Chapter 6

Week Three, Friday evening

I held up the two pots of ice-cream that I’d just taken out of the coldbox.

“Hi, honey, I’m home. Sorry to have been so long. I’ve got a question for you. Two in fact. Do we eat the ice-cream right now before it gets any softer, and if so, do you want the pistachio or the double chocolate chip?”

She grinned very widely.

“Hi, Grey. I like them both. I think the pistachio, please, but I reserve the right to dig my spoon into your pot. Or maybe we could swap over half way?”

We took the ice-cream pots out onto the porch and sat in the two chairs I’d bought at the dump. I’d be taking them with me if they would fit in the truck bed roped on top; they now had sentimental value, to remind me of this place. I handed her a small steel spoon; she’d now outgrown the flimsy plastic disposable ‘silverware’ we’d been using, indeed I felt it would have been an insult to offer it to her. I leaned over and dropped a big heaped spoonful of my chocolate on top of her pistachio. She dug into it.

“Thanks! That’s nearly as good as mine, maybe a little too sweet. It’s great to have something cold.”

“I’m going to have to get myself some kind of proper refrigeration. Probably build it a little shed over, so I don’t have to have the kerosene or propane in the cabin. I’d eat a whole lot better if I could keep food for longer; hey, I could even have leftovers occasionally, or maybe guests to supper!”

I’d spoken as if I intended to stay here after her release. I’d really miss the place, and it might help to be able to tell her about the improvements I would have made if this had remained my home. Not that it was looking likely, but I wanted to share my dreams for the place with someone before I packed up and left.

She laughed with me.

“You planning on keeping this place?”

I was silent for a moment before I replied. She deserved to be told some of the truth on this part, to know my true desire, even if I now had no choice but to abandon it. A new life in Missouri or my current life in a Federal Penitentiary, either way I wouldn’t be here.

“I’d really like to. After Iraq, it gives me something I didn’t know I was missing. Peace, tranquility, sweet cool water, green foliage, I’m not sure exactly what, perhaps the combined package. 160 acres, and all my own. Something here sings out to me. I’d miss it if I ever had to leave.”

She nodded in agreement.

“I guess I can understand what you mean. It’s a very special place. I’d love to have something similar myself one day, where I can totally chill out and get away from work.”

She was quiet for a while, the only sound that of our spoons dipping into the soft ice cream and hitting the cardboard cup. She emitted a sigh of pleasure as she finished her treat.

“Thank you, Grey; I haven’t done that for years! And a whole pint in one go! It’s always been a set portion in a china or glass dish.”

“Me neither; it just seemed the right evening for gorging on ice-cream.”

I remembered that I’d have to light the grill before we could eat.

“Miss Gregson, would you mind very much preparing the tomato salad while I set the coals going?”

She looked surprised.

“What are we eating?”

“Steak. Marinated rib-eye. How do you like yours?”

She giggled.

“I am SO totally not believing this. I’ve been kidnapped, he’s bought me ice cream to enjoy out on the porch, and now he’s going to cook me a steak supper. The rare side of medium, please. Do I get a beer while I’m cutting up the tomatoes?”

“If you like; I’ve got some wine but you’ll have to forgive the beer glasses; I didn’t get anything smaller.”

“A beer first, then a glass of wine with the steak?”

“You’ve got it.”

I took her into the cabin, showed her the food I’d bought, and then fetched the knife block and chopping board from my bedroom.

“Holler when you need anything else, Miss Gregson, I’ll be just outside.”

I busied myself with the grill. I’d used it quite a few times before the kidnap, just for myself; however it had seemed too difficult to cook with it and feed a captive at the same time, which is why I’d been sticking to store-bought meals and the camping stove. I was looking forward to the treat; the steaks had looked good on the butchery counter. The coals were soon started, and I went back in the cabin, stupidly not concentrating.

Mr Dumb but Happy.

Big mistake, letting my guard down.

Really dumb, just like a lamb to the slaughter. I’d gotten sloppy.

The girl chopping tomatoes whirled round and stuck the knife at my throat.

