Wind Over Marshdale (22 page)

****

The days began to merge as Rachel's life became a routine of school and home with very little reprieve. She wasn't interested in Grace's banter or Rhoda's probing questions. Even the fact that Grace was now dating the eccentric science teacher, Carl Binder, wasn't enough to spark her enthusiasm for life. Con McKinley hadn't called—probably wasn't going to call, and she certainly wasn't going to throw herself at another man any time soon. The result had been far too humiliating and it was easier to retreat back into the safety and security of her work.

How long had it been now? One week? Maybe two? It didn't matter. There was something about her that just couldn't satisfy men, and she was finally coming to terms with it. A deficiency Ronald had called it, and if anyone should know it was him. She'd given herself fully to him, thinking it was love, and yet she hadn't been able to satisfy him. It might have been nice to have another chance, but then again it was probably for the best. No use setting herself up for even more humiliation.

Her cell phone rang and she picked up, expecting it to be Grace or Sherri. She'd decided she would no longer check to see if it was Con. That was silly and just setting herself up for disappointment. “Hello?”

“Rachel? It's Thomas.” Rachel's stomach did a flip-flop. “I was wondering if I could come over.”

“Now?” she squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Now?” she repeated, trying to sound less like a mouse.

He laughed. The sound was deep and full and sent chills through her body. Oh what a spineless creature she was! “Yeah. I'm actually parked just down the street by the lodge. I didn't want your landlady to see my vehicle and I didn't want to knock just in case she heard something. I've heard she can be quite the busybody.”

“What… what about the kids?”

“I had a meeting in Regina today. They aren't expecting me until late.”

Her body was on fire now. “Sure, I guess… as long as you're quiet. I'll meet you at the door.”

She hung up and hesitated for only a second before bolting for the bathroom. She quickly brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair. She was already dressed in her pajamas but there was no time to change now. It would have to do. With a racing heart she tiptoed up the stairs and opened the outside door a crack, peeking out. Thomas was on the street right in front of the house. She stepped out onto the landing and waved for him to hurry.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. With mouths clamped shut, barely containing their laughter, they tiptoed back down into the basement apartment, then giggled like adolescents when she shut the door behind them.

“Shh!” Rachel warned, leaning against the door. “Mrs. Beatry has a strict no visitors of the opposite sex rule.”

“Gotcha,” Thomas whispered and winked. “I didn't come here to talk anyway.”

Rachel sobered almost instantly. The butterflies in her stomach had taken to dancing again. “Um, about the other night. I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I'm not usually that forward.”

“It's okay. I'm over it.”

They had moved into the one main room and Rachel had a sudden urge to keep her distance. When she was in his home, initiating things, she had felt powerful, sexy, in control. Here she felt trapped. Like he had invaded her private space and she wasn't sure she liked it.

“Can I get you something? Maybe a soda?”

“I think you'll do,” he smiled, stepping into her bubble and placing his hands on her shoulders. He bent in for a kiss and she let him, her back stiffening. This was what she'd wanted, right? To prove that she wasn't the ice queen that Ronald had said she was. Willing herself to relax, she slumped into his arms and started kissing him back, letting her arms find their way around his neck as her hands grasped the length of his ponytail.

The kiss deepened and his hands began roaming, the loose fitting pajamas providing very little resistance. She let out a little cry and tried to pull back but he wouldn't let her go. He was maneuvering her toward the couch and suddenly she didn't want to have sex with this man anymore. She needed for him to stop—now!

“Stop,” she managed to hiss between kisses. She struggled and finally turned her head away completely, leaving her neck exposed for more, but at least freeing her voice to protest. “I said stop!” she repeated more forcefully.

He seemed to hear this time and he did stop. She pushed him away with as much force as she could muster and jumped a few feet away from him, trembling.

“What?” Thomas asked, seeming genuinely bewildered. “I thought—”

“I changed my mind,” Rachel said, her voice sounding small and frightened.

“But—”

“I'd like you to leave now,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. She could still feel the way he'd touched her and she thought she might be sick. Maybe Ronald was right after all. She could never respond properly to a man.

“Is it because I'm an Indian?” he asked. Anger flashed in his dark eyes and he made no attempt to keep his voice low.

“Of course not,” she bit back, her voice a harsh whisper. “And please keep your voice down.”

Thomas surveyed her for a moment, his eyes cold. “You white women are all the same.”

His words stung more than a slap. How dare he say such a rude and racist thing? Yet she couldn't respond. Her throat was clogged with tears and she knew if she tried to speak it would come out like a wail.

He didn't wait for any response anyway. He turned and was up the steps and out the door before she knew it.
Thanks
, Ronald. You've managed to prove your point yet again.
With her hand to stifle the sobs that were still unuttered, she dashed to the safety of her bedroom and flung herself face-first into her pillow. No matter how heartbroken she was, Mrs. Beatry must not hear.

