The Stray

THE STRAY

by

Jacqueline Jordan

Published by Jacqueline Jordan at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 Jacqueline Jordan

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

A growing uneasiness settled over Leah as she stood in the darkened kitchen. Sam's barking had been cut short by a car backfiring. He was such a baby. Easily frightened, the dog preferred the warmth and safety of the house; so he should be whining to come in by now. Why wasn't he?

Through the window, the winter landscape looked picture perfect beneath a full moon. Nothing seemed amiss in the snowy backyard. Yet anything was possible in this seedy neighborhood. It wasn’t the first time Leah found herself wishing her father had found a rental house elsewhere.

Maybe Sam was waiting on the back step. If he wasn't, Leah worried, she'd have to go out to look for him. Turning toward the door she froze in alarm. Shivers trickled over her skin at the sound of muffled voices and the knob being turned impatiently. Was someone trying to break in? Would the lock hold?

Heart pounding she backed into the pantry, pressing desperately against the shelves. Petite as she was, the door wouldn’t latch! All she could do was hold tight to the knob and pray.

God help! The whispered prayer rose urgently through the darkness.

Wood splintered as brute pressure forced the door. Intruders were in the house! Through the pantry’s slivered opening she saw two men in dark clothing move toward the living room. The hall light switched on and a third man stepped into view. Staring at the pantry door he hesitated, a gun in his hand poised and ready. Could he see her, hear her heart pounding? She held her breath, mesmerized by ice cold gray eyes. Finally, he turned away and followed the others.

Voices low and urgent rumbled down the hall. Three. She was sure she heard three! Racing through the back door she plunged down the snow covered bank to the ravine below. Pausing to catch her breath, she clung to the shadows of an evergreen. Two men approached the slope and began to search with flashlights. Had they seen her? Did they realize someone had been in the house when they broke in?

If she hadn’t been sledding earlier with her sister’s children, her headlong flight would’ve left an easy trail to follow but now the slope was a mess of footprints and sled runs. Would it be enough to keep her safe? She couldn't risk it. She’d caught sight of Sam as she ran from the house. The snow beside him was stained with red. Had he been shot?

Cold seeped through her thin cotton shirt. Rubbing her arms she eyed the opposite slope, longingly. If she could cross the creek to her sister’s home, she’d be safe. It was a good plan until the men began shining flashlights down the slope. With a full moon above, they’d be sure to see her if she ventured out into the open. Besides it would be utter folly to leave a trail for those men that might endanger her sister and the children.

She turned and followed a path winding through the trees along the ravine. Staying upright proved difficult in worn canvass sneakers but she pressed on, afraid the men might discover her footprints on the less-used trail.

Repeatedly she glanced over her shoulder or stopped to listen but all she could hear was the soft gurgling of the creek. Where did the path lead? She and her father were new to the area and she had no idea where it went. It was a good thing he hadn’t been home tonight. Would they have shot him like they’d shot Sam? She nearly faltered at the thought, followed by another. Would they shoot her if they caught up to her? She quickened the pace.

Soon there were more trees than the scattered few below their house. Here they grew so close together no lights were visible along the upper bank. Not even rooftops could be seen outlined against the starry sky. Adrenaline had kept her going to this point but now cold penetrated to the bone. She had panicked and ran, not stopping for boots or coat. Yet if she had, would she need them now?

The neighborhood had been rife with burglaries lately. It was almost Christmas and someone was ruining the peace and goodwill of the season by stealing gifts. She’d heard that a neighbor down the street had been targeted last week. The man had been out of work for eight months and the gifts they’d scrimped and saved for all year had been stolen. Whoever the thieves were, they needed grace and needed it in a big way.

The creek was wider here and impossible to cross. She hurried on keeping near the shadows. Logs and twigs beneath the snowy surface snagged her feet out from under her until she was wet through.

Finally she came to a steep bank. No sled run this. It was nearly straight up. She started to turn to the right. A scripture came to mind: wide the path that leads to destruction. To the left was the creek with no way to cross it.

As clouds covered the moon, darkness enclosed her and hopelessness descended like an icy shroud. Her teeth chattered from the cold while shivers rattled her body.

When the clouds rolled away she searched the slope again determined to find a way. Chunks of snow lay strewn across the surface as if a snowplough had showered it from above. Could that mean there was a road at the top? As if in answer, headlights flashed above, briefly lighting the sky. Yes! But reaching it would not be easy.

Lord, I don’t know if I have the strength, she whispered as her faith faltered.

My grace is sufficient. I will never leave you.