She grinned at the instinctive flash of fear in my eyes, then lowered the knife and put it back on the table before turning back to me.

“Grey, Miss Gregson was my father’s spinster sister, my late aunt Jenny, the one who took me to Europe the summer before she died. The name my friends call me by is Laura. Do you think you might use it in future, please?”

I stared at her as she just giggled at my obvious astonishment, then my face slowly broke into a rueful grin. I hadn’t pissed my pants (mainly because I hadn’t been fast enough on the uptake to realize that I was shit scared until it was all over), she hadn’t stabbed me, so it was all okay. I did have to summon up some saliva before I could speak, my mouth had just gotten as dry as dust.

“Thank you, Laura, I’d be honored to call you by your given name.”

She smiled back at me. Lord, she had a truly awesome smile. She was so out of my league. Smart, witty, beautiful, connected. God, I was going to miss having her around.

The meal was great. The steaks tasted as good as they looked, and Laura had made a delicious tomato salad. The wine too was just right.

The company was even better. We chatted easily. Then came those four dreadful words. At least she used my given name first.

“Grey, we need to talk.”

I sighed. It had been good while it had lasted. Time to pay the piper.

“Okay, Laura, let me refill our glasses first.”

“So, Grey, the big question to start with. What exactly are you intending to do with me now that I know who you are?”

I paused for a moment, wondering if there were any particular words that might excuse me having kidnapped her. I couldn’t think of any.

“I already decided that, last night, to do the same as I’ve always intended. I’m still going to take you home in the morning before I leave town. I just wanted to buy you a steak dinner before we part, and taking you out to a restaurant seemed a bad idea, as well as not giving me the privacy to say goodbye to you. I guess I don’t want you to think I’m all bad.”

She looked me in the eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. There wasn’t any.

“Thank you. It’s the best solution. For me and for you. You aren’t a cold-blooded killer, and I don’t want you to become one.”

“Me neither. You don’t deserve to die. You’re actually a real nice kid, and you should get a chance to live a long and useful life. The world is a better place with you in it.”

She gave me another huge smile, her white teeth shining.

“Grey, that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me!”

“It’s the truth.”

We sat in companionable silence for a moment. Then she sat up straighter.

“I’ve spent the day thinking over a few things. Grey, your daughter, Aggie, how old is she?”

“Almost four. Cute as a button, curly blond hair.”

“Check. Your ex. Kasey. Late twenties, long dirty blonde hair, pretty unkempt, big dangly ear hoops, bright red lip gloss, big tits, short skirts, dresses slutty, getting kinda hefty round the thighs?”

“That’s her, specially the hoops and the slutty. Sounds like you know her?”

“I’ve met them. Grey, I’m pretty sure that I’ve worked out what and where the problem is. Her new husband is named Liam O’Meara. He’s my father’s confidential clerk, and he’s a sleazy little man who I’ve never liked. He’s an officer of the court, and I’m guessing he put the false documents in front of Daddy, who was stupid enough to sign them without reading them. The whole thing is just plain illegal, there are Federal laws against it. O’Meara needs to go to jail for that. Jeez, this restraining order on its own is just outrageous, there’s no way it can be enforced until after you’ve broken it. I’ve never heard of a divorce being final on the day of the first hearing, there’s always a set time for reflection before it’s all tied up. Daddy won’t get off either; you could get him into big trouble for not doing his duty. Allowing desertion as a reason for divorce while you were serving your country will get them in front of an angry Federal judge, and the Departments of Defense and Justice will both want to nail their hides to a wall as an example to others. I can just see some ambitious little prick in the JAG Corps salivating at the name he could make for himself, sending a civilian judge off to prison. You’ll forgive me for not being keen to see my father grow old in some distant Federal penitentiary; he may have been a darned fool, but he’s the only Dad I’ve got. I’m hoping we can find another way around this, and I’ve been musing about it all day. I’m pretty sure I know how to do this.”

I drew in my breath. If she knew what to do next, she had a better mind than me. I had no idea at all. Other than getting the hell out of Dodge before her father nailed MY hide to a wall.

