Just Before Dawn
highlight_author
Joanna Wayne
highlight_reads
16,3K
highlight_chapters
16
Chapter One
Sara Murdoch marked an 85 on the last history final, then dropped the red pen to the top of her desk. It clattered against the wood before rolling onto the floor and under the loaded bookshelf behind her.
She leaned back in her chair and relaxed as the feel of freedom soaked in. The spring session was over and for the first time in four years she was taking the summer session off. Just her and Kendra, roaming the mountains of northern Georgia, breathing fresh air and soaking up sunshine.
Kendra’s father was supposed to have taken her for the month of June, but he’d changed those plans at the last minute, announcing that he’d be in England for the summer, getting remarried. The news had stung at first, but Sara had gotten over the pain quickly enough. Their divorce had been final for two years, and the love had died before that—if it had ever been love.
Sara wasn’t at all sure she knew what love was at this point, other than the kind of love she felt for her daughter. The romantic love she’d seen in movies and read about in novels and even in history books seemed to have about the same lasting power in her life as the cotton candy Kendra loved. One sweet moment, and then it vanished, leaving nothing but that sticky saccharine aftertaste that practically gagged you.
“Are you ready to go?”
Sara scooted her chair back from her desk and motioned Raye Ann Jackson into the room. Raye Ann was chair of the history department, sweet and the most energetic sixty-something woman Sara had ever met.
“I’m ready and Kendra is so excited she’s driving me nuts. She’s been counting the days until we leave for two months.”
“I just hope the cabin’s still habitable. It’s been at least four years since I’ve been up there. I lost the taste for it after Mark died. He always loved it so much.”
“As long as it has walls and a roof, we’ll make do. Roughing it will be part of the mountain experience.”
“I wrote the directions down. The rural areas are a little short on road signs, but I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding it. If you do, just ask anyone where Mattie’s Stop is. She or Henry will be there and they can give you directions to the cabin. In fact, Mattie can tell you pretty much anything you need to know about the area. She’s a nice woman, although she’s a windbag. Her husband is downright strange—and grows the best vegetables I have ever put in my mouth.”
“I’m sure I’ll meet them.”
“Oh, yes, you have to. They’re as much a part of the North Georgian culture as folk music or apple cider. Here’s the key and the directions,” Raye Ann said, handing over a sealed white envelope. “And my phone number. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”
“And here’s my key for you,” Sara said, handing Raye Ann a key to her apartment. “Just move in whenever they start the remodeling on your house and stay as long as you need to.”
“I shouldn’t have to be out of the house more than a couple of weeks, but it will be nice to have somewhere to stay other than a hotel. You’re sweet to share it with me.”
“I’m glad it worked out so well for both of us.”
“Just don’t expect much from the cabin. It’s rustic and the appliances were old when Mark and I bought the place twenty years ago. But there’s a mountain stream that runs right by it, and the whole Chattahoochee National Forest out the back door.”
“It sounds exactly like what Kendra and I need.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to work so you can finish up and start your summer adventure.”
Sara stood and gave Raye Ann a brief hug. They didn’t really see each other away from the college, didn’t talk much about personal matters, but they were close in the way colleagues become when they work together for four years.
And as soon as Sara had mentioned taking the summer off and spending some time in the Appalachian Mountains in North Georgia, Raye Ann had volunteered the cabin. In fact she’d seemed delighted that the place would be used again.
As she gathered her things to leave, Sara picked up the test papers that still needed to be entered into the school’s computer system and the stack of mail that had come in the morning delivery. Mostly junk from the looks of it.
An envelope slipped from her fingers as she was stuffing the mail into her canvas briefcase. It was small, like a thank-you card or an invitation. It was addressed to her, but there was no return address. Curious, she put the test papers back on the desk, picked up her chrome-handled letter opener and slit the envelope. The note inside was typed on white card stock.
Let the past stay silent.
That was it. One brief statement. No signature.
She dropped the note into the trash, then picked it up again as nebulous dread seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach. The past. What past? Her five years of marriage to Steven? The years she’d struggled working nights to put herself through college? The years she’d lied about her age and took any job she could find on the streets of Atlanta just to keep her abdomen from sinking to her backbone?
Or the five long years she’d lived in the Meyers Bickham Children’s Home? Even now she got the creeps just thinking about that place. Frankly, her past sucked. So yeah, she’d let it stay silent.
Actually, she’d love for it to stay silent. And mostly it did—except when the nightmares came and the ghost baby’s cry echoed in her mind like some haunting song that wouldn’t stop.
This time she stuffed the note in a side pocket of her handbag, but she wasn’t going to let it get to her. By tomorrow afternoon she’d be in the mountain cabin. It was going to be a great summer. And just maybe it would be so terrific that the ghost baby would finally stop crying for good.
“ARE WE ALMOST THERE, Mommy?”
It seemed like the hundredth time Kendra had asked since they left the city limits of Columbus a little over three hours ago. “Just a few more minutes, sweetie.”
