She tried starting the car again, but nothing happened, so she locked it and walked back on the gravel road to the highway. The shade of the trees had become deeper so that it was almost dark. A burst of wind rustled the leaves, and Sophie pulled her sweater closer. When she heard a car coming down the road, she instinctively stepped back into the shadows and waited for it to pass. Every horror story of hitchhikers and the mass murderers who picked them up went through her head.
After the car passed, she started walking again and telling herself she was being ridiculous. According to Kim, Edilean was the safest place on earth. Nothing bad ever happened there. Well, except for some major robberies in the last few years that Sophie had read about online, but it was better not to think about those.
Two more cars went by, and each time Sophie stayed under the trees and waited. “At this rate I’ll never get there,” she said aloud and shuddered as she had a vision of walking along the road at midnight. Every few minutes she stepped onto the pavement and checked her phone, but there was still no signal. But then, she hadn’t gone even a mile from her car.
She was so absorbed in maneuvering her phone around that she didn’t hear the approaching car. It had come around a curve, headlights glaring, and for a second Sophie felt like a deer mesmerized by the lights. The car was coming straight at her! She could clearly see the BMW symbol just a few feet away. Survival was the only thing on her mind. She threw up her arms and like a diver heading into the water, she dove straight for the side of the road. She landed, facedown, in the sharp branches of a clump of scrub oak, her mouth full of dirt. Quickly, she turned to look back toward the road. She was just in time to see a sleek little silver blue BMW drive over both her phone and the book. Thankfully, she’d been wearing her handbag crosswise, so it was still with her. The car kept going; it didn’t stop.
All of Sophie hurt as she got up, hobbled onto the road to retrieve the remains of the phone, and picked up the envelope. There were tire tracks across it and one edge had been torn open. There was little light but she could see that the book inside was frayed, the pages bent. She didn’t know if it had been that way or if it had been done by the reckless driver in the BMW.
Sophie carried everything to the side of the road and for a moment she fought back tears. Maybe she wouldn’t have been prosecuted if she’d returned the book in pristine condition, but now it looked to be nearly destroyed. She was going to prison because of some jerk in a Bimmer.
As she pulled leaves out of her hair, raked dirt out of her mouth, and brushed at bloody scrapes on her arms and legs, she knew her logic was flawed, but if she didn’t give her anger an outlet she’d fall down into a ditch and never get out.
She started walking. This time she didn’t step aside for the cars, but kept going. Three cars, each with a single male driver, asked if she wanted a ride. The anger in her was increasing with every step and she had glared at the men as she said no.
Her legs ached, the cuts and scrapes on her arms and legs hurt, her feet were blistering. In fact, it seemed that every inch of her was in pain. But the image of the expensive car driving over the book kept her going. In her mind, it was just like Carter driving over her. He’d never looked back either. She put one foot in front of the other, each step so hard it jarred her body. But she kept going, never slowing down—just as the driver had done.
She heard the noise of the tavern before she saw it. It wasn’t particularly loud, but when the door was opened the music, a mixture of rock and country, floated out.
Sophie’s steps began to slow down. Here at last was civilization. She’d be able to call a cab. Or maybe her landlady, Mrs. Wingate, could come and get her. If this town of Edilean was as good as Kim had said it was, there would be help.
When Sophie stopped and waited for a car to pass, she saw it. In the far left of the parking lot was the silvery BMW that had nearly run over her, had destroyed her phone, and was probably going to cause Sophie to spend a few years in prison. She put her head forward, set her sore jaw in a hard line, the recipe book in its torn envelope under her arm, and strode across the street.
Inside the restaurant, the lights blinded her for a moment, so she stood in the doorway to look around. It was a quiet place, with booths full of people eating huge amounts of fried food. Very American. To the left was a big jukebox, a dance floor, and some tables with men and women drinking beer from pitchers and eating great bowls full of chicken wings.
