and dirty, he carried his burden back to his vehicle and put it in the back. Now to find a worthy place.
GIDEON ENDED HIS PRODUCTIVE DAY AT HIS SANCTUARY. HE wasn’t sure anyone knew it was here. To reach it, he drove a barely recognizable path that was mostly covered with grass. Huge jack pine trees, stands of birch, and giant oak trees hovered in a protective canopy over the two-room cabin. And his angels guarded the place as well. It was as secure as any place in heaven or on earth.
The first day, five years ago, when Gideon forced open the door and stepped into the cobwebbed cabin that smelled of mildew and rat droppings, he’d known. Known it was his place. The heart of his plans, the soul of his new life.
Now, carrying a sack of groceries, he stepped to the porch and dug out the padlock key. It fit neatly into the shiny new lock and opened without a sound. Stepping to the single wall of cabinets, he set the sack on the counter and began to put away the food. He alphabetized the soups, stacked the boxed foods neatly so he could read the tops, then folded the paper sack and placed it under the sink.
Only when the kitchen was in perfect order did he allow himself to enjoy the main reason he loved it so. He made a peanut butter sandwich, pushed open the back door, and stepped out on the porch. A small, beautiful pond backed up to the cabin. The water reflected the spill of moonshine. Loons cried out. The tremolo they made had been described as insane laughter, but the deep, rich tones reminded him of a moaning aeolian harp.
His angels were here somewhere. He stepped down off the porch and strolled to the water’s edge. He’d known the minute he saw the pond that the swans he loved would hover over these waters like gods. Deep-throated cries came to him now. Sonorous like trumpets and just as thrilling.
They glided into the moonlight. Their beauty swamped his senses. Ethereal and glowing with white light, they came nearer. “My angels,” he crooned, throwing the bits of the peanut butter sandwich in his hand to them.
The darkness of the island in the middle of the water drew his gaze. He’d go there later tonight to make sure everything was ready for her.
AFTER CHURCH, ELENA ACCEPTED BREE’S OFFER TO TAKE HER GEO-caching. They stopped to pick up Naomi, then went out to the woods.
“We won’t stay out long,” Naomi said. “Donovan is taking me out for dinner tonight.”
“Are you sure Anu is okay with keeping Terri and Davy?” Elena asked.
“She’s in her element,” Bree assured her. “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours. She’ll let them bake cookies or something.”
Bree parked the Jeep along a bank of blooming columbine. Humming, she opened the back door and let Samson and Charley scamper out. The dogs nosed through the wildflowers and moss.
“This is going to be so fun,” Bree said. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a GPS unit, then shouldered the pack. “Let’s go.”
Once in the woods, the clouds of biting, stinging insects descended to feast on every bit of uncovered flesh. The incessant buzzing alone was enough to drive a person mad. Only an idiot would endure this for the sake of “fun,” Elena decided, but she kept her opinion to herself when she saw the eager way Bree and Naomi plunged through the thickets.
So what did she enjoy most in life? The natural beauty of this place pleased her. Did she prefer art galleries and museums? Spas and manicures? Whatever she had been in the past, she could change now if she wanted, while she didn’t remember.
But it wasn’t this.
Elena’s nylon head net trapped her warm breath and added to her discomfort. “How much farther?” she called to Bree and Naomi as they started up a hillside.
Bree brushed her short red curls out of her eyes and consulted the GPS. She wore no netting, relying instead on insect repellant. “Not far. It should be just over the hill.” She pulled a handful of pistachios from her pocket and offered
GIDEON ENDED HIS PRODUCTIVE DAY AT HIS SANCTUARY. HE wasn’t sure anyone knew it was here. To reach it, he drove a barely recognizable path that was mostly covered with grass. Huge jack pine trees, stands of birch, and giant oak trees hovered in a protective canopy over the two-room cabin. And his angels guarded the place as well. It was as secure as any place in heaven or on earth.
The first day, five years ago, when Gideon forced open the door and stepped into the cobwebbed cabin that smelled of mildew and rat droppings, he’d known. Known it was his place. The heart of his plans, the soul of his new life.
Now, carrying a sack of groceries, he stepped to the porch and dug out the padlock key. It fit neatly into the shiny new lock and opened without a sound. Stepping to the single wall of cabinets, he set the sack on the counter and began to put away the food. He alphabetized the soups, stacked the boxed foods neatly so he could read the tops, then folded the paper sack and placed it under the sink.
Only when the kitchen was in perfect order did he allow himself to enjoy the main reason he loved it so. He made a peanut butter sandwich, pushed open the back door, and stepped out on the porch. A small, beautiful pond backed up to the cabin. The water reflected the spill of moonshine. Loons cried out. The tremolo they made had been described as insane laughter, but the deep, rich tones reminded him of a moaning aeolian harp.
His angels were here somewhere. He stepped down off the porch and strolled to the water’s edge. He’d known the minute he saw the pond that the swans he loved would hover over these waters like gods. Deep-throated cries came to him now. Sonorous like trumpets and just as thrilling.
They glided into the moonlight. Their beauty swamped his senses. Ethereal and glowing with white light, they came nearer. “My angels,” he crooned, throwing the bits of the peanut butter sandwich in his hand to them.
The darkness of the island in the middle of the water drew his gaze. He’d go there later tonight to make sure everything was ready for her.
AFTER CHURCH, ELENA ACCEPTED BREE’S OFFER TO TAKE HER GEO-caching. They stopped to pick up Naomi, then went out to the woods.
“We won’t stay out long,” Naomi said. “Donovan is taking me out for dinner tonight.”
“Are you sure Anu is okay with keeping Terri and Davy?” Elena asked.
“She’s in her element,” Bree assured her. “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours. She’ll let them bake cookies or something.”
Bree parked the Jeep along a bank of blooming columbine. Humming, she opened the back door and let Samson and Charley scamper out. The dogs nosed through the wildflowers and moss.
“This is going to be so fun,” Bree said. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a GPS unit, then shouldered the pack. “Let’s go.”
Once in the woods, the clouds of biting, stinging insects descended to feast on every bit of uncovered flesh. The incessant buzzing alone was enough to drive a person mad. Only an idiot would endure this for the sake of “fun,” Elena decided, but she kept her opinion to herself when she saw the eager way Bree and Naomi plunged through the thickets.
So what did she enjoy most in life? The natural beauty of this place pleased her. Did she prefer art galleries and museums? Spas and manicures? Whatever she had been in the past, she could change now if she wanted, while she didn’t remember.
But it wasn’t this.
Elena’s nylon head net trapped her warm breath and added to her discomfort. “How much farther?” she called to Bree and Naomi as they started up a hillside.
Bree brushed her short red curls out of her eyes and consulted the GPS. She wore no netting, relying instead on insect repellant. “Not far. It should be just over the hill.” She pulled a handful of pistachios from her pocket and offered
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