Visions of the Dark

CHAPTER 1

Abby Clark woke up to find herself lying on the forest floor. Disoriented and frightened, she lay stock still looking up through the branches of the trees. The autumn sun cast a golden glow on the forest. Each leaf seems to be lit from within. As she sat up, she recognized the woods on her Midwestern farm. Panic set in when she realized how she came to be there. A sound between a sob and a scream reached her mouth, but was restrained by horror. She could think of only one reason to explain why she blacked out on her daily walk. Her spells were back. That her lifelong nightmare might resume after a nine year reprieve seemed incomprehensible. Rising to her feet, she looked around for her dog, Freebie. He was nowhere to be seen. She started back to the house.

Abby had lived on the farm most of her life. She knew the contours of its hills like the curves of a lover’s back. The creek that ran through the woods created a narrow band of wildlife habitat for a mile or so until it reached the end of her neighbor’s farm. It all used to belong to her family: the fields, the woods, the enduring little creek. Most of it had been sold, except for a modest twenty-five acres Abby had managed to cling to.

Nature was the sole nurturing force in her existence. She noticed every subtle transition in her world as the seasons changed, the gardens grew, and the birds played out their cyclic course. Yet, no matter how much nature surrounded her, it never filled the void in her chest she feared would consume her. Her daily walks eased her sense of isolation, even if they were only outside her back yard. Then, for those moments, the feeling of suffocation released its grip. She stopped as she came to the creek, and studied the deer tracks freshly made that morning. On an ordinary day, she would have smiled. Deer were magical creatures to her. On this day, there was no magic in the woods, only a foreboding that nearly paralyzed her. She negotiated the flat stones at the crossing and hurried along the path.

Freebie came bounding out of the brush. His long, shaggy coat was dotted with cockleburs from his foray into the undergrowth. He had been rescued from the animal hospital where Abby worked as a veterinary technician. The dog ran around her looking for attention. Abby was too disturbed by the shockwaves in her head to notice. She wondered how she would cope. With her parents dead and her husband gone, she was alone with the mysterious condition the doctors seemed unable to diagnose.

A breeze came up. Yellow leaves tumbled to the ground like confetti. It was exactly like the day she and her ex-husband, Joel, had gotten married, twelve years ago. Back then she believed the leaves falling around them were a good omen, as if nature was blessing their wedding. Now she knew it wasn’t a blessing, but it had been an omen, a bad one.

She could see the gate that led into the back yard up ahead. The thought of the long night she faced—prattling TV shows turned on to fill the silence—made her stomach churn. It only reminded her that nothing in her life ever changed, at least not for the better. The distant, familiar roar of a motorcycle reprieved her. She reached the gate and entered the yard just as the bike pulled into the driveway that ran alongside the old farmhouse. She had forgotten it was Friday, Chopper’s night.

Hey, Ab, he said as he kicked the stand down on his battered Harley. He brushed the dust from his jeans.

I forgot it was Friday, she said.

I see where I stand with you.

I lost time again.

No, I left work early, said Chopper. I got into it with some fuckhead. If that guy knew so much about cars, why didn’t he just fix it himself? Anyway, the guy pissed me off, so I told Dan I had something to do and left. Let the guy wait ‘til Monday to pick up his car.

You don’t understand. I woke up on the path, lying on the path. I don’t remember how I got there. I think I had a spell, just now in the woods.

A spell. Yeah, well, you ought to be used to that. You had them your whole life.

I have not, she said with impatience. I haven’t had one in years.

Really. What about that day I come in and you didn’t move for like five minutes?

I must have been day-dreaming or something.

Yeah, or something. And what about the time last winter I chased the horses around the yard when they got out. You were just standing in the barn door staring into space.

I accidentally left the gate open, that’s all. You’d tell me if you saw me have one, wouldn’t you? If I had a spell…?

I am telling you, he said. Never mind. Okay, I’ll tell you. I just wouldn’t tell anybody else about it. So what’s on the fix-it list today. The sooner I get started, the sooner I get fed.

My well pump’s been running constantly when I turn the water on. You could look at that for me, or you could paint the house, fix the rotten front porch, put on a new roof—that really needs to be done.

