Half Finished Page 8

  “You want to come in for coffee?” Roxie asked when they’d reached her house.

  “No, thanks,” MJ answered after a quick check to see if her husband wanted to. “But I’ll see you in the morning, eight?”

  “How about seven thirty, I’m showing a house at ten thirty.”

  MJ and Daryl wished her good night and turned back for home.

  “Good, we’ll be home in time for the news.” Daryl picked up the pace. “I heard Looper howl when we went by.”

  “He could hear us talking, I suppose.” They could hear him clearly when they turned in at their gate. “You go watch your TV and I’ll take care of him.”

  Short though they were, their basset’s legs had springs in them when Daryl and MJ came in the front door. Yipping and whipping his white-tipped tail in a circle, the dog darted from one to the other, whining and whimpering.

  “You goofy dog, we have not been gone for days, you know, just a few hours.” MJ set her basket down. “Come on, go outside?” Looper tore off to the back of the house and danced at the back door. She heard the TV come on and knew Daryl was settling into his recliner. MJ reached back inside to the canister holding the doggy treats and, biscuit in hand, sank down onto the bright floral lounger. She heaved a sigh and looked up to see the stars. Thanks to the city’s light pollution, she could only see the big ones but the arch of light-dotted indigo above that faded to rosy gray in the west brought peace seeping throughout her body. Shame she didn’t do this more often.

  “Oof.” Four big feet and fifty pounds of basset landed on her thighs. “You big horse, what do you think you are doing?” She handed him his treat and waited while he crunched it away and searched for another. “No, just one or you’ll be fat as Murphy.”

  Murphy lived one street over and he was so fat he could hardly run. She had volunteered to walk him for the owners but the offer had been met with a shrug and an excuse. Shame to see a dog so out of shape, but then so were his masters.

  Daryl was sound asleep in front of the TV when she went back in the house.

  * * *

  “Been hearing all kinds of good comments about the meeting last night,” Anne said in the morning by way of greeting.

  “Glad to hear that,” Roxie said. “Oh, and just black this morning.”

  “No latte?”

  MJ stared at her, then shrugged and turned back to Anne. “I’ll have the usual. I could smell the cinnamon rolls down the street.”

  Roxie took her coffee with a smile. “And yes, before you ask.” They moved over to a table and sat, Roxie dumping in her usual creamer and one packet of sweetener.

  “So much for black.”

  “This is my black.” Roxie propped her elbows on the table and sipped her coffee, held by both hands.

  “So Loren said you ordered your rug.”

  “Yep, finally. Did she tell you about the young man there?” She gave her unblack black coffee another stir.

  “Loren?” That didn’t sound like the shy Loren to MJ.

  “Yeah, I know. But the manager there is a really charming young man and he recognized her from high school. Reminded her of a class they were in.” She leaned closer. “I think he was definitely interested and glad he saw her.”

  “And Loren?”

  “Said he sure didn’t resemble the fat geek with big glasses she remembered.”

  “And?”

  “Hey, that’s a start. He has my contact info so he can get ahold of her if he wants to.”

  “And how do we encourage the want to?”

  “MJ, for Pete’s sake, this was just last week.”

  “Well, we can pray about him, that’s for sure.”

  “I have. I really want her to find a good man and get married. To be as happy as Greg and I were. I mean, she has really good memories of her dad.”

  “As do you.”

  “I sure do. Enough to last a lifetime.”

  “Here you go.” Anne set their plates and the latte in front of them.

  “Amalia been in this morning?” Roxie asked.

  “Nope, but she’s usually later. She ordered cinnamon rolls for a couple of residents at the home, so I know she is coming.”

  “Does she do that often?”

  “Only on the days we make the rolls.” Anne waved at a call from another table.

  Fred’s truck was at the curb in front of MJ’s house when they got back. Roxie waved good-bye and had to tug on Sir Charles’s leash when he wanted to stay with Looper.

  “Good luck with the house showing.”