“Okay, Laura, I’m willing to give you the chance to resolve what happened. Maybe your father deserves nothing more than a world-class chewing out, but this O’Meara guy and my ex need to go down hard for this. And I want my daughter back.”

She nodded her agreement.

“Once again, Grey, I’m in your debt. Thank you for giving me the chance; I know you’ve no reason to love my father, but I don’t think it was deliberate on his part. I agree with you on O’Meara; an officer of the court abusing his position like that demands some serious jail time. You know why I think he’s entirely to blame?”

“You mean apart from him now being Kasey’s husband?”

“Yup.”

I racked my brain.

“No idea.”

She made a sweeping gesture.

“This place. They didn’t know about it, can’t have done. Any quarter-competent divorce attorney would have done a search to trace any assets in your name. You bought this as Grey McKinley, you paid your property taxes too? Simple routine enquiry, and it wasn’t done. So secrecy must have been vital. They relied on what Kasey knew, nothing more.”

“What about the truck? She knew about that.”

“It was parked up at the Armory, wasn’t it? They’d have had to produce the correct paperwork to claim it, and the fewer people who knew anything about your divorce, the better. It wasn’t worth the risk.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“You make it sound so obvious.”

“I’ve had time to think about the process. Any more wine in that bottle?”

“One more each, and then it’s back to the beer.”

I poured and we raised our glasses to each other.

“So, what’s Aggie really like? I’ve only ever seen her in passing; she looks a real little darling.”

“She sure is. She’s the main reason I wanted to buy this place as a family cabin for weekends, so she’d have a chance to experience the outdoors and grow up comfortable with it. Have a childhood that wasn’t dominated by cars, TV and smartphones.”

“Aww! That’s real sweet! I think she’d love it out here! It’s a truly beautiful place.”

I couldn’t help but grin; I felt my judgment in buying the property completely vindicated by her approval.

“Laura, I’ve got a few photos of Aggie that I took to Iraq with me. You want to see them?”

She did; I went and got them from my bedroom, and Laura told me what I already knew, that my daughter was a real cutie. I told her a few stories about when Aggie was small; I guess I shed a tear or two, as did Laura. The wine was finished, so I got us both another beer and sat down again, reaching for my phone to show Laura even more photos of Aggie.

That kind of broke the remaining ice between us. We talked and talked; I told her things that I’d never shared with another person, and she told me a confidence or two.

I quickly realized from what she was saying that actually she hadn’t had it all that easy in life; being the daughter of the town judge had made her doubly conspicuous at school, and not in a good way. She’d always had to assume that anyone showing an interest in her was after either her money or her contacts, or maybe just her pussy for his trophy wall. She giggled, a little drunkenly now, as she commented that I was the first man who’d ever actually put an exact figure on how much of her father’s wealth he wanted.

“You know, Bubba, sorry, Grey, we both made some real dumb first assumptions about each other. I thought you were a worthless redneck high school dropout, out to make a quick buck, who was finding himself way over his head now he’d committed a big crime. Let me guess, you had me down as a stuck-up spoiled rich bitch with no idea how the other half lives?”

I laughed with her. The grin on her face let me off having to actually answer the second question; I guess she knew for sure that I had felt like that.

“I did give you a few reasons why I might be a rural ‘shine-swilling hick, so you weren’t being that dumb. Why I automatically assumed that you were a wild airhead party girl just from the evidence of one newspaper photo, I don’t know. That was unfair of me. I did you an injustice, and I apologize for that.”

She raised her eyebrows in question.

“Newspaper photo?”

“Oh Lord! It’s a long story. When I bought the coffee mugs and beer glasses from the Goodwill store, the lady kindly wrapped them up in newspaper. I straightened it all out, and there was a photo of you and your folks. Hang on, I’ll go get it.”

I brought the sheet of newsprint back from my room and handed it to her. She giggled as she saw the picture of herself.