Right, he said. You’re a good cook, but nobody’s that good. You’d have to feed me filet mignon steak every day if I was to do all that work. A new roof? You know I’m scared of heights and that roof is high.

Yeah, sorry. Supper won’t be all that good tonight. Not even worth fixing the well pump. I forgot to go to the store this week. It’s a good thing you’re easy.

And starved. A big, old filet mignon steak would hit the spot.

Have you ever even tasted a filet mignon?

No, but I hear it’s real good. Have you?

No. It’s all dead cow, Abby said as she curled up her top lip in disgust.

I can’t afford to be fussy. I spent my last ten on gas this morning. Til I get paid tomorrow, you’re the only game in town. I’m flat broke.

You’re always broke, Chopper.

I have an excuse, he said as he unscrewed the hose next to the driveway. Ain’t like I spend it on whiskey and women—well, women I do—but I’m related to them.

How is your mom?

Not too good. I gotta take her to the clinic next week. He dragged the hose around to the back of the house. Abby followed. Sometimes, I can hear her breathing stop at night. I have to go and check to make sure she’s still alive.

He tried to open the cellar doors. They were locked from the inside.

Hey, Abby. Go downstairs and open these doors. I need to get something from the shed back here. This won’t take long to fix. The pump’s prob’ly just water-logged. She watched him walk towards the shed. He was almost handsome in a seedy way: thin, wiry, his hair was dirty blonde and always in need of a haircut. His brown eyes were set a little too close. He moved with a cockiness that bordered on defiance. Abby and Chopper had known each other since grade school. He was the fatherless, welfare kid. She was the town pariah, even as a child. Her mother had forbidden their friendship, calling Chopper white trash. You can judge person’s character by the company they keep, Abby’s mother always said. Better no friends than the wrong ones. Because of her spells, no friends had been Abby’s only option. Her mother kept Abby isolated. Chopper was her secret disobedience. When the teasing at school was too much for Abby, Chopper did what he had to do to stop it, even if it meant giving someone a good, hard punch, even if it meant being labeled a trouble-maker. After Chopper dropped out of high school to go to work, he took his lunch late every day so he could give Abby a ride home from school. Her mother never knew she hadn’t taken the bus. She felt secure when Chopper was around. To the outside world, there was no reason why they shouldn’t be lovers. Abby only had to look at his hands to remind her of why she would never let him touch her. His hands were stained with grease, his fingernails were perpetually dirty. His clothes were never really clean. Even when he cleaned up, there was a musty smell that never quite went away. His lack of education blared like a trumpet every time he opened his mouth, Abby felt uncomfortable being seen with him in public. She was ashamed of the way she felt. People still looked at them as they had in high school—and in reality—little had changed for either of them. In the small town of Sycamore, where they lived, it was a choice between Chopper and no man. Abby had chosen the latter. But he was her friend, her only friend. He could fix nearly anything. He made her laugh. On Friday nights when the house took on the stillness and dimensions of a tomb, he was there to break the silence.

Chopper walked out of the shed carrying a pump. He turned it over in his hand studying its potential as he walked towards the house.

I remembered seeing this in there, he said. Always thought it might come in handy. He looked up. Hey, I thought you was going to open them doors for me. She stood at the corner of the house still preoccupied. This ought to work, if I can get it running. You know, Ab, these cellar doors are just about rotted out. You need to get some of those metal ones. I ain’t a carpenter, but I could prob’ly manage to put something like that on here for you.

Yeah. I’ll put that on the list. That would be the 10,000th project I can’t afford. I’ll go unlock those doors.

Abby turned the knob on the back door and stepped into the old farmhouse kitchen. The wood beams in the ceiling were well over a century old. The cobwebs that were tucked in each corner looked like bits of lace. The window glass in the breakfast bay had bubbles, a testament to its longevity. On the wall opposite the sink sat a massive iron rack displaying her great-grandmother’s collection of pewter pitchers and jugs. The room had a patina like lustrous silver. The steps to the cellar were grooved from wear and treacherous in the dim light. She held onto the pipe handrail as she descended, finding the pull chains on the bare light bulbs below, yanking each one in succession until she reached the outside doors. As she slid the bolt that served as a lock, Chopper yanked the right side open sending chips of paint and rotting wood raining down on Abby’s head.

