Lenora Worth - Echoes of Danger

Dana cried against his tousled hair. “I remember, Stevie.”

While Dana held Stephen, tiny Mrs. Bailey emerged up the steps, her watery eyes wide with fear, her stiff gray hair standing on end around her round face. “Land sakes, that near scared me to an early grave.”

Dana opened her arms to encircle the shaken woman. “Thank you, Mrs. Bailey. Thank you so much.”

Bren stood aside, watching the emotional reunion. Dana watched him over Stephen’s head. He looked as if he felt uncomfortable. She supposed this was unexpected for him, being here so far from his home, wherever his home was, being in on this family scene, in the middle of so much destruction.

But then Dana watched as his gaze shifted to the west, to the silvery white spire of the Universal Unity Church, which stood gleaming and intact against the backdrop of a purplish-gray sky.

Dana looked up at him, about to thank him again for helping her, but she was startled by the look in his eyes. It was a heavy blend of hatred mixed with pain. And something else. A determination that bordered on vengeance. Following his gaze, she saw the church complex off in the distance. Had Bren whoever-he-was come to visit the Unity Church?

Dana stared at him, trying to read his strange, still features. Then she looked back at the complex. And up on the top turret of the church, near the tall steeple, she thought she saw a platinum-haired woman standing there with the wings of her white robe flapping in the wind.

“Looks like the Universal Unity Church survived,” Dana said, squinting toward the beautiful, untouched mansion. Before she could get a better look, the lone figure standing on the tower whirled and vanished into the dark recesses of the upstairs turret room.

Clutching Stephen close to stop his fidgeting, she looked back at the stranger, remembering he had the same accent as Caryn Roark—the woman who called herself the law. “Are you a member of that church?”

“No,” he said, the one word speaking more than a lengthy explanation ever could. He stared across the field, the granite-hard expression on his face making him resemble a piece of carved flintrock. Then he turned back to Dana. “I’m not quite sure where I belong.”

A shiver dripped down Dana’s spine, a slow, trickling warning that set her nerves and her intuition on edge. Giving him a long look, she wondered again who this man was. “Look, mister—”

“Bren,” he said, repeating his name to her, his eyes lifting away from the church to pin Dana to the spot. “Call me Bren.”

Dana nodded. “Okay, Bren. Call me Dana. Look, thanks for your help. We’re okay, so you don’t have to stay with us.”

Stephen pushed away from Dana’s smothering embrace. “We ain’t okay, either, Dana. We don’t have a house no more.” He stomped his feet and flapped his hands. “House gone. House gone. Room a mess. Room a mess.”

Dana knew Stephen would keep repeating these phrases to himself while he tried to absorb this sudden shift in his orderly, structured world. “It’ll be okay, Stevie. I promise.”

Stephen kept stomping his feet. “Room a mess, Dana.”

“I’d better go see about my own house,” Mrs. Bailey said, her little legs moving across the damp earth. She took Stephen by both arms, her words loud and precise. “Stephen, listen to your sister.” Then she turned to Dana. “I’ll call you if I need you, and you do the same.”

“Wait and we’ll go with you,” Dana called.

“No need. I’m sure my son is on his way.” The spry little woman was off down the lane. “Y’all can stay at my place if need be. You know you’re always welcome.”

Dana held a hand to her eyes and glanced toward the west. It looked as if Mrs. Bailey’s small white house was in one piece, at least. She’d go check on the Baileys later. And she might have to take her dear friend up on that offer.

“Dana, what are we gonna do?” Stephen asked, bringing Dana’s attention back to their immediate problems. His agitation did nothing to calm Dana’s own jangled nerves.

Bren’s features softened as he turned his attention toward Stephen. “He’s right. Where will you go?”

Pushing away the fringe of hysteria that promised to be more intense than the storm that had just passed through, Dana looked around, knowing that they couldn’t possibly stay here tonight or any other night for a long time to come. “I don’t know. We’ve got friends in town—Emma and Frederick can take us in for a while. Or maybe Mrs. Bailey. She has a spare room.” Thinking of how hyper Stephen could get in small places, she added, “But Emma and Frederick probably would have more space.”

Bren looked back toward the church, then back at Dana. “I’ll take you to Emma and Frederick, then.”

Dana hadn’t missed the hesitation in his eyes. Why did he keep looking at that spooky church? He reminded her of a black stallion old Mr. Selzer used to let her ride—wild and proud, and forbidden since her mother was terrified of the animal. Mr. Selzer had called the horse Black Blizzard, because he was always kicking up dust. Oh, she hadn’t thought of Blizzard in years. Mr. Selzer had been forced to sell the animal to try and save his property. Why, now, of all times, did she want to sit down and cry for an animal she’d almost forgotten?

She didn’t, couldn’t sit down, and she wasn’t about to go into hysterics—yet. “I—We need to get a few things. And I want to look the place over. I have cattle…I’ll need to check on things.”

Bren took her arm, gently guiding her around to face him. “I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”

She wanted to tell this intriguing man to let her alone, to leave her to wallow in a good dollop of self-pity. She wanted to scream to the heavens and ask, “why?” But Dana knew that she wouldn’t get any answers; she’d been that route before and she’d only heard silence, the killing silence of unanswered prayers and a faith that had been tested to the limit.

Oh, well, time enough to argue with God later. Right now, Stephen was looking everywhere but at her, but she knew he was waiting for her to decide what to do about this mess. She was just too shocked to think straight.

As if sensing her shock, Bren placed a hand on each of her slumping shoulders, then leaned his head down close to her face so she was forced to look him straight in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Shooting a desperate look toward her brother, she managed to whisper, “I can’t let him see how upset I am. He has Asperger’s syndrome—it’s a very mild form of autism. He doesn’t like any sudden changes. He’ll get even more upset and scared if I break down. He’s so brave, but it’s only because he emulates me. Don’t let me lose it, okay. Help me, please.”

She’d never begged for help before in her life, and the words let a bitter gall in her throat, but this day had gone from bad to worse and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge. She certainly wasn’t in the habit of begging strangers for help, either. But this man had saved her from that storm and he was here now. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders steadied her, while his blue-black eyes guided her like a dark beacon. She clung to that guiding, dark light, deciding she’d just have to trust him. She didn’t have much choice at the moment.

Still holding her shoulders, Bren squeezed his hands against the shivering flesh underneath her damp T-shirt. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his eyes still locked with hers. “We’ll take care of what we can here, then I’ll take you into town, to your friend’s house. If you get scared, just look at me. I won’t leave you until I’m sure you’re all right.”