  “I have a tour of four places planned for them so it’s not just this one. They are just starting to look so I’ll show ’em all I can.”

  MJ shut the gate and took the lead off Looper. “Go find Dad.” The dog yipped once and headed off around the house. She followed him to find Fred and Daryl sitting on the deck, a flat of plants on the grass. “I see you come bringing treasures, Fred. Good morning.”

  “Good morning. We seem to have more than we can possibly use…”

  “That’s nothing new. Ginny come with you?”

  “Nope, she’s working on planting our pots today.” Fred swilled from his water glass.

  MJ asked, “You guys want a refill? Or iced tea?”

  Fred pushed back his chair. “Thanks but no. I’ll go get that other flat and be on my way.”

  “Hey, is Ginny coming into town today?”

  “She has a meeting at three,” Fred replied. “I think at the library. You need something?”

  “It’ll wait.” MJ turned to her hubby. “I’ll be down in my room and I am not turning my phone on.”

  Daryl nodded. “Fine by me.”

  “Help yourself to lunch out of the refrigerator. There’s soup in the green container, sandwich fixings in the cheese drawer, and leftover enchiladas in the flat one on the second shelf.”

  “What’s for supper?”

  “I have no idea, it’s not even noon yet.” She pushed back the screen to the sliding glass door and, inside, poured a glass of iced tea and headed downstairs. Her quilt was going to be ready to machine quilt by the end of the day. She had already layered the underside, the filling, and the top on the four-by-eight table Daryl had built that folded up against the wall when she was not using it. It had not been put away for some time because she’d not gotten back to it for several weeks. This next step of pinning the layers was going to be done today. Therefore, the phone was off.

  She looked up at the round clock when the bird call signaled two. No wonder she was hungry.

  “MJ, you down there?”

  “Coming right up, Ginny.” She jogged up the steps.

  “Tried calling, but with no answer, I figured you’d turned your phone off.”

  “I did. Want some iced tea? I’m just taking a lunch break.”

  “Thanks, but I just stopped to say I’ve had a bunch of phone calls raving about the meeting last night.”

  MJ pulled her cell phone out of her apron pocket. “A bunch of messages.” And dropped it back. “I am incommunicado today.”

  “I know, the meeting last night inspired you to finish something else too?”

  “How did you know?”

  Ginny grinned. “I hooked on that rug for an hour and a half this morning, you know the one on the coffee table in the family room? The woman next to me said she got a rug done by making herself hook one or two rows every morning. I thought it was a good idea.”

  “But an hour and a half?” MJ did not mention how absorbed she had just been in her quilt project.

  “I got carried away. Going to make sure I stay with two rows tomorrow. Three of the callers said the meeting inspired them to do the same.”

  “Well, I’ll be…Never thought something like this would happen.” She pulled a bag of mixed greens from the produce drawer. “You sure you don’t want some salad?”

  “No, thanks. I’m out of here.” Ginny headed for the front door. “See ya.”

  MJ took her salad and a re
filled iced tea out on the deck, watched the birds at the feeder as she ate, offered Daryl iced tea, which he turned down, and then returned to her quilt-pinning.

  Ginny and Fred, she and Daryl, two couples so close, so comfortable with one another. She remembered reading somewhere that a woman will be lucky to find one true soul mate in her life. MJ had four, for there was Roxie too.

  Chapter Eight

  Fred, where are you?”

  Nothing. A crow answered her from the top of a pine tree.

  “Where’s Dad?” Ginny asked Spook, who was usually with Fred when he was home. His truck was here so that meant that someone had come and picked him up. But who and for what? There was no note on the counter, no message on her phone.

  This was not like Fred, but someone must have had an emergency and he took off in a hurry. She checked through the house once more, then walked out to his shop. Door shut, but no Fred.

  She punched the speed dial for Sam. “Is your dad with you?”

  “No, he was earlier but we got all the kids out of the shop and he headed home. Both the twins had something at school so he said he was going home.”

  “The truck is here, Spook is here, but he’s not answering his phone. This is so unlike him.”

