The Hero (Page 3)

Two

Rawley drove Devon to the Walmart nearest his home. He parked in the big lot and looked at her. “Your people ever go to the Walmart?” he asked.

“Not that I know of,” she said. “And I never did while I was there. But I have some clothes.” The clothes were in the backpack left outside the fence for her. She hadn’t looked at them closely and didn’t know if they’d fit, but the backpack was stuffed with things for her escape.

He reached up to the sun visor overhead and pulled out a ball cap. “Tuck that braid up in this,” he said. “Get yourself a few things, grab some stuff for Mercy. Get yourself any other lady things you might need. Things no sixty-three-year-old bachelor would ever have laying around. I’ll get us some groceries. We’ll try to be quick and not make a stir—don’t want you to give yourself away. Can we do that?”

She nodded, tucking up her braid. “I have forty dollars,” she said.

“Look,” Rawley said. “I know you’re worried. I know you’re suspicious of me and of everybody, and rightly so. But you’re not a prisoner, and even if you decide you can’t stick around you’ll want to stay clear of that camp. You shouldn’t look like you came from there. And you don’t have to run off in the night, all you have to do is say you need a ride somewhere and I’ll take you. Hang on to your forty dollars. You’ll need it, I figure.”

“I was there by choice,” she revealed. Until she wasn’t.

“Well, it’s your choice not to be there now. Let’s just get ’er done. Then you can relax and get a little rest.”

As for not making a stir, the second they walked in the door, little Mercy used her loudest voice to look around and say, “Mama! What is this place?”

It took Devon a second to recover, but recover she did. She pulled Mercy’s little hand and said, “Just a very big store, honey. Now please use your very quiet voice and come with me.” At least Mercy hadn’t called her Sister Devon. That was the way Jacob liked it; no one was a mother or a father, a husband or a wife—they were all brothers and sisters. Which made his behavior seem pretty damned incestuous.

Of course Devon remembered visiting a Walmart—it’s not as though she’d forgotten her life before the family. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and a cart and sped through the women’s and children’s clothes. Two pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts, two shirts, socks, underwear, tennis shoes. She bought the exact same items for Mercy. She added two hoodies, in case they had to flee in the night, and then a few incidentals including brushes, combs and toothbrushes. And—because he was right—she bought a pair of scissors. She had to stop looking like one of them.

She met Rawley by the checkout. Her heart was racing. So, here she was with a scruffy old guy who had given her a ride and now wanted to help her even more and just by the look of him alone she should be worried. But the tall, handsome, soft-spoken Jacob with the ready, welcoming smile, who had so much to offer when she was in need, had never worried her for a moment. And he was the one she should have been worried about!

In his cart Rawley had groceries and... She looked closely. He had a safety seat for Mercy for the truck. It was an old truck and the cab was small, but it had seat belts. She was touched beyond words. That safety seat meant so much more to her than all Jacob’s promises.

The new seat had to be strapped in by the door and there were no seat belts for the middle seat. She had to sit next to Rawley without belts while Mercy rode in the passenger seat. Still, it was better than walking or hitching.

Had it been possible, she would have held her breath all the way to Rawley Goode’s house. She kept telling herself she was safer in this old man’s truck, or in his home, than she would’ve been had she stayed with the family at the compound. She kept telling herself this was safer than hitching rides. Despite her racing imagination there was something she had not been prepared for. When they pulled into the driveway of a small brick home in a neat little neighborhood, she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. It was like the house she’d grown up in. When they went inside, she stopped right inside the door, right in the little living room, and almost collapsed in relief and emotion. This could be Aunt Mary’s place! The furniture was different but probably just as old, complete with those familiar doilies on the tabletops and arms of the Queen Anne chairs and sofa. It was small, the rug over the hardwood floor threadbare, the wood furniture distressed but polished. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”

She put Mercy on her feet. “Mama, where’s the kids?”

Devon got down on one knee. She put the bags she carried along with her backpack against the wall. “We’re having a vacation. And I think you need a nap.”

“I don’t want a bacation,” Mercy whined.

“We don’t have a choice. We have to.”

“I don’t want to has to!”

“Stop,” Devon said firmly. “Stop right now.” Then she hugged her close.

Rawley took the groceries straight to the kitchen and began putting things away. Devon just waited by the door, holding Mercy’s hand, afraid to invade the house. Momentarily he was back, handing her a slip of paper. “There’s two bedrooms upstairs and you’ll know which one is mine—it’s lookin’ mighty lived in. There’s food in the kitchen and I ain’t savin’ nothing for later—it’s all open season for you and Mercy. I eat at the bar and clean up dishes before coming home so you won’t see me till eight or so. This here’s a number for my phone.” Then he grinned. “You’re the first person to get it. I mean, Cooper has it, but only because he bought me the phone in the first place—he got tired of me never checkin’ in. You just call if you need something, or if something changes with you, or if... I don’t expect anyone will bother you here.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked.

