see in my lifetime. We all love Trevor and accept him as family.

That's why I would've been hurt if someone had told me I would be doing the nasty with him at the beach the one weekend my sister is away. But I did. I did just do the unthinkable, and I liked it.

With his arms still folded over his chest, he left the tree and made his way through the hot sand. He drops his arms to his side and makes a mad dash toward me, causing me to squeal in delight of the chase.

I back up into the murky lake and splash him, but he grabs me, and we both smack down in the water. Pulling me up, he pushes my now soaking wet hair from my face, wraps his arms around me and kisses me. Kissing back, I reach up and wrap his blonde hair through my fingers.

I have slept with many, let me repeat, many guys and never have I fallen in love with any of them. The way the butterflies pulsate in my stomach, and how my head feels dizzy when he's around, leads me to believe that the feeling I've had for this man for the last year, was love. Our love making moments ago sealed, stamped, and mailed that love letter for me.

Also, having slept my way through the county, I know I'm not Trevor's first. There's no way a man who's a supposed devoted virgin knows exactly how to make me feel the way he just did. I knew the moment he walked through our church doors two years ago that he wasn't a virgin. It's my gift to familiarize myself with such things.

We both hold each other's hands as we splash out of the lake and back over to the blanket we had laid out earlier for our innocent day at the beach. _How could we have let it go this far, so fast?_ I think to myself as the guilt begins to sneak in.

We've spent many times at this lake together swimming, skiing, and picnicking. Other than my sister, it was another common thread he and I have. We both have a love of the water and spend as much time as possible in it. Heidi has a fear of the water, and will usually stay home, or underneath the cypress tree reading a book.

Plopping our wet selves on the blanket, we both sit there looking out to the sun shining down onto the lake. Our body language changes from intimate lovers to awkward acquaintances, guilt radiating from every crevice of our beings.

Trevor breaks the lock on our senseless prison by saying, "This was a mistake. It can _never_ happen again." He turns to look at me and goes on to say, "I love Heidi, Grace. She can never know about this."

Seeing the hurt in his eyes, I know he means it. I have nothing to say to him. It's not the first time I'm used, but it is by someone I'm in love with. It hurt worse than I ever could've imagined. I can feel my heart falling apart making it difficult to breath.

Sitting there on the old quilt my grandmother had made for me on my fifth birthday, I flick sand back onto the beach, not wanting him to see the hurt in my face. I know that if I concentrate for just a moment, I can then look him in the eyes, smile, and say _Of course, Trevor. This was just sex for fun,_ but it's not coming to me as easily as I had hoped.

Flicking sand, and making patterns in the blanket, I think about my grandmother who worked hard to make my sister and I matching quilts. I encircle the corner of it with my fingers, tracing my name she had sewn on it. She embroidered our names on them, so we knew whose was whose.

"Did I hurt your feelings, Grace?"

"No, Trevor. I agree. She can never know," I say without looking up at him and continuing with my sand flicking skills.

"I really love her. I've never lied to her except about being a virgin, but I'm sure you realized that."

"I know."

"I've tried really hard to refrain from having sex. In the two years I've been with Heidi, you're the only one I've slept with. I suppose it's because taking care of business myself is getting old, and you..." he can't finish what he was going to say.

But I know what he was going to say. All the sexual heat he burned into me was him pretending I was Heidi. Every move of his hand over my body was him imagining it was her. When he moved inside me and let all of him flow inside _me_ he was fantasizing it was my sister.

I stand and brush the sand off me, grab my bag and begin putting my things away. He gets up, takes the blanket, and folds it before handing it to me. Standing there looking at my grandmother's quilt, I know what she would tell me to do.

Positioning the quilt under my arm and tossing the bag over my shoulder, I put my flip-flops on, and look at him with a big understanding smile and reply, "Trevor, you don't need to explain to me. It was just for fun. It's no big deal. I love my sister, and I would never tell her. As far as I'm concerned, _this_ never happened." I say. Then repeatedly point to him then to me.

Trevor smiles in relief and takes the blanket from my arms. He then picks up the keys to his Jeep that he left on the stump, and makes his way through the wooded path back to where we parked. I follow right behind him, but want to run him down, drive myself back to my house, flop on my bed, and cry my eyes out.

The ride home is quiet. We exchange a few a fake smiles, but it's more me reassuring him that I'm fine, and the secret will remain between us. The deafening silence is only making my broken heart shatter into smaller pieces.

Trevor stops in front of my apartment. "You can trust me, Trevor. I won't ever say a word about any of it."

"Thank you, Grace. I'm sorry. I know that doesn't justify my actions today."

"I get it, Trevor, no worries." I shut the Jeep's door and follow the path to the back of my apartment building.

Looking up to the second floor, I see my sister sitting on my balcony. _She's back early, crap!_ I wave up to her and smile big as if nothing happened today. _I didn't have sex with your boyfriend._ Maybe saying it to myself will make me believe it.

"Were you with Trevor at the lake?" she smiles down at me.

"Yeah. I'll be up in a minute." I answer her and run up the stairs to my apartment.

Dropping the quilt and beach bag on the floor, I skip toward my balcony to hug my sister. "Yay, you're back early!"

"Yeah, there wasn't much for me to do at the dorm this weekend. I tried calling Trevor to let him know, but guessed he was at the beach since neither of you answered your phones. Was the water warm?" Heidi asks me.

She's not angry that I was at the lake with her boyfriend. She knows the love of water he and I share, and she trusts me. Stupid Heidi.

The lake is the only place in this town that has awful cell reception. It's not the first time she's been unable to reach us when we've been at the lake together. Our church owns a piece of property on the lake and we're allowed to use it whenever we want. Most of the time we're not alone when we we're there.

Thinking back to Trevor and me naked on the blanket screwing like jackrabbits, I realize we're the stupid ones. Anyone could've stumbled out of the woods and caught us, twice. Normally the thought of someone watching me have sex would excite me, this time it put a sick feeling in my stomach, as I imagine it probably does for most women.

"The water was warm, but murky. It's just not as clear as it was last year."

We yap on as normal, except this time I'm harboring a secret from her.

### CHAPTER 2

Life slowly went back to normal the month that followed the incident that happened at the lake between Trevor and me. Heidi and Trevor were planning on going back to school in a couple weeks, and I was holding myself prisoner in my apartment from a broken heart, and overwhelming guilt.

So maybe it wasn't normal for me, but I did a good job at pretending when I was around them.

The guilt from what Trevor and I did was eating at me, and the sorrow I felt for my sister was even worse. It made me ill every time I thought about it. When I didn't have to be around them for church or other functions, I laid in bed nursing the sick feeling in my stomach. I would get out of bed to throw up, then back to bed.

A few days before Trevor and Heidi were leaving for school, Heidi stopped by to pick up a few of her things and to check on me, but she had another reason to visit me, and it took me by surprise.

I got out of bed, let her in, and went and curled up on the couch.

"I borrowed this last month when I was here, so I thought I would bring it back." Heidi says as she places the blanket on the chair next to the door.

"You're still sick?" she asks looking at me in my sweats and sweatshirt.

"I guess, but I'm feeling much better. I'm just tired. What do you want to talk to me about?"

Heidi has this excitement all over her face.

"Promise you won't judge me, Grace."

I laugh, "I promise. I'm the last one to ever judge you."

She smirks knowing I'm referring to my promiscuity and her innocence. "That's why I'm coming to you about this. I can't wait any longer to have sex with Trevor." She blurts it out, wide eyed and then covers her mouth as if she can't believe the words came from her.

_I_ can't believe they came from her. "Seriously, Heidi? Are you sure? This is a big deal for you, losing your virginity and all." I say, waiting for her reaction.

"I know," she gushes. "I can't help it. He turns me on with one look, and I'm not a nun or anything. I know he's not a virgin, I never believed that for a minute. He smacks himself off whenever he gets a chance, and then acts like I don't know he does it."

We both bend over in hysterics at the thought of that. I've never had a conversation like this with my sister. It's a nice change from our usual antics.

After gaining control of my laughter, I'm able to ask, "So why are you telling me, what do you want from me in regards to your new revelation?"

"Well, I want to surprise him. I want it to be romantic, but in an unsuspecting way. We've been going to the lake lately. He's trying really hard to cure my fear of the water. So I thought that would be a good place."

I sit there stunned that she would mention the lake for her first time with Trevor. _Oh my gosh, she knows. She knows!_

"So what do you want me to do to help?" hoping she can't hear the trepidation in my voice.

"I want to get it all set up, and then have you get him there. Either by asking him to meet you there or by asking him to grab something we forgot. I don't know, just get him there."

"When do you want me to do this?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know when I get all the details figured out. I want to make sure that I'm ready for this." Heidi says, sounding a bit nervous.

"Sure, Heidi, I'll do it. I'm happy for you. You know how much _I_ love sex! I'm excited you are finally going to experience it too." I still don't get a reaction from her. Maybe she doesn't know. Perhaps it's just coincidence.

Either way, the thought of her having intimate contact with the man I love isn't making my sick feeling any better. I thought I had time to rid my feelings of Trevor before having to deal with listening to her talk about him in that way.

Heidi leaves shortly after our little discussion, but I'm still not feeling any better. Puking in the toilet for the third time that day brought another realization to me. I haven't had my period in a while. _Oh no!_ I think to myself.

"I can't be, can I?" asking myself aloud.

After cleaning myself up, getting dressed, and grabbing my car keys, I drive to the corner drug store to buy a pregnancy test. I pay for the possible end of my life, and go back home as fast as I can.

In the bathroom, I pee on the stick, and then put the cap on it to wait the three minutes for this little scientific contraption to decide my fate. If I'm pregnant, the baby will be Trevor's since I haven't slept with anyone else. To calm myself I say, "If I'm pregnant, I'll just inform everyone it was a one night stand, and I'm not sure who the father is. Everyone knows my reputation, they've been expecting this to happen for years."

But there's no part of me wishing I'm not pregnant. It's not the first pregnancy test I've taken. There've been a few. Ok, more than a handful, but they were always negative, and I was always relieved when they were.

This time a part of me is hoping that I am pregnant. The thought of a piece of Trevor growing inside of me, sends butterflies twirling in my belly. I never want to hurt my sister, but I can't lie, another part of me dreams of him leaving her for me so we can be a family. "That's crazy talk, Grace. You can never tell your sister, you can never hurt her that way."

Sitting there still on the toilet with my panties around my ankles, I wad up toilet paper, wipe, pull my jeans up, and wash my hands. I still have about a minute left before checking the stick for one line or two. Normally at this point, I'm crossing my fingers praying for one line. Every time my prayers were answered.

This time I'm not sure which way to pray. I know the best outcome would be one line, but the butterflies are singing a two-line song.

I check my watch and know it's time to read my fate either between one line or two. Picking up the stick, I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, open them, and look down to see two little pink lines to complicate my life.

### CHAPTER 3

My first thought is to pick up the phone and spill the beans to Trevor, but I know that's just in hopes to hear him say, "I'm so excited! I can't imagine anything more than to have a baby with you, Grace. I could never get you out of my mind after the day on the beach. Heidi has nothing on you, and I've wanted only you ever since then."

But I know he would never say that. My best bet is to go with my one night stand story. It will be believable to everyone, they won't be too disappointed, and my sister will never have to get hurt. That's the most important reason for me to stick with this story.

Curled up on my bed, hugging my pillow, I cry myself to sleep from heartbreak. I'm going to be a mother, and I can't even be with the baby's father, whom I love with all of my being.

A few hours later a knock at my door wakes me from my tear induced slumber. I think if I just ignore the pounding, they will go away, but they don't. Caving in, I leave the comfort of my bed to answer the door.

Peering through the peak hole, I see that it's my sister. _Ugh, what is she doing here again?_

I unlock the door and greet her with a smiling, "Hello, Heidi. Forget something?"

"I swear this sex thing has my mind on flipping vacation, Grace!" she laughs as she pushes by me and dashes into my living room. "I forgot to grab my glasses I left on the table earlier." She grabs her reading glasses and scrutinizes me with her eyes, and with her nose scrunched up as if she smelled something foul.

"What?" I ask her, not enjoying the look she's giving me.

"You look worse now than you did a few hours ago, except you actually got dressed." Heidi says to me as she points to my designer jeans.

I run my hands through my hair and reply, "I just woke up from a much needed nap. I promise I'm feeling much better, Heidi. I'm just tired."

"I'm worried about you, Grace." Heidi puts her glasses in her purse and walks over to give me a hug.

I accept the hug, but want to sob onto my sisters shoulder's from the secret she will never know. Holding back the urge to bawl like a baby, I push her back and give her a reassuring grin before saying, "I'm ok, Heidi. I promise. Give me another day or so, and you will have your sassy sister back." I lie.

"Ok, I'm holding you to that." Heidi looks at her watch and tells me, "I'm meeting Trevor for dinner in about an hour. Do you want to join us? Maybe getting out and being around family would do you some good."

