Guarded

Guarded

by April Bradshaw

Copyright 2013 April Bradshaw

Smashwords Edition

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For Doodles

Strong enough to hold my world together; soft enough to hold a child’s tears.

Forever with God,

Forever a strength in my life.

It was the white van. Again.

Fear clutched her heart—the same old fear she'd tucked away into a hidden place when she was still a child. It whispered—sometimes shouted—that something bad might happen and her world could rock. And like a naughty child, the fear wouldn't stay put.

It had popped out of hiding once again.

Jenny Nickerson moved closer to the window and peered into the darkening winter sky. A spiral sun-catcher dangling from the rearview mirror confirmed it was the same van she saw earlier down by the university. It had merged into the lane behind her and remained there until she pulled into the daycare. For some reason, its presence had unnerved her, and she was relieved when the vehicle moved on. But now, hours later, here it was again. What could it mean? She strained for a glimpse of the driver, but all she could make out was a shadowed silhouette, nothing more. She cast the parking lot a final worried glance, then closed the blinds, her attention drawn back inside the classroom.

Little Dusty Atkins was tugging at her arm. Miss Nickers! Miss Nickers!

Yes, sweetheart? She stooped down in order to speak to the four-year-old at eye level.

Is Mama sick again? Am I going home with you? His jacket was only halfway on and one sleeve dragged the floor. Jenny tugged the wayward sleeve onto his arm and zipped the jacket snugly around his small frame. His dark eyes remained riveted to her face.

She pushed a brown curl from his eyes and playfully tweaked his nose. We’ll have fun, won’t we? Saying the boy’s mother was sick was the easiest explanation. It wasn’t the first time Mrs. Atkins had called the daycare, her speech slurred, to say she couldn’t pick up her son. She had stated rather than requested that Dusty stay with Jenny. But Jenny didn’t mind. At least she'd remembered to call.

Jenny reached for her winter coat. The other children had been picked up by their parents an hour or so earlier and the classroom was empty except for herself, Dusty, and Ellen, the head teacher at Bitty Buttons. Jenny tucked her dark braid inside her coat and reached for Dusty’s hand. See you tomorrow, Ellen, she called over her shoulder.

Ellen Chase looked up from her work. You don’t have to do it, Jenny, she said evenly. Ellen was a no-nonsense woman in her early fifties. She clearly loved the children in her daycare as much as Jenny did, but was less overt in her affections. You know where to find the number for Children’s Services. She tilted her head toward the phone list on the wall.

They had had this conversation before. Dusty’s good company, Jenny said for the benefit of the child beside her. It’s like a sleepover party, isn’t it, Dusty?

He looked up at her and bobbed his head up and down, causing his chin to disappear inside the bulk of his jacket . Do I get to sleep with Taffy? His face was eager.

Taffy was the stuffed dog Jenny had since childhood. Its fur was worn thin around the middle where she had slept with her arms encircling it for nights too numerous to count, and it had remained beside her, collecting her tears, when her world changed at the age of twelve. She loved the timeworn toy for its memories and was pleased that Dusty seemed to love the stuffed animal just as much. Of course, she assured him. Taffy likes you best. Jenny moved to the door, Dusty’s hand nestled snugly inside her own.

Drive carefully, Ellen called. Roads will be icy.

As they emerged from the building, Jenny heard a motor start up. The white van pulled out of the parking lot and drove slowly away. She gazed after it, pushing down the apprehension that rose within her. Who would follow me? And why?

She led Dusty carefully across the icy blacktop to her car, a black Metro she’d paid for with cash—her earnings from two summers of waiting tables.

I’m cold, Miss Nickers! Dusty spoke from the back seat through chattering teeth.

Jenny turned on the heater and it sputtered to life, sending a blast of cold air into the car. She smiled at the preschooler in the rearview mirror. Can you sing the alphabet song two times in a row? When you’re done, the car will be roasty-toasty warm! Dusty obediently began to sing in a small voice. Jenny checked her watch. Six thirty. She still had time to stop for groceries on the way home. She’d hoped to spend the evening studying for midterms but Dusty’s presence changed things. She’d have to postpone her studies until he was in bed for the night.

