Page 17 of The Souls of Lost Lake
She held her breath.Keep on movin’, mister.
But he didn’t. The body bent at the knees, and the man aimed the flashlight in her direction until its beam landed on her.
Ava squinted, blocking out the light by pressing her arm over her eyes.
“Ava?”
“Go away,” she said. She tried to sound firm. Commanding even.
“Ava, please.” The man’s hand stretched out and scraped alongthe thorns that speared from the branches in front of her. “Come out of there.”
She swatted at him. Her fingertips slapping his, sandwiching the thorns between them. Instinct made him snatch his hand back. Ava heard him suck at his finger. Must’ve gotten poked. Blood. Again.
“You need to come home.”
You need to come home. The words echoed in her memory. Far in the distance. Someone yelling after her. Pulling her back with their words.No. Don’t go home.Everything in Ava’s body resisted, and she squirmed farther back into the brush.
“I’ll sit then.” The man laid the flashlight on the ground. He shut it off. They were plunged into the natural darkness of night. She heard him shuffle, his body shifting. She could sense him. Near. But he stayed away too. He left her alone. That was good. It was safer that way. For her, and for him.
A cool, wet cloth touched her face, stinging and startling Ava to her senses. Morning light cast its sunshine glow through the filmy white curtains. She quickly swept the room with her vision. The parsonage. Her bedroom. Hanny.
The elderly woman had positioned her petite body on the edge of the bed, and her hand had an old-age tremor to it as she moved the damp cloth to press it against Ava’s forehead. Her brown eyes were dull, ringed with a foggy circle around the irises that bespoke her age. There was worry there.
“Lay still.” Hanny lifted the cloth and leaned to dip it into a basin of water on the nightstand. Her movement made the white iron bed frame creak.
Ava looked down at her hands. Scratches covered them. Her knee was throbbing, but the green-and-blue patchwork quilt covered her body so she couldn’t see if it was bruised or hurt worse than that.
The bedroom door was open halfway, and the creak of the hingesas it was pushed further open alerted both women to the added presence in the room. Noah filled the doorway. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Ava could see similar scratches on his arms. His eyes had shadows under them. There was a small twig stuck in his nut-brown hair that he must not realize was there.
“Hanny?” His even voice was soft, as if he didn’t want to alert Ava even though she stared at him from her vantage point in the bed.
Hanny paused in her ministrations to Ava. “What is it, Noah?”
Noah hesitated, met Ava’s eyes, then dropped his gaze back to Hanny. “There’s been—I need to go out for a bit.”
So much was unspoken in his words. Hanny must have sensed it. She gave Ava’s blanket-covered leg a gentle pat and murmured, “I’ll be right back, dear.” She wobbled across the floor, reaching for the iron bedpost and the shepherd’s crook cane she’d hooked there. Once stabilized, Hanny moved to meet Noah at the door, her cane thumping a cadence against the scuffed wood floor.
Ava strained to hear as they stepped into the hallway.
“Jipsy...”
A muffled sigh from Hanny.
Noah’s voice again, a deep rumble. “...not looking good. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Who?” Hanny’s voice was strained.
Noah’s response, if there was one, was quiet enough that Ava couldn’t hear it.
Tired of eavesdropping, Ava pushed the blanket back from her body, intent on joining them in the hallway. She swung her legs from the bed, and it was then she noticed herself. Her blouse was filthy, streaked with dirt and sticky with pine sap. The cotton skirt she’d been wearing was gone, and all that remained was her cotton drawers, falling loose around her thighs with no lace edging like the fancy ones she’d caught a glimpse of in the general store’s catalog. Her left knee was skinned, the surface peeled back revealing dried blood, the edges of the wound bruised and scraped.
“Back to bed, dear.” Hanny’s cane pounded on the floor as she reentered the bedroom. Noah followed her. He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, his eyes shifting between Ava and the window.
“What happened?” God knew the pit in her stomach was already giving her a premonition of the truth of the matter.
“You walked in your sleep last night, dear.” Hanny tried to placate Ava while looking directly at Noah with a distinctly stern gaze. He avoided it and instead stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.
“I brought you back this morning. You—were quite disoriented.” He turned his attention to Hanny. “I need to go. Please, both of you stay here in the parsonage.”
