Chapter 4

FRIDAY NIGHT — SEPTEMBER 27

At the second exit, Jill turned off. Instead of gassing up at one of the stations near the exit, she drove the couple of miles into the little town. It, like many small towns, had been bypassed when the Interstate was built many years ago, the old highway looping back around to rejoin the Interstate a few miles later on. I didn't notice a sign with the name of the place on it. Oh, well, no matter. I have too far to go to worry about which little town I'm in just now. I doubt if that trucker will look for me this far off the Interstate, and the gas prices are nearly a dime a gallon less, anyway.

She filled her tank at a convenience store, feeling guilty as she paid with one of the twenties that she had stolen. Bill will give me the money. No matter how much he hates me, he's a good man. When I tell him what I need the money for, he'll at least help get the trucker his money back.

After using the bathroom, she walked quickly by the coffee, lest she give in to the wonderful smell and buy a cup with her precious money. No. I have to keep that twenty for gas. It's going to be close, anyhow. Maybe too close. My car is using more gas than I expected, and I can't drive any slower without attracting attention.

A few minutes later, she was on the old four-lane headed to the Interstate as the sun began to set in the distance. An eighteen-wheeler loaded with compressed cars passed and pulled in front of her. A piece of metal — she thought it looked like a piece of exhaust pipe — fell from the trailer. She swerved, but the thing bounced and went under her car, anyway. There was a loud thump under her hood.

Oh, God. No. Don't let it mess up my car. She heard a noise that didn't sound right, though — an intermittent sound as if someone were spraying water on a fan, and she smelled antifreeze. Pulling over to the side of the road, still in the outskirts of the little town, she stopped. Sighing, she pulled the hood latch and got out.

After raising the hood, the smell of antifreeze was much stronger. The front part of the engine was wet. The world seemed to cave in on her and she staggered back to the side of the car, pulled the door open and got in.

Putting her head down on the steering wheel, she gave up and sobbed. Everything is against me. First, I went to this doctor when my gynecologist suddenly closed his practice. Ingles was on the list of suggested doctors that Doctor Roosevelt had posted on his door when he left suddenly due to "health reasons." Ingles was in the same building, so I just went there. Everything after that is vague — like it happened to someone else.

But I remember that bastard fucking me. I remember him taking me to those rich bastards, as well. It was like my brain wouldn't control my body. No matter what I wanted to do, I always did exactly what Ingles said. I thought I was going to get away after he forgot to give me the meds that night, especially when I managed to keep from taking them after that. Today, I could function again, even if I do have the shakes. Now this. If I go to the police for help, that asshole will get me back. He's told me over and over that if I ever tried to run, he would call the police first thing and tell them I was a patient badly in need of my medication. That my mind would be permanently affected if I didn't receive the meds promptly; that the cops would call him first thing because he was a doctor. He said my punishment would be something I would never forget for the rest of my short life. That sadistic prick will do it, too.

She sat and shook — some of the shaking due to withdrawal from Ingles' drugs, some because of her sobbing, some because of her intense fear of the man. Hopeless, she sobbed for long minutes, then: "Lady are you okay?" a portly man repeated as he knocked harder on her window.

Jill jerked away thinking that Ingles had found her. Her mind blanked for a moment as she almost fled to the other side of the car trying to escape. But reason took over and she focused on the man standing beside her car. Heavyset, he was close to fifty, wearing a wide-brimmed western hat, a light coat and jeans, a look of concern on his face.

"Are you okay, Ma'am?" he said again.

Jill nodded, then flipped the ignition switch on momentarily so her window control would work. As the window slid down, I must look ridiculous. He's just standing there smiling at me, and I almost panicked. All I could think of was that Ingles had found me. Oh, God, I wish I had a tissue to wipe my nose. How did I ever get this far down? I can't even buy a box of Kleenex.

"I'm, uh ... a big truck passed me. It was carrying a load of crushed cars. Something fell off and I ran over it. There's antifreeze all over my engine" she managed past her stuffed-up nose and the congestion from crying, barely managing to get enough air into her lungs for her choppy sentences. Coughing, she leaned back in the seat.

"You from around here?" he asked, more concern evident in his voice, but she had to wait to answer him because an eighteen-wheeler roared by them. He grabbed his hat to keep it from blowing away, the truck making so much noise they couldn't hear each other for a moment.

"No, Sir. I'm trying to get to Denver, but I'm about out of money. I can't pay a garage to fix my car. I can't do anything," she said, the tears coming back, much to her consternation. "Oh, shit," she blurted. "All I can do is blubber."

"You don't have anyone to call? You can use my phone," he said, digging his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

"I don't have anyone," she said, her voice broken as she struggled to hold back the sobs that threatened to overpower her again. "My only hope ... is to get to Denver, and I have twenty dollars to my name. That's barely enough to buy me gas to get there. I just filled my tank, though."

"Let me look in the front. Maybe it isn't as bad as you think."

Without waiting, he went to the front of her car. Looking under the hood for a moment, he leaned over as far as he could trying to find the problem. A moment later, he knelt down in front of the car. Jill got out and approached him as he turned on his back trying to squeeze under the bumper, his hat and jacket now lying beside him on the ground.