 

A pristine blanket of snow covered the earth. With the thrill of a child, Rachel donned mitts and a scarf before venturing out into the clean whiteness. The first snowfall always filled her with a sense of excitement, no matter how many years the cycle continued. It seemed like a lifetime since the encounter with Thomas, although it hadn't really been that long, and two lifetimes since she'd last seen or heard from Con. But with the stoicism of one used to her lot in life, she managed to compartmentalize her heart into a safe, impenetrable box and carry on. At least now her resolve to avoid a relationship was firmly back in place. She walked briskly to school, puffing out clouds of frozen breath as she went.

“Good morning, Rachel,” a male voice said cheerfully, coming in line with her stride.

“Oh, good morning, Steve,” Rachel replied with a smile. Not even Steve Friest could dampen her spirits on this fine day. Actually, he had been behaving himself lately. It seemed his attentions were directed elsewhere these days.

“Beautiful day,” he commented.

“That it is,” she replied.

“Are all your little ghosts and goblins ready for the big day?”

“Ready? They've been chomping at the bit for weeks!” Rachel laughed.

“Halloween was always my favorite holiday when I was a kid,” Steve recalled. “All that candy! Mmm! Playing tricks was kind of fun, too.”

“I hear they have quite a patrol around here for the occasion,” Rachel said.

Steve made a scoffing sound. “Takes the fun right out of it, I'd say.”

“I suppose there must be good reasons for it.”

“I guess there was quite a bit of vandalism in years back. Teenagers, you know.”

“I also heard something about a fire.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “I guess some kids lit an old abandoned building on fire outside of town, but it got away from them. One kid didn't make it out. Pretty sad.”

“Hmm,” Rachel agreed. They had reached the school, and with a short farewell, they parted ways.

There was a big Halloween carnival planned at school that day and it was sure to be a hectic affair. It was not a normal kindergarten day, but inevitably, a few kindergarten children did show up, as parents assumed that the Halloween carnival constituted an exception to the rule. With the excitement of the carnival and lots of treats to come, there was little point trying to focus on academics with her special needs students anyway. Robbie Nordick, the six-year-old with the speech problem, still remained an enigma. He was usually a pleasant and happy little child, except for the odd occasion when he didn't get his way, but for some reason he would not allow any intelligible words to come out of his mouth. He simply continued to point and grunt—and smile every time he got what he wanted.

As for Brandi Lane, the troubled girl from the troubled home—she had still not come back to school.

****

Pastor Todd seated himself at the kitchen table. Ah! A nice, quiet lunch at home with his wife. Amanda was already down for her nap and Bradley had stayed at school for lunch today. If he was lucky, Carol might agree to a little afternoon delight, although he doubted it since she was particularly on edge today. Again. This time it was their discussion earlier about the upcoming Halloween party at school next week. He'd decided that Bradley could go, and the boy was over the moon, much to his mother's dismay. Last year, Bradley had stayed home from school. Normally, the family tried to downplay the holiday. No use celebrating the devil, especially when you were a pastor. Actually, there was a time when he had been quite adamant about it. His children would absolutely NOT take part in any Halloween festivities.

But his views had changed since coming to Marshdale, thanks in part to Marni Hyde. “Let the children have their fun,” she had said—rather, insisted. Previous pastors had actually participated whole-heartedly; staged their own alternative parties at the church, even. The least he and his family could do was show some community spirit. After all, it was a community event.

Carol had objected at first. She had been raised in a strict home where Halloween was taboo. But what could it hurt? It was all in fun. Just like playing dress up, only everybody participated and on the same day. There was no use rocking the boat and if the board thought it was okay… She had finally conceded. As long as the children wore positive, non-devilish, non-violent, non-magical costumes.

How lame was that, he frowned. When he was a kid—when kids were still allowed to have some fun—he used to love dressing up as Dracula or the Grim Reaper. The bloodier and more gruesome the better. Funny how his perspective had changed. He'd gone through his pious period while in seminary and then for the first ten years of marriage. But now he felt—what? Skeptical? Doubtful? Dead inside.

Christians could do that to one another. Like hyenas singling out the young, the old, or the weak. Oh sure. They put on a pretty good front. Pasted on their Sunday morning smiles. And they talked a good line about forgiving and loving. But just let one of theirs slip up and they were ready to pounce. He'd felt the sharp fangs as they broke through the skin and into flesh. It smarted. And he had bled.

“I just made sandwiches and soup,” Carol said, placing the soup pot directly on the table on top of a hot pad.

“Whatever you made is fine,” Todd nodded with a smile. “It's just nice to have some peace and quiet for a change.”

Carol sat across from him and started ladling the soup into the two bowls. “I just hope Bradley will be able to get into his own costume, that's all. Maybe I'll have to go to the school and help.”

“Give the boy a break,” Todd scoffed. “I'm sure he'll be fine. What's he going to be anyway? A cowboy?”

“What's wrong with a cowboy?” Carol asked, sniffing. “You know how I feel about those devilish costumes.”

“I know, I know,” Todd conceded.

“And we agreed,” Carol continued. “He can go to the party at school, but I am not handing out candy!”

Todd raised a hand in surrender. “Why are you starting a fight? I know all that. We'll hide out in the basement and watch a movie or something.”