Sophie had been sure that she’d be able to pick out the person who’d nearly killed her.
Over the last several miles she’d conjured an image of a long face, close-together eyes, even big ears. She imagined him to be tall and thin, and of course he was rich. Carter’s family was rich. If he ran over a woman, he’d wonder why she didn’t get out of his way. Would he call it his “summer hit-and-run”?
She walked to the bar along the wall and waited for the bartender to come to her. He was a young man, blond and blue eyed.
“Hey! What happened to you?” he asked.
“I was nearly run over.”
He looked concerned. “Yeah? Want me to call the sheriff?”
Sophie tightened her grip on the stolen book. “No,” she said firmly. “I just want to know who owns the silver BMW.”
The young man’s mouth opened as though he meant to say something, but a woman sitting at the bar spoke first. “See the guy over there in the blue shirt?”
“Is that him?” Sophie asked.
“Yes it is,” the woman answered.
“Mrs. Garland,” the bartender began, “I don’t think—”
“Take it from me,” the woman said to Sophie, “that guy’s a real bastard. Thinks he knows more than anybody else in town. I’d like to see him taken down a peg or two.”
Sophie didn’t answer, just nodded and walked straight to the table. He had his back to her so she couldn’t see his face. There were two other men sitting there, and when they saw Sophie their eyes lit up in appreciation. Ignoring them, she walked to stand in front of the man.
Her first impression was that he was strikingly handsome, but he looked tired—and sad. She might have felt sympathy for him, but when he saw Sophie he grimaced, as though she were someone he was going to have to do something for. It was that look that broke her. All she’d wanted to do was talk to him, tell him what she thought of him, but she’d be damned if anyone was going to look at her as though she were a . . . well, a burden. She’d not been a burden since she got her first job at sixteen. She prided herself on carrying her own weight.
“Can I help you?” the man asked, his deep voice sounding as though Sophie was going to demand something dreadful of him.
“You own the BMW?”
He nodded once, and that look that Sophie was a great bother to him deepened.
She didn’t think about what she did. She picked up a full pitcher of beer and poured it over his head. Not dumped, but poured it so it took several seconds to empty the contents. While cold beer was running down his face, she was aware that every person in the tavern had stopped talking. Even the jukebox was silenced, as though it had been unplugged.
As for the man, he just sat there, blinking up at Sophie, nothing but surprise on his face. When she finished, the restaurant was totally silent. Sophie glared at him, his face dripping beer. “Next time, watch where you’re going.” One of the men at the table took the empty pitcher, and Sophie walked across the room and went out the front door.
Outside, she stood still for a moment, not sure what to do next. Then the door behind her opened and one of the men who’d been sitting at the table came out.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Russell Pendergast and I’m the new pastor in town and I think maybe you might need a ride.”
When Sophie heard noise returning to the tavern, she didn’t give herself time to think. “Yes I would,” she said and got into a green pickup beside the man. They started the drive into Edilean.
Chapter Two
They rode in
silence for a while before Russell said, “Is it possible that you’re Sophie Kincaid?”
Immediately the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Had he heard her name on the news? CNN maybe?
“Sorry,” Russell said as he glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Kim said you didn’t want the whole town to know about you, but she told me you were coming because she married my brother.”
Sophie let out a sigh of relief. “And you’re a pastor.”
“Newly,” he said, smiling. He was a very handsome man. “In fact, everything about me seems to be new. New town, new job, newly married, new to being a father.”
At the words married and father Sophie felt a bit of a letdown. It looked like she wasn’t dead after all.
“I’m even new to having a brother,” he said. When that tidbit sparked no interest in Sophie, he changed the subject. “How did you get here?”
“Car. I pulled off the road and it quit working. I’m surprised it ran as long as it did.”
“I’ll call the sheriff and he—”
Sophie drew in her breath sharply.
A quick frown momentarily creased Russell’s forehead. “The sheriff’s family owns Frazier Motors,” he explained. “They’ll fix your car or tow it or do whatever it needs.”