Damn it, Chopper! He looked down on her as she shook the debris from her hair.

Shit, he said. I should have warned you I was gonna do that.

That’s okay. I needed to wash my hair anyway. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re done.

Chopper came up from the cellar a half an hour later covered with cobwebs and grime.

What took you so long? Abby said. I thought my grandfather’s ghost got you.

The stupid pump wouldn’t stay running. Remind me to throw it away when I’m done.

He opened the refrigerator, and looked at its contents with a frown.

I wish you ate meat. You feed those dumb cats meat, and they can’t fix your car.

She glared at him as she opened a can of cat food, and plopped it into a dish for the tabby wound around her leg.

Are you going to leave that refrigerator door open all night? she said. And I don’t appreciate you poking around my food after you just worked in the filthy basement.

I forgot. I’m used to being dirty. He stepped outside to brush off his clothes.

You need to wash your hands, too, she said as he came back in.

I wash my hands, he said. I know you don’t think I do, but grease don’t come off.

She shoved a bar of soap at him. Try this. It’s called soap.

He washed his hands. I hear a grump in your voice. I am working for my supper. I don’t need attitude. I had that at work already today.

I hardly think draining a water tank qualifies as work, said Abby.

Yeah? It got a little more involved than that. Besides, it’s my expertise you’re cooking for. This is fix-and-feed night. Abby on Friday. Lanette on Saturdays. That’s fix-and-fuck night.

Abby shook her head. Cheesy scrambled eggs, she said. Take it or leave it.

Take it. I’ll get the stuff out. He opened the refrigerator, and began setting ingredients on the counter.

You come over here for food on Fridays and Lanette Bailey’s for sex on Saturdays. That’s not right. Abby pulled out a frying pan, and flipped a chunk of butter into it.

I’d be happy to consolidate, said Chopper. But you won’t have sex with me, and Lanette can’t cook worth a shit. I’m forced to jump back and forth.

Lanette Bailey is ten years older than we are. What are you doing with her?

She’s only seven years older than me. Don’t get all high and mighty. She needs shit done, too. There’s not too many decent women—hell, too many women, decent or not—that would be willing to have sex with someone…someone like me.

Abby felt a pang of guilt for pointing out his situation. Chopper’s honesty reflected her own dismal social life.

At least you have somebody, she said. I’m hopeless.

Yeah. This town’s not too great for people looking for someone, ‘specially people like us. Don’t give me that look. We both got reputations and pasts we ain’t never gonna live down, lest not around here. Lanette’s a nice lady. I’m lucky she’ll have me.

Abby mixed the eggs and cheese and milk in a bowl, and poured the mixture into the buttered pan. Chopper peeked into the living room.

No, she said. I still didn’t get a satellite dish. I’m not going to waste my money on some stupid TV shows. I rented a movie I haven’t watched yet. Wednesday was dollar day at Video Village. Could you put the bread in the toaster? I hope it’s not moldy.

A little mold’s good for you, he said as he took the bread out of the breadbox. Dollar day? What movie is it? It better not be some chick-flick.

"Did I say you had to watch it? It’s called The Women."

Unless the word horny’s in there somewhere, I’ll take a pass.

They don’t rent porno movies for a dollar, Abby said. Not that I’ve ever rented one.

I’m surprised you rented a dollar movie ‘cause you’re tighter than a rusty lug nut. I know you still got some of the money from selling off farmland. Why don’t you give yourself a break sometime? Take a vacation, buy a new car, or even a used car.

You know Joel took half of that money. Chopper, I have no backup in this world; no husband, no family, no one to help me if I need it. This falling-down house is what’s left of my inheritance and it costs a fortune to heat in the winter. Besides anything could happen with my job. Dr. Jonas is old. He could retire, or die, or fire me if I start acting weird again. Get the plates and forks.

Jonas would never fire you, he said. Nobody’s better with animals than you.

It doesn’t matter. Anything could happen. I still have no one to rely on but myself.

Chopper pulled two plates from the cabinet, and looked out the window over the sink.

You’d have more money if you didn’t feed every wild cat in the county.

It’s the first phase of my plan to become the crazy lady who lives in an old house with fifty cats.