  Sam suggested, “He must be in an area that has no cell reception.”

  “True, but who with? You know him, someone has an emergency and he’ll be there.”

  “One of the neighbors?”

  “Planning to call them next.”

  “Have him call me when he gets back.”

  “I will.” She clicked off and went in the kitchen to turn the oven on for the goulash casserole she had in the fridge. Whenever he got here, he would be starving. Unless someone invited him for supper, but he would have let her know. He was so good that way. “Come on, Spook, let’s go look for Dad.” He wasn’t in the greenhouse, the shop, the barn. The tractor was in the machine shed; he wasn’t working on that, maintenance always being high on his list.

  “Fred, this isn’t like you but you could call and let me know where you are.” Concern slipped into anger. All she had to do and here she was on a fruitless search because someone else needed him right at that moment. Back in the house, she went to his desk to check his calendar. Nothing.

  She called the three neighbors with whom he often swapped labor. Nada. No one had seen him. Nor had Daryl Bronson, Jeff, or their pastor.

  “What’s going on?” MJ asked when she called back. “Daryl said you called.”

  “I did. I can’t find Fred. I’ve been calling all around but no one has seen him since he left Sam at the school.”

  “But the truck is there.”

  “Yes and Spook. No note, no call. Something like this hasn’t happened for a long time.” Years earlier he had been more focused on his own schedule until that time she got stuck in a snowbank and had no way to get through to him. He learned what frantic meant and insisted they both keep the other informed. Life had been much easier after that. Cell phones helped a lot too. Cell out of power? Not likely—he was obsessive about making sure the phones were charged.

  Well, he couldn’t be stuck in a snowbank but something was wrong. Lord, You know where he is. Could You please prompt him to let me know? And yes, I am trusting You, with my mind anyway, but my stomach is not in agreement. Good old acid reflux snaked into her esophagus. She headed for the kitchen and a glass of water, stopping by the bathroom for an antacid. Please, please, please, Lord, beat with her steps.

  She never had liked waiting. Especially when she didn’t know the outcome. She dug her phone out of her pocket. Sam. “No, nothing yet,” she told him.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, you have plenty to do there. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything, or he will call you. I know this is something we’ll laugh over down the road, but right now…”

  Right now I am about into panic mode. She sucked in a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly like she’d been trained to do when the panic attacks threatened.

  “Call me if you need me.” Sam hung up.

  Another call rang the chimes. She hit the button. Was it Fred?

  No. “Mike Raymond. I hear Fred is missing.”

  Pastor Mike! “It’s good of you to call.”

  He asked, “Could Fred have fallen when he was out hiking in the woods? Simply that his cell is not functioning?”

  “That’s what’s so frustrating. Any number of things could have happened. Innocent things.”

  “We’re praying here and I can be there in fifteen—”

  “I know, thank you, but…it’s not like he’s been gone for hours. Just that this isn’t like him.”

  “It’s getting dusk. You sure you don’t want help?” Mike’s concern was genuine, Ginny could tell.

  “Let me know.”

  “Okay, thanks.” You and all the others. This will be so embarrassing. Fred, how could you do this to me?

  Do something, anything, to get my mind off this. Greenhouse? No. “Oops, forgot to put the casserole in.” Spook padded beside her into the kitchen. When he went to stand at his dish, she got the message. Casserole in the oven, she poured the kibble into his bowl, added the warm water, and set it on the counter for a couple of minutes. To stall him, she tossed him a chicken jerky chew. Setting the timer, she clicked Fred’s number again. What kind of an accident could have taken out his phone? Was he lying out in the woods, unconscious? Why would he go out in the woods without Spook? She set the dog dish down and Spook dug right in.

  “Soon as you’re done, we’ll go shut the chicken house door, ’kay?” Good thing she had the dog to talk to; she wasn’t liking her own inner conversation. Mad was on the slippery slope to frantic fear, at the moment the two jockeying for first place.