The thought of food, and the thought of seeing the two of them together make the sick feeling return. "No, I just need rest. Really, I'm good. You go have your dinner, and call me tomorrow and let me know what you decide with the romantic beach set up." I tell her as I go back to my bedroom, just wanting to be in my bed.

Heidi follows me to my room and helps me climb back into bed. She then goes and pours me a glass of water and sets it on my nightstand. It's those little things my sister does for me that reaffirm my decision to never hurt her with the truth.

I feel my sister sit next to me on my bed. She grabs my brush and starts to brush my hair. This is something my sister used to do for me on nights that I had a difficult time falling asleep. With the softness of her touch, and the brush gently moving through my hair, I begin to relax and slowly doze off.

I briefly hear my sister say goodnight to me, and then shut my bedroom door before I completely let sleep take over.

CHAPTER 4

The following week I begin feeling better. I even manage to make it to school to sign up for my fall classes on campus. This will be the beginning of my senior year at college, and I'm determined to finish and earn my degree, especially since I'm going to be supporting another person in my life.

I decide I will wait until school is in full swing before letting those in my life know about the baby I'm going to have. I know they will have many questions and show a little disappointment, but eventually they will just accept it and support me as they always have.

Later that day I receive a phone call from my sister that I've been preparing myself for. I must come to terms with the fact that Trevor will never be mine, and I have to face him and Heidi being together. Knowing it's not going to be easy, I choose to continue keeping my distance from them as much as I can. At least until I know I will be ready to handle it.

"So I was thinking that maybe the lake wouldn't be a good place. People could catch us there. Just this week he was trying to get me in the water, and two people popped out of the woods. But I came up with another plan. Can you still help me, Grace?" Heidi asks.

"Sure. Tell me what you need me to do."

"Well I was hoping you could take him to the lake, to get him out of the dorm. I just need him out for about an hour or so. Not very long."

The thought of being alone with him at the lake rips through me like a hurricane wiping out a small town. It's fast, brutal and feels deadly. But I have to do it for my sister.

"When do you want me to take him there?" I ask her.

"I know it's kind of short notice, but can you do it tonight?"

"Tonight? What am I supposed to do with him at the lake in the dark?" I know what I would love to do with him in the dark, but that's inappropriate.

"I don't know, Grace. Can you figure something out, please?" Heidi is beginning to have desperation in her voice.

"I guess, Heidi. I will call him when I get off the phone with you." I hang up from talking to her and gain some composure to call the man I've been avoiding for a while. I know this little rendezvous will be heart breaking for me. I don't know if I can even do it, but I know I should try for my sister.

"Hi, Trevor, it's Grace. What's going on?" I try to sound completely casual, but I'm not sure if I'm pulling it off or not.

"Hey, Grace. Wow, I'm surprised to hear from you. Is everything ok?" Trevor asks me.

"Um, yeah, everything is fine. I need to talk to you though. Can you meet me at the lake? It's really important."

The phone goes silent. I check to see if we were disconnected, by pulling it away from my ear and looking at the status of the call. We're still connected. So I wait a few more minutes for him to respond.

"Grace, I don't think that's a good idea. I told you that I love Heidi. She's my whole life. You need to let this go. I know how you feel about me, and I know I hurt you. I'm sorry for that, I really am. But so help me if you hurt Heidi. I won't let you do that to her. I won't!" Trevor yells at me through the phone.

I can't believe he's talking to me like this. The nerve of him. The blood begins boiling inside me, forcing me to snap back at him. "Really, Trevor? Really? Do you think I don't love my sister? I told you I would never do anything to hurt her. Yeah, I love you, I always have. Yeah, it hurts being around you, but I would _never_ jeopardize my relationship with my sister. Never! How dare you!"

"Settle down, drama queen. You can say what you want. I just want to make it clear to you that you and I will **never** happen. You repulse me when I think about everyone you've been with. I was so sick about sleeping with you that I went and got myself tested. Thank goodness everything was negative, but gosh, Grace." He rants on.

My heart is crushed and I can no longer hold back my tears. I let them fly, I didn't care. "You're so mean." It's all I can say between sobs.

"Grace, I'm sorry. Please understand where I'm coming from. I don't mean to hurt you on purpose. I've never loved anyone the way I love Heidi. She's my whole world. I would take a bullet for her. I would give her my heart if she needed a new one. I will do whatever it takes to protect her from harm. Please, Grace, let it go. Your sister means everything to me."

He hurt me more than any man ever has, and I've been physically hurt by a few. This is painful, and to return the suffering I reveal my secret to him, "I'm pregnant, Trevor. I'm pregnant with _your_ baby! Do you hear me? Do you get that? So don't you go telling me about protecting Heidi. I also will do anything to protect her. In fact when I tell everyone about the baby, I'm going to lie to everyone I love, just to protect her. So you don't get to be the only hero in her life. I love her too. I love her so much that I'm supposed to take you to the lake to get you out of the house because she's planning to give up her virginity with you tonight, you bastard." I hang up the phone, throw myself on the bed and sob.

### CHAPTER 5

Sprawled out on my bed, slobber and mascara covering my pillow, I wipe the drool from my lips and look at the clock. It's two in the morning and my phone conversation with Trevor comes to mind. I'm upset that I told Trevor about the baby. I never wanted him to know. My sister is probably upset that I didn't meet Trevor at the lake, but I'm sure Trevor will make up an excuse as to why.

Kicking my shoes off, I get under my covers, close my eyes and try to shut off my mind. Before I even get myself in a comfortable position, there's a banging at my front door.

"What is with people bashing down my door when I'm trying to sleep?" I say aloud tossing the blankets off to shuffle my way to the front door.

I expect to find my sister on the other side of the door, ready to gush about losing her virginity to the father of my child, but instead the instant I open the door a set of masculine hands wrap around my neck. I hear the sound of my door being kicked shut as I struggle to release the pressure that is squeezing the breath from me.

Prying at his arms and kicking, he finally tosses me onto my couch. I begin to cough and gasp for air, as I look an enraged Trevor in the face.

"What the hell, Trevor." I say as I continue holding my throat, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Get your shoes on, Grace. You wanted to go to the lake and talk, so we're going to the lake to talk. Get your shoes on!" He yells at me.

I get up to go to my room to grab my shoes, looking behind me to see if he's following. He is. I'm frightened to say anything to him. I'm puzzled as I've never seen him angry. _Is this how he treats Heidi when he's mad_? I wonder to myself as I tie my laces.

Trevor grabs my coat that's laying over the arm of my chair and hands it to me. I put my coat on, never taking my eyes off him. He seizes my arm and drags me out of my apartment to his Jeep.

"Get in." He pushes me in after he opens the flimsy door.

"Ok. Don't push me. Gosh, Trevor, what the hell is going on? You're scaring me."

We sit there in silence driving down the highway toward the lake. The top is off the Jeep, making it a chilly ride in more ways than one.

I keep stealing glances at his face. Even when he's angry, he's sexy. With a clenched jaw, and piercing eyes, he keeps his face forward, never looking in my direction. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the shifting column.

I can guess this isn't going to be a talk about our future together with our child. He probably couldn't handle the guilt and spilled the beans to Heidi. _Idiot._ Now he's going to take me to our magical love making location to reiterate how much he loves Heidi, and how much _I_ messed it all up for him.

I decide I'll just let him yell at me all he wants. I'll take the blame for our indiscretion. Heidi loves Trevor, and he's her whole life. If I have to make it so she's mad at me so she can be happy with him, then that's what I'll do. That will be my punishment. After tonight, I will leave them alone to work it all out.

Trevor will feel better by screaming and hurting me, he will soon let it go once Heidi forgives him and I'm out of their lives. I can take the screaming and the heart ache it's going to cause me again. I deserve it. Then I'll go home, go back to bed, and move on with my life, just me and our baby.

Pulling into the sandy parking lot at the lake trailhead, I realize I've never been here this late at night with the moon lighting up the property so beautifully. The moon is full and bright, and it's almost as if I can reach up and pull it down to me. This truly was a magical place with the cypress trees lightly flickering through the moonlit breeze.

Trevor turns off the ignition and instructs me, "Get the fuck out, Grace."

_Wow, swear words._ They cut through me and sting a little more than I thought they could.

I do as I'm told and follow him through the tree-lined path down to the private beach where we once made love, twice. Luckily for me he's being an insane asshole which makes this visit not as heart wrenching as I thought.

The moon is bright and lights our way through the small patch of forest without the use of any flashlights. Through the limbs of the trees, I see the lake spread out in front of us. It looks like there are two moons with the calmness from the lake accepting the moon's reflection.

Trevor is walking ahead of me, and he stops to grab hold of a tree with his head down and his other hand covering his mouth. He then bends over and begins vomiting.

I stop walking and plug my nose. If I smell it, it will make me throw up too. My stomach is still sour from morning sickness. His guilt must be worse than I thought if it's making him throw up. _Perhaps pregnancy sympathy pains for me?_ I chuckle to myself.

Standing there watching him from a few feet behind, I hear him sobbing. I want to run to him and soothe him, but I know he will choke me out if I go anywhere near him. Keeping my distance, I stand there patiently waiting for him to finish his pity party, knowing that the screaming he was getting ready to hand to me will be crueler than I previously envisioned.

Looking past him toward the lake, I see a black shadow of something on the shoreline. From this distance and the way the moon is shining, I can't quite judge what it is. Listening to Trevor continue to sob at the tree, I slowly make my way around him to the object on the beach.

When I reach the sandy shore, I can distinguish that it's a blanket, half in the water, half on the beach. Arriving closer I recognize the quilt immediately. It's one of the blankets my grandmother had made for my sister and me.

I know it has to be Heidi's since she returned mine after borrowing it that day from my apartment. The light of the moon gave me enough light to read the name that was embroidered on the corner edge of the blanket. It read: GRACE.

_She must've brought the wrong blanket back._ I drop to my knees to reel in the wet part of the blanket to wring it out. _She must've shown up here to talk to Trevor when she realized he hadn't come back to the dorm. She must've been pretty pissed off at him for her to leave this behind._

"No wonder he's so angry with me," I say aloud.

As I begin pulling in the wet blanket I see another dark entity floating in the lake. It's out a little ways, and I can't quite make it out. I take off my shoes, and roll up my jeans to wade out in the water to get the article, rubbing my hands on my pants to get the sticky wetness off from the blanket.

I look behind me to see if Trevor has found his way to the beach or to see if he's still blubbering like a baby. He's standing directly behind me on the shoreline, holding my blanket in his hand. His eyes are bloodshot from crying, and he has a criminal look in his eyes as they drill through me.

Ignoring him, I turn back toward the item floating in the lake and persist wading my way to it. With the light of the moon even brighter, I look down at my sticky hands and realize the wetness I felt from the blanket earlier, wasn't just from the water. This is dark, sticky, and red with a metallic odor.

"Is this blood?" I ask myself, bending over to put my hands in the lake to rinse it off.

I hear Trevor entering the water behind me, and that's when I feel it.

Cold, sharp, and horrifically painful, deep into my back, then my shoulder, my back, my back, until I stumble forward into the water, screaming.

Trevor begins to yell at me, "You stupid bitch! It was supposed to be you! You said you were supposed to meet me," he sobs. "I showed up to get rid of you and your secret once and for all. It was supposed to be you standing with your toes in the water."

Waving my arms around to try to keep myself afloat, I reach out for the item floating up ahead, clawing my way toward it. The murky, red water splashes my wounds, causing outrageous pain.

"It was YOUR blanket, Grace."

He takes a few more stabs at me through the water, hitting my upper thigh this time. I finally have a good grasp on the buoyant form.

"You took everything I ever loved. You made me do it, Grace. This is all your fault. I'm going to get it right this time. I'm not going to shove _your_ head under the water and watch you fight for your life as I stab you. I'm going to make it worse for _you_!" He stabs at me again, and again.

I'm weak from the blood loss, and the last swipe he takes at me will be the last one I will feel, even though there will be many more.

I grab onto the garb floating in the water. It flips over from me clambering to get on it. I see a reflection in the water.

Just as the lake accepted the moon's reflection, I accept the last reflection I will ever see before death took me. Only it isn't reflection at all, it's my dead sister.

Marcie's Secret, book 2 in _Keeping Secrets from the Donovans_ is now available. This next story is a full-length story and introduces you to some of Trevor Donovan's family. It takes off where this ends, but with more romance and deception.

About the Author

Hope Walker, a stay at home mother, resides in Washington State with her husband and daughter. When she's not writing, she's taking care of animals on their small farm located in Snohomish County. She enjoys watching chickens and ducks on their farm run and play. There's something funny about watching flightless birds run.

Busily involved with her daughter's activities with school, sports and Girl Scouts, she is learning to pencil time in for herself by taking up running, and now putting her love of suspense, with just a taste of erotica, out there for others to enjoy.

She hopes her first stories will just be the beginning of her childhood dream of becoming your favorite author.

Other titles by Hope E Walker

Co-Dependent

Split

Ink Slinger

Please enjoy the following excerpts from my other stories.