I wish I could save some money, but I couldn’t bail a dog out of the pound. I spend every dime I make. Ma’s medicine alone costs over five hundred dollars a month. And I don’t know what’ll happen to Debby if Ma dies. I can’t stand thinking about her in one of them state homes. I don’t know what I’d do with her.

I believe the universe looks out for people like your sister, Chopper. In a way, I envy her. She doesn’t know how precarious her life really is. The eggs are done. Grab the toast and butter.

After supper, Chopper finished draining the water tank and took the pump back to the shed.

He closed the cellar doors as Abby watched him from the garden wall.

Don’t forget to lock them doors, he said. One day this week I’ll get out that old chainsaw and cut up some firewood for you. You’ll be needing a few logs for your Halloween bonfire.

Halloween is on a Friday this year. Are you going to join me this time?

Chopper shook his head. Nope. That’s one Friday I won’t be here.

But you always come over on Friday. Come on. It’ll be fun.

Sorry. You know I don’t believe in that shit. Or maybe I believe in it too much.

Okay. Be that way, but I have to do it. Halloween bonfires are a part of my heritage.

You tell me that every year. I don’t know where you came up with that one. I’ll tell you this, I plan on spending this and every Halloween sitting in a bar instead of sitting by that bonfire with you. I don’t want to stir up one of those spooky, dead people scattered in your woods.

CHAPTER 2

First light was only a pink glow when Abby went out to feed her horses the next morning. It had gotten unseasonably cold in the night. A big gray and white cat defended a half-eaten chipmunk from a mob of milling cats as Abby looked down at the back porch steps.

Bob, she said with disgust. You could at least eat the whole thing and not tease the ferals. She opened the screen door. Cats rushed onto the porch: black cats, torties, tabbys, and grays. Every morning, every season, the strays came in from the woods, the barn, and the old tractor shed. Nearly two dozen cats scrambled for their share of the cat food Abby poured into several tin plates. She propped the screen door open with a broom so they could leave when they had finished. Abby headed for the barn. The grass was littered with dewy cobwebs, a sign of impending winter. Dylan stood by his stall door softly clicking his teeth with impatience as he waited for his food. She dumped the oats in Dylan’s feed bucket, then fed Buttons. Abby rescued Dylan from abusive owners. Neighbors asked Abby to take care of Buttons temporarily when they moved to town. It had been three years and the people still hadn’t reclaimed the black and white mini-horse.

Five tame rabbits skittered around their hutches waiting for breakfast. If nothing else, the hungry animals were an incentive for Abby to get up in the morning. It was a small thing, she felt, that justified her existence.

The phone was ringing as she opened the back door. She rushed to answer it. Her boss, Dr. Jonas, was on the line.

I was about to hang up, he said. You really need an answering machine or a cell phone, Abby. I worry about you out there all alone.

I was outside in the barn, Abby said. Is something wrong?

Sorry to call so early. I know you’re coming in to work this morning, but I just had to let you know that I saw Joel last night at the Redi-gas. Lois told me his father is very ill. I wanted to warn you. Abby thanked Dr. Jonas and hung up. Her mind raced. Joel was back. After all the terrible things he did to her when they were married, what could he do to her now? She shuddered to think.

For twenty-nine years Lois Seahorn had been the receptionist at the Oakwood Veterinary Hospital where Abby worked. Her reputation as a gossip spanned three counties. Lois knew everybody’s business. Abby played out her shallow life close to the vest. Any sign of instability on her part sent Lois into a feeding frenzy. Lois arrived at the clinic every morning promptly at 7:45 a.m.. She cleaned the counter and table in the break room, filled the printer with paper, restocked the chart notes, and made a pot of coffee all in ten minutes. The remaining five minutes were spent lecturing Abby about punctuality as she entered the door at 7:55. But that Saturday morning, Lois had something else on her mind. Before Abby had her lab coat on Lois was in the break room chattering in her conspiratorial tone.

Did you hear? Joel Light is back in town.

Yes, said Abby. I heard.

Mick was over at the house last night. He told me.