That was, if she could find the cutoff road. She’d followed Raye Ann’s directions exactly. She’d driven through Dahlonega and was heading west on Highway 52, toward Amicolola Falls State Park. Only there was nothing to the right marked Delringer Road.
“I want to climb a mountain.”
“We will, but not tonight.”
“We’ll have to watch out for snakes.”
“We’ll be very careful.”
“And mosquitoes. I hate mosquitoes.”
“We’ll use mosquito repellent.”
“Can I have a cookie?”
“Not now. It’s almost dinnertime.” Which would likely be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk. That was about all she had with her besides fruit and cookies. She’d planned to buy groceries after they settled in the cabin, but nix that plan. Driving around at dusk looking for a seemingly nonexistent dirt road was grating enough. She wasn’t about to go looking for a grocery once she’d found the cabin—if she found the cabin.
The plan had been to be there long before dark and settle in while there was still daylight. But she’d had a call from the dean at the last minute about a student protesting his grade. She’d had to stick around for a meeting to explain to the student and his parents why he couldn’t skip half the classes, get failing test grades up until the final, then make a low C and expect to pass her course.
Sara drove another mile, taking the curving, mountainous highway slowly, searching for Delringer Road. When all else fails, ask directions. And she would, except that she was in the middle of nowhere and there wasn’t a house in sight.
She was about to pull onto the shoulder and make a U-turn when she spotted the small convenience store and vegetable stand just ahead. Mattie’s Stop. All right. Windbag or not, she loved the woman already. Now just let the place be open.
There was a mud-splattered black pickup truck parked in front and a sleek Harley motorcycle. So far so good. Or maybe not so good. She spotted two men standing in the shadows by the outdoor vegetable stand. One of them had on overalls over a muscle shirt, a kind of tough-guy farmer look, and even in the growing dusk, she could see the tattoos that rode his muscular biceps.
The other had on jeans and a sport shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. No tattoos, but he had thick, brown beard and long, scraggly hair that fell into his face.
“I don’t want to buy groceries,” Kendra protested, as Sara killed the engine. “I want to go to the cabin.”
“We’re only stopping for a minute.”
“Do I have to get out?”
“Yes, you do.” Sara stretched her long legs and climbed from beneath the wheel. “You can help me choose something for dinner.”
“Chicken nuggets. And fries.”
“You had that for lunch.”
“I like chicken nuggets.”
“And I like vegetables.” Sara licked her lips and made a slurping noise as she loosened the belt of Kendra’s booster seat. She glanced at the men once more as she moved back to let her energetic daughter jump to the cracked and uneven asphalt of the parking lot. The bearded guy was staring at her. She turned away quickly, feeling a rush of apprehension.
Kendra ran ahead of her, her red curls bouncing about her head. Her hair was even brighter than Sara’s. She had Sara’s freckles, too, but just a sprinkling over her nose. And there the similarity ended. Fortunately, Kendra had inherited her father’s good looks.
Sara straightened her yellow cotton shirt, which had gotten scrunched beneath the seat belt, as she stepped inside the shop. Kendra was already engaged in an animated conversation with a middle-age woman with thin, frizzy brown hair and a welcoming smile.
“Your daughter says you’re here for the summer.”
“Yes, we’re staying in a cabin on Delringer Road. That is, if I ever find it.”
“You’re practically there. The road’s back toward Dahlonega, ’bout a mile I’d say.”
“Then I missed it.”
“Sign’s probably down. Usually is. Don’t really need it with the bridge washed out.”
The last shred of Sara’s optimism fell flat. “The bridge is out? What does that mean?”
“Means you can’t take your vehicle past the stream. Not that there’s any real reason to since that tornado two summers ago took out all the cabins up that far except the Jackson’s, and they haven’t been around in years. I heard Mr. Jackson died. He was such a nice man. His wife, too. Summers don’t seem the same without them.”
“You must be Mattie.”
“Sure am. Mattie Callahan. How’d you know?”
“Raye Ann Jackson told me about you. We’re supposed to be spending the summer in her cabin. Is there another way to reach it?”
“No. Just one road. But the cabin’s just on the other side of the stream. You better hurry on up there if you plan to make it tonight, though. Might be hard to find in the dark.”
“What good would that do me if I can’t get across the stream?”
“There’s a footbridge.”
Sara turned toward the sound of the voice. The bearded mountain man she’d seen outside was standing a foot behind her, though she hadn’t heard him walk up. He was looking at her, his stare so intense it seemed to transcend the boundaries of space and matter and actually burrow beneath her flesh.
Kendra had been perusing the candy counter, but she left it and came over to check out the stranger. Never afraid of anything, she sidled up beside him. “Can I feel your beard?”
Sara grabbed Kendra’s hand. “Don’t bother the man, Kendra.”
“It’s all right,” the man said.
He stooped and Kendra reached over and trailed her fingers through the thick, matted hair. “It feels funny.”
“It’s just hair.”
“Did it used to be whiskers?”
“Yeah.”
“My dad shaves his off.”
“Most people do.” He straightened and stepped past Kendra. “I took a couple of baskets of tomatoes and one each of bell peppers and squash,” he said, addressing his comments to Mattie.