Carol let out a pent-up breath. “I hate this time of year. It's just so… so evil! I'm always glad when November first finally comes around and I can stop looking at witches and goblins at every turn.”

“I agree,” Todd placated. “Mmm. Good soup.”

The doorbell rang. “I wonder who that could be?” Carol scraped her chair back from the table.

“Just leave it. Pretend we're not home,” Todd advised. “Don't people know it's lunch time?”

“We can't do that. Whoever it is has probably already heard us,” Carol scolded. She went to the side door, leaving Todd to slurp at his soup.

It didn't take long for him to realize who was at the door. He heard her shrill voice, even before she stepped through the entrance. “Is the Pastor at home? I simply must see him.”

Marni Hyde.

“We're just sitting down to lunch,” he heard Carol say. As if that would stop Miss Hyde.

“This will only take a moment,” Marni blustered, her volume already increasing as she advanced through the hall. “Pastor, there you are!”

Todd looked to where Miss Marni Hyde had appeared in the kitchen doorway. Where else did she expect to find him at lunch time, he wondered? He pasted on ‘the' smile. “Miss Hyde. Good to see you.” His gaze met Carol's. The irony was too much.

“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Carol asked, always the dutiful Pastor's wife.

“No, thank you,” Marni clipped. “This won't take long.”

“Um, sit down,” Todd offered, gesturing to a vacant chair. “You don't mind if I eat my soup before it gets cold?”

Marni raised an eyebrow at the pot sitting directly on the table before pulling out the chair. She lowered herself onto the chair, checking first, of course, for any crumbs with a sweep of her hand. “I won't be responsible if something bad happens. Just as long as you remember I warned you.”

Her penetrating gaze was pinned on Todd and he felt his Adam's apple bob awkwardly as he swallowed some soup. “In regard to…?”

“To those natives, of course!” she exclaimed, as if it should have been obvious.

“Okay…” He waited expectantly and set down his spoon.

“The townspeople are getting quite upset, I can tell you. They will not sit back idly and allow a takeover.”

“I hardly think a takeover is—”

“And,” she cut him off, “I have heard some negative reflection on the church. Their attendance is causing some others to stay away.”

“Really?” Todd asked, frowning. “I don't recall anyone in particular not coming. Unless you mean the Cunninghams, but they were going away for a month to visit their daughter in Winnipeg anyway.”

“Oh, there have been plenty of people,” Marni insisted. “Those that have been considering our church for quite some time, but now—well. Just consider it a lost cause. They won't be setting foot past our doors any time soon.”

Probably just as well, Todd mused. Outwardly he continued to smile, “Well, it doesn't sound like too much cause for concern. I'm sure things will iron themselves out eventually.”

“Pastor, I don't think you realize the gravity of the situation,” Marni said, leaning in.

“Oh?”

“This not only reflects badly on the church, but…” she hesitated for the theatrical effect. “May I be blunt? It also brings into question your suitability for leadership.”

“Really?” Todd asked. The smile was fading. He was very, very tired of Miss Marni Hyde.

“And of course, I am also thinking of the welfare of those poor young children. They had no choice in their parentage, of course. But to subject them to such as what I fear might happen…”

“What are you talking about?' Todd asked, scrutinizing her face.

“There
will
be violence,” Marni stated. “Mark my words. I don't know what, but people will not just stand around and do nothing to protect themselves and their property.”

“You think someone would actually hurt them?” Carol interjected, joining the conversation for the first time. She still stood by the doorway, clasping and unclasping her hands.

“Who knows? Vandalism or worse.” Marni sat back in her chair with a satisfied look.

Todd strove for a poker face, but he already knew she could see the worry that had passed over his features. She knew he wouldn't want to be involved in such a scandal. “And what exactly am I supposed to be doing about it?”

“You
are
their pastor, in a manner of speaking,” Marni replied. “Advise them to leave, before it's too late.”

“I would hope the people of Marshdale wouldn't stoop to such things,” Carol stated.

Marni Hyde shrugged, an over-exaggerated motion as she stood regally from the table. “At least I have done my duty. You can't say I didn't warn you. You'll also be happy to know that the town council did not approve that vile cultural center either. So you might as well encourage them on their way.” She turned and headed for the door, stopping to run a finger along the wainscoting. She surveyed the dust, but didn't say anything, allowing her raised brows to speak instead.

Carol came back to the kitchen and plopped down at the table, looking almost ready to cry.

“Never mind her,” Todd soothed. “This is Marshdale. Nothing is going to happen.” He patted her hand.

“How can you just sit back and say that?' Carol asked. “What if something does happen?”

“Maybe it would be best if they did leave,” Todd mused. “Not just for others but for them, too. I mean, really. They don't fit in here.”

Carol surveyed her husband for a minute. “I don't understand. How can you be so easily manipulated?” Her voice was steady and very quiet.

Their eyes locked for a moment in silent battle. Without looking away, something changed, ever so subtly.

“Hmm. I think my soup is cold. How about warming it up for me?” It was the first time he had ever given her ‘the' smile.