She kept her eyes on the gun as she slid one of her feet backward. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear the man when he spoke, but she did see his finger tightening on the trigger. “Stay where you are. I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”
“But I’m ready to leave,” Jocie managed to say.
“I’d wager you are.” Again the laugh. “I’d wager you’re about to wet your pants. But let’s talk first.”
“What about?” Jocie pulled in a slow breath and tried not to think about it maybe being her last. She tore her eyes away from the barrel of the gun pointed toward her and stared at the man’s face.
“About the good fortune that brought you here at just this moment. Do you believe that some things are meant to be? Ordained. Predestined.” He waved the gun back and forth. “But of course you do. You believe in the Bible.”
“Why is it meant to be that I’m here?” Jocie asked even as she was frantically praying silently.
Lord, help me ask the
right questions. Help somebody miss me at church and come hunt
me. Let Mrs. Simpson hear us downstairs and call the police.
“Your father took something from me. Now I have the opportunity to take something from him.”
“My father didn’t take anything away from you. You never had Leigh.”
“But if not for your father, who knows what might have been. Your father.” Mr. Hammond spat out the two words. “Everybody thinks he’s so wonderful. Practically the second coming here in Hollyhill.” He shook the gun at her.
Jocie held her breath. The gun didn’t go off. But then she wondered if it might have been better if it had. Mrs. Simpson would have heard it and called for help. Maybe any noise would do. Jocie could stomp the floor or knock over something. Without moving her head, she looked to the side where a couple of boxes were piled. All she had to do was stumble a bit and bang into them. She did her best to pretend she’d just lost her balance. The top box fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
“Always thinking, aren’t you, Jocie Brooke?” Mr. Hammond said as he leveled the gun at her again. “But never listening.”
“I listen.” She was really listening right then. Surely Mrs. Simpson had heard that and would know that nobody was supposed to be in the apartment over her head.
“You think noise will help you? Here, then, how about a little extra noise?” He jerked the gun up and shot over the top of Jocie’s head.
Jocie’s heart tried to jump out of her chest as she put her hands over her ears and screamed.
He brought the gun back down to point at her. “Now that’s too noisy. But the point is, I’ve taken care of the snoopy old lady downstairs. All the noise in the world isn’t going to bring you any help from that quarter.”
“Taken care of her?” Jocie was surprised she could speak. She was surprised she was still standing the way her legs had turned to jelly. She should have run out the door when he shot the gun. Maybe she should even now run out the door. That might be a good idea if she could trust her legs to work.
“Oh, don’t look so worried. I didn’t shoot her. Just tied her to her kitchen chair where she can’t spy out her window for a while. I actually didn’t plan to shoot anybody but myself until you showed up.”
Relief shot through her. At least he hadn’t already shot somebody. Even himself. He’d had time before she had shown up. So maybe he was having second thoughts. “I don’t think you should shoot yourself.”
“Oh? You think I should only shoot you then?” He raised his eyebrows at her.
“No. If you shoot me, you’ll go to prison. You wouldn’t like prison.”
“How could you know that? But that’s the way you are, isn’t it? A veritable fountain of knowledge.” His mouth twisted in disgust as he looked at her.
“Nobody likes prison,” Jocie said in a small voice.
“It might be better than Vietnam. I got my draft notice.” He waved the gun toward an envelope on the table beside him. “They found me even out here in Nowhereville. You can’t hide from Uncle Sam. It appears he wants me, but I’m not going to Vietnam. No matter what I have to do.” He had the gun steady on her again.
“You might not have to go to Vietnam.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t now. Not after tying up Mrs. Snoop downstairs and scaring the socks off you. But then there is that little matter of prison.” He grimaced. “Remember, even you were of the opinion that I wouldn’t like it there.”
“You haven’t done anything that bad yet. You might get off with probation or something.”
“Might. Ah, that is the operative word.”
Jocie tried desperately to think of something more to say, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she sent up silent prayers.
Mr. Hammond didn’t seem to have as much problem finding words. “You know, I’ve never seen one word of mine in print. Not one word. It’s always rejection after rejection. So sorry your poem is not quite right for our publication. So sorry your story isn’t what we’re looking for this month. So sorry we’re not accepting submissions. So sorry but your words stink. Your exalted father wouldn’t even print my letters to the editor.”
