Hannah Alexander - Double Blind

“It looked like an animal running toward the road, maybe a dog. A German shepherd. I saw it as I drove, and then it just seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke.”

Preston waited, tamping down on his alarm while the thought of rabies crossed his mind. He was losing it.

“It drew too much of my attention,” she said. “Next thing I knew, I was off the road. I heard a pop-thud. I had a blowout from hitting a rock, had to change the tire, but if I hit a dog during all that mess, I’d have surely known it.”

He frowned. “What?”

She sighed. “There was a dog found dead on the side of the road near where I had the blowout, and it seems I’m now being blamed for hitting it. Some kind of school pet, I guess.”

“Why does everybody seem to think you hit this dog?”

“I think it’s because they want to believe it.”

He really didn’t like the sound of her voice. He hadn’t liked this journey from the beginning, but telling her that right now wouldn’t help. “So why are you suddenly doubting yourself?” he asked gently. “You’d have known if you hit a dog. In fact, you’d have jumped to the dog’s aid, tried to resuscitate it and barring that, you’d have hauled the poor creature into your Jeep and taken it for help.”

There was a sigh, and then silence.

“Sheila?”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that. It’s just so…so upsetting to be suddenly accused of this…this awful thing barely minutes after arriving here.”

“Bad omen, huh?”

There was a short silence, then a sniffle.

He really, really didn’t like this. He stood up, ready to pack immediately and fly to Arizona. Sheila always had both feet solidly planted on the ground…and now she was talking about disappearing dogs, and crying because she thought people didn’t like her?

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “You’re not sick, are you? Because you don’t sound like yourself.”

“Don’t you start, too.”

“I’m not starting anything, I just think—”

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just that when Canaan and Tanya—she’s one of the students at the school—when they arrived…” Sheila sighed. “Anyway, it wasn’t pretty, and I’m tired, and I know this will all blow over, but I’m not feeling the best about things right now.”

“I could come out—”

“And do what?” Snappy again. “Preston, we’ve already discussed this. I’m doing what I need to do. I’m just running into some…bumps along the way. Literally.”

He wanted to be there, but it would do no good to dwell on his frustration, or on hers. “I understand,” he said instead. And he did understand. “Just keep in mind that I’m only a phone call away.”

“I know.” Voice soft again, she sounded defeated. And frightened. “Thanks. That helps, it really does. I think I’m going to take a short nap. Maybe everything will look better after I’ve rested.”

“You said Canaan York was your friend from childhood.”

“We were the best of friends, and if circumstances hadn’t been as they are, it would have been great to see him.”

Preston had never been jealous before. Of course, he’d never been this in love before, either. “It seems to me that such a close friend would have given you the benefit of the doubt.” Already, he disliked this Canaan York. To be honest, he’d felt a chill toward the guy from the moment Sheila began talking about him in such glowing terms before leaving Missouri. A man had his limits.

“Yes, well, people change,” she said.

Preston could have told her that. In fact, he remembered telling her that very thing, which she hadn’t exactly appreciated at the time.

“Besides, as acting principal, he has to get to the bottom of things, and I was the obvious suspect.”

“He accused you of hitting the dog?” he asked. The jerk.

She groaned. “Let’s say he seems to have some concern about my presence here, and the dog tragedy didn’t help.” Again, the weariness.

“Just remember my thoughts are with you,” Preston said.

She was silent.

“Sheila?”

“Yes, I know, your thoughts are with me, but I think what I need right now is something more powerful than mere thoughts, Preston.”

Her words caught him unprepared. He knew what she meant. She was a prayerful person. He was not. And that was her issue with him. No matter how many times they’d argued, discussed, challenged and questioned each other, their differing views about faith had formed a wall between them. No matter how many ways they came at it, the problem was still there…and seemed to be growing.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” he said.

“Yes. I know. Thanks, Preston. I’ll talk to you soon.”

He said a simple goodbye before disconnecting. He wanted to tell her a lot more, to reassure her, but he didn’t see how he could do that. He didn’t know what she was dealing with out there, and she was intentionally keeping several states between them.

How he hated being on standby.

And yet, Sheila had led him to believe that, right now, it was this or nothing. He couldn’t bear nothing.

Canaan stepped through the large room he’d occupied far too much in the past few weeks—the principal’s office. When he was a student here, it was the one place all the children dreaded to go. That hadn’t changed for him. In fact, he’d learned that the principal hated disciplining the child more than the child hated to be disciplined.

Or, at least, this principal hated it. He was not principal material. When his grandfather had asked him to fill this position on an emergency basis, the teachers and other staff had promised to help him with the load. Now he was afraid to ask for help. Whom could he trust?

He entered the clinic, where he’d spent many nights lately, often falling asleep at the desk in the corner. Sinking into the well-used chair, he turned his attention to the bank of file cabinets, where patient records dating back to the founding of the school thirty years ago were waiting for him to study.

And study them he must, as soon as he found time.

People in these parts, including the staff, believed Canaan’s grandfather, Johnny Jacobs, to be a wealthy man. After all, he’d spared no expense on the new buildings last year, especially the clinic, which was, in truth, a very modern medical station, with excellent technical capabilities. The equipment had all been donated by Arizona hospitals, but Johnny made sure that everything was in good working order.

What few people knew was that Granddad had sunk his whole fortune in Twin Mesas and three other mission schools around the state, with just enough generated income to meet the payroll at each school. He also accepted donations from several benefactors who had supported his goals for educating Navajo children from the start. He kept careful records, which he shared with the other contributors.

It was the principal’s job at each school to make an annual report. Bob Jaffrey had done the preliminary work for Twin Mesas this year, but it was up to Canaan to complete it. He looked at a stack of files piled on a corner of the desk and sighed—yet another task he didn’t feel capable of performing.

Canaan loved and respected his grandfather. He would do anything to help him and this school. The problem was that Canaan had almost reached his limit.

When he’d first discovered Sheila was coming, he’d been hopeful. Hard on the heels of that hope, he’d recalled the trouble Sheila had endured here at the time of her mother’s death. He would never forget the haunted child she’d become before her father took her away. No one had seen her pain as Canaan had.

Because of this knowledge, he’d argued with his grandfather about this choice. He’d also argued with Doc Cottonwood, who thought Sheila’s arrival would be reason for celebration.