It probably would have been smarter to have overnighted along the way, but once she’d made the decision to come to her big brother Michael’s secluded Blue Ridge Mountain cabin she hadn’t wanted to stop until she’d reached its comforting safety. She’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind.
“No such luck,” she muttered, scooting over to the edge of the bed and planting her feet firmly on the pine floor. The sound of her stomach growling reminded her of the fact that she’d gone to bed without eating.
She’d just finished making herself a quick salami sandwich from the food she’d brought with her when she caught sight of the cardboard carton Michael and his wife, Brett, had given her right before Gaylynn had left their wedding reception in Chicago the night before.
Balancing her lunch on top of the cardboard carton, Gaylynn carried everything outside to carefully plunk herself down on the large wooden rocking chair. Located on the sunny side of the covered front porch, the old-fashioned rocking chair was just begging for someone to occupy it. This was the kind of chair one could wile away the hours in, Gaylynn decided as she set aside the mystery package from her brother in favor of taking a bite out of her sandwich.
Spring came sooner this far south. At home the trees were still bare, but here they were proudly budding new leaves, creating a green tracery against the sky. A slight rustling in the underbrush got her attention. The noise was caused by a cat. A few seconds later two kittens skittered out. The feline family looked scared and hungry, very hungry.
Talking softly, Gaylynn removed some of the salami from her sandwich and, slowly going down the steps, offered it to the mama cat and her two kittens. Despite her careful movement, the animals were spooked and scurried back into the woods.
Gaylynn felt the sting of unexpected tears. She could empathize and how. She knew the feeling well. She was as spooked as those wild cats were. Scared to the bone. So frightened that the first thing you did was run, and ask questions later.
To her relief, she saw that the mother cat and her two kittens hadn’t gone far into the woods. They were warily peering out at her. Kneeling down, Gaylynn quickly shredded the salami into bite-size pieces for them before leaving the meat in a spot where the cats could see and smell it.
Moving back to the front porch, she was glad to see the feline family eventually dash out and gulp down the food. The little calico kitten was the runt, and barely got a bite or two. The mother was very thin and appeared to be a Siamese. The other kitten was cream colored.
Once the food was gone, they all dashed back into the safety of the woods. They clearly felt safer away from people. At the moment, Gaylynn felt exactly the same way.
Sitting in the rocking chair, she absently picked up the cardboard carton her brother had given her, claiming it held “a little something from the Old Country to bring you luck.”
Her big brother had never been one to believe in luck before, despite their shared Rom heritage. Her father, a Hungarian Rom, was another story, however. Konrad Janos had taught her many good-luck charms over the years. He’d even insisted she take his special rabbit’s foot with her for this trip.
Her father couldn’t know that there was no protection against the blind fear that welled up inside of Gaylynn. She hadn’t told either of her parents what had really happened to her the month before. She’d just said she’d needed some time off from teaching in the inner city in Chicago. Since they’d never really approved of her working in such a rough neighborhood to begin with, they’d been too relieved at her decision to question her reasons for leaving.
Despite the warm sunshine, Gaylynn shivered as the mental images insistently flashed through her mind, the same images that had haunted her nightmare—the switchblade, the terror, the suddenness of it all. She’d had no warning of danger. No premonition of what was coming.
Sure there had been trouble at the school before, but she’d been known for her determination and toughness. She’d never had anything bad happen to her. She was well-liked and respected by her students. Even so, she’d never been foolish. She knew the dangers and had taken steps to avoid trouble. Until that day.
She’d stayed late at school. She’d been alone. Her mind had been on the school talent show when she’d felt arms grabbing her as she walked out of her fourthgrade classroom into the deserted hallway. Then the knife had been at her throat. No chance to scream. No chance to protect herself. She’d felt helpless. It wasn’t a feeling she’d really ever experienced before. She’d always been the fearless one in her family.
Her assailant hadn’t been much taller than she was, and at a little over five feet, she was no giant. But he’d been incredibly strong—due no doubt to the drugs he was high on, drugs that had made him dangerously unpredictable, drugs that had turned a fourteen-yearold boy into a lethal stranger.
He’d wanted money. She’d given him what little she’d had. His hands shook. So had the long, shiny blade, pricking the smoothness of her skin and drawing blood. Gaylynn raised her hand to her throat, fingering the tiny scar that remained as she recalled the high-pitched desperation of his words.
Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. He’d shoved her against the row of metal lockers and taken off. But for one brief moment she’d seen his face. Her assailant was Duane Washington. He’d been one of her students five years ago, one of the more promising ones. She’d had high hopes for him. Those were gone now. And so was he.
Twenty-four hours after she’d been held at knifepoint, Gaylynn had gone home and turned on the fiveo’clock news to see the grizzly footage, the cameraman zooming in on the blood still darkening the street while the News team anchor’s voice-over said, “The suspect, Duane Washington, was wanted by the police on a mugging charge. He was fleeing, avoiding arrest, when he ran right into the path of an oncoming bus. Witnesses say that he died instantly.” Another close-up, this time of a covered body being carried away. Duane’s body.
The images still haunted her nightmares. The knife. The blood on the street. Duane’s white-sheeted body.
Although the attack had happened almost a month ago, Gaylynn didn’t feel she was recovering the way she should. She was still at the mercy of her emotions-primarily guilt and fear. Perhaps she’d done the wrong thing in calling the police and identifying Duane as her attacker. If she hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have been fleeing and wouldn’t have run right in front of that bus.
Then again, maybe if she’d been a better teacher, she would have seen signs much earlier that Duane was getting into trouble and she’d have been able to intervene before things had reached such a desperate point.
But there was no changing the past. The bottom line was that now Gaylynn, who had never feared traveling around the entire world on her own, was afraid to close her eyes in her own bed at night. She was paralyzed by fear—fear that she’d done the wrong thing, fear that she’d been in part to blame for Duane’s death, fear that she’d been unable to protect herself, fear that she was so vulnerable to attack, fear that she’d be attacked again.
The counselor she’d seen had told her she was suffering from post-traumatic stress. Gaylynn expected it to go away, like the flu did. But her symptoms had remained. Unable to teach as she once had, she’d left, taken a leave of absence.until she was “her old self” again, as her principal had jovially put it.
The trembling overcame her as it did whenever she thought too long about what had happened. The rocking chair moved forward and the cardboard box on her lap almost slid off. Grabbing it, she moved the package closer to her body.
“You’re safe now,” she whispered, as she had every day since the attack. She had yet to learn how to believe it.
Taking a few deep breaths, she shoved her dark thoughts aside and instead focused on undoing the cardboard flaps to finally see what her brother had packed for her. Inside she saw an intricately engraved metal box along with a letter in a spidery handwriting.
Oldest Janos son, It is time for