Mick Seahorn was Lois’ son. He and Joel had been friends since high school. They played football together in school, and always reconnected whenever Joel came back to Sycamore. Mick was the ideal son for Lois since he had his nose in so many people’s business. He was a supervisor at the local food-packing plant, Myco. It was the biggest employer in the area. Between his job and the bars he frequented, he supplemented Lois’ devilish talent for meddling.

Well? Lois said. Doesn’t that worry you?

How does that concern me? He’s been out of my life for years.

Maybe, but that little weasel is always up to something.

I don’t know, Lois. Maybe he’s changed, been born again, acquired a soul.

Lois looked at Abby over her glasses. Now tell me you really believe that. You of all people. I’m just saying, I’d watch my back if I were you.

I always watch my back.

Oh, honey, not very well.

As Abby held squalling cats and rambunctious dogs for Dr. Jonas, there was a pounding in her head.

Are you feeling alright, Abby? Dr. Jonas said. You seem a little distracted this morning. Are you worried about Joel?

No. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep very well. She didn’t tell him that her spells were back. Saying the words would make it more real.

On Saturdays, clinic hours ended at noon. It was a sunny, fall morning; a perfect day to ride Dylan in the woods, if she could finish her work by 12:00. The woods always quieted her anxieties. A ride was exactly what she needed. Better than therapy, she thought. At 11:45, her mood brightened when she peeked out and saw an empty waiting room. She had to water the animals in their cages once more, then she was free to leave. The sun was streaming in the window of the dog pound. Abby topped off the metal bowls as she told each animal she would see them on Monday. One frightened, half-grown pup cowered in the corner of his cage. She took him out and held him, talking softly to him as she rubbed his ear. Lois opened the door to the kennel.

There’s a patient out here, she said. A walk-in. I’ll put him in a room for you. Looks like you’re not getting out of here on time. Abby glared at the door after her.

It better not be Toby Meyer’s anal glands this close to closing, Abby muttered to herself. She pushed the door of the exam room open without looking at the man or the dog standing by the stainless steel table. She reached into the cabinet drawer to get out a pen and case form, trying not to act impatient.

Have you ever been here before, Abby asked as she bent over the counter to write.

No, actually. I’m just new in town. She was surprised to hear an English accent and looked up. The man had intelligent eyes. There was something about him that appealed to her. She caught herself staring at him a little too long.

Uh, name, she said.

Mine, or his, the patient?

Let’s start with his.

Bark.

Bark? B-A-R-K? Abby said.

Yes. I found him in a parking lot in Jonesboro, Arkansas, the man said. I asked him his name and he said Bark. Actually, it was in more of a Southern accent, like Baaark. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be smart, but I have no imagination.

Abby wasn’t sure whether to be charmed by the stranger or annoyed.

Okay. Bark. And what’s your name?

Caleb McKinney.

She decided on charmed. Wow, you’re the first Caleb I’ve ever met. She found herself staring again.

He smiled. I’m honored. I got it better than my poor brother. She named him Abel.

It sounds like your mother was biblical.

He burst forth with a half cough, half laugh.

So was mine, she said hesitantly.

My mother was a drunk of biblical proportions. But she did spend a lot of time in Christian rehab centers. He saw the disturbed look on Abby’s face. Sorry, again. Next question.

Address?

I’m not really sure of the address, said Caleb. I’m staying at Lydia’s Motel on Route 74 while I’m here.

That’s not your permanent address.

Haven’t got one right now. England, London, if you really want to get into it. Bark walked up to Abby, tail wagging, looking up at her as if she had a treat in her hand. He seems to like you. He’s not usually friendly with strangers.

She smiled at the dog with affection. You can’t get much stranger than me.

Caleb looked at her, bemused.

It’s an old joke, said Abby What about his breed, a Jack Russell mix?

The vet I took him to when I found him called him an AMB, American mixed breed.

I like that, she said. AMB it is. And what are we doing for Bark today?

Shots, tests, give him the works. He’s overdue. I drove past here and thought why not.

I’ll go get his shots set up. The doctor will be in right away. Abby stepped out of the room, and leaned back against the exam room wall. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t remember the last time a man made her heart pound. Don’t be stupid, she thought. She went into the meds room, and drew up the standard course of shots and equipment to draw blood. Dr. Jonas came into the tiny cubicle.

