Chapter 69

More of Cindy's story:

I gathered my thoughts. My head was a turmoil, a cauldron of thoughts, as you might imagine. And I was 'safe' here, but my husband is in jail. I scrolled down my preloaded list of contacts and found Helen Peebles.

"This is my foster mother," I told Walt and Mary. She's married to Judge Peebles. He signed the paperwork for me to get married, and then he married me and Dan."

"Make your phone call, Cindy. We'd like to see you solve this ... this..." Walt stuttered.

"This mistake," I finished.

"It seems like a mistake," Mary said.

I have two people here mostly on my side. I pushed the 'call' button. The phone rang several times.

"Hello?" came Mizz Helen's voice.

"Mizz Helen, this is Cindy."

"How are you, sweetie? This isn't your regular number."

"Mizz Helen, I'm on my emergency phone. We're in Tennessee, me and Dan, and they have him in jail for consorting with a minor or something like that. They don't think we're married."

"Oh my god," Helen said. "Let me get Charlie in on this."

"Please do. I'm with a nice foster family, but Dan's in jail."

I heard her call for Mister Charlie. "Cindy's in Tennessee and Dan's in jail for consorting with a minor." Back to me she said, "I'm putting the three of us on speaker, honey."

"Hello, daughter," Mister Charlie said.

"Hello, Mister Charlie," I replied. "Mizz Helen told you our problem."

"Yes. I always worried about somebody doing exactly this, but don't worry. We're on good legal ground here in Alabama, and what's married here is married in Tennessee." He paused. "Let me get information on where he's being held."

I repeated as much information as I had, praying all the while.

"Baby," Mister Charlie said, "I'm turning this over to my son. He'll get on the phone tonight if possible. If not, tomorrow. He'll talk to the district attorney over there. We'll get this fixed."

"Oh, thank you sir," I said. "I love you 'n' Mizz Helen so much."

"We love you right back, baby. And we're prayin' for your mom, too. She called me," Mizz Helen said. "Very contrite, she sounds. We're prayin'."

"Gosh. Mom. Yes, ma'am. We're praying, too. Never thought I'd see her like this."

"Keep your prayers going, sweetie. Do you need anything else?"

"No, ma'am," I said. "I'm here with Walt and Mary Henderson. They've been very nice to me. I have my overnight stuff and I've got credit cards and a little cash if I need it."

"Good, baby. You've got a good head on your shoulders and we're gonna get the best people we know to straighten this mess out, okay?"

"Yes, baby. We'll fix this," Mister Charlie agreed.

"Thank you both. When we get this fixed, we're coming down to do a concert," I said. "You'll LOVE the new additions. Ask Mister Jim!"

"I will, baby," Mizz Helen said. "God bless you."

"God bless both of you, too, Mizz Helen. Bye, Mister Charlie." And I hung up.

Mister Walt and Mizz Mary were staring at me. "A judge?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "His son is the district attorney."

"They raised you?"

"Mizz Helen was a constant in my life for the past several years. Mom was way off track. Two years ago Mom signed away her parental rights to Mizz Helen. Mizz Helen married Mister Charlie after I married Dan."

"But you THINK you are married?"

"Yes, I do. With all the stuff going wrong in the world today, thinking I'm married to Dan is a good thing. We fit together well. Same music..."

"You said something about a concert?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "Dan plays guitar. This other family, the Hardestys, Mister Jim plays banjo. Mizz Ann plays violin. She can jump from bluegrass to Beethoven faster'n you can say it. Their daughter sings with me and their son plays bass. And our community in Alabama, at Auburn, we add two more violins, a Cajun accordion, Nikki and 'er triangle. And then on the edge there's Johanna, concert level flutist, and her husband Stoney, who's the only person I know who can play Mozart on a banjo."

"Wow," Mister Walt said. "All that."

"Yes sir," I said, "and I'm married to my Dan and we're right in the middle of it. Honestly, I'm married. In all that. Church. Home. School. Married."

I guess that's when the strain got to me. Tears came. "This is all WRONG! Dan's my husband. He's not a criminal!"

Mizz Mary, I don't know if her rules for dealing with us 'delinquents' allow hugging, but I found myself being hugged. "Cindy, I believe you." She looked at Mister Walt. He nodded.

"What hotel were you two staying at?" he asked.

I told them.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you, honey?" Mary spoke.

"Yes, I am. We'll probably get on somebody's list for it, but I think I know how this all started. Cindy, I know it's hard, but can you stay with us tonight? Try to sleep?"

I nodded. "I can. Thank you. Can you show me my bedroom?"

It was a nice room. The bed was comfortable, and once inside, I closed the door. I missed a shower, but I'd get that in the morning. I changed into a pair of hospital scrubs that served as pajamas if I needed pajamas, which wasn't often. I turned the covers down and got into bed and pulled out my iPad. With cellular. And I have a signal.

I tap an email out as fast as I can, blanketing my family with as many facts as I had, and ended it with "Don't bother to reply. I know you all are on my side. Let's see what Judge Peebles and his son can do." And I hit 'send'.