“No problem, Nat. I’ll put them on your tab. And you might want to say howdy to these folks. They’re your neighbors for the summer—staying at the Jackson cabin.”
So the archetypical mountain man was her neighbor. Her only neighbor. Why did that not make her feel better? Still she stuck out a hand. “I’m Sara Murdoch, and this is Kendra.”
He ignored her hand and the introduction, just stood there and stared at her with a look that raised the hair on the back of her neck.
“Nat,” the man said, then turned and walked out of the store.
“Not much of a talker, is he,” Sara said.
“Not much. His last name is Sanderson. Nat lives alone and minds his own business. Grows terrific apples, though. He talks more to Henry than anyone else. And I reckon he talks to that boy from Dahlonega he’s got working for him.”
“Henry?”
“My husband. You probably saw him when you came in. Big guy. Folks around her call him Junk Yard Dog, ’cause ain’t nobody gonna’ mess with him. Except me, of course. And our daughter Dorinda. She has him wrapped around her little finger. You’ll meet her while you’re here. She’s goes to school down at University of Georgia, but she’s home for the summer. Gonna be a teacher.”
Sara waited until Mattie stopped for breath before she broke in. “I need to get to the cabin, but I’ll take a basket of the tomatoes and peppers I saw outside and I need to pick up a few things for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning.”
“Certainly, honey, you just go right ahead. If you need any help finding what you need, I’ll be over here sweeping up. I like the place clean when I leave at night. We open at ten in the morning, and…”
Sara turned and scanned the small store for Kendra. She was at the candy rack, a pack of M&M’s already in hand and reaching for some gummy bears.
“You can choose one treat,” Sara said, this time not waiting for Mattie to stop for air, which didn’t seem to bother Mattie. She went right on talking until she finished what she had to say.
“Can I get two? I’ll save one for tomorrow.”
“One—for after dinner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kendra said, rolling her eyes.
The store was small, a wooden shell about twelve by eighteen, but it seemed to have the essentials. Milk, bread, eggs, cheese, luncheon meat and a few condiments for sandwiches.
Sara shopped quickly, eager to reach the cabin while there was still enough daylight to find it. “Anything else I should know?” Sara asked as Mattie rang up her purchases.
“Not that I can think of. Just be careful. Keep a close eye on your daughter out in those woods. You don’t want her to get lost.”
“I will.”
“I’ll help you get these to your car,” Mattie offered.
“That’s okay. I think I can handle them.” Sara picked up the bags of groceries, giving the one with just a loaf of bread to Kendra.
“Don’t forget to grab a basket of those tomatoes and peppers on your way out. Once you taste them, you’ll be back for more.”
“I’m sure I’ll be back often.”
“Good. We’re neighbors. Drop in any time, even if it’s just to chat or ask questions.”
“Thanks.”
Sara hesitated at the door. Both the truck and the motorcycle were still parked outside. Nat was leaning against the cycle and Henry’s hand was on the door of the truck.
She deposited the groceries in the car, then took Kendra’s hand when she walked over to the vegetable stand to get the produce.
Henry followed her there. “You folks staying around here somewhere?”
“At the Jackson cabin.”
“That place still standing?”
“I hope so.”
“You ever been there before?”
“No.”
“Well, don’t be expecting to find much when you get there.”
“I’m not.”
Nat started the motorcycle, practically drowning out their conversation. Henry turned and waved for him to kill the engine. When he did, Henry took a step in his direction. “You ought to show these two young ladies up to the Jackson cabin, Nat. Make sure they find the place in the dark.”
Nat stared at her without comment.
“That’s not necessary,” Sara said.
“Could be,” Henry said. “You don’t want to go hiking around in the dark looking for the place. Not with the girl, here.”
True, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go hiking around in the dark woods with the scraggly recluse biker, either.
“Just follow me,” Nat said.
He started the engine again and slipped the helmet over his head. Follow him.
“You’re not worried about Nat, are you?” Henry asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
“No need of that. He’s a loner, but that don’t make him bad. He just deals with things his way, like we all do if we want to survive. He won’t talk much, but he’ll make sure you and the kid get where you’re going and that you’re safe.”
She nodded, still uneasy, but knowing there was no reason not to trust Henry. No reason not to trust Nat for that matter. She’d never been one to judge a book by its cover. She grabbed the baskets of vegetables and walked to her van then buckled Kendra into her seat and turned back toward the store. Mattie and Henry were both standing in the open doorway, smiling and waving, more assurance that there was nothing to worry about.
Sara backed out of the parking lot, following the bright red taillights of the mountain man’s bike.
A mile later she turned and followed him down the unmarked dirt road. Tall pines bordered the narrow road, cutting off the last glimmer of the fading light and plunging them into the gathering darkness of the forest.
Just her and Kendra and a bearded mountain man with the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, traveling to an isolated cabin at the end of a washed-out road.
Apprehension slithered along her nerve endings at the thought and her grip tightened on the steering wheel. But it was rural Georgia. It was safe here. She held on to that thought as full darkness set in.