He gave a shrug. “I could stay, Cooper wouldn’t mind. But if I was you, I’d still be nervous and me gone will give you a chance to think. Check over the place. Rest. Eat. Get comfortable. Pull the tags off your clothes. Nap. Whatever you need to do.” He opened the door. “There’s another room up there. It’s where I keep the TV. Extra blankets in the hall closet. Towels and that stuff, too.”

“I guess we should wash off the road,” she said.

He looked at his watch. “You got hours to do whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Mr. Goode.”

“It’s just Rawley,” he said. And then he was gone.

Overwhelmed, Devon sat on his worn old couch, pulling Mercy beside her. Mercy. She had wanted to name her Mary in the first place, after her aunt. Mary had been failing fast the last time she’d seen her alive. Five years ago.

Tears started to just run out of her blue eyes.

“We’re free,” she whispered to Mercy.

“Mama, where’s the kids?”

* * *

It was Sister Laine who had helped Devon find a way out of The Fellowship. Laine hadn’t been with the family long, not even six months. And, unlike some of the women, she was very independent and didn’t seem to get sucked into group thinking, nor did she vie for Jacob’s favors. She was careful, though. Disciplined and obedient. Around Jacob she seemed skittish, maybe frightened, but there were other times when she threw Devon a secret grin and wink, or maybe a startled look. She didn’t talk about her past, other than to say she’d come from a bad place and that Jacob had promised her peace and safety. It was implied she had been abused by a man. Laine’s story reminded Devon that they weren’t all the same no matter how much Jacob wished it so.

Laine learned that Devon wanted to leave the compound and that Jacob wouldn’t let her take Mercy. It was hardly secret—Devon had been making noises about leaving once she first learned she was pregnant. But Jacob said no, absolutely no, because Mercy was his child. So, for several years Devon and Mercy made the compound their home.

They were gathering eggs one morning when Laine whispered, “I know you want to leave.”

“No,” Devon said, hiding surprise, cautious in case of betrayal. “I’m very happy.”

“I know you want to go and if you do, I can help. If you turn on me, it will be bad, very bad. If you don’t want to go, just ignore me.”

But Devon said, “Help how?”

“Listen carefully. On June 9 there will be a hole in the fence behind the henhouse, right over there. There will be a backpack with some clothes, bottled water, a couple of apples and granola bars—look for it outside the fence behind a tree. At midnight there will be a truck down the road—the lights will be off. The driver will take you over the mountain. He won’t wait long. Go to the coast. You shouldn’t travel Highway 5, it’s too close to the compound and you’ll be found right away if anyone decides to look for you. If they look, they’ll only look as far as you can walk. Hitching a ride on Highway 101 is safer. If anything goes wrong, try to find a women’s shelter and tell your story. As a last resort, if you have no other way to get help, tell the police.”

“Why a last resort?”

“Because, Devon, once you tell, they might make a move on this place and everyone could be in danger. Jacob will fight back. So, only tell the police if that’s the only way you can be safe.”

“Why would you do this?”

She shrugged and said, “I fixed it up at the Farmers’ Market. I was planning to do it myself, but I think you should go first. I’ll figure out something.”

“Maybe we could both go,” Devon said, wondering if she’d lost her mind.

But Laine shook her head. “Two of us and Mercy traveling together would be too easy to track. If you get in a fix, tell someone what’s going on here. The moods, the threats, the little rages and the gardens. If you have to tell, tell to keep yourself safe. It is not safe here.”

“It was once. Or it seemed to be,” Devon said.

“It’s not safe now, I can tell. It’s time to get the children out. I think you know that. Now let’s find some eggs. And laugh at my jokes, for God’s sake!” Then she smiled. “You have this one chance. Do it.”

It’s time to get the children out. Those words struck fear in Devon’s heart and she knew she had to act. She had to take the chance that was being given to her. She had to trust Laine. But, once she had made her decision, Devon nearly counted her heartbeats until she and Mercy could escape.

Just as Laine had promised, everything was ready. And, before she knew it, she’d done it.

* * *

Rawley got back to the beach bar around two in the afternoon. He walked in on one of the most unlikely friendships he’d ever known about, and he’d known of some odd ones since Vietnam. Cooper was behind his bar and Spencer Lawson was sitting on a stool facing him. This was a fairly new friendship. As Rawley heard the story, Spencer had been married to an old fiancée of Cooper’s and the poor lady died. She had cancer or something, Rawley recalled. And several months before her death, blood work had been done and revealed that their ten-year-old son, Austin, was actually not Spencer’s biological son, but Cooper’s.

Well, now, Rawley thought. That’ll make or break a man.

But the men had worked it out. In fact, Spencer had just agreed to take a job in Thunder Point so both dads could live in the same town and be parents to one little boy. And ten-year-old Austin had the potential to be spoiled rotten.

“Hey, Rawley,” Cooper said. “How’s your cousin?”

“Huh? Oh, she’s okay. I left her to get a nap, relax or whatever.”

“How long you think she’ll stay?”

Rawley just shrugged. “Can’t say. Might be she doesn’t find an old Vet much fun to live with and just moves on.”