“You sent something in to the
Banner
?” Jocie was surprised.
“I did. Opinion pieces that would have elevated your small town rag from its mediocrity.”
Jocie frowned. “I don’t remember ever seeing anything from you come into the paper.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. I didn’t sign my name. Opinions are sometimes best expressed anonymously.”
“Dad doesn’t print anybody’s letters or whatever unless they sign them. It’s just policy.” Funny, Jocie thought, how talking about the
Banner
was helping her not be so terrified. Maybe a person could only be totally and completely terrified for so long.
“So you’re saying your father might have printed my pieces if I’d put my name on them.” He gave her an incredulous look. “I rather doubt that. I have the distinct feeling that your father dislikes me. I doubt he would even pray for me.”
“That’s not true. I know for a fact he has prayed for you and he said I should pray for you too.”
“And did you send up prayers to your God for me, Jocie Brooke?” Mr. Hammond lowered his wrist down to rest it on his knee, but he still held the gun pointed at her. He looked amused as he asked, “Are you praying for me right now or for yourself?”
“Both.”
“What are you praying?” His smile got bigger.
“I don’t want to die,” Jocie said.
“I would have said the same thing last week. But things change.” He lost his smile as he began stroking the gun barrel with his free hand.
“Not that much. What if you shoot yourself today when in another week you would have wanted to live again? And then it would be too late.”
“Too late. Such sad words. Your father may have missed you by now. He may be running here, not knowing the danger you are in. Not knowing how if he’d run a bit faster he might have been in time. But now all his life he’ll have to say he was too late.” He raised the gun up.
And lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.
The words came into her mind and with them a great stillness. Her heart quit pounding so hard and her thoughts were crystal clear. She was not going to die on her father’s wedding day. Not without trying to live.
I
f you don’t stand still, Wes, I’ll never get this knot straight,”
David said as he worked on his best man’s tie.
Wes quit shifting back and forth on his feet and held his chin up out of David’s way. “I don’t guess I’ve worn a tie since, well, since I started motorcycle riding some years back. I plumb forgot how to work the things.”
“I could have tied it for you, Wes,” Robert Wesley said. Robert Wesley was looking very handsome in his black suit with his sky blue tie that matched the bridesmaid’s dresses. David hoped Tabitha wouldn’t swoon when she saw him.
“That’s okay, Junior. We’ll make the groom do the work. We keep him busy enough, he might not notice how shaky he’s feeling,” Wes said.
David smiled and jerked the tie a little tighter than necessary. “I’m not the least bit shaky.”
“I don’t know why not,” Robert Wesley said. “I’m nervous, and I’m not even the one getting married.”
“Not yet anyhow,” Wes said.
The boy’s face turned pink as he said, “I do hope to marry someday.”
“Good. I highly recommend it,” Wes said. “For the two of you. I’ll save my suit for the occasion. Better a wedding suit than a funeral suit. Come to think of it, if I were to meet an untimely end, make sure they don’t bury me in it just because it’s handy. I don’t want to go to the hereafter dressed like this. The good Lord might not recognize me.”
David finished tying the tie and handed Wes the gold tie clip he’d bought for him. “Don’t be talking funerals on my wedding day.”
“I’ve heard some men say they were one and the same,” Wes said with a grin.
“But not for me,” David said. “Me, I’m the most blessed man in the world.”
“Miss Leigh is a prize. That’s for certain,” Wes said. There was a tap on the Sunday school room door. “Is it time?” David asked.
Robert Wesley looked at his watch. “Not yet. It’s still fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to go out according to Miss Curtsinger’s schedule.”
There was another knock before the door opened a crack. Tabitha whispered through the opening, “Dad, we’ve got a problem.”
“It’s okay, Tabitha. You can come in. We’re all suited up,” David said.
Tabitha stepped through the door in her blue bridesmaid dress. She looked beautiful with her hair tied back and ribbons falling down among the long tresses. David didn’t really get worried about whatever problem she had come to tell him about until Tabitha hardly even glanced toward Robert Wesley. “What’s wrong?” David asked. “Is Leigh sick?”