“Oh my! That was one of the most tedious evenings I’ve ever had to endure. If it hadn’t been for such a great cause I’d have gotten out of it, but Mom made me come home from college for the weekend specially to show our support. The food was the usual rubber chicken but with no redeeming features, the speeches were long and repetitive, and I had to do duty dances with all the old men in town, half of whom hadn’t danced since their own weddings. You should have seen the bruises on my feet.”

“You looked real pretty in the photo.”

She chuckled again.

“I can clean up quite nicely, you know, given hot water, professional help with hair and makeup, a clothes allowance and some time. Anyway, what in that photo gave you the idea of abducting me?”

“You see, the name just jumped off of the page at me. I never knowingly saw a photo of your father before, though I guess I musta done before I came across him, or, more correctly, he came across me. It’s not THAT big a town, and he must be in the news sometimes. At the time I saw the article, I was still trying to work out how to get Aggie back when I didn’t have the money to afford the smart lawyers, and then I suddenly thought if I kidnapped you or your Mom, I could get a ransom and use that money for the lawyers.”

“So why me and not Mom?”

I shrugged.

“I couldn’t see a simple way to get hold of her. She doesn’t go out running on her own early on a Saturday morning.”

A white-toothed rueful grin.

“Fair point. She might have been less trouble though, and I think Dad would have moved fairly quickly to pay you the ransom to get her back. He needs her more than he needs me, a whole lot more.”

I laughed.

“You now suggesting we kidnap her and split the ransom between us?”

She grinned back.

“No, she’d want to know why I suddenly had some spare cash. Besides, I’d have to do all the cooking at home until you let her go; my father burns water. So I’ll let you off that task.”

“I’m glad, because my kidnapping days are over. I’m going to move on to something a mite easier, you know, like herding wildcats.”

She smiled, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I guess it is. You’ve turned the tables on me, and I have to respect you for it.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir. I’ll be sure to put that in my resume. My abductor said I was more trouble than a bunch of wildcats.”

“I’ll write you a recommendation if you like?”

“You know something, Bubba, I might just take you up on that. Add some human interest and life experience to what’s in my high school year book entry.”

I laughed.

“I’ll have to do some thinking about the best way of phrasing that without incriminating myself. Just make sure you accept any ‘friend’ request from a guy calling himself Bubba, and I’ll draft something out and send it to you. Up to you as to whether or not you actually use it! So, tell me, what does your year book say about you?”

She suddenly looked shy.

“Oh, just the usual high school flannel.”

“Yeah? Enough flannel to get you into pre-law? I heard they interview you and discuss what you’ve done outside class, everything, it’s not just your grades. Come on, ‘fess up.”

She did, reluctantly. Lesser people would have boasted about her academic and sporting achievements; she was more matter of fact about them. I could read between the lines; I guessed that she had put in the hours of hard work necessary to get there and it hadn’t been easy. I could see how she had gotten her place on the high school volleyball team by merit; she made me laugh when she told me that lettering in that sport still kept her below the junior cheerleaders in locker room status!

We carried on talking, exchanging stories of our childhoods. Although her family had always had far more money than mine, we’d actually followed fairly similar middle-class paths until my parents had been fatally injured in that car wreck when I was seventeen. If Dad had also been killed outright, I’d have been okay; it was the cost of him lingering on in that hospital bed for another ten weeks that had taken all the money. Their deaths made the difference between me being blue collar middle class with a college education, and working as a site laborer in the construction industry, with any prospects being only due to the far-sightedness of my current employer.

Miss Gregson, Laura, shed a few tears of genuine sympathy when she heard that, and I changed the topic again to save her from my past miseries.

I learned more of her family history. The Gregsons had been Irish Presbyterians of Scottish ancestry; they’d come over in the 1700s for religious independence, and had settled with similar folk when many Presbyterians had moved to the Carolinas and Eastern Tennessee. They’d been patriots in the Revolutionary Wars. Some of their forebears had been involved in the defeat of the British at King’s Mountain. She might be an only child, but she wouldn’t have to look far to find kin round about.

I couldn’t believe the amount of time that had passed when I looked at my watch as she finally yawned, got up and excused herself to go to bed. It was two o’clock Saturday morning. She kissed me on the cheek again and headed for her room. I locked the outside door for security against intruders and left the key in the lock; I didn’t bother with the bars or closing either her door or mine. After she’d had me at her mercy with the tomato knife earlier, I didn’t think I was in any danger.