I got the 'message received' tags. And I got a quick look at our server. Yes, it got the last backup tonight, now it shows the flag on that folder locked up. Just perfect. Roy and the crime busters at the Bugtussle Sheriff Department can see my photo folder and a few documents that I sincerely doubt they'll understand in the least. PDFs of reports, textbooks, fiction on my Amazon Kindle app.

I finally went to a fitful sleep. Yes, I've slept without Dan a few times when he went on overnight trips, but I borrow Terri, or if two husbands are missing, two wives will bunk together. A pillow is a sad substitute for knowing there's not another person over there.

I was drifting along between sleep and awake when there was a gentle knock on the door. "Cindy? It's Mary. We'll be eating breakfast in a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"You do, baby. There are towels in the hall bathroom."

A shower and clean clothes made me feel a little more human. I took care not to leave a mess. I'm thinking that these people are close to sainthood for what they're doing already and they don't need to clean up after me.

I'm downstairs, greeting my keepers.

"Good morning," I said.

"Did you sleep well?" Mizz Mary asked.

"As good as can be expected," I said. "I miss my husband."

"I understand," she said. "I would miss mine." Her hand touched Mister Walt's shoulder. Maybe she does understand.

We enjoyed a pleasant breakfast. Mister Walt offered the blessing, looking for all the world like it was something that came as naturally to the table as the salt shaker. I bowed my head and said 'amen', just like I did at home or at last week's community meal. I smiled at the picture of Sim, clad in his kippa, intoning words a thousand years old over a meal.

After the meal, I jumped up and helped Mizz Mary clear the table. She smiled as we carried plates and glasses back into the kitchen. Together we made short work of it.

"I hope we find good news today, Cindy," Mizz Mary said. "I just can't for the world of me figure out how to reconcile YOU with a case of child molestation."

"I appreciate that, Mizz Mary," I said, "but the law looks at worst cases and assigns an arbitrary number. A lot of girls my age are NOT ready for marriage. You and I can see that. So lawmakers just toss a blanket over everybody. And who do they catch? Me and my Dan."

"I know," she replied. "I know the law. I know the number. But you, I can't see that number applying to YOU."

"Neither could Judge Peebles," I said. "That's why I'm married. We ran into a lady who objected to our marriage at my school's open house night. Dan pulled the story of King David and Abishag."

"Oh, my! Your husband knows his Bible."

"Yes, he does."

"You said 'a lady who objected. That reminds me. I need to call somebody."

"Okay. Do you have anything you need to get done? I'm available and I have time on my hands."

"You can just go in Walt's den. There's a TV."

"Does he have a library? Books?"

"In his den. See what's there. Maybe you can find something..."

I walked into the den on the first floor. Mister Walt was in there.

"Oh, hello, Cindy. Here's the TV remote. Please don't turn it up too high."

"Thank you," I said. I turned the TV on, flipped to a news channel. Watched the headline stories. I caught him watching my face.

"You watch the news?"

"Sure. Want to see what's happening. Some of this stuff, though ... They're pumping 'renewable energy' and the people who back it wouldn't know the first thing about where energy comes from or where it goes. You can talk about wind or solar, but if you don't understand intrastate transmission grids and rolling reserves and what it takes to keep 'em available and why you need 'em in the first place, then you shouldn't be trying to shape national policy."

"Huh?"

"It's part of what I do. Electrical power transmission."

"You're sixteen."

I smiled. "There's that number again, Mister Walt. I'm serious. Bachelor of Science in Electrical Engineering. And I work with this stuff."

"Gee, Cindy..."

"I'm sorry, Mister Walt. I don't mean to come off as some arrogant person. It's just that I tire of seeing things dumbed down." I looked at his bookshelf. "Do you mind if I look at your books?"

"No, go ahead." He paused, then said "I would normally say I didn't think you'd find anything interesting there, but after that speech..."

"I'm sorry, Mister Walt. I'm wound pretty tightly."

"You might see something you might like. Help yourself."

I looked. Mostly histories. Grabbed one. A biography of Stonewall Jackson.

"Why that one?"

"Random thought. I have an engineer friend who was an Army lieutenant. His name was Randall Jackson, so naturally they tagged him with..."

"Stonewall. Yes. I served in the army. I know how it is."

"You served? Really? Wanna tell me about it?"

I was genuinely interested, but there's also the fact that if you get somebody talking about himself, you're on your way to having a friend. Still, I enjoyed listening and asking about things.

He and I and Mizz Mary rambled on about things for a while.

"You flew here in a private plane?"

"Yes. And that number pops up again. I can't get a student license until my seventeenth birthday, but I'm the winner of our last spot-landing contest. I flew here while Dan watched."

They asked me about how I got to where I am. I explained it, leaving out, of course, the part about a thirteen year old girl in a thunderstorm.

Mister Walt leaned back in his chair. "You know, Cindy, we've done this temporary home thing for a bunch of years. I never saw one girl that came through here that I wished could've been my daughter. Until you."

"And we've got a couple of really spectacular daughters, Cindy. So it means more," Mizz Mary added.

I noted the passage of time, didn't know what I was supposed to be doing, so I waited. I was anxious, but at the same time I'd already turned the matter over to people whom I could trust.