Abby, I thought you’d left. You go on home. I can take care of this by myself.

I can help. Really. I have time.

It’s a beautiful day. Go home, he said. Abby stood in the doorway. Go on.

She nodded, and went to the break room for her purse. She waited a few minutes, then decided to leave Have a nice weekend, she said softly as she passed the desk.

Lois poked her head out from the supply closet. What did you think of him?

Cute dog, Abby said as she rushed out the door.

Though Abby’s car was old, Chopper kept it in good running order. It started fine that morning. When she first turned the key, the engine turned over weakly, then, not at all. Caleb walked out of the clinic carrying Bark.

Sounds like your battery, he said. Shall I have a look? I’m pretty good with mechanical things.

Thanks, but I have a friend who fixes cars. I’ll see if I can get in touch with him.

Is he a friend or a boyfriend?

Just a friend, said Abby.

I’ll wait.

Abby went back inside. She called Dan’s Auto Repair where Chopper worked. There was no answer. Why don’t they ever answer the phone? Abby muttered to herself. Lois, do you think you could give me a ride home? I’ll help you finish up.

I’m already finished. Abby, I live two blocks from here. You live four miles. Besides, that man out there looks like he’s waiting to give you a ride.

I don’t know him. I don’t just go off with strangers.

Well, I can tell you who he is, Lois said. He’s a special engineer they just hired in at Myco to install some new system to fix pollution. Mick told me he’s got a Master’s degree. Why don’t you go get in that Jeep and let him give you a ride home?

Fine. If I get murdered, it’s on you. Abby stomped towards the door.

If you get laid, do I get the credit? Lois mumbled.

I can’t get him, said Abby as she walked toward the car.

Come on, then. I’ll give you a ride.

She grabbed her purse from her car. He walked around his SUV to open the passenger door for her. It was clean inside. There was a small dog bed in the back for Bark. Caleb set the dog in the Jeep, climbed in the driver’s side, and turned the key. Bark stood on the console wagging his tail at Abby.

He’s really taken a fancy to you, Caleb said. You must have a knack with animals in your job. He pulled out of the parking place. Now, which way am I going?

To the right. I live all the way out in the country. Is that all right? I don’t want to take up your time. I know how precious weekends are.

Don’t worry, he said. On the weekends my time is cheap. During the week, not so much. He pulled out of the parking lot.

So, what do you think of Lydia’s motel?

I expect a knife-wielding maniac to pull open the shower curtain any night now.

Lydia’s a little eccentric, but far from a psycho. She’s really a kind person. She brings her dogs into the clinic dressed in clothes and little hats. It makes me laugh.

She loves Bark, Caleb said. Me, she’s not too sure about.

Why didn’t you just rent an apartment at the Four Corners? They’re supposed to be nice.

But they don’t allow pets. Besides, I have no furniture. I’m only going to be here a few months. My job sends me all over the world designing and installing environmental and quality control systems. I just started at Myco this week.

I heard they were doing something there. I also heard it was going to put a lot of people out of work.

Caleb chuckled and shook his head. Rumors always precede me. I hope that doesn’t happen, but sometimes it does. It’s not really up to me. I only make recommendations. The final decision falls on the plant manager.

The plant manager at Myco is my next door neighbor, Chris Wright,

I know Chris.

I’m sure he doesn’t want to make that decision either, said Abby.

Nobody ever does. I only recommend staffing. That’s a bad part of the job.

Is there a good part? Abby said.

Yes. The systems our company installs are good for the environment, said Caleb. Myco has an antiquated computer system and old-fashioned, labor intensive quality control. Being a food processor, they have to make quality their top priority. I’m big on that.

Me too.

That’s only half the answer to your question, the good part about my job is the traveling. It’s kind of the bad part too. I have no real home. I’ve set up systems on every continent, except Africa. I’ve never been there. I’ve recently been assigned to the states. I do speak the language, despite what some people have said.

How long have you been here?

In the U.S.? Two years this time. I went to grad school here several years ago. I’ve been coming here off and on since I was a child. So you see, I’m practically a native; a native who talks funny.

Oh, stop. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. You were supposed to go right at that stop light.