It had been an enjoyable evening, the best in a long time. Too bad it was my last night in the cabin, probably my last night in this State.

Week four, day one, Saturday

What with the late night, my plans for an early start had kinda gotten knocked on the head.

I woke just before eight, intending to take her in a coffee when I made mine; she must have heard me or smelled the aroma because she joined me in the main room before it had finished running through the machine. I poured the two mugs and carried them out onto the porch, where we sat again on the two chairs I’d found at the town dump, and enjoyed the morning sunlight together. It’s a great way to start your day; I tried to do it every weekend, what with not having to rush off to work. It was even better relaxing with someone sitting close beside me; it was just a shame that this was the first and last time she’d be there.

And the very last time I’d be doing this. I’d miss it.

We were both real quiet, lost in our thoughts.

I knew I was looking out at this view for the last time, that I was about to lift my roots and head off into the unknown. I was also thinking that I needed to start dating again when I got to where I was going; I’d been alone for too long now. The last couple of days, when she’d started behaving like a normal human being, had actually been incredibly enjoyable, but had made me realize just what I was missing living like a hermit instead of with a companion. Our late night conversation, sharing confidences, had been more profound and rewarding than any conversation I’d ever had with my ex. Kasey had never listened to me with such honest interest. When I made my new life a thousand miles away, I’d try to find someone like this girl.

Yeah. Moving away. I hadn’t even started packing up my stuff. Sure, there wasn’t a whole lot of it, but it would take some time to shift it all into the truck. I’d have to get it done before I took her home; I needed to be over the county line and headed for Georgia or Tennessee just as fast as I could, and there was still my computer to get from the Hallett Construction office – which was in the wrong direction.

Then she broke the silence and my train of thought.

“Grey, would you do me a real big favor? I changed my mind during the night. I’ve realized I need to do some more thinking, a lot more, before I confront Daddy. He’s got a sharp mind, and I need to prepare more so that he can’t stand up against my attack. Please, can I stay here with you until Monday morning?”

I looked at her in shocked surprise.

I thought I hadn’t heard aright. She wanted to remain with me another two days?

“Laura, sweetheart, are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. You don’t mind, do you, Grey? I need the District Attorney’s office to be open for business before I tell Daddy what he’s going to do, and I don’t need Liam O’Meara finding out I’m back in town before then.”

I stared her in the eyes; she returned my look without blinking. I chuckled.

“I guess I’m in no position to tell you ‘no’, am I? I’d be delighted if you’ll stay over another couple of nights; I’m really going to miss your company once you’re gone. One condition, though, Laura.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll be here as my honored and welcome guest, and treat my home as yours?”

That response earned me a huge smile and a kiss on the lips, not the cheek.

Looked like my date of exile had been postponed 48 hours. Call it a temporary stay of execution. Time enough to take another farewell stroll around my property. Get packed up without as much rush. Maybe do a little route planning, try to anticipate where the police and Sheriffs might concentrate their efforts to stop me leaving the State.

After a late breakfast of more coffee and the pastries, I told Laura that we were low on supplies. She absolutely insisted on coming shopping with me in town, wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer. I worked out real soon that I was never gonna win that argument, so I conceded as gracefully as I could and looked out something to disguise her. In cheap and unkempt clothes, a tatty old baseball cap that concealed her hair, and in my company, I reckoned there was little to no chance of anyone she knew recognizing her, even in our town. I locked up out of habit and we drove off. Okay, I still fretted a bit, but she was as cool as they come – though every time she looked at herself in the rear view mirror she giggled like a mischievous schoolgirl.