  Lord, what do I do next? I am praying, my heart is crying out to You. Are You there? Or am I choosing to worry instead of trust? I don’t want to do that but where is Fred? Where can he be? She ignored the tears that blurred her vision and the fire that gripped her throat.

  What to do? An inner suggestion reminded her what needed to be done next. Close the chicken house door so that nothing could get in to destroy them. There were plenty of predators who had managed that through the years. But Fred had spent much time and money animal-proofing the henhouse. Since the house was under the trees, she took a flashlight along. “Come on, Spook. We can at least make sure the chores are done.” She stopped at the barn and dumped grain into the steers’ boxes. Both were waiting patiently. Now some for Addy’s pony. A soft nicker welcomed her. Every night Fred brushed both Magic, the pony, and Smoky, the donkey.

  “Sorry, not tonight.” She handed each of them one of the biscuits Fred kept near the grain bin.

  Spook ran ahead of her and waited at the closed main door to the chicken coop.

  “Spook, you know you don’t go in there.”

  Spook looked over his shoulder and pawed at the door.

  “Stop that, you silly dog, you’ll scare the flock.” Hmm, the latch wasn’t on. Fred always left the latch in place. She pulled open the door and Spook squeezed through, whimpering. “Shh, you’re going to cause a riot.” She stepped into the dark house. The chickens were scolding for being disturbed.

  Spook whimpered and whined.

  The beam caught the dark figure lying flat on the floor, Spook nosing at his hand.

  “Fred!” Ginny almost dropped the flashlight when she knelt beside him. “Fred, honey, wake up! Fred!” Her wail set Spook to howling. She felt Fred’s neck for a pulse. Nothing. No breath. His hand was stiffening. Oh Lord, how long has he been like this? Call 911. She whipped out her cell and obeyed the voice, answering the questions the dispatcher asked without really thinking. She couldn’t think.

  “Ginny, this is Georgia, hang on, honey. They are on their way. You said you were down in the chicken house?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have an ETA of nine minutes. When you hear the siren, go outside and wave your
flashlight. Turn right off the drive, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t keep the emergency line tied up. Just a moment.” She clicked off. Moments later, Ginny’s cell rang. She thumbed it on.

  “Georgia. Maybelle is manning dispatch for me. Oh, Ginny, I am so sorry. Have you notified Sam yet?”

  “No. I just called 911.” She hiccupped a sob. “Georgia, I think he has been gone for quite a while.”

  “Maybelle is calling Sam. Stay with me. Is that Spook howling?”

  “Yes, he—he came in with me. I was just coming to close the chicken door. I’d been calling everyone to see where he had gone.”

  “Did he have any heart problems, stroke problems?”

  “Possibly. I made him an appointment with the doctor for this Friday. I finally got him to agree to go.”

  “Sam is on his way. Five minutes, Maybelle says.”

  Sobs racked her from her toes on up.

  “Ginny, are you going into shock? Ginny, answer me!” Her voice was stern. “Breathe! Ginny, breathe!”

  “I—I am.” She inhaled again, blinking and trying to respond. “If I turn the light on, the chickens will fly all over.”

  “Okay, leave the light off. Is the door open?”

  Ginny looked over her shoulder. “Yes. I can hear the siren.”

  “We told Sam we would keep you on the line.”

  “I—I can’t quit crying.”

  “No, of course not. Will Spook let them in?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He’s lying right here with his muzzle on Fred’s leg. At least he quit howling.” She listened. “Sam is here.”

  “Mom! I’m leaving the truck lights on for them. They are turning in now, both the ambulance and the fire truck.”

  Spook growled, deep in his throat.

  “Easy, Spook, it’s Sam.”

  Sam blocked what little light was coming through the door. “Easy, Spook.”

  Ginny took his collar. “If he is growling at you, what will he do when they get here?”

  “I’ll put him in my truck.” But when he leaned over to take the collar, Spook snapped at him. “Is there a rope anywhere around here?”

  “In the barn. Hanging by the halters just as you go in the door.”