"You're going to get filthy lying in the gravel," Jill said, worried.

"Clothes will wash," she heard as he managed to get his head and part of a shoulder under the front of the car. After a moment, he grunted and scrambled back out. Putting his hat back on, he struggled to his feet, then picked up his jacket. As he was putting it on, he said, "Looks like something cut a chunk out of your bottom radiator hose. I'm not much of a mechanic, but even I could fix it with a new hose and a screwdriver."

"How much would a hose cost?" Jill said, her depression sounding in her voice.

"Well, they vary, obviously. I had one replaced a year or so ago. It cost just under thirty dollars for the hose. Don't know what yours will cost, but a friend of mine who owns a garage put mine on for twenty bucks."

Jill saw him eyeing her obviously braless breasts, her nipples tenting the tight tee-shirt in the cool air, but he wasn't leering, just glanced and looked away.

"Look, these are the only clothes I could get. Right now, the clothes I'm wearing and this car are the only things I have in the world. Is there some place that you know where I could get work — wash dishes at a restaurant, something like that to get the money to fix my car?"

"Ma'am, I guess with all that traffic noise from those trucks, you didn't hear me. I'm pastor Luther Cambridge. That church you see down the road there," he said, pointing to a small church in the distance, "is mine. No, we're not very big, and preaching isn't my full-time job, at least money-wise, but financing a water hose, and getting someone to put it on isn't going to be much of a problem," he said with what she thought was a Texas drawl, but this was the north part of Wyoming.

"Probably the first thing we need to do is get you over to my house where you'll be warm, then I'll get ol' Oliver to come out and put a hose on for you."

Being leery of a stranger who claimed to be a church pastor must have shown on her face. Even with the easygoing nature he presented, she wasn't getting into a car with him. "Well, uh, Pastor Cambridge, I..."

"Folks around here just call me Preacher. And I can already see where you're coming from. Don't blame you. Hang on a minute and let me get my wife on the phone."

Jill tried to stammer out an apology, but wound down as he dialed his cell, making a quick synopsis of what had happened as he talked to someone on the phone. Closing the phone and returning it to his pocket, he smiled at her. "My wife will be here in a minute or two. We only live a few blocks away. Why don't you set back down in your car and get out of the wind until she gets here."

As she started to comply, his phone in his hand again, "What year is this?" he almost absently asked, waving at her car as he dialed.

When she told him, he just motioned for her to get into her car. "Oliver, need a bit of help. How about going over to the parts store and picking up..." The sound of his voice was cut off when she closed her door.

A few minutes later an older model Ford F150 pulled in front of the preacher's car. A woman who seemed almost a female version of the man, exited the pickup and walked back. Jill shakily got out as the woman approached. Well, I'll give her credit, she didn't even blink when I got out in this outfit, Jill thought as the woman stopped near her husband.

"What have you gotten up to now?" the heavyset woman laughed as she put her hands on her hips and mock frowned at the preacher.

"Well, I can't help it. God must just send them to me," he laughed. Turning to Jill, he indicated his wife and said, "This is my better half, Megan, I would introduce you but I don't..."

"Jill. Jill Madison. I seem to be having a bad day," she tried to joke. "Well maybe a bad year," she said laughing. Well, she meant to, but it didn't come out right. The woman's face was moving from side to side and getting blurrier by the moment; the world seemed to sway. Jill tried to laugh again, but nothing came out.

"Catch her, Hon," she heard as if from a great distance. "The poor thing is about to..."

The reception was a blast. Evie finally managed to get Margaret aside for a moment. "You did a superb job on the piano."

Margaret chuckled. "Glad to help out. Might as well get a little use out of all those piano lessons my dad paid for. Besides, you couldn't play and be in the wedding at the same time. I had a ball."

"Well, when you played the first notes of Here Comes the Bride for our wedding, it gave me chills."

"Especially, since those two girls were shortly going to be your sister-wives," Margaret grinned back at her.

"Yeah, there is that, and they are my sister-wives now. But aren't they beautiful?" she said indicating Linda and Kim as they laughed and animatedly talked to guests. Dave, standing with his arms around the two young women, winked at Evie as he noticed her looking.

Bill Madison and his new wife sat at a table, Kathy with her head snuggled to his shoulder as Frank Wainwright topped off their wine glasses. Jennie and Melissa descended on them demanding pictures. Melissa wielded the camera while Jennie coached them into poses.

"But, Evie just had us in the other room taking pictures..." Kathy protested.

Then from Melissa, "Oh, those were professional pictures. We want our own candid shots, too. Now quit griping and say cheese."

Joyce and Caitlin had Jeff backed into a corner getting a head start on priming their husband's pump. Jeff, red-faced, was diligently trying to keep from having an erection — a problem he was well on his way to losing.

"I need to rescue our husband," Diana said, breaking away from talking to Annie, "before those two have his pants off."

"And the problem with that is?" Annie laughed as she pinched her husband on the butt.

Wow, Diana thought as she walked away from Annie. Little One really did a job on those two. Both of them look twenty years younger in this short a period of time. If this keeps on, they'll have a hard time when they try to renew their driver's licenses.

"Hi, my new sister-wives," Diana said as she reached out to touch Jeff.