The Lord's assurance was comforting, yet she struggled with the task before her. Could she do it? Could she climb that impossible looking bank? But what choice did she have if those men found her trail and followed?

Lord, help me. Drawing a shaky breath she scrambled up the slope, finding footholds in clods of snow. Desperately she grasped at twigs to pull herself up. If she faltered she’d tumble to the bottom and freeze to death, unless those men found her first. Another death in the family would be just too cruel. She had to reach the top.

With a final thrust she clawed her way over the crusty edge and lay in a shivering heap at the side of the road. Headlights speared her and passed by. Another set of lights approached. They also passed by. Helpless, she watched them come and go.

Can’t they see me? she whimpered. Lifting an arm, she tried to hold it high as a third set of lights approached. But strength failed her and her arm dropped uselessly into the snow. Had she made it to the top only to die by the roadside?

If no one stops the snowplough will grade you over the bank, fear taunted. Or bury you.

Lord, are you there? she whispered.

The third car passed by then brake lights glowed. Leah sighed with relief when it stopped. Backup lights drew near and the smell of exhaust hung in the air as footsteps crunched across the icy road toward her.

What on earth! A man bent down beside the girl. Stringy brown hair framed her pale face. You must be nearly frozen! Are you hurt?

N-no. Just c-cold, she chattered. Her rescuer was young and clean-shaven. Perhaps he was a businessman on his way home from work. The brown leather jacket he wore looked expensive but seemed at odds with cotton slacks and rubberized boots.

The man helped the bedraggled girl to the front seat of a black sedan. A blanket was wrapped around her before the seat belt clicked in place.

As the car moved forward he turned up the heat. His gaze was intent at every streetlight until he suddenly pulled into a driveway. Leah had been so thankful for the warmth she hadn’t thought about where he might be taking her. Now her eyes widened in alarm as he parked and walked around to the passenger door. Had she traded freezing to death in the snow for something else?

It’s my mother’s, he assured her in a soothing voice.

Was it? Leah wavered in uncertainty. Her sister, Jan, was always telling her that she was far too trusting of people. And she had no idea who, or what, this man was.

Th-thank you f-for the r-ride. If y-you just t-tell m-me how to g-get to Davis B-Boulevard, I’ll be on m-my way.

I’m afraid I can’t do that. He picked her up and strode into the house, depositing her on the counter of a bright kitchen. Mom! I brought stray home!

Not another cat, Tony! a voice scolded before the plump woman appeared. She gaped in surprise when she saw the girl.

The poor thing! She reached a warm hand to Leah’s face. She’s as cold as ice! she exclaimed pulling her hand back in alarm.

Stage one hypothermia, I’m guessing, and wet through. She needs dry clothes. See what you can find, will you, Mom? Thanks.

He was tall but then nearly everyone seemed tall to Leah. And his dark eyes examined her closely.

Now you, he addressed the girl. Where’s your hand?

Shivering and shaking Leah pulled a hand free of the blanket.

This may sound strange but I’d like you to touch your thumb to your little finger for me if you can.

Leah struggled to comply and though her hand felt fat and numb she managed it.

Good. You’re not in stage two yet. Just wanted to be sure. Gently he turned her hand over. The palm was red, scratched and swollen. Then he examined the left one.

What happened to your hands? Before she could answer he spoke again. Never mind, we’ll deal with that later. Warm salt water will take care of them.

I thought you were bringing Clarrisa? The woman hurried back carrying a flannelette nightgown, a thick fuzzy robe and a pair of long wool socks over her arm. She had dark hair and dark eyes like her son. The skirt of her soft floral dress swayed with each step, reminding Leah of her mother and the dresses she had worn.

The lady opted for the bright lights, he replied as he carried the girl to the bathroom. She preferred going to a party rather than spend an uneventful evening here.

Good, his mother said with distinct satisfaction, trailing down the hall behind him.

The man grinned as if well aware of his mother's opinion of Clarrisa. She said she might stop by for breakfast.

Oh. Her tone did nothing to hide her disapproval.

He deposited the shivering girl on the toilet lid and knelt to remove her shoe. The other one seemed to be missing. He was surprisingly gentle as he peeled off wet socks and checked her cold dainty feet.

I’ll let Mom give you a hand, he told her as he stood to leave. The girl started to shake her head. You’ll need a little help with those buttons and I know you don’t want me, he teased. Your eyes speak volumes, Peanut. Just one more question, do you prefer warm broth or warm milk with honey? He laughed as she wrinkled her nose at his second option. Warm broth it is.

Oh, get out of here and stop teasing, his mother ordered.