_Excerpt from_ Co-Dependent

a short story

CHAPTER 1

Sissy grabbed her purse and headed out to her car. Already on her boss's radar for tardiness, she knew today would be no exception. Knowing that she was going to get another lecture made her cringe.

He doesn't care that she's a single mother with a sick five-year-old. He doesn't care that her over-baring, bitch of a mother is the only one she has helping with her son because she can't afford _real_ daycare. And he definitely doesn't care that her husband left her with all the bills when he ran off with his twenty-something blonde bimbo.

Her mother's help came with condescending comments, know-it-all attitudes, and let's not forget the cynical criticism she dishes out daily. She constantly reminds Sissy how lucky she is that _she's_ willing to drive the two blocks to _her_ home to accommodate her allergy prone child.

Pulling out of her driveway, Sissy makes a mental note to pick up Taylor's allergy medicine on her way home from work. Not able to take any more days off from work, she had no choice but to leave her sick child home with her mother today. Her mother would take Taylor to his doctor appointment this afternoon, promising to call Sissy once they were finished, even though she bitched about the inconvenience it caused her.

Driving down the traffic-jammed freeway, Sissy checks the time on her stereo, there would be no way around it today, she'll be late, and forced to listen to Randal's sermon on punctuality. Being a mother, she's learned to tone him out as he blabbers on.

It's been two years since her husband left, forcing her to go from a stay-at-home mom to single-working mother where she works as Randal's assistant. Technically Randal wasn't her boss, the lawyer they both worked for was their boss, but he didn't pay her any attention. Randal made sure their boss didn't because he was always busy kissing his ass.

Randal hoped to become a lawyer himself one day, so he gives Sissy all the little meaningless work while he takes on all the big cases trying to prove himself to the boss. Sissy watches him brown nose and ass kiss all day long. It was the only humor she had in her life. She supposed that he also was so harsh to her because he was a gay man who had been bullied much of his life. In this office, he's fairly treated and never harassed.

Now that Sissy was stuck in traffic, she would no longer have time to stop for her normal cup of coffee at her favorite espresso stand where Alejandro makes the best with his Latino accent, and delectable lips. Instead, she will be stuck with the thick black mud Christina, the receptionist, makes every morning for their boss. After adding creamer and a few packets of sugar to it, it isn't so bad. It's not Alejandro's cup of heavenly java, but it's better than none at all.

Realizing that she's going to be five minutes late, she steps on the gas, and then speeds the last few miles to the office. Risking a ticket is better than listening to Randal reprimand her in his stern, less than manly voice.

She turns into the lot at her office building, and scans for a parking place. Due to her tardiness, she's forced to park behind the building in the last space. Of course, it's not the first time she's ended up in this spot. She should have her name on the curb showing that it's reserved for her. _Crap! Still late!_

Sissy slams her car door, fumbles with her keys, and then locks it. When she looks up, she sees him standing on the other side of her blue Hyundai with his sexy smile. He's leaning on the roof of her car gazing at her with his fueling green eyes.

Gaining composure, she clenches her teeth to stop the sensual sensation that instantly begins oozing from deep inside her. He has a way to make every erogenous zone within her come alive, with just a look. She hates him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hisses at him.

"What, I can't come say hi to my wife at work?"

"I'm your _ex-wife_ and no, you can't come anywhere near me." _The nerve of him showing up here after two years!_

"I want to see my son. When can I see Taylor?" he pleads with his southern charm.

"You haven't seen him in two years and NOW you want to see him? What, did your girlfriend leave you? I guess she was smarter than me, because she figured you out faster than I ever would've."

Her face is burning, and her palms are sweaty from the anger she feels toward him, and the annoyance she has with herself for still yearning for him after all this time. She makes it a few feet from the door to her office building when someone clutches her arm and pulls her back.

Joey whips her around to face him, with both of her forearms held tightly in his grasp Sissy knows she will only hurt herself if she fights back. There is no competing with his strength, and her heart, and longing won't allow for a struggle. Sissy is weak when it comes to confronting him, or confronting anyone, including her mother.

"Let go of me!" she yells, hoping to bring attention to the both of them. Using her words in such a manner is her only means to protect herself against this man, and most of the time they are of no use to her.

"Listen, I'm not here to cause any trouble. I know I fucked up, Cecelia, I'm sorry. I just want to see my son," releasing his grip on her arms once he realizes he's clenching them to tight.

Sissy drops her arms to her side and looks at the man she once was madly in love with. _Damn him!_

"Look, Joey, I'm late for work. I'm already in trouble at work, and I can't deal with you and your shenanigans right now." Taking her eyes off the tall, dark haired, green-eyed man that rocked her world at one time, she straightened her skirt, pulled her suit jacket closed, and walked away.

Her heart had finally made a new home where it could heal from what he did to her two years ago. She wouldn't fall for him again, she _couldn't_ fall for him again. _He's not going to let this go,_ she says to herself when she hears footsteps following her to the door.

Turning on her heels, Sissy yells, "Look asshole..." she stops in mid-sentence when she realizes it's not Joey behind her. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry, Mr. Lebowitz," apologizing to the man she works for, but rarely sees because of Randal's ass kissing.

Mr. Lebowitz puts his arms up in the air, holding his brief case in one hand, "Whoa. I'm not sure what I did but I'm sorry, I think." He smirks at her and puts his hands down.

"Oh I am so sorry, I thought you were someone else. I'm so embarrassed. Please forgive me," Sissy was mortified. _Damn, Joey!_

"It's ok, Sally," he always forgets her name. "I saw that man talking to you a moment ago and I could tell it wasn't a pleasant conversation. Everything ok, should we call the police?" He sounds genuinely concern, and it's a side of him she has never witnessed.

Sissy looks up at her boss and blushes bright pink across her hot cheeks. Eric Lebowitz was a very handsome man with strong features, blonde hair, blue eyes, and square jaw. He was everything Joey was not, but still had a similar effect on her, and she felt it between her thighs the few times they had brief encounters.

"No, it's ok. That was my ex-husband who decided to show his face after two years. He's harmless. I'm guessing his girlfriend dumped him. Which probably means he now has free time to see his son," she rambles to her boss then stops talking once she's realized her mouth was sputtering. "I'm late. Randal is going to kill me." _Sissy, you're stupid_! She says to herself, but knows it really is her mother's voice she hears saying it.

"Well let me know if there is anything I can do to help you with that situation," offers Mr. Lebowitz as he walks along with Sissy to the office.

"Which one, the one with Randal or my ex?" _Sissy, shut up!_ "Um, no, I'm good, but thanks." _Really, Sissy, thanks?_

"I can help you with both, Sally. Let me first help with Randal," he says to her while holding the open the door for her pass through.

When she walks past him through the door, she had the sensation that he bent down and smelled her hair. Although awkward, she was flattered. It's been two years since she's had any sort of affection from a man, or human being other than her son.

Excerpt from

## SPLIT

by

Hope Walker

CHAPTER 1

After loading the last brown box into my truck, I make sure the tie-downs are snug by giving each of them a final tug. The last thing I want is for something to fly out of the back and lose it. Or worse, have it hit someone. That would be devastating.

A woman was hurt from a piece of furniture that flew out of a truck on the highway. It smashed through her windshield leaving her disfigured. Not wanting to be the reason for such a tragic accident, I always make sure my load is secure before getting out on the road.

This time it's a bit different. It's not my long haul work rig. It's my own truck with my family's personal belongings.

We're moving again. It seems we're changing our address more often lately. The economy has been making it difficult for us to stay in one place for very long.

With all other options not working out in our favor, we made the decision to move to the woods and live in a cabin, that has been in my family for generations.

My wife is not excited about this move in particular, but we both agree it's for the best. Since being foreclosed on, we've been forced into the rental market.

At the end of every lease, the landlords would increase our rent to an amount we could no longer afford.

Being a long haul truck driver doesn't pay well. I'm responsible for fueling up my own rig. The gas alone takes most of my pay.

Time away from family is another negative about my job. Three weeks out of the month, I'm usually absent from them.

We often joke with friends when they praise us on having a happy marriage after all these years. We tell them it's because I'm never home to make my wife unhappy.

Although we kid about it, there's truth behind those words. We're used to being away from one another for long periods. It's the way our relationship has always been from the day we met.

Lately our marriage hasn't been so blissful. She's growing tired of caring for the kids on her own, dealing with the finances and after-math of losing her own job, which is the cause of us losing our home.

We couldn't afford our house payment on one income. She struggled trying to find another job. Then her unemployment benefits ran out.

My wife was beginning to sink into a deep depression from the overwhelming guilt she felt. It devastated me to see her like that. I wanted to be there for her, but I was left with no other choice than to take as many hauling jobs as possible, which kept me away even more.

I racked my brains trying to figure a way out of this mess, and a way to help my slowly declining wife.

She begged me to quit my job to be home with her. That was just not possible. My wife and kids were everything to me, but I was a truck driver. It was all I knew. It was also the only thing bringing in a paycheck.

Inside the truck, I check the mirrors and look for my insurance papers in the glove box. I want to make sure everything is where it should be for the long drive.

I catch my reflection in the rear view mirror and notice a few grey strands sprouting from my dark, coarse hair that hadn't been there a few weeks ago.

My brown eyes are supported by bags, and the whites of them are threaded with lines of red.

Sometimes when I look at myself, I don't recognize the person looking back at me. How had things gotten so bad? We had a decent life up until a few years ago. Everything worked seamlessly.

Pulling myself away from my reflection, I grab my baseball cap from the bench seat and place it on my head. I didn't wear it often, but somehow it pops up just when I seem to need it the most.

My wife is locking up the door to the final house we will ever rent if our plan goes the way we hope. I watch as she gives it one last look-over. She turns her head in my direction and gives me a lopsided grin. Her eyes have also seen better days as well. She's holding up better on the outside than she is on the inside though.

The agreement between us, is that I'll go work for her father - helping him build log homes. She will help him with the books. We can save money by living in the cabin rent free.

I'll be home every night with our family, which will make my wife happy. She doesn't want to move to the cabin, but the trade-off of my being home was all the convincing she needed. The decision wasn't an easy one for either of us, but we knew sacrifices had to be made.

I'm not sure how much longer she would've been able to hang in there. I'd suggested to her that she see a therapist, but she refused. I was really starting to think she would do something stupid like leaving me, or even worse, hurting herself.

The thought of losing her is unbearable. She's threatened me on several occasions that if I didn't find a job that kept me home, she would leave with the kids.

Her trust in me was diminishing every time I left. I didn't blame her. She found a woman's bra in my truck one time. She didn't believe me when I told her I didn't sleep with the woman, that I only gave her a ride. It was the truth. I never cheated on my wife.

I hope our move to the cabin will ease her worries. I fear if I don't regain her trust, and show her that we can make it through this hard time, she will turn those threats into a reality.

I smile at my wife as she climbs into the seat beside me. I can see the sadness in her eyes. She gave up months ago trying to hide it. I'm still pretending everything is rainbows and sunshine, but I'm just as miserable as she is. My newly sprouting grey hair is my only clue.

Giving up my truck driving career is like ripping a piece from my heart. It's part of who I am. I feel guilty that it took some soul searching to figure out if giving it all up was worth saving my family.

Don't get me wrong. I love them with everything that wasn't invested into being out on the open road. There's a freedom I have out there that they will never understand. Sometimes being at home felt like a prison.

Shaking away the hateful truth, I look over at my wife and remind myself that this is just temporary. Giving up my job will not be permanent. Once we can get back on our feet, pay off our debts, and save money for our own place, I'll be happily sitting in my truck again.

I can't see myself doing construction with her dad for very long, but in her mental state right now, she doesn't need to know that. The thought puts a knot in my stomach.

The night we received the call from her father that he needed help with his company, I saw a light in my wife's eyes, and I heard the excitement in her voice when she told me. I wanted to say yes just to keep her happy, but I told her we would have to move yet again.

We couldn't afford the house we were in on the salary her father would be paying me, plus the commute alone would kill us. I had hoped that would kill the subject of me working for her dad.

Yes, I knew she wanted me home more than anything. I also knew that there would come a day I would have to give her what she wanted. She supported me and my joy of hauling truck for all these years, up until finding the woman's undergarment. One day I would have to re-pay the favor.

"We could move to the cabin. You would be home every night, Josh. Most of the work Daddy does is up in those mountains. The shop is only twenty miles from the cabin."

"So you're willing to move to the cabin if I work for your father?" Living in the cabin where I spent my childhood had always been a dream of mine.

I tried to get her to move there on several occasions, but she refused. She couldn't stand the thought of being left there alone with the kids.

"I'd rather not move to the cabin, but I know it's the only way we can save money to pay off our debts. We could buy our own house again. Maybe just two years there, right?" There was some hesitation in her voice, but I could hear hopefulness as well.

The brightness glowing on her pretty face was something that had died long ago. Seeing it alive again gave me confidence that her threats of leaving me were just that, threats.

If she was willing to move to the mountains, away from her love of city living, then that showed me she was willing to do whatever it took to save our marriage. I wanted to save it too. I wanted to save her.