Jenny chose a parking space close to the entrance of Fanny’s Market and turned off the motor. Cold immediately seeped into the air and she felt its chill even through her thick coat. She hurried Dusty inside where it was warm. She felt a maternal tug as she walked the aisles, Dusty asking for whatever snacks caught his eye and she replying each time with, No, sweetheart, that isn’t good for you. She handed him a box of Quaker oats to hold and he insisted the white haired figure on the front was George Washington. A smile touched Jenny’s lips as she imagined herself with a little one of her own someday. If I ever have a child,. I’ll take such good care of myself that I can’t die before he’s raised, she promised herself.

It didn't take long to gather the few items on her list and return to the car. She sang through four verses of The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round with Dusty before she made a sharp left turn onto Duffy Street, and she was home. Home was a small apartment in a complex of twenty-three units. The building was one of the oldest in Cordon, but it was located in a good neighborhood and the rent was affordable.

She fished in her purse for her key then walked up the flight of steps to Apartment 12, her young charge in tow. Irma and Cassie were at their window in Apartment 15 as Jenny knew they would be. Very little slipped by the conscientious landladies. Jenny waved and saw the wrinkled faces break into smiles.

The window slid open noisily and Irma called, Got Dusty with you tonight, have you? Hello there, young man.

Dusty waved. Hi, Miss Herman! Hi, Miss Cassie!

I think we’re in for another snowfall, Jenny said conversationally as she paused at her door to insert the key. She spoke loudly so the landladies wouldn't have to strain to hear her. Irma often took off her hearing aides early in the evening because she was afraid she'd fall asleep with them still on.

Another inch according to the weatherman, Cassie returned with a voice that cracked down the middle. If you need more blankets, come right over and get some, you hear?

Jenny acknowledged the offer with a wave. Before the women slid the window shut, she heard Cassie say, Late tonight, isn't she? Must have stopped somewhere...

Jenny smiled and let Dusty and herself into the apartment. Dusty immediately wandered toward the bedroom in search of Taffy. Jenny kept her coat on while she turned up the thermostat. The baseboard heater crackled and pinged as warmth seeped into the room. She slipped out of her street shoes and into a pair of fluffy white bedroom slippers—last year's Christmas gift from her younger sister—then headed to the kitchen. She hummed as she put together two cheese sandwiches and opened a can of green beans and a jar of peaches. It was nice to hear another voice in the apartment, even if it were a child’s. Especially a child’s, she amended.

Jenny's apartment reflected her simple tastes. Her living room contained a loveseat and recliner—items of diverse origin which, happily, coordinated reasonably well, and a floor lamp centered between them. Only one picture hung on the wall and Jenny loved it as much now as the day she’d brought it home from the yard sale. The painting depicted a flock of sheep grazing in a meadow, a brook winding through the grassy lea. In the foreground, a shepherd carried a white lamb in his arms. The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want was scripted in black letters on the lower matting. Jenny wasn’t religious, but she liked this verse from the Bible. It gave her a welcome sense of peace to think there might be a God who loved and protected her in a world that was full of sharp corners and unpredictable ends.

When the meal was ready, she called Dusty and he came on the run, making engine noises that rose and fell with the toy airplane he held in his hand. He dropped it on the floor and scrambled into the chair beside her, positioning his small frame on top of the yellow pages she had placed there on his last visit. I like cheese! he announced enthusiastically as he reached for the sandwich on his plate.

Jenny scooted his chair closer to the table. It's been a long time since lunch. You must be starving.

No sooner had they begun to eat, than Jenny’s telephone rang.

Dusty froze. His eyes held hers as if he were afraid she might disappear. Jenny’s heart went out to him. The last time he visited, his father had called demanding to know why his son was with a daycare worker instead of his mother. He didn’t live at home and was a virtual stranger to his son. Jenny wondered how he’d even known Dusty was with her. Ellen surely hadn’t told him. Jenny had never met the man, but one phone conversation with him, his gravelly voice punctuated with curses, had been enough to make her wary of him. She checked the caller ID and flashed Dusty a reassuring smile. It’s my father, she said, and raised the phone to her ear.

Jenny was surprised to hear from the senator on a weeknight. He typically waited for weekends when he had more time at his leisure. Hi, Dad! she said, and took a bite of her sandwich.

The senator returned her greeting, then wasted no time coming to the point of his call. I need to tell you about a few changes in the works, Jenny. If you aren’t already sitting down, you might want to find a chair. His voice carried no trace of alarm, but a wave of apprehension swept through her all the same.

He continued. I’m moving you into a duplex several miles from where you are now. The name of the place is Edgewood Estates and by the time you get off work tomorrow the movers will have your belongings situated there.