He’s harmless, she smiled as the door closed. I’m Mrs. Bertelli, she introduced herself. Tony was named after his father, Antonio. My husband’s been gone nearly ten years now, she sighed. She watched the girl struggle awkwardly to undo the buttons of her damp shirt.

May I, dear? she entreated and Leah dropped her hands with a nod of assent.

Th-thank you. The woman was kind and caring, like Leah's mother had been. She’d been short like Mrs. Bertelli, although slimmer, and always cheerful, right up to the end. Leah still missed her.

Antonio was a policeman, Mrs. Bertelli chatted. And now Tony’s brother is, too. He’s a good boy. He wanted only to please his Pop but it’s been hard for him. He’s not the happy boy he used to be. It makes me wish. Whatever she’d been going to say was left unspoken.

Leah was thankful for the warmth of the large soft towel wrapped around her damp shoulders. Next, the wet jeans were removed. She was glad to be rid of her soggy attire but couldn't stop shivering with cold. Would she ever be warm again?

Let’s dry your hair, dear. Mrs. Bertelli pulled a blow dryer out of the cabinet and worked quickly till Leah’s curls were nearly bouncing off her head. Beautiful, she murmured smoothing the hair away from the girl’s face.

The nightgown and robe were several sizes too big for Leah's slender frame, and the warm socks reached all the way to her knees, but they were dry. For that she was genuinely thankful. When she was dressed, Mrs. Bertelli opened the door.

The young man, Tony was leaning against the wall waiting to carry her back to the kitchen. He’d removed his jacket, Leah noticed, and changed his slacks for a pair of black dress pants.

As soon as Leah was seated at the table, a thermometer was stuck in her mouth. Tony knew he didn’t need to sit so near or even have his arm around her. The warm quilt would’ve sufficed but she was rather endearing with her candid hazel eyes. Besides, he knew from years of practice that cuddling patients often produced better results than first aid. At least that’s what he told himself as he admired strawberry blond curls. Who’d have thought such a wet straggly mess of hair could turn into such a crowning glory?

Good, he said when the thermometer beeped and he read her temperature. You could sit with Mom but you’d have to wait for a hot flash to get warm, he teased with a wink.

Oh you! You know I wouldn’t mind. His mother sounded wistful. I always wanted a daughter.

Is that why you made me wear pink tutus at ballet class? he joked again, watching the girl’s eyes widen and then crinkle at the corners as a smile curved her lips.

Oh I did not! Don’t let him fool you. He was in football not ballet, his mother corrected. Why didn’t you take her to the hospital, Tony?

I was almost home when I found her and figured we could handle it. Besides, traffic’s pretty heavy downtown tonight. There’s no sense letting her freeze another hour trying to get there, plus the time it takes to get admitted into Emergency. By then she could easily have slipped into stage two. He reached for the warm broth and held it for her with instructions to drink slowly.

If I hadn’t used the last of the rum in the plum pudding, she could’ve had a hot toddy. That’s what Gran always prescribed for whatever ailed us, Mrs. Bertelli told him from the kitchen counter where she was working.

Actually Mom, that might make her feel warm but in reality alcohol lowers the core temperature. So it’s not recommended for this, but I’m sure it was employed and enjoyed for any and every medicinal reason, he grinned.

My son, the doctor, she nodded. It’s a good thing you’re the one that found her. She moved over to stir a pot on the stove.

You’re a d-doctor? Leah shivered and hugged the quilt closer.

To puppies and kittens and strays. I’m a veterinarian actually.

It reminded her. I th-think they sh-shot Sam.

He put the cup down and leaned sideways to see her face, wondering if she was rational. Who’s Sam?

My d-dog. I j-just got him from the P-Pound and I think he’s d-dead.

You didn’t check? Try to find a pulse or heartbeat?

I c-couldn’t. She’d caught a glimpse of Sam as she fled from the house. He was lying near the back door. He wasn’t moving.

Who would do such a thing? Mrs. Bertelli turned in disbelief. She’d assumed the girl was a hitchhiker or just walked too far or someone had dropped her off. Although none of those assumptions made any sense if you examined them closely. She looked like a nice sensible girl except for not wearing a coat, or boots either, come to think of it. And you certainly needed them in this kind of weather. She also seemed sweet and innocent by the way she blushed so easily.

Three m-men broke into our h-house, Leah shivered.

Really? Tony asked. He was of two minds whether to believe her or not. It seemed a little far-fetched and yet he’d heard of recent burglaries. The quilt had come loose and she shivered. He began to tuck it firmly