After a few days of soul searching, I decided to take her father up on his offer. We arranged to move into the cabin shortly after.

While living there, I plan to prove my love and devotion to her. Gain her trust all over again. It will be a chance to start over. I know it's going to be a challenge for both of us.

We spend a majority of the drive in silence as we climb up the steep mountain. Both of us know this drive is a means to an end, but it also felt like _the_ _end._

The unknown is more than a few bends ahead. The silence is fear we're trying to shut out. Neither of us want to speak the truth about the reservation we're both having about this future endeavor.

We won't admit that we're afraid of the fact we will be forced to be with each other _every_ night. Will we have enough to talk about every day? Could we grow tired of each other? These are unspoken questions that I find myself mentally roleplaying my answers.

What if after a few months, she grows tired of the person I become? There's no doubt I will change. We all will.

I glance in the review mirror to my kids who sit in the backseat with their headphones on. Our son, Jack, is playing his hand-held gaming device, and our daughter, Isabella - Izzy for short - is watching a movie on her portable DVD player. Kids have it so easy these days.

My shoulders slump at that last thought. I'll be hearing Chrissy's dad say the same thing to me every day. He's a tough man to please, especially when it comes to his daughter.

If it were up to him, she would've moved home a long time ago. He offered several times to loan us money to get us by, but I told Chrissy no.

He never really liked me, and I know he's only offering me this job to make his precious little girl happy. I'm grateful nonetheless, because that's what I want as well. Her happiness is the one thing he and I both have in common.

This way, the money he gives us is money we earned. It won't be a loan. I keep telling myself that, but I know it will come with interest in the form of something non-monetary. I'm just not sure what that is, but I know it won't take long before he makes it clear.

A couple hours after leaving the city limits, we're driving up the mountain road that leads to our cabin. The dust we're leaving behind will catch up to us. It's all around us.

We turn off the main gravel road and begin our ascent up another. It's marked with several No Trespassing and No Hunting signs, as well as the ominous Dead End sign. This part of the road is the only way in and the only way out for the few cabins in this area.

I know that's a scary thought to Chrissy, but I reassured her that we have the tools to get through if there are ever fallen trees, snow, or mudslides. We won't be the only ones living here all year round.

"Hey, Jack, hey, Izzy, look out the window. Check out the scenery. It's beautiful," I urge my kids. They're missing the view up the old logging road.

When I was their age, I lived for the time we spent at the cabin. It was the only place I could be myself. I had nothing to fear, and had control of my life. I was free. There was just something about the place that put all my insecurities to rest.

Between the trees, you can see the rolling green mountains topped with snow, heavenly blue sky, and the tops of pine trees because we were up so high. Butterflies flutter in my stomach knowing we were getting close. Some of the flickering I feel is from excitement, the other is anxiety.

"Dad, how much further?" Jack asks as he takes his headphones off and puts his Nintendo DS in his backpack.

I briefly watch as he takes in his new surroundings. I'm eager for him to love it here as much as I did when I was his age. "Not much. Just around the bend up ahead." I answer him, feeling a little giddy about arriving there.

Memories flood me every time we make the drive. All of them put a smile on my face, and begin to settle the anxiety. The cabin is my safe haven. It will be theirs too.

"Where's the closest neighbor?" Chrissy asks, concerned. She doesn't have the same awe-struck look on her face that Jack has.

I've asked her to the cabin several times, and she's refused to come but twice. The first time my father had invited us before he died. It was his way of saying goodbye to us before he let the cancer take him.

The second was when my father passed away. He wanted his ashes spread throughout the woods on our property. Chrissy came to support and comfort me during that time, knowing how broken I was after his passing. My father and I were very close.

She also came up here last week to clean, organize and make a list of the things she needed, and the stuff we had to put in storage. However, it wasn't that I had to ask her, she insisted. I think it was to make herself absolutely certain that this was indeed something she felt she could handle.

It took all last weekend to get the house in order. Neither of us were looking forward to the daunting task of unpacking once we arrived.

She was nervous that her car wouldn't still be there. We left it behind last weekend so we could ride up this time together as a family. I told her that people don't come up to steal or vandalize. I can't recall any crimes happening here.

I still have my reservations that she can make the two-year minimum we've discussed. That puts a panic in me that I push down. I don't want to deal with the fact she can leave me at any time.

"Well, the Wilsons don't live very far. They stay up here year round. They're an older couple, but really nice. I'll walk you over there and introduce you to them once we're settled. Then not too far down the road, the Bernsteins have a cabin. They don't live there year round, but we will see them sporadically. Our families don't get along though, so you won't be seeing too much of them. Mr. Bernstein is a bit paranoid. He used to accuse me of being a liar."

Chrissy furrows her brows and smiles slyly. "What kind of things did you lie about, Mr. Tremmel?"

I return the smile. "That's what I mean about him being paranoid. I never spoke to the man or about the man. My dad had a few words with him after that. Then they stopped coming up here as much."

"So just the Wilsons up here? You told me there were more cabins than that." Chrissy scans the area hoping to see a neighborhood pop up that she hadn't noticed last weekend.

"Well, yeah. There are other cabins throughout the mountain, but they're hunting places. They stay empty most of the time, except for maybe a handful of weeks throughout the year when they're filled with hunters."

I know I misled her a bit when I told her that our cabin wasn't the only one in the area. She took it to mean that we would have year-round neighbors, and I let her believe that.

Pulling into the driveway of the place that we will call home for the next couple of years, the anxiety I'd felt earlier returns. There's a pulling at me that I can't quite put my finger on, and it's making me uncomfortable.

The four of us sit in the pick-up truck looking at our new home in a quietness that feels unsettling. This move will definitely be a life changer for us, but I'm going to do my best to make it a positive one.

The A-frame style cabin sits there against a thick patch of bright green pine trees, looking like a long sad face. There are two upper windows as eyes, a large front door as a nose, and a porch that needs some attention to remove the frown it adds to the place.

Turning off the ignition, I look at my wife and say, "Well, Chrissy, here we are. We're home."

Chrissy turns to me, but she's not wearing the same smile I have spread across my face. The look on hers is sheer panic.
CHAPTER 2

I spend the weekend helping Chrissy and the kids unpack. She and I begin our new jobs on Monday, and the kids will start their new school.

Life will be different for the next two years. Chrissy will have to drive ten miles down the road to drop the kids off at the bus stop for school. Then on her off days, she'll have to make sure to keep the fire going in the woodstove. There's no power at the cabin. We have the use of a generator, but she can only run it a few times during the day so we don't run it out of gas.

We do have a landline, so she can use the phone, but not her cell. There's no service this far up the mountain. Chrissy's not thrilled about that, and neither are the kids.

Our water comes from a well, and the house is plumbed, but because there's no power, she can only run the hot water tank when running the generator.

"What a waste of a huge kitchen. Why is there no real power here?" Chrissy asks while unpacking the box of dishes.

"Well, when my family first built this, the women cooked all day in the kitchen. All they needed was a woodstove, a water pump, and their hands." I take a dishtowel, twist it up and smack her on the butt. "A woman's place is in the kitchen, and the man's place is outside grunting while hunting for dinner," I joke with her as I punch my chest with my fists, still hanging on to the dishtowel.

Chrissy knows I'm full of shit when I say things like that. She gives me the old _Oh give me a break_ look, while she rolls her eyes at me.

"I put most of our kitchen appliances in storage. I have no use for all of them here," she sighs.

"Mom, there's a spider in my room!" Izzy comes in shaking her whole body in disgust. She's definitely Chrissy's daughter. She flaps her arms around and her blonde hair bounces lightly with the hood on her crimson sweatshirt.

"Josh, you go kill the spider. If I see the spider I'll start packing and head down the mountain," Chrissy says with one hand on her hip and the other pointing down the hall toward the bedrooms.

"Oh, Izzy. You need to get used to seeing spiders." I follow my ten year old down the short hallway to her bedroom to kill the bug.

"Here, Mom. I chopped some firewood." Jack's walking in with an arm full of wood when I return from my spider-killing spree.

I'm proud of my boy. He'll do fine living in the woods once he really gives it a chance and sees all it has to offer.

It won't take long to turn my thirteen-year-old son into a man up here in these mountains. Just like it did for me. Seeing the excitement in his face and the eagerness to take charge with the "man" chores, it's like watching me years ago.

He was a jock back at his old middle school and had his first girlfriend. I have no concern that he will fit in quickly at his new school. He's a good-looking boy, friendly, athletic, and smart. I know it was difficult for him to leave his friends, but it isn't his first time having to change schools. Unfortunately, my kids are pros at it. However, this will be the first time they are this far away from their friends.

"Thanks, Jack." Chrissy says as she glances at me with an adoring smile. She's proud of our son too. Her smile meant more to me than she could ever guess.

All in all, it's been a successful first couple of days moving and settling in.

***

Our first month in the cabin went without incident. We all seemed to settle into our new jobs, roles, and schools smoothly. The kids expressed how much they liked their new schools. They were the new kids from the city, which excited the other students.

Chrissy was so occupied with learning her way around her father's office and dealing with the ins and outs of cabin life, that we didn't have much time with each other. Not to mention her father kept me pretty busy.

He was tough on me the first couple of weeks. I wasn't allowed to be by myself on any job site. Chrissy's brother, Tommy, was in charge of me. Even if I walked around the building to take a phone call, I could see him spying on me.

After I realized that I had no privacy, I knew that Chrissy had informed her family of the supposed affair she insists I had. All I could do was allow myself to be an open book to her and her family. I had to prove to all of them that I was faithful to her.

It bothered me that Chrissy told them about the bra in my truck. I was honest when I told her I didn't know how it got in there other than giving that gal a lift one time. Nothing happened between us. Chrissy was just self-conscious because women hit on me all of the time.

I was an attractive man. Women often called me a "real man". Sometimes I would find myself in casual conversation with a gal during a stop to refuel my truck, and next thing I knew she was trying to get in my rig and take off her clothes.

Life on the road was crazy, but I always turned them away. I was flattered, and of course it gave me a cocky attitude. There were a couple stops where I was a regular. The gals that worked there knew me well. They would go nuts all over me the minute I stepped down out of my truck.

Several of the women found it hard to believe that a clean cut guy like myself could possibly be a truck driver. I didn't fit the stereotype of what one normally resembled.

I had a muscular physique, but not overly buff. There was no beard or chew spitting out of my mouth. I didn't wear cowboy boots with large belt buckles. My baseball cap wasn't huge and I didn't wear it half on and half off.

With the men they saw coming and leaving all day and night, I was a prize to be won in their eyes, but still not available.

I'm not saying it was all innocent. Obviously, I flirted with most of them, but it never went any further than that. I received free food, hats, shirts, pretty much anything I wanted just by flashing my smile.

I was always a respectful gentleman to everyone I encountered. The ladies told me that I missed my calling of being a male model with my dimples and fuck-me-eyes. Comments like that made me blush.

Some of the women even got frustrated with me because I ignored them. Their egos were bruised since I paid no heed to them. My heart belonged to Chrissy.

There was one incident with a young gal named Lucy. She was a looker and always ass-grabby with me. I won't lie, she turned me on and made it extremely difficult to say no.

She was hypnotic with the way her hips swayed back and forth while her breasts bounced rhythmically. Her hair was a dark auburn mess. I often fantasized that I was the reason it was out of place from a long night of my hands running through it. Pulling it back as I made love to her.

One night, while I was pumping gas, Lucy approached me in her cut off her shorts that rode up her sweet ass. She was flipping that long thick hair and her bright blue eyes were popping out of her head as she was biting her lower lip. I couldn't take my eyes off her. The next thing I knew we were in my sleeper cab.

Her large breasts were in my face as she straddled me, rubbing herself over my groin, her bare tits brushing my lips. I couldn't take it any longer and I began sucking on her nipples and grabbing her ass.

I wanted to flip her over and give it to her right there, but I stopped once I realized she had somehow managed to get my pants down and was about to climb aboard. How she entrapped me, I don't know, but there I was shoving her off me and pulling up my pants.

I felt sick to my stomach that I let her get that far with me. She had somehow teased her way in and I never saw it coming. I was so angry with myself.

She kept grabbing at me and telling me it was okay. She knew I was married and didn't care. _Nobody needs to know_ , she told me _. I knew_ , and that was enough for me. The guilt I felt just from that incident burned my soul and anger took over.

With each button I was fastening on my shirt, she continued trying to grab my package. I gave up with my shirt, and swatted her hand away. Lucy didn't get the picture until my open hand smacked her across the face and I told her she was a slutty bitch. Only I never said bitch, I used a much worse word instead.

That wasn't my proudest moment. I'd never struck a woman before, or ever called them by the 'C' word. I hated that word. The whole situation had been out of control the minute we locked eyes in the parking lot.

I'd never been so humiliated in all my life. Although I'm a truck driver, I never spoke like one, especially to women.

I barely remember everything that happened. I've pushed it away along, with other shameful things I've done. That was definitely my worst.