Jenny’s sandwich slipped from her hand. Moving? To a retirement community? She knew the place. It retained a small staff to assist residents with around-the-clock care. She listened in shocked silence as her father continued in his typical, unruffled manner. I know how sudden this is, Jen, but please hear me out. He paused. I’ve received threats. They may mean nothing, he added quickly, but I won't take chances. I’m instating a few precautionary measures for both you and your sister.

Jenny struggled to assemble her thoughts. Threats? Dad—

One more thing. I’ve hired bodyguards for you and Amy. Yours will be waiting for you in the lobby at Edgewood when you get off work tomorrow. Mr. Schwartz will reside in the adjoining side of your duplex and accompany you any time you go out—to class, work, shopping—anywhere.

Jenny sat dazed, uncomprehending. Certainly she had known the senator had enemies—probably every politician had a few—but he was in danger? Not her father! And he’d hired bodyguards for her and Amy? Jenny blanched. Were they in danger? The knot in her stomach grew.

When the conversation ended, Jenny replaced the phone in slow motion. Dusty’s eyes were riveted to her face. Is your daddy nice?

She looked at Dusty’s plate and saw he had barely touched his food. She pushed away the feeling of dread that crept over her and flashed him a smile. He’s very nice, she assured him.

Do you know what I’m going to do with my peaches after I eat my sandwich? She nudged the bowl of sliced fruit with her index finger. I’m going to pop them on top of my ice cream for dessert. Should I do the same with my green beans? She made a face and Dusty giggled.

Beans are icky in ice cream. He picked up his sandwich and took a generous bite.

Jenny finished dinner deep in thought. She gave distracted responses to Dusty’s steady stream of chatter as a multitude of questions ran helter-skelter through her mind. The thought of moving from her apartment where everything was comfortable and familiar unsettled her. Edgewood Estates would surely feel like a prison, complete with a security gate to let her in and out. She wondered how her father had managed to get her into the retirement complex under such conditions, and how long she would have to stay. What kind of threats had he received? She'd been too stunned by his call to ask questions.

She put her dishes into the sink, made up a bed for Dusty on the couch, and tucked him in for the night. It warmed her to know the little boy was safe and comfortable while he was here. She could only guess how things were for him at home. Dusty hugged Taffy to his chest and wriggled into a comfortable position. Would you like a story? Jenny asked. She set a cup of water on the table where he could reach it if he got thirsty during the night.

Yes, Miss Nickers, he responded, already closing his eyes. After the song.

Jenny sat down beside him on the edge of the sofa and softly sang the lullaby she always sang to him—the lullaby she sometimes sang to herself for comfort.

Or to remember.

Rock-a-bye baby in the treetop

When the wind blows the cradle will rock.

Softly my darling, gently my dear.

Safe in my arms, you’ve nothing to fear.

Jenny’s mother had first sung the lullaby to her, substituting her own words for those of the traditional verse. Although Jenny had no remembrance of the event, her mother said that when Jenny was a toddler and heard the words when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all, she had burst into tears. So Jenny’s mother had revised the words on the spot. Jenny reflected now that as it turned out, her childish fears had materialized. For when her mother died, the bough that held Jenny had indeed broken, the cradle had fallen, and Jenny had come down...

Dusty’s eyelids fluttered open. Can we play Simon Says?

Jenny stroked his soft forehead and smiled. Of all the children in the daycare, none were as gentle and sweet tempered as Dusty. Not tonight, sweet pea. It’s past your bedtime.

I don’t have a bedtime at home, he countered, struggling to keep his eyes open. I sleep on the floor if I forget to go to bed.

A pang of sadness touched Jenny's heart. Was the child left to fend for himself at just four years of age? Her eyes moved to the picture on the adjoining wall. The lamb looked so tranquil nestled in the arms of the shepherd. Can anyone truly know that kind of peace? Jenny wondered.

She told Dusty the story of the three little pigs, kissed him good night, and turned out the light. He was already asleep when she tiptoed from the room to begin packing.

Chapter 2

The muted glow of a winter sunrise filtered through Jenny’s bedroom window and penetrated the misty shroud of her dreams. She awoke with a start, her heart pounding. Shivering, she pulled her flannel quilt snugly around her chin and tucked her feet in close to her body. She had dreamed of her father. He was fleeing from a black shadow that pursued him doggedly through deserted streets and murky corridors. She had blindly chased after him, her faceless bodyguard never far behind. Jenny was unable to make out the bodyguard’s features until the end of the dream when he had suddenly materialized from the haze—a massive shape with huge arms and a grizzly beard.