She made me push the grocery cart round the store while she dashed off here and there to fill it. We bought some ribs to grill that night, green salad leaves and a pre-packed dressing to go with them, some other foodstuffs to last the weekend, more lumpwood charcoal, a big bag of ice and a new cooler; she got some clothes and feminine items including conditioner, a mirror and hairbrush, a few other things that she said would improve my cooking, and some wine glasses. Of course, we then had to buy a couple of bottles of decent wine to fill them with, and a case of beer for ordinary drinking. I was down well over three hundred bucks by the time we had passed the cash desk, and you know what? I didn’t care. Could have been a whole lot worse, like a troop of Beaver Cubs doing the bag packing and wanting a donation for bruising my fruit and crushing my chips...

She was grinning in triumph all the way home. She hopped out of the truck, I gave her the key to the cabin, and we carried our loot indoors. She handed me the baseball cap and shook out her hair.

“You know, Grey, that was a whole lotta fun! It was exciting, almost felt dangerous to be in disguise. If Mom had seen me wearing that outfit, she’d have thrown a fit!”

“Did you never dress like that at college?”

She laughed.

“I live in a sorority house, honey. Jeez, the rules are even tighter than at home. Make-up and jewelry to be worn at all times outside your bedroom unless you’re in your bathrobe. Dresses or skirts, no pants or trouser suits. Shorts are a real big no-no. Sheesh, we even have to chaperone each other if there are non-family male visitors taking tea in the drawing room. When I go running, I have to leave the house through the back yard so I don’t tarnish the cherished image of the sorority!”

“Gee! What are they, the Daughters of the American Revolution?”

Laura laughed out loud.

“I’ve never made that comparison myself, but you might have got something there. They certainly have a high opinion of themselves and their social standing!”

That comment hit me like a dash of cold water in the face. I’d really enjoyed our morning together, but she’d just reminded me that socially we were miles, maybe poles apart. A penniless high school graduate by the skin of his teeth and a rich pre-law sorority girl? From what she’d told me about her ancestors at Kings’ Mountain, she was most likely qualified to be DAR herself.

I turned to the stove so she wouldn’t see my face.

“Tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please, Grey. You couldn’t warm me some extra water, could you? I need to do some long overdue grooming.”

“Sure thing, I’ll do that first.”

I heated some water for the washing bowl; I’d seen the lady’s razor and foam in the shopping trolley and guessed that she had three weeks worth of underarm growth that she wanted to remove. Her legs needed tidying up as well, but I’d seen her buy one of those creams for that.

“Why don’t you use my room? There’s a wash stand and real glass mirror.”

She got up and inspected my bedroom, coming out smiling.

“Bubba, you’ve been holding out on me again. You’ve been enjoying all the benefits of a luxury ensuite bathroom, while I’ve been washing out of a bucket like I was on a girl scout camping trip. Where’s the fairness in that? You ain’t no southern gentleman who’d always insist on the lady having the better room, are you?”

The grin made it clear she was joshing me. I responded in kind.

“Okay, so maybe I do have a washing stand with adjustable mirror, and a china water jug and matching bowl to wash out of, and a chair back for my clothes and towels, and a window with real daylight, but it’s not what I’d call luxurious. Besides, where I come from, no gentleman would ever discuss his sleeping arrangements with an unmarried young lady, no matter what the circumstances.”

She giggled.

“Would the gentleman maybe go so far as to fill the washing bowl and jug with hot water for the lady borrowing his bathroom?”

“Why, naturally he would, and feel honored and grateful by being allowed to do the lady that small service. Two minutes, and it will be all yours.”

I fetched the jug, filled it from the pan on the stove, and took it into my bedroom. I returned, made a sweeping bow and smiled.

“One washstand with hot water at your humble service, my lady.”

She grinned mischievously.

“Why, thank you for your consideration, Jeeves. Perhaps a mint julep afterwards?”

Lord, but this girl was good.

“As you wish, my lady.”

I bowed again, she picked up her stuff, vanished into my bedroom and shut the door. I tidied up a few things and set some more water on to heat. She re-appeared a mere twenty minutes later wearing the shorts and halter neck top she’d bought that morning; she looked great. I whistled in appreciation and she bussed me on the lips.

“Thank you. I feel a whole lot more human. I’ll have that mug of tea now, please, Grey, then I’ve got some more notes to make.”

“Coming right up.”