Lucy wouldn't listen to my apology. She climbed out of my truck holding the side of her face where I slapped her and took off running through the parking lot in tears.

The bra Chrissy had found was Lucy's. She'd left so fast that day, the only thing she grabbed was her top.

I never went back to that truck stop again. I was embarrassed by my behavior. She was also too tempting. When I think of her, I still fantasize about having sex with her. I daydream that things happened differently that day.

Some of my fantasies about her seem so real. After minutes of thinking of her smooth, tan body, her lips wrapped around my shaft while her eyes lock onto mine as she sucks away, I have to snap myself out of it and whack myself off.

She is the only one who seems to have a hold on me. I know I've told Chrissy that I never cheated on her, but between the way she truly believes I have and to the way I daydream about Lucy, it often feels as though I did.

Staying away from that truck stop, from Lucy, was extremely difficult. Every time I made that haul, I had to make sure not to get off the highway. It was often a battle in my head, almost like having the angel and devil on my shoulder.

The angel reminding me how much I love my wife, and that I'm not that sort of guy. The devil stood on the other side, urging me to take the exit. Telling me that my wife would never have to know. He told me on several occasions that I deserved Lucy.

The red-horned man replayed the Lucy incident in my mind, but tweaking it every time. Making it more exciting, more inviting. This would go on for miles, and before I knew it, I was long past her exit and could finally relax and pat myself on the back for allowing the angel to win.

Guilt plagued me from time to time about the incident, and my impure thoughts of _could've, should've, would've_. So as my punishment, I let Chrissy and her family spy on me. My wife would soon see that she could trust me, and that she never had any reason not to.

Tonight, my wife is at home. Her father had me working late to push toward a deadline he's getting nervous about meeting. It's dark and pouring down rain outside. I'm eager to get home to my family.

Making the drive up the gravel road in this type of rain sometimes was quite the task. After the long, physical day I had, I don't want to deal with anything other than getting home, taking a hot shower, and eating some of my wife's cooking.

With this being the first storm since our move here, I know that she's probably worried, even a little scared staying in the cabin without me there.

Her father would've kept me longer, but I told him that Chrissy doesn't like to be at the cabin alone very long. I knew he would let me go home so his daughter wouldn't have to worry.

The drive through the storm only takes a few minutes longer than usual. Before I know it, I'm parking in front of the cabin where lights are beaming from the inside.

I hop out of the truck and run through the downpour that stings like thousands of needles, up the steps to the covered front porch. My boots are caked in mud from work, so I sit down on the rocking chair to remove them before entering the house.

I hear the creaking of the old screen door and see my wife peering out at me with a scowl on her face. "It's about time you got home. The generator has been kicking off. Jack's had to go out there twice already to restart it," she nags.

My shoulders slump down and what I want to say is, _Your fucking asshole of a father wouldn't let me leave any earlier, so get off my back, bitch._ However, what I actually say is, "Sorry, Chrissy. It seems to be working fine now. I'm tired, hungry, and wet. Let me get some food in my stomach. I'll check it out before taking a shower."

"You want to wait? Fine." She slams the door and I watch as the screen door slowly sways shut.

I take that as my cue to put on my boots again and check out the generator before going in for dinner. All I want to do is hang out with my kids, eat, clean up, and sleep. If I wait to fix the generator, then doing all of that in a relaxing manner will not exist.

Chrissy will make the rest of my night hell if I don't take care of it right now. I toss the hood of my rain jacket over my head and run through the shooting rain daggers to the side of the house where the generator sits.

The rain is coming down so hard and fast that a small lake is quickly forming near the back of the house. I make a mental note to level it out this weekend so it doesn't happen again.

The minute I begin investigating where the problem could be stemming from, the light shining out from the bathroom window goes dark as the generator shuts itself off. My guess is that it's out of gas.

I dash over to the shed in the dark, cussing at myself for not grabbing a flashlight. The small patches of grassy areas are slippery and I almost lose my footing a few times on my way there. It will be nice to get some landscaping done around here this summer to fix some of these problems when it rains.

Right inside the rickety wood shed, an extra gas can sits. I reach in, grab it, set it next to my feet on the ground, and then step up into the shed to rummage in the dark for a flashlight. Once my hands find the one that hangs on the wall, I flick it on and start back to the generator with the red gas can in my other hand, making sure to watch my steps so I don't slip.

After fueling the generator and getting it going again, I make my way back around to the front of the house where the lights from inside light up the small patch of yard that is now a giant mud puddle.

I stop suddenly as there's a man soaking wet standing at the bottom of our steps looking at my door, as if he's building courage to knock.

Gripping the flashlight tight in my right hand in case I need to use it as a weapon, I slowly approach the man and yell over the sound of the fierce rain, "May I help you?"

I must've startled him because he snaps out of his trance, jumps back a bit, and then grabs at his heart. He then extends his hand and begins to introduce himself.

"Yes, I'm Peter Bernstein. My folks own the cabin down the road. Are you Mr. Tremmel?" he politely asks.

I move the flashlight to my left hand and extend my right to shake his. "Yes, I'm Josh Tremmel. What can I do for you?"

Peter is Barb and George Bernstein's only son. He's about fifteen years younger than me. I'd never formally met him before. The Wilsons told me he spent time at the cabin several times a year and that he was a pleasant young man. Nothing like his father.

They mentioned Peter had a wife and was a new father. It's nice to finally put a face to the name.

"I hate to barge in on you and your family, and I feel foolish doing so, but a tree fell not far down the road, and I can't get out," Peter says to me as he points north toward town. "Looks like we might be stuck up here until we can move that tree. If you have a chainsaw, we could cut it out of the way."

Peter stands there with nothing covering his head, rain dripping from his hair into his eyes.

"Don't feel foolish, come on in out of the rain, Peter," I motion for him to follow me up the steps into our home. "Is your wife and kids with you?" I ask looking back toward his car.

"No, they didn't come up with me this time. Next weekend, we're going to have some extended family here and I wanted to get some cleaning done ahead of time." Peter says, following me up the stairs. "Dad's sixtieth birthday is next weekend and we're planning a big bash up here. I just hope the weather clears up by then."

I open the door and see that Chrissy is still making dinner, and I can hear the shower down the hall running.

"Chrissy, this is Peter Bernstein, from down the road," I say introducing him to my wife.

Chrissy turns and smiles at Peter. After drying her hands on the dishtowel, she makes her way to Peter and shakes his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. Is your wife with you," she says, then looks behind him to see if anyone else would be coming through the door.

"No, just me this weekend."

"Would you like to stay for dinner? We have plenty."

"No, ma'am, but thank you." He flashes my wife a sparkly smile. "There's a tree down and it's blocking the way to get back to town. My wife will be getting worried if I'm not home soon. May I use your phone to call her?" Peter asks.

"Oh, please do. It's right here." Chrissy walks to the kitchen counter and pushes the landline phone toward the end of the counter.

The kitchen opens up to the rest of the cabin, with a large island between the living room and the kitchen. Peter sits on one of the bar stools and dials a number as Chrissy continues preparing dinner.

"I'm going to get the chainsaw and help Peter get the tree out of the way. I have to make sure I make it to work tomorrow." I tell my wife before I head back out to fetch the chainsaw.

"Ok. I should have dinner finished by the time you get back." It's nice to hear her mood has changed from bitch to pleasant. I'm sure that has to do with the fact that I fixed the generator by simply filling it with gas, and that there's a handsome stranger in the house who I noticed was eyeing her.

I'm not usually the jealous type, but Peter was a very good looking man, and I didn't like the way he was smiling at my wife.

After loading up my truck with the chainsaw, rope, another gas can and a hatchet, I slosh back to the cabin to let Peter know I'm ready.

Peter hangs up the phone, tells my wife it was nice to meet her, giving her a brief hug. I found that odd since we all just had met. He probably did it just so he could brush up against her chest.

I wanted to give Peter the benefit of the doubt that he wasn't anything like his psychotic father, but he was already starting off on the wrong foot with me.

After Peter's father and my father had their confrontation years before Peter was born, we never saw much of the Bernsteins. They kept to themselves. When Peter came along, I was an adult and didn't come to the cabin much anymore.

He and I jump in my truck and sit in silence except for the sound of the windshield wipers clicking back and forth. I think how lucky I was to get home before the tree fell.

It must've happened not long after I passed through here. I'm thankful I didn't leave any later, otherwise I would've had to drive back down the mountain to my father-in-law's house to borrow his chainsaw.

I break the silence by asking Peter about his family.

"My wife and I just had twins about three months ago. A little boy named Max and a daughter named Sophia. We were surprised to hear my wife was pregnant so soon after our honeymoon. You can imagine how much more shocked we were to hear it was twins."

"That must be stressful," I say as I concentrate on the road. I'm concerned about a mud slide, and the rain makes it hard to see the road clearly.

Peter goes on babbling about how he and his wife met in college. He fell in love with her the moment he saw her at a wet t-shirt contest. She won.

I tell him about my new job, working for my father-in-law. He informs me how he is the manager at a discount mattress store.

We don't have too much time to talk, as we soon approach the downed tree. My headlights catch the first glimpse. She's a mighty tree. This is going to take some time, and we will definitely be getting drenched out here. My concern isn't so much for the tree, or getting soaked, it comes when I get a look at the hill the tree fell from. If the rain keeps pounding like this, the road could wash out from a mudslide, or another tree could uproot.

We unload our tools from the truck and I put gas in the chainsaw, power it on, and begin cutting the limbs off the tree. Peter moves the limbs out of the way. He uses an axe on the smaller ones.

He and I work surprisingly well together. We have a good system down. I can tell he's eager to get home to his wife. I'm sure if she's as good looking as he says she is, I'd be just as eager to make it home to her too.

I'm not saying that my wife is unattractive. Chrissy is gorgeous with her springy, brunette hair that's always soft and smells like apples. I still get lost in her huge blue eyes when we are talking to each other. Her body is a knockout for being forty years old and having two kids.

Her breasts never sagged like some women's do after having kids and aging. Everything about my wife is firm and in the right places still. She turns heads everywhere we go. We're a striking looking couple and we complement one another when we're together.

Let's face it though, what older man still doesn't find those younger gals attractive and fantasize about being with them. We all do it, and men who say they don't are either gay, impotent, or flat out lying. It's why I daydream about Lucy.

Sex has been on my mind a lot lately, since Chrissy refuses to give it up. It's been months. She's going to have to give in sometime. I'm not sure how much longer I can go.

I continue cutting the tree in pieces with my chainsaw, and Peter continues splitting it into smaller pieces, loading up my truck as much as he can without bogging it down. It took a good hour to get most of it cleared from the road.

I'll be back in the morning to finish the rest, and cut the tree smaller to use as firewood.

We jump into the cab of the truck where I blast the heater to warm us up on our way back to my cabin.

"Thanks for helping me out. My wife is going nuts at home with the babies. I need to get back to her. We'll be sure to stop by next weekend to say hello, and I can introduce Hailey and the twins to you guys," Peter says as he gets out of my truck in front of the cabin. "Do you want help unloading everything?"

"No, that's okay. I'll get my son out to help me. We look forward to meeting your wife next weekend. Drive carefully, Peter." I say as he jumps out of my truck.

I watch as he runs to his car, turns it around, and slowly leaves down the driveway back to the road.

The warmth of the truck feels good. I decide to sit in the cab a little longer. The long day leaving me as my head nods in a jerking motion to try to keep me awake. I'm exhausted, and the heat is comforting.

With my head lying on the back of my seat, I close my eyes to rest them for a minute before heading back into the house.

Download the full version of _SPLIT_ , by Hope Walker,  here!
CHAPTER 3

After what feels like a few minutes, I'm awoken to the sound of the stereo blaring in my truck. I quickly reach for the knob to turn the nauseating sound off.

My stereo has a mind of its own, and will turn on to the same type of annoying station every time. I guess there must be a short in the system. I've never checked it out, but I've always meant to. The one in my big rig does that to me as well. My luck to get shitty stereo installation.

I shake the thought quickly when I realize that the cabin is completely dark. "Shit. The generator went out again. Maybe it wasn't just low on fuel and there really is something else going on with it."

Hopping out of the truck with the flashlight, I put my hood on over my head and run to the side of the house to re-start the generator. It starts up immediately. The lights from inside the cabin illuminate the forest around it.

Hurrying back to my truck so I can unload it, I notice another odd thing. The trunk lid on Chrissy's car is open. "What the..." I say aloud. "Jack, so not funny son!" I snicker as I call after him. I know he's out here somewhere trying to prank me. He's always doing things like this to me.

First the generator, now the car. I look around cautiously, preparing myself for the next hoax that's surely waiting for me. My son has a lot of tricks up his sleeve, and you can never be too careful.

I've fallen for the plastic wrap over the toilet seat, fart machines in public places. He's even been brave enough to move my truck down the road and hide my keys.

I shut the trunk and proceed to unload the wood and tools from the back of my truck before heading inside. Sitting on the porch, I take my muddy, wet clothes off, leaving me in my long underwear, and open the door to go inside.