“No, no. Just a little frantic. Jocie’s not here.”
David frowned. “What do you mean, Jocie’s not here? I dropped her off here myself over an hour ago. She said you were going to fix her hair since whatever Pamela did didn’t work.”
“Yeah, she was here. But Leigh forgot the blue garter Zella gave her, and Jocie went to get it and she hasn’t come back. I don’t know where she could be.” Tabitha looked worried. “You don’t think she decided to run away again? She didn’t seem upset or anything about you getting married today, did she?”
“Not a bit. She’s looking forward to having a stepmom. And she definitely hasn’t run away. She promised me she would never do that again.” David’s chest felt tight. Something was wrong.
Wes must have felt the same thing because every hint of smile was gone as he asked Tabitha, “How long has she been gone?”
“Leigh couldn’t remember for sure, but it was before I got here and I’ve been here awhile.”
“I’ll go after her,” Wes said. “Maybe she just forgot the time and is lollygagging.”
“I’ll go too,” David said. “You need to stay here. That way you can go on with the ceremony,” Wes said.
“It’s supposed to start in fifteen minutes.” Robert Wesley looked at his watch. “Fourteen now.”
“Leigh says she’s not getting married without Jocie here. She told Zella she didn’t care if the church was full of kings and queens. She wasn’t budging out of that room until Jocie showed up and had time to put on her dress. The people could just go on home if they didn’t want to wait.” Tears popped up in Tabitha’s eyes. “Something’s wrong. Jocie wouldn’t do this to you and Leigh if something wasn’t wrong.”
“Easy, baby,” David said. “What could be wrong?”
“With Jocie, who knows? Tornadoes. Fires. Something’s always happening to her,” Tabitha said. Robert Wesley went over to put his arms around her and she leaned against him.
“There’s not a storm cloud in the sky. And no smoke. She’s probably just hunting for the garter and doesn’t realize it’s so late,” David said. He wished he could believe that himself. “Tell Leigh we’ll be right back.”
They went out the side door of the church. “I didn’t bring the keys to my car,” David said.
“Wouldn’t have done you any good no how. Your car’s blocked in.” Wes waved his hand at the packed parking lot. “My motorcycle’s over there on the grass. We can take it over to Miss Leigh’s. Once we get Jo, I’ll bring her on back to the church and then come back for you.”
“What if she isn’t at Leigh’s?”
“No need worrying about that till we get there,” Wes said as he climbed on his motorcycle. “I mean, what could happen to the girl in Hollyhill?”
“I don’t know.” David climbed on behind him. “But I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“Ditto. Could be we should be praying. Hang on.” Wes kicked the motorcycle to life. Some late arrivers turned to stare at them.
David was praying as they bumped across the sidewalk and curb out onto the street.
Dear Lord, watch over my child.
Stand with her and protect her. And help me not to yell at her if
nothing’s really wrong. I want nothing to be wrong. Oh please,
dear Lord, let nothing be wrong.
But in his head he seemed to hear the whispered word “hurry.”
The streets were unnaturally still. Nobody was out mowing the yard. No kids were roller-skating on the sidewalks. Surely not everybody in Hollyhill was at the church for his wedding, but the parking lot had been jam-packed. It could be that if Jocie had had some sort of accident, there hadn’t been anybody to help her. But what kind of accident could she have just walking three or four blocks to Leigh’s apartment?
During the last year Jocie had stumbled into one problem after another. Had she somehow stumbled into a new problem? David ordered himself to stop playing guessing games. To pray instead. Prayers would be more valuable than guesses if something did turn out to be wrong.
The door to Leigh’s apartment was standing open. Wes bounced the motorcycle across the sidewalk and through the yard right up to the bottom of the steps. David thought Wes would have ridden straight up into the apartment if he could have made the motorcycle climb the stairs. When Wes cut the motor, the silence was deafening. David took a quick look toward Mrs. Simpson’s kitchen window, but of course the old lady wasn’t there peeking out at them. She would be at the church waiting for the wedding music to start.