“My clothes are in it,” she said, looking down at her dirty skirt. On her lap, her hands tight on it, was the tattered envelope. When she saw that her knuckles were white, she tried to relax them.
“Sophie,” Russell said softly, “if you need someone to talk to, I’m always available.”
“Thanks,” she said, “but . . .” How could she tell a man of God that she’d stolen something that was the backbone of a very large company?
“Whenever you want to,” he said. “How about if I take you to Kim’s house tonight instead of Mrs. Wingate’s? Kim has closets full of clothes, and maybe it will feel more familiar to you being around her things.”
Quick tears of gratitude came to Sophie’s eyes but she blinked them away. “I would like that,” she said softly. The thought of soaking in a tub full of very hot water and putting on clean clothes made her begin to relax.
“Do you have plans for your visit?” Russell asked cautiously as he glanced at Sophie. She was extraordinarily pretty, with hair that looked to be naturally blond, big blue eyes, and skin as perfect as a camellia petal. As for the rest of her, he’d seen the way everyone in the tavern had watched her walk. She had a figure that people did double takes on.
But her physical appearance aside, he could see that she was extremely upset. She was holding on to the big envelope with the tire tracks across it, as though it were the key to life. Her clothes were torn and dirty, there was a big smudge on her chin, and one knee was bloody.
Whatever had happened to her seemed to have been caused by Reede Aldredge.
Russell had to work to cover his smile at the sight of this beautiful young woman pouring beer over Reede’s head. Russell knew he’d go to his grave with that image in his mind.
Not long before, Reede had entered the restaurant looking like he wanted to murder someone. Russell and Roan had been having an interesting conversation on the religions of the world, but Reede’s bellyaching took over.
“He said it was a heart attack so I went running,” Reede said. “Never mind that I hadn’t been to bed in two days. It was only indigestion. You know what his eldest daughter did while I was there?”
“Come on to you?” Roan asked. He and Reede were cousins and had a long history together. “She’s a pretty little thing and she’s not that young.”
“Not interested,” Reede said as the waitress put a clean glass in front of him and a new pitcher of beer on the table.
“Not interested in her specifically or in any woman?” Russell asked.
“If you’re implying what I think you are, be glad you’re a preacher or I’d deck you,” Reede said.
“I’d like to see that fight,” Roan said. “Russell here is younger than you are and from the look of you, healthier. When did you last take some time off?”
“I think that was when I was in college.”
“Before Laura dumped you?” Roan asked.
Reede groaned and took a deep drink of his beer. “Don’t you start on me too. Everybody in this town thinks I’m pining away for a girl I barely remember.”
“They like the romance of the story,” Russell said.
“Believe me, getting told to get lost is no romance,” Reede said.
“And that attitude is the reason everyone still talks about you and the Chawnley girl,” Roan said.
“You know how you could stop the gossip, don’t you?” Russell asked. He was a new friend to both men.
“I know this is a trick, but what is it?”
“You should get married,” Russell said.
Reede nearly choked on his beer.
Roan laughed. “Well said, and I couldn’t agree more wholeheartedly.”
“What about you?” Reede was looking at his cousin.
“I missed out on Jecca.”
“We both did, but at least I didn’t nearly lose Tris’s friendship over her,” Reede said.
Roan grinned. “Who would have thought that a city girl like her was actually a woman?”
“They grow them in the cities too, you know.”
“Maybe.” Roan didn’t sound convinced.
“If you two are through with your bromance,” Russell said, “I’m serious, Reede. You should get a wife. You can’t cook and you’re losing weight. You live in that awful apartment, and your bad temper is legendary.”
Reede gave a one-sided grin. “It keeps the staff in line.”
“Ha!” Roan said. “Those poor girls are in the matchmaking business, and you’re their only client.”