Immediately I stand in front of the woodstove to rid the new chill I got standing outside wearing soaked clothes. After warming my hands and body, I turn around to face the kitchen and notice that it's quiet. There's nobody here. "Hey guys, I'm back! Dinner smells delish!" I yell out.

"Jack, you better get something to dry out your mother's trunk. It's filled with water now too," I add.

There's no answer. "Better hurry in that bathroom, I'm next!" I say as I walk down the small hallway. I open Jack's bedroom door and he's not in there. I wasn't expecting him to be, as I already knew he's lurking outside to trick me.

I turn to open the door across from his to peak in on Izzy. She isn't in her room either. Probably out there with Jack, or in our bedroom with Chrissy.

"Hey guys, you need to leave these bedroom doors open so the heat can warm them."

Deciding not to bother them and prolong being yelled at by my wife for the generator shutting off again, I head to the bathroom to take a shower.

I turn the light on, hop in, and warm myself with the water spouting from the shower head. It soothes the aching muscles that are pulsing throughout my body. I know I don't have much time in here since the generator seems to be acting up, so I cut it short.

Turning the water off, I grab a towel and wrap it around my body. Walking to the last room at the end of the hall, my thoughts turn to Chrissy and her body, and then to what I picture Peter's wife to look like. I shake that thought away immediately. _Shame on you, Josh!_ I think to myself.

Opening the bedroom door, I expect to find Chrissy and Izzy, but it's cold, dark, and empty when I flip on the switch. I proceed to the closet to get dressed.

"Hey guys! Where is everyone?" I yell through the house after putting on my clothes. The dinner is still on the stove. It looks like the stew is done, but nobody has eaten. "Where could they be?" I say aloud.

Jack probably got them all involved in his latest practical joke. Usually I find them funny, but I'm too tired to deal with this tonight.

At the front door, I stick my head out and yell some more, "Chrissy, Jack, Izzy! Come on guys! Prank is over. I'm cold, tired, and hungry. I have a big day tomorrow."

No answer. I shut the door and then have a seat on the sofa, sitting there rubbing my chin in my hand. This wasn't like them. This was like Jack, but there is no way in hell Chrissy would be out there in that rain, and neither would Izzy.

After sitting there and thinking, I get up and go to the counter where I sit in the same stool Peter had sat at earlier. Picking up the receiver, I dial Mr. and Mrs. Wilson's phone number to see if they've seen or heard from my family.

That was a dead end. All I did was confuse the poor old couple. It was clear they never received a call or a visit from them.

Running out of ideas, I decide to put on my shoes and coat to drive to Peter's house. Maybe they went there to check on us. _But Chrissy would've drove there, and her car is still outside._

I decide to drive there to check it out anyway. There isn't anywhere else to look, and I'm starting to get angry. Pulling my keys from my coat pocket, I hop in my truck, put the keys in the ignition and try to start it. It won't turn over. I try a few more times, before popping the hood to give it a look-see.

I can't see anything wrong with it. I must've killed the battery by falling asleep in the truck. _How long had I been asleep?_ I ask myself. I never checked the time when I went inside.

I hear a car approaching, so I slam the hood and wait for the headlight to come closer up the drive so I can make out who it is. Maybe it's my wife, which would be odd. I don't recognize the car, but I can tell the driver is a woman. Not my wife.

_No, this was not my wife_. This is a woman that I envisioned earlier to be Peter's wife. _Could it be?_ The car stops next to my truck, and the woman slides out and gives me a smile that actually made my stomach twinge with excitement. All from her smile.

She seems to have made the rain stop some as well. It's not raining nearly as hard as it was only a few moments ago.

I look beyond her back to her car to see if anyone else is with her. The vehicle is empty. There's no sign of my family with the beauty queen.

She's young, but looks to be of legal age. Her hair is pulled back in a tight, long, blonde ponytail, which shows off her big brown sparkling eyes, high painted pink cheekbones, and her lips. Well her lips look so soft, and they were large puffy pillows, much like her boobs that were almost spilling out of her top.

If I could reach out and just flick her top down just a smidge, no doubt her nipple would pop out from that much cleavage. This woman is every man's porn fantasy come alive. I can feel my heart palpitating, and my pants begin to tighten.

My voice cracks as I speak to her, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"I'm lost and my phone has no reception up here," she answers in the most heavenly voice while holding up her cell phone.

She puts her hood on over her beautiful hair, and pierces me with her dark eyes.

"Have you seen another woman with two kids?" I ask her, bringing myself out of my Hustler magazine back to reality, where my wife and kids are still missing.

"No, I haven't seen anyone. Do you have a phone I could borrow?" she asks me.

"Yes, yes of course, ma'am. I'm sorry. Follow me into the cabin. We have a landline you are more than welcome to use," I motion to her. "Where are you going? Were you coming up the mountain, or going down?"

"I was on my way up to surprise my husband. He was supposed to be coming home tomorrow, but I couldn't wait to see him."

I show her to the phone and offer her some coffee, which she declines. I watch as her manicured, soft slender hands dial the phone. I pretend not to eavesdrop by filling my bowl with the stew my wife had made. I hold up the bowl and point at the stew on the stove, then point at her, motioning if she would like some.

She shakes her head with a no response, and sits there with the phone to her ear. "There's no cell reception here is there? Why am I bothering to call him on his cell," she adds. "Plus, there's something wrong with your phone," she says as she clicks the receiver a few times.

"Who's your husband?" I ask as I take a seat on the leather sofa in the living room with my bowl of stew.

She looks at me in a dream state, and then turns to replace the receiver back on its cradle. "Peter Bernstein."

Confusion swept over my face. "Peter was just here not that long ago. He called you from here to let you know he would be home late. A tree fell, blocking the road and we had to remove it. I thought he was heading home then."

She sashays by me in her skin tight jeans, knee length brown boots, and makes her way to the woodstove. She smells like lilacs which is a pleasant, alluring aroma. Unlike the apple scent of Chrissy.

"Umm, yeah. Then he called and said he was going back to the cabin for the night. He didn't want to risk the drive home to me and the kids." She turns and smiles at me.

I'm beginning to think that this isn't actually Peter's wife. She had said she was lost. I'm pretty sure Hailey Bernstein knew her way to the cabin.

She also just said that Peter called her and told her he wasn't coming home. If he has no cell reception, how did he call her? If he had a landline, he wouldn't have needed to borrow ours. It's none of my business what Peter is up to.

Maybe I had what his 'real' wife was like all wrong. Perhaps she's an ugly-cow-bitch, and this sexy vixen standing in front of me is his play toy. I almost want to high-five him.

Deciding to play along with her charade of pretending she was Hailey, I ask her, "I know where the cabin is. I can show you."

"Oh, that would be wonderful! He's the one that usually drives this road, and I never pay attention. I have no clue which driveway it is," she laughs. She must've read my confused expression and thought she better begin covering her tracks.

I set the bowl of stew down on the coffee table, and follow her outside after grabbing my coat. "Do you want to follow me in your car, or I could ride with you, or you could follow me. What do you want to do?" I ask her. I didn't want her to think I was some creepy man out to get her. Although I feel creepy with the thoughts of her that are playing in my head.

She's like another version of Lucy. Young and wild looking. I see it in her eyes. She's toying with me every time she looks at me. It's distracting.

"So the woman and kids, would that be your wife and children that you were asking about?" Fake Hailey, asks."

_Shit, I almost forgot about them missing with this hot piece of ass flashing herself at me._ "Yeah. I went to help Peter cut the tree out of the road so he could get home, and when I came back, they were gone. That reminds me, I need to grab the keys to my wife's car if I'm going to have you follow me there. My truck's battery is dead."

"Oh, no worries. Will you just drive me and my car there? I can have Peter drive you back, if that's okay? I'm scared to drive any further down this road when it's so dark outside. Next time, I will leave in the morning so it's daylight out." She laughs as she hands me her car keys. "It was foolish of me to leave so late at night. I'm lucky you were still up."

I slide into the leather driver seat of her luxurious, foreign sports car, start it, and back out of the driveway. She thanks me several times between my house and Peter's cabin. I don't mind, because her voice is mesmerizing.

We pull into the Bernstein's cabin just a few moments later. Peter's car and a van are parked there. I get out of the car and follow Hailey up the steps, telling her I want to speak to Peter, to tell him that my family is missing.

Peter opens the door, and doesn't look at all surprised to see Fake Hailey standing there. He appears excited and turned on, but not surprised. He wraps his arms around her and begins fiercely kissing her. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable, and a little jealous.

Chrissy and I haven't kissed like that since we first started dating. I wish we could have more moments like the one Peter and this girl are having.

When they finish with their brief make-out session, I inform Peter all that has taken place since he left my house.

"Wow, Josh. No, I haven't seen them, bud. Do you want me to help you look for them?"

"No, no. I'm sure Jack talked them into going on a night walk with him. I'm sure when I make it back to the house, they will be there waiting for me." I knew that wasn't true. They would never go out walking in a storm like this.

Fake Hailey flashes a big smile at me and thanks me for being her hero of the night. I can feel myself blush. I want to be more than just her hero, but I have a family I need to search for.

"Do you need a ride back, Josh?" Peter asks.

"No. I think I'll walk. That way I can call for my family, and look for them," I say, then wave goodbye.

Peter takes a glance behind me and says, "Well, at least the rain has let up. I hope you find your family. Come back over if you need help. It's really late for a walk in the woods. If they've been gone since we got back from cutting up the tree, I would be worried, Josh. We've been back for hours."

My gut had been telling me that I'd been asleep longer than just a few minutes in my truck. Peter just confirmed it.

"What time is it by the way?" I ask Peter.

He looks down at his watch, "It's 1:30 in the morning."

My head spins a little. We finished cutting the tree out of the way at 9:00. _How did I sleep so long without Chrissy banging on the window to wake me up?_ I question myself.

I need to hurry back to the cabin and figure out what is going on. If something doesn't give me a sign of their whereabouts soon, I'll have to call the cops or drive to the police station. I have a nagging suspicion I know what's happening, but I'm not ready to accept that yet.

"Thanks, Peter. I appreciate the offer of help. I'll be in touch. I gotta go." I give a brief wave as I walk down his front steps.

I catch a glance behind me and watch as Peter continues kissing the goddess as they begin stripping off their clothes and head into the cabin. _Lucky bastard._

Excerpt from Ink Slinger

a novella

### INK SLINGER

Chapter 1

As I watch my daughter and her friend climb the steps of the school bus, I wave goodbye to them, shivering as the chill of the crisp morning air pierces my sweater. I wrap my arms around my chest and begin the long walk back to the house. The gravel in the driveway mostly hidden by leaves fallen from the neighbor's trees, crunches underfoot with each step.

I call out to my dogs that always make the long walk with us to the bus stop in the morning, keeping me company so I don't have to walk back to the house alone. Normally there are three dogs with me, but this morning only two. The other was off elsewhere.

As I approach the gate to our house, I hear the rooster crowing. I look down at Roy, my Collie, and say, "Go get the chickens, Roy!" Off he runs to herd the chickens. This always puts a smile on my face.

I look toward our house and see smoke flowing out of the chimney, a sure sign that summer is over and fall is officially here. Once inside, I take off my jacket, grab my iPad, and plop down onto the couch.

As I scroll through the status updates on Facebook, I see a new post from a writer whom I recently become friends with online. After reading a few of her stories, I looked her up on the social site just to tell her how much I enjoyed her work. Her new post states that she just finished another story.

Excited to have a new story from her, I type a response to her post. _If you want, I will gladly offer my service free of charge to read your story before you publish it. You know, to check for errors. Lol._ Snickering to myself, amazed by cleverness, I post the response and turn off the iPad.

While I clean up the morning mayhem of breakfast, I think of how I have nothing else to do today. Or any other day for that matter. I think of my husband telling me to find a hobby.

His words echo in my mind as I wipe down the counters. "I don't know how you can sit here all day long and do the same thing over and over. I'd go insane." He'd said it so many times.

It's true. I did get a little stir crazy sometimes but I enjoy the peace and quiet of the few hours a day I got to myself. A few pleasurable hours without the giggling of little girls, my husband in and out of the house, and all the other background noise of my household. I enjoy being able to think and hear my own thoughts.

After finishing some morning chores and making a few phone calls, I sit down to take a much-needed break. My iPad beckons me to play some mindless games and, of course check Facebook for status updates.

There's a new message in my inbox. Anticipation washes over me in hopes that it's from my writer friend. With butterflies in my stomach, I open the message, which reads: _Hey, I would love to have you go over my work. The more eyes, the better, and I only have a couple people that go over it besides myself. So I'm going to give it another pass tonight and early tomorrow, then I'll float it your way if that's okay?_

Can she be serious? My heart races, and drags my mind along for the ride. I'm so excited! How many people get this chance? My childhood dream was to become a writer myself one day, so this is potentially a great opportunity for me.

Without hesitation, I eagerly begin my reply: _That is more than ok! I am delighted more than you know! My old boss use to call me Eagle Eyes because I would always find errors in the books he wrote when I edited them for him! LOL._

Later, when I tell my husband about it, I'm still giddy with excitement.