In the light of dawn, the images faded quickly and Jenny was able to smile at the foolish dream and the fear it had evoked in her. She sat up and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. Her eyes immediately focused on a heap at the foot of the bed. Dusty! Jenny rose, pulled on her bathrobe and scooped up the sleeping boy. As she did so, Taffy dropped from his blankets. Dusty’s eyes blinked open and he gave a muffled cry as he reached for the stuffed dog. Jenny plucked it from the floor and handed it to him.

Morning, sweet pea. How’d you sleep?

Dusty drew out a slow yawn then scrambled from her arms. He pointed to Jenny’s suitcase and boxes piled by the bedroom door. Are you going on a plane? He climbed on top of a suitcase and straddled it like a horse. Giddy-up! he called as he kicked it with the heels of his bare feet.

Jenny frowned as she thought of what the day held. I’m moving.

Dusty grew stock-still. He stared at her.

She scooped him into her arms for the second time that morning. Not far, she said. I’ll still see you every day at Bitty Buttons, same as always. I hope you’ll visit me at my new place whenever your mamma is—sick.

Dusty immediately broke into a smile and squirmed from her arms, inquiring about breakfast as he raced toward the kitchen. Jenny glanced at the clock. She’d have to rush to get them both ready and out the door on time this morning.

A white puff of air marked her breath and she paused at the thermostat to turn on the heat. She typically waited until evening in order to conserve energy, but she worried that Dusty might catch cold if she didn’t break from routine. She poured the preschooler a bowl of Cheerios and gave him a glass of orange juice at the kitchen table, then returned to her bedroom to dress for the day. She brushed her thick, below-the-waist hair into its usual style—a braid which she looped several times and secured with a wide clip so that it hung just above her shoulders.

I spilled my juice, Miss Nickers! Dusty began to whimper.

Jenny took her purse from the peg inside her closet and hurried to the kitchen, snatching a dishrag from the counter on her way to the table. Tears rolled from Dusty’s eyes. He pointed to a puddle of orange juice on the floor by his chair. I didn’t mean to.

I spill mine sometimes too, Jenny said, stopping to plant a kiss on his wet cheek.

Dusty dimpled. That’s funny, isn’t it?

Jenny grinned back at him and mopped up the mess with the dishrag. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Dusty, run to the bathroom and wash your hands. We have to scoot or we’ll be late. She tossed the dishrag into the sink.

Dusty took her at her word and nearly flew down the hall to the bathroom. His clothes were rumpled from having slept in them and Jenny made a mental note to pick up an outfit or two in his size to keep on hand for last-minute sleepovers. She put an English muffin into the toaster and retrieved her purse from the counter. Dusty came on the run, Taffy in one hand, his jacket in the other. She plucked the toy from his arms as she propelled him toward the door. Taffy stays here, sweet pea. We don’t want her to run away.

Dusty looked up at her pleadingly. I’ll hold her real tight.

Jenny pulled his jacket over his shoulders with her free hand. Okay, she relented, but just this once. She turned off the heat and snatched her partially-toasted English muffin from the toaster, wrapping it in a paper towel as she hurried Dusty from the apartment.

They left fresh footprints in the light dusting of snow as they made their way to Apartment 15. Irma opened the door before Jenny had a chance to ring the bell. Come in, child, she croaked hoarsely, it's the North Pole outside. She took Dusty’s hand and led him inside. When are you coming over to play again, young man? Several times in the past, the landladies had watched Dusty while Jenny ran errands or studied.

Dusty looked at Jenny. Can I play with Miss Herman?

Not today, sweetheart. She turned to Irma. We’re running late this morning, Irma, but I had to tell you I'm moving out of my apartment today. She hated dropping a bombshell on her landladies this way. Irma and Cassie were like family—a sentiment she felt sure went both ways.

Cassie came into the room and stood beside Irma. Moving? she repeated. She and Irma exchanged worried looks.

My father called last night, and he’s already arranged everything. Jenny saw confusion in their faces and hurried on. It’s complicated, but I’m only moving across town. I’m truly sorry to spring this on you. I’ll mail you next month's rent since I wasn't able to give thirty days’ notice. If she had more time, she might try to explain, but she couldn’t linger this morning. She handed Irma her apartment keys, and planted a kiss first on Irma's wrinkled cheek, then Cassie's. Dusty zipped past them on the heels of a