Reede ran his hand over his face. “Do you have any idea what they do to me? A few months ago they gave a party and they—”
“Invited every eligible female around,” Roan cut in as he leaned toward Russell. “We’d never before seen such a flurry of dress buying in the history of Edilean. I heard that one of the women bought a dress, changed her mind, and took it back.”
“Is that bad?” Russell asked.
“She did it six times,” Roan said, obviously enjoying Reede’s discomfort.
Russell was frowning. “Did you like any of the women?”
“How would I know?” Reede asked. “They were all so disgustingly agreeable that I couldn’t figure out any of them. If I’d said I liked to torture baby ducks for a hobby I’m sure all of them would have agreed with me.”
“Whoever heard of an agreeable woman being something bad?” Russell asked. “Did you date any of them later?”
“No,” Reede said. “I don’t have time for dating. Besides, I’ve tried it and it doesn’t work. I get called out on an emergency and have to stand her up and she gets angry. Or I see her as a patient and that never works out.”
“So you live in lonely solitude,” Roan said.
“Look who’s talking,” Reede said. “You want a woman who can discuss philosophy with you and also repair your chain saw.”
“I was sooooo close,” Roan said.
“What does that mean?” Russell asked.
“Too long a story,” Reede answered. “I’m going home and go to bed.”
“Wow!” Roan said as he looked around Reede to the front of the tavern. “Speaking of female bliss, look what just walked in.”
The other men turned to look at the woman who’d entered. In spite of the dirt on her, she was easily the prettiest girl in the place, maybe in the town. She was wearing a simple cotton dress with a pink cardigan, and running shoes, but they didn’t hide her curvy figure.
“She looks like a young Bardot,” Roan said.
“She seems to be looking for someone,” Russell said.
Reede turned back around. “With my luck, it’s me. She probably bruised her arm and wants immediate medical attention.”
??
?Maybe so,” Roan said, “but the exam would be a real joy.”
“Not to me.” Reede drained his beer. “Is she coming this way?”
“No, she’s talking to Mrs. Garland,” Russell said.
Reede groaned. “Another person who hates me. She’s spreading— That’s confidential, but I had a stern talk with her, and she put on such a show of misery for my staff that for two days I had to put up with their eye rolling and huffing.”
“They still counting the days until Tris returns?” Roan asked.
“There’s a three-year calendar by Betsy’s computer. She penciled in x’s on every day and she erases one each morning. Each day takes them closer to when their precious, can-do-no-wrong Dr. Tris returns.”
“Uh-oh,” Roan said, “the little beauty is coming this way. I sure hope it’s me she wants.”
“Some tutoring in Hegel and Kant?” Russell asked. Roan taught philosophy at Berkeley but he was now on sabbatical.
“I’d give that baby whatever she wants,” Roan said.
It turned out that Sophie had wanted Reede, but not for any reasons they had thought of.
Both Russell and Roan had sat there, paralyzed, unable to move, while the pretty young woman poured beer over Reede’s head. He’d been wearing his look of dread, that yet another woman was going to come on to him, when he got a shock of cold beer.
Her words of “Next time, watch where you’re going” seemed to explain it all. Earlier, when Reede had sat down with them, he’d complained about people littering the highway.
“I glanced down in the seat at some paperwork and when I looked up there was a big white envelope in the road. I couldn’t help but run over the thing. I don’t know what the hell was in it, but it crunched under my tire. I hope it didn’t give me a flat.”
Russell thought that from the look of Sophie’s dirty, ragged state, there was more to the story than what Reede had told them—or that he knew. For one thing Russell doubted if Reede had just “glanced” down at some paperwork. In spite of his complaining, Reede Aldredge was an extremely dedicated doctor. If someone was really ill, he’d do whatever was needed to save the person, even if it took days of his time. Reede had said he hadn’t slept in days, then he’d had the frustration of being called to an emergency that wasn’t real. It was Russell’s guess that Reede had been more absorbed in his caseload than in his driving.