"I'm just in heaven right now about it! You know me and my love of writing and reading! This is such an awesome opportunity for me!" I say while washing the dinner dishes.

"I know, but what do you get for doing it?" Scott says while snooping in the fridge for something to drink.

"I get to read the book for _free_ and _before_ anyone else gets to read it. That's enough for me. You keep telling me I need to find a hobby. Well, I think I just did."

"Yes I get that, honey, but what if she has a deadline and you can't get it done by then? It's a lot of responsibility don't ya think?" He asks after closing the fridge with a can of soda in his hand.

After drying my hands, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and turn to my husband of 15 years. With a deep breath, I respond, choosing my words carefully.

"This is something I want to do, something I'm excited about. Can you please just be happy for me and support me?"

He sighs, knowing I'm going to do what I want to do anyway. "I know you've always wanted to be a writer, so if it means this much to you then I'm excited for you, honey." He comes over, wraps his arms around me, and pats my back like a dog. Though my husband loves me, he's never been good at expressing affection.

The next day, I eagerly check my email, hoping to find the story in my inbox. Sure enough, a message from her awaits me, which I quickly open like a kid on Christmas morning.

I make myself comfortable on the couch, turn off the TV, and begin reading the first chapter of the book. Much like the author's other works; it grabs me from the start.

As I read through the book, I make notes, intent on catching every mistake I can in order to prove to both the author and myself that I can do this. I can edit. I'm good at it; it's what I know how to do. My husband is right when he says I need something to do. As much as I enjoy my quiet time alone, I also feel empty, like there's something I should be doing. Though I've only just started editing, it feels right to me.

Something – or someone – was outside, lurking in the shadows, watching Julie, the character in the story. Though she doesn't know she's being watched, she feels a presence after returning home from her nightly run.

As I read the part where Julie goes outside to investigate a noise, I think to myself, _Why do they always have to investigate the noise. It always makes me mad when they do stupid things like that in movies and books. I mean really, it's just a noise. Let it go._

I shake my head and continue reading, but before I finish the next sentence I hear _thump, thump, CLANK!_ Thought the sounds came from outside, they were loud enough to scare me to the point of nearly dropping my iPad.

"What the hell's that?" I say aloud for my ears only, since there is nobody else in the room.

I set the iPad aside and decide to talk to my Terrier, Bella instead of myself for a change, "Great. Now _I'm_ hearing noises coming from outside. This book has me all worked up already." I look at Bella, who cocks her head to the side as if she gets it. "Well I'm not going to check on it. I'll tell you that."

Bella looks at me from her bed next to the fireplace, waiting for me to finish the one-sided conversation so she can get back to her nap. Or perhaps waiting for me to give in and go check on the noise. Which I'm _not_ going to do. I'm not. It would be stupid to do so. If you're looking to get yourself killed, that's the way to do it.

I fold my arms across my chest and stare back at Bella. Normally, she barks at any loud noises that come from outside, but she didn't bark this time. She didn't seem to have heard any noise at all, loud or otherwise. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.

I decide against going to the window to look outside. If it'd been something strange, Bella would've got up and barked.

"It's just me getting all worked up over this story," I say to her as I curl back up on the couch with my iPad in hand, "Nothing to get all freaked out about. It's the middle of the day anyway."

I continue to read and edit the story of Julie and her spooky haunting until it's time to greet my daughter off the school bus.

Bella follows me out the door and down the steps. She takes off running toward the neighbor's house that owns the tree farm. The hair on her back is standing on end and she is growling, which soon turns into non-stop barking. I keep walking down the driveway watching as she dashes into the dark wooded area of our neighbor's property.

They own about ten acres that are home to several types of trees. The place used to be a nursery, but is now just a forest of old trees. The woman that lived there passed away, and her son and his friends now occupy the house. They're always out on the property cutting trees to sell as firewood.

I continue down the driveway, listening to the leaves crackle under my feet. It's a beautiful fall ay, accentuated by the colorful trees lining the driveway. Of all the tree's around our property, these are my favorites. Especially during the fall, when the leaves turn and the sun cascades down through the yellow, red, and orange leaves, turning the driveway into a picturesque canvas.

We're lucky to have so many sunny days in a row this time of year in the Pacific Northwest. Usually by now, the forecast was always rain. It was the only time of the year where the weatherman was right.

Bella stops barking suddenly. She must've realized she's barking at nothing and will soon make her way back out of the woods. She's not as fast as usual since she's pregnant, so I'm not concerned that I haven't seen or heard her yet, even after a few minutes pass. She'll pop out at some point between here and the end of the driveway.

Thump, thump! CRASH!

My heart skips a beat and stops me in my tracks. There's that noise again. It sounds like a tree falling, or a limb hitting another tree. I take a deep breath and smile, almost positive that it's the same noise I heard earlier, probably the neighbors cutting some more trees.

I laugh at the thought of Julie going to investigate it. I'd never be that silly. There's always a reasonable explanation for noises when you live out in the country. I don't feel the need to check it out.

Both my laughter and safe feeling are gone suddenly, replaced with heart-pounding anxiety. Where's Bella? She still hasn't made her way out of the woods. If that really was a falling tree, could it have hit her? She can't run very fast right now.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. "Don't be silly, Anna. The dog is still fast enough to move out of the way of a falling tree. You're just all worked up over this new story." I say aloud to reassure myself.

I walk over to the tree line and yell out for my dog. "Bella! Come on, Bella. Let's go meet the girls off the bus!"

"Who are you looking for?" A man's voice calls out to me from inside the woods.

I don't see anyone, so I squint my eyes and stick out my neck to peer deeper into the darkness of the trees, where I spot a man leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette.

"I'm looking for my little dog. She ran into your woods probably chasing something," I say once my eyes fixate upon him.

Wearing dirty jeans, a black sweatshirt, and brown boots, he pushes off the tree and steps into a ray of light shat streams through the branches, long curly hair poking out from under a baseball cap.

He takes a drag from his cigarette and blows smoke rings into the air. He then lifts his right boot, puts his cigarette out on the bottom of it, and makes his way toward me.

I take a step back and say, "Have you seen her? She's small and black." I feel uncomfortable with the way he's looking at me. It's as if he is assessing me for something or undressing me with his eyes. It's a creepy, and I don't like it.

He stops walking once he realizes I'm uncomfortable. "I haven't seen that dog today. I know which dog you're talking about; barks a lot like most small dogs," he says in a brusque manner.

I try to lighten up the conversation by smiling and saying, "Yup. That would be the one. I'm sure she's found a scent of something and is on its trail. I heard you cutting down a tree, and I don't want her bothering you."

He looks at me strangely and steps closer. That's when I notice the patch on his eye. I know they call him One-Eyed-Jim, but I always figured he had a lazy eye or it was just another nickname. I had no idea that he wore an eye patch.

"I'm not cutting down any trees. I haven't cut down a tree in a couple of weeks," Jim says as he lights another cigarette. "I've been gone for a couple of weeks. Nobody has been here until today."

"Then what were the noises I heard coming from over here a couple of times today?" I ask Jim. "It sounded like a tree falling. I heard it this morning and again just a few moments ago."

Jim takes a drag off his cigarette and blows smoke toward me. He's gruff when he answers me. "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't heard anything."

I take a deep breath and flash a fake smile to Jim and just say, "Oh, okay. It must have been coming from somewhere else. No worries. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon," I say with a wave as I walk away.

I know that the noises I heard came from his property. What the hell's going on over there? I don't like it one bit. I decide I'll call Scott when I get back to the house and let him know about my conversation with One-Eyed-Jim.

I'm so focused on my run-in with Jim that I almost forget about Bella. I still haven't seen or heard from her. Waiting for the bus at the end of the driveway, I look around for Bella and One-Eyed-Jim.

I spot the school bus coming down the road and my attention turns to that for now. The bus rumbles to a stop and the doors of the bus squeak open. My 8-year-old daughter Maddie and her friend Kayla come bounding off the bus, full of smiles and giggles.

I welcome the distraction and smile at the girls as they cross the street to me. "How was your day at school girls?"

"Fine." Maddie says.

"Fine." Repeats Kayla.

"Just fine? Not fantastic or awesome or totally rad?" I say trying to be hip and cool.

"Totally rad, Mom?" The girls look at each other and laugh, as they take off running down the driveway toward the house.

I guess that's a word they don't use anymore. I have to remember that. I walk faster as I watch the girls bound down the driveway with their backpacks flopping around on their backs. I don't want them too far ahead of me, especially now that I know One-Eyed-Jim is out there.

The girls sit at the dining room table working on their homework and eating their snacks while I prepare to make spaghetti for dinner. Kayla's mom will be here soon to pick her up.

I sit down on the couch after putting the water on to boil for the noodles. I pick up the iPad to continue reading about Julie. I left off with her outside investigating the stupid noise she heard that got me all worked up earlier this afternoon. She finds that it was just a cat digging around in a garbage can, so she goes back inside.

Chapter 2

Julie lived alone in her two-bedroom bungalow, in the outskirts of Seattle near the neighborhood she grew up. Her parents had since moved to Arizona after her father's retirement, but Julie visits them often in the winter, to escape the Northwest rains.

She chose this area because it was familiar to her, and her best friend Amanda lived down the road with her husband and two children. They'd been friends for twenty-three years, since they were just seven-year-old library partners in school.

Amanda chose the path of motherhood and housewife, while Julie opted for career woman, enjoying her freedom all too well to give it up for a family of her own. She didn't have the prized maternal instincts as her friend.

Julie thought back ten-years ago to the day she realized she didn't want to be a mother. It was when she was away at college on the East coast, and she had found out she was pregnant. She was scared and less than thrilled with the idea.

Her boyfriend was the precocious son of a well-liked and respected judge in the town where she attended school. However, his reputation didn't mirror his fathers. After bouts of drinking with his buddies, he would hit Julie in places on her body that were never visible, just to prove he could without consequence. Without the alcohol, he was actually a decent boyfriend, but it wasn't often he was sober.

Her boyfriend's physical outbursts would remain Julie's secret, as she knew nobody would believe her, and she was terrified of what he would do if she did tell. She would never divulge to him or anyone else that she was pregnant. It was that day ten-years ago, that she made the decision to drop out of school and leave him behind.

Chapter 3

At this point I stop reading to let Kayla's mom, Sara, into the house.

"Where's Bella? She always greets me at my car when I pull in?" Sara asks concerned.

Making my way into the kitchen to add noodles to a boiling pot of water, I inform Sara of the events from earlier, "It was a strange day, Sara. Bella ran off barking into the woods this afternoon when I went to meet the girls off the bus. It's not like her to be gone this long, and I'm getting worried."

Looking out the window toward the forest, Sara replies, "There was a man by the trees when I pulled in. It seemed as if he was searching for something, but then he stopped and just stared at me."

Few things don't scare Sara. She's a tough woman, but I could tell seeing One-Eyed-Jim sent an alarm through her now tense body.

Continuing to stir the spaghetti noodles to keep them from poking out of the pot, I tell Sara, "Yeah. That's One-Eyed-Jim. I had a chat with him on my way to the bus."

Sarah's body language relaxes as she turns from the window to ask, "Do you want me to help you look for her?"

"No that's alright. I'm sure she'll be back soon. She's been acting strange since we found out she's pregnant," I say aloud to reassure myself.

Setting the timer on the stove for the noodles before adding hamburger meat to the frying pan, I feel Sara smirking. I finish cooking, ignoring her sneer at my necessity to set a timer to prevent myself from over cooking the noodles.

"Well let me know if you want me to come back over and help look for her if she doesn't show up soon," offers Sara as she and Kayla make their way out the door to her car.

Before shutting the door, I scan the yard looking for Bella once again. Shrugging off that eerie feeling of being watched, I call for her. The unnerving sensation reminds me that One-Eyed-Jim is home, meandering around his property.

The still quietness is interrupted by Bella's barking near the shed, "Bella, come on you silly dog! You scared momma half to death. Come on, let's go inside."

She's probably barking at a chicken under the shed. She doesn't care that I have things to do.

As she continues barking, I put my shoes on to go out and fetch her. Making my way across the dampening grass, I notice no chickens under the shed.

What I do see is a small hand with soiled fingers reaching out from the shed door trying to close it from the inside. This revelation has me frozen in my yard as fear grabs hold of my body and mind.

Even though it's cold outside, the adrenaline coursing through me keeps me warm. My body won't move and I don't want it to unless it's to thrust me toward my house.

Staring at the sinister shed sitting at the edge of the woods, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Evening begins settling with a light fog misting in the air. Bella continues barking, but she's not moved any closer. Continuing to manage my breathing, I reach for Bella who's suddenly at my feet with her tail between her legs. _Shit. My fearless dog has chosen this moment to show fright._

An awful screeching sound from the shed door replaces Bella's barking, as the dirty fingers continue clawing to shut the rickety door. If I had a tail, it would've been between my legs too. But all I have is a heart, hammering my chest.