No problem, he said as he pulled into a parking lot to turn around. Abby, I was wondering…

How do you know my name?

I asked the receptionist. Seems only fair. You know mine. And Bark’s.

Is that all she told you?

Well, there wasn’t a lot of time, he said. "Let’s see, you hate the color yellow, you excelled in fifth grade math, and your favorite movie is Dances with Wolves. Yes, that’s all I asked. Do you have some mysterious past?"

No. What were you wondering?

I was just wondering, since I don’t know anyone here, if you might have a drink with me some night?

I don’t drink. Her stomach flipped. Do it, she thought. Then she cowered inside. No, it would be a disaster.

Coffee, then?

I don’t drink coffee, either. She felt too warm, and wondered if her face was turning red.

You have to drink something. Milk, juice, an IV?

I don’t go out much. She opened her purse and took out her keys. She fidgeted with the little horse charm that hung on the key ring.

Stupid me, Caleb said. I never bothered to ask, are you involved with someone? I didn’t see a wedding ring.

No.

So it’s just rude Brits you don’t like.

No, I…just…it’s... She fumbled for something to say.

It’s okay, he said. It doesn’t hurt to ask.

The sudden chill in his voice made Abby uneasy. She couldn’t think of anything to say to lessen the embarrassment.

Turn down the gravel road, right there. As they drew near, she suddenly felt very ashamed of her house with its peeling paint and the rotting porch with tattered, yellow tape strung between the posts to prevent some unaware delivery person from going through the floorboards. This place is a complete mess, she thought. Just like its owner. She pointed to the overgrown driveway. Right here, Abby said. He pulled in and got out to open her door, but she flew out the passenger door, and was in front of the car before he could get half way around. He leaned against the car and looked at the house.

Is that a crime scene you’ve got going there? Caleb said. It needs a bit of fixing.

I know. I have some friends who are going to do that when they get time, Abby said quickly.

That must be nice. Having friends. In my line of work, friends are not part of the job description. Do you live here alone?

Yes. I guess you can tell. She looked away. I’m divorced. Nobody to take care of things. Well, except for friends that fix things. They just have to get to it. Anyway, thanks for the ride. Take care of Bark.

I will. It was nice meeting you, he said wistfully. Sorry about that…before.

She hurried into the back door slamming it behind her. I’m such a loser, she shouted out loud. So stupid. He was polite and smart and really cute. I could have had a date, a real date. His fingernails were even clean. What’s wrong with me?

Chopper drove Abby’s car into the driveway. She went out to meet him.

Sorry it took so long, said Chopper. Your battery was bad. I put in a new one, but that carb needed to be done, too. Long as I had the car, I rebuilt it for you. That’s what they call a lost art, rebuilding carbs. Can you take me back to my bike?

Sure. How much do I owe you? He threw the car keys to her. She got into the driver’s side.

You don’t owe me nothing, but I need to give Dan the cost of the battery. I’ll get the invoice. How’d you get home? You didn’t walk again, did you?

No. I got a ride from a man who brought his dog into the clinic, she said. He just started working at Myco putting in some new pollution system or something like that.

You didn’t know him?

No. His name was Caleb. Isn’t that a neat name? Yeah, well, I completely messed that up. He asked me…

Hold it. You took a ride home from a stranger?

He seemed okay, said Abby. He was really polite. He even opens car doors.

I’m sure many serial killers are real gentlemen. That’s dumb, Abby, and dangerous.

I guess so, but it was only dangerous to his ego. Here’s what’s dangerous, Joel is back in town.

I know, Chopper said.

You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?

I didn’t want to worry you. I was hoping he’d be gone by the time you knew he was here.

Chopper, you know nothing gets past Lois, she said. Didn’t you think she would tell me?

"Yeah. I guess I just didn’t want to be the one to tell you. All you can do is avoid him.

Don’t go to any bars and you’ll be all right. That’s where he spends his time."

Good advice. I’ll have to suspend my current bout of alcoholism until he leaves.

Did Lois tell you he’s staying at Mick’s place?

No. She didn’t mention that, said Abby. Just being in the same town Joel is in makes me feel sick; everything he put me through for all those months, and worst of all, he screamed out loud what everyone else in town whispered.

"You lost me.