_BAM!_ Bella and I both jump backward at the sound of the door slamming shut.

"Mom! The hamburger is burning!" My daughter hollers, snapping me out of my petrified state.

Bella and I both make a run for the house.

"Maddie, get inside!"

Locking the front door, I search for the phone to call Scott. Aggravated that it's not in plain sight, I turn to Maddie, "Where's the phone?" I yell, kicking off my shoes.

"I don't know. I haven't seen it." My eight-year-old replies with apprehension.

"Where's the fucking phone?" I say it under my breath, as I'm not one to use cuss words, especially in front of my daughter.

Finally finding the phone, on the charger, of course, I dial Scott's number, which proves to be difficult with shaking hands.

"Please answer. Please answer. Please answer."

Waiting for my husband to answer, I begin pacing around the kitchen, repeating my _please answer_ mantra. I choose not to leave a message when I get his voicemail. He'll return my call when he sees he missed it.

"Mom? Mom? What's wrong?" asks Maddie. I can tell I'm beginning to scare her.

"Nothing, Maddie." Knowing she'll see right through me, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to her with a smile, hoping it will calm her. Looking into my daughter's wide blue eyes, I see myself.

_Wow. She really is starting to look like me_ , I think to myself. Hoping that by getting lost in her eyes, I'll calm down a little. This over-reacting is making me look crazy to my little girl. I'm her mother. I need to be strong for her.

Maddie breaks our eye contact, huffs, and goes back to watching Sponge Bob on the couch. That, and the timer going off in the kitchen reminds me that I have dinner to finish.

Standing at the sink rinsing the noodles, I see the outline of the shed at the edge of the woods through the light fog. Even though it's starting to get dark, I can see that the door is still closed.

Maybe I didn't see what I thought I did.

Reading a suspenseful book, living next to the weird guy, and the fact it was dusk may have all been factors tricking my mind. It doesn't explain why Bella was alarmed and barking at the shed.

I flinch at the sound of the ringing phone. Welcoming the distraction, I answer it, knowing it will be Scott.

"You rang?"

"Yeah. I did. When are you going to be home?" I pick up an ink pen and click it off and on repeatedly. The clicking takes the brunt of my anxiety and soothes me.

"On my way. Why? What's going on?"

"Just weird things. I'm sure it's nothing. I just don't feel safe right now. Can you hurry?"

"Be there in about ten minutes."

Still clicking the pen after putting the phone down, I look out the window again. It's too dark out to see the shed now. Making my way back to the front door, I finally release the writing utensil from its overtime duty, and double check that the door is locked.

Hoping to kill time until Scott gets home; I go back to finishing dinner. Maddie is still on the couch, laughing, and watching Sponge Bob on TV. Bella is on guard sitting next to her looking toward the front door.

About ten minutes later, our other darks begin to bark, signaling me that someone is pulling into the driveway. Relieved to see that it's Scott, I linger at the window to watch my safe haven unload his tools from the bed of his truck.

_What the hell is he doing?_ Running from the kitchen window to the door, I unlock it, swing it open, and dash to the steps leading down to the yard.

"Where are you going?" I ask as I'm standing out on the deck with no shoes, no sweater and a bright light shining in my face. _How did it get this cold so fast?_

Realizing he's shining the light in my face, he points the flashlight down to the ground and says, "I'm going out to the shed to measure the size of that hole that's in the back of it. I've put it off long enough. It's going to start raining soon and I don't want everything in there to get wet. Why? What's going on, Anna?" He starts walking away from the shed toward the steps where I stand.

"Something happened today that has me on edge. Can you please come in the house first?" Pleading with him, so he won't go near the shed until I can talk to him about what I had seen earlier.

Turning off his flashlight he asks again, "What's going on, Anna?" He tries lightening the panic look on my face by joking, "You look like you've seen a ghost." Then walks by, chuckling as he goes into the house.

Locking the door again, I think to myself; _Gosh, Anna, you're all worked up. He's going to make you see how ridiculous all of this, and then you'll feel better._

"I saw something in the shed earlier," I blurt out. "I swear it looked like fingers pulling the shed door closed from the inside." Hearing myself say it gives me goose bumps.

After setting his things down, he pulls me into his arms, hugs me tight and says, "That's impossible. Why would someone be in that shed? The story you're reading has you in knots." He holds me at arms-length and looks into my eyes, searching for an answer.

"Maybe." I say, looking back into his eyes. "I also saw One-Eyed-Jim today. He lurched out of the woods and we spoke." I shudder at that thought.

He steps away from me with raised eyebrows, as if he doesn't believe me, and asks, "One-Eyed-Jim?"

"Yeah. You know, the neighbor guy at the old tree farm."

"I know the guy. I've talked to him a few times. He's kind of rough around the edges but seems harmless." Picking up his tool bag and flashlight he says, "I'm going to go check out the shed, but I'm sure it's nothing."

"You're probably right."

"I'll just go check it out and measure the hole." He smiles, undoubtedly trying to reassure me.

Back in the kitchen finishing up dinner, I begin feeling calmer. Scott's home. He will look into it. I know he's right and that I'm just imagining things. Passing by the kitchen window for the millionth time, I gaze out into the hazy night and see light flickering around through the holes in the shed.

_See, Anna, nothing strange going on out there. You're just a crazy woman!_ I think, chuckling to myself as I take the garlic bread from the oven.

As I set the dinner table, my phone rings. The caller ID shows that it's Scott.

"Is everything ok?" warily I ask.

"You're not going to believe this, Anna," whispers Scott. "There's a kid in the shed. Get a flashlight and come help me. He won't talk to me or let me near him. I can't tell if he's hurt or not, and I don't recognize him."

_He's joking with me, right?_ "Stop teasing me," I tell him as I make my way yet again to the window, knowing I can't see anything in the dark. I've probably worn a path in the floor by now.

"Grab a flashlight and a blanket and get out here. Maybe he'll talk to you." Scott says, agitated with me.

"Shit, are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not kidding," he says through gritted teeth, even more distressed.

"Ok, ok, I'm on my way." Hanging up the phone, I grab a flashlight and a blanket.

"Is dad okay, Mom?" Maddie asks.

Smiling at her out of confusion, I answer, "Yeah he's fine. I'm going to go out and help him with something. You just stay here."

Angry with myself for being such a chicken shit, I make my way down the stairs and through the yard as I had done earlier today, cussing under my breath. _Why did I have to be such a freaking pansy ass? It's freezing out here and that poor boy has been out there for who knows how long. Damn it, Anna!_

Scolding myself, I shine the flashlight toward the shed at the edge of the woods, I see Scott standing there holding his tape measure. He must've given his flashlight to the boy.

"Is he hurt? What's going on?"

"I have no clue, Anna," whispers Scott. "I walked in the shed and started moving some stuff around to get to the hole in the back. Then I moved an empty box, and this boy just screams, so I flashed my light down at him. He was lying in a fetal position on the floor behind that box," he points to a box sitting outside next to him. "Scared the fucking crap out of me." Opening the door, he peers in.

"Is he hurt?" I ask, annoyed that I had to ask again _. How many times must a mother ask a man if a child is hurt? I don't give a crap about boxes and holes._

"He doesn't appear to be. He's dirty and he won't talk to me. I scared him just as much as he scared me. He sat straight up and grunted at me when I tried to go near him. I asked him several questions and he just sat there and stared right past me. He wouldn't even look at me. I think I was frightening him, so I just laid my flashlight in front of him and then called you."

Pushing past Scott, I make my way into the shed to see the boy for myself, momma-bear instincts replace fear that I had from earlier today. My overwhelming feeling of getting to this boy, making sure he's not hurt and keeping him safe, are all I have now. There's a mother out there missing her son at the dinner table tonight.

Shining the light into the corner of the shed, I see a boy about the same age as Maddie, maybe a bit older, sitting there with Scott's flashlight. He must be freezing since the only thing he's wearing is a pair of ripped shorts.

I put the back of my hand up to my nose to mask the smell of urine, crap and vomit. Breathing through my mouth to keep the smell from gagging me, I ask the boy if he's ok.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you." Speaking to him softly, "Are you cold? Will you let me put this blanket over you?" Holding up the blanket I brought with me.

He's just sitting there looking past me into the dark as if he was expecting something – or – someone to come for him. I look behind me. There's nothing there except boxes.

Looking back at the boy I ask, "Is there something there that's scaring you?"

Saying nothing, he turns his attention from the emptiness behind me to the blanket in my hand.

"Are you cold? Will you let me put this blanket over you?" I repeat, holding the blanket up once again.

Pulling his knees up to his chin, he nods, allowing me to approach slowly, and carefully place the blanket around him.

"My name is Anna, and that man was my husband, Scott. We won't hurt you. We want to help you." What's your name, sweetheart?"

"He will find me," whimpers the boy.

Kneeling to be at his level, I ask, "Who will find you? Your dad? We can find your dad or your mom if you tell us who you are."

He pulls away from me when I reach my hand out to him, tears rolling from his eyes and leaving a streak through the filth on his face. He looks up at me and says, "He will hurt me if he finds me."

"Who will hurt you?"

Waiting for him to reply, I move in closer to him, and this time he lets me wipe the tears from his face.

"We won't hurt you, honey. We want to help you." I do the best I can to comfort and reassure a little boy who has obviously been hurt by someone he trusted

"My name is Dylan. My mommy... my mommy..." He buries his dirty face into his arms and sobs.

Slowly standing up, I take a step backward toward the door. Getting Scott's attention, who's standing outside the door waiting patiently, I quietly instruct him, "Call 911 and go check on Maddie. I'll try getting him to come inside the house. I made spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner, make him plate."

"Yeah, ok. Are you going to be ok out here with him? I don't want to leave you here alone."

"I'm fine, but if I'm not back in the house after you check on Maddie and make him a plate, please come back out."

"Ok. Hurry up. I'm not comfortable leaving you here."

"Please, go check on Maddie. Someone needs to be with her." I say with worry.

I watch as he runs in the dark to the house, dialing 911. Knowing he won't be in there long, I need to hurry and get Dylan out of this shed.

Earlier today, if someone had said that I would be in this shed after dark tonight, I would've nervously laughed and said no way in hell. Nevertheless, here I am.

Seeing that he's no longer sobbing or wiping his tears with the blanket, I kneel down in front of him once more and ask, "Are you hungry, Dylan?"

He nods his head and looks at me, and I can see he's not afraid of me anymore. Dirt is now smeared all over his face from wiping his tears. I reach my hand to help him off the floor and he grabs it tightly.

"Well I have some yummy spaghetti in the house. Would you like to have some?"

Grabbing the flashlight with his free hand, he nods at me, gets off the floor, and walks with me out the door. Shining my flashlight down to his shoeless feet, I notice that they are coated in dried blood, as if he had walked through a bloody puddle.

Dylan's sitting at the table with us shoveling spaghetti into his mouth, dropping sauce on the clean shirt Scott gave him. He looks up at me, doesn't smile, but I can tell he is thanking me with those big brown eyes. Returning the smile, I notice a curl of blonde hair flop down over his eye and I can't help but wonder what this poor boy has endured.

Who is out there to get him, and where is his mother? It's obvious he's been neglected by his unkempt appearance. The scars, the dirt, and ribs showing through his skin tell me someone either abandoned him or just mistreated this sweet, innocent child. My heart shattered into a mosaic picture of pain for this boy.

Sitting across from Dylan is Maddie, who's staring at him, twirling spaghetti around on her fork. I wonder what she's thinking, but now isn't the time to ask her unless I want a one-word answer of _nothing._

Our two dogs outside bark continuously, informing us someone's coming up the driveway. Scott and I share a glance at each other with relief, _finally, the police_.

"It's an officer and a woman," he says looking out the window, "She's probably with Social Services."

Putting his fork down, Dylan looks to me for comfort. I give him a reassuring smile, and say, "Everything is going to be ok. An officer is here to help, he'll keep you safe." My mind goes to what he said to me earlier about the man hurting him. I'm sure I lied to the boy, I don't know if anything will ever be ok after what he's apparently suffered.

* * *

The Officer and woman from Child Protective Services left after questioning both Scott and me. Dylan wouldn't speak to either of them. The woman told us there would be counselors on staff to help him, and the officer said they would check with Missing Persons.

Maddie's finally asleep in her bed, but it took her awhile to settle down. I'm sure this has affected her more than she's letting on. Tomorrow I will answer any questions she has and try to help her understand. I spent a few extra minutes with her while tucking her in to bed. Thankful to have my child home, safe, and sound, I gave her extra hugs with even more _I love yous._

Scott's out in the shed fixing the hole. He took the officer out there earlier, allowing him to take pictures and collect evidence.

Pouring myself a glass of wine before grabbing my iPad, I realize I need a distraction from my thoughts of Dylan. Settling on the couch, drinking my wine, I think about Julie from the book.

Please visit my website for more information about the above books.

Thank you,

Hope Walker

Hope Walker,  www.walkersuspense.wix.com/hopewalker

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Email: Walkersuspense@gmail.com
