Sanctuary

By Shirley Jeane Gilbert

Fearful and disillusioned, Rachel flees to a mountain community for safety and a new start. There she meets Vince, jilted and also disappointed in love. As they must learn to trust again, an entire village finds that love comes with a cost. And that cost can make all the difference.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490812984

Shirley Jeane Gilbert

From a difficult childhood to her latter years, Shirley has walked the journey of faith. She published an article in The Journal of Christian Nursing on her experience as a registered nurse in a county jail. Later she published an article in Decision Magazine on her conquest of her own latent anger. Human relationships continue to interest her and how we can learn from our mistakes.

Book preview

Prologue

R achel trembled and held her hand to her mouth. Phillip’s rage terrified her. Like a wild beast he hurled himself at the door. He screamed at her again, and she cringed as the door creaked on its hinges. He could crash into the room any moment now.

Rachel, I’m no fool. I know you’re in there. Open the door.

Rachel backed away and ran to the bedroom. She yanked open drawers, spilling their contents. What’s the use? He knows I’m here. She stuffed socks and underwear into a canvas bag until they caught in the zipper. In panic she tossed the bag aside.

A thought made her body go limp. Her mother sided with Phillip in this dispute, and he would weasel the new address from her. Lenore ranted for two hours when Rachel broke the engagement. She agreed to forward the rest of Rachel’s clothes, but even then Rachel wondered if she would keep her word.

Suddenly Rachel’s chest heaved, and she gasped for air. Another panic attack threatened to stifle her escape. Just then Phillip threw his bulk again at the door. For a moment she froze. Afraid now for her life, she sprang back into action.

As she swept cosmetics into her handbag, a new revelation made her pause. Her mother must have told Philip he could find her here. After all, she had abandoned this apartment weeks ago, right after the break-in. Her lip quivered. Get a hold of yourself. This is no time to fall apart.

That door would take little more. If he forced his way in he could kill her. Yes, he’s capable of it, she thought. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

In an urge to survive she teetered on the commode. Her hands scrabbled for the window. Suddenly one foot slipped, and she moaned when she saw the screws. After the burglary she had screwed the window shut.

Another outburst from Phillip gave her an odd sense of pity. She scooted from her perch and ran to the kitchen to shuffle through drawers for a screwdriver.

Rachel held her breath as she struggled to release the window. What if Phillip gave up at the front door and found her car in the back alley? At that instant quiet descended upon the front porch.

In a moment Phillip tapped on the door. Rachel, this is crazy. We’re acting like a couple of kids. When she didn’t answer, he rattled the doorknob. Listen, let me in. We need to talk.

At last the screws fell into the palm of her hand. Sweat seeped from her armpits as she slid the bag out the window. Her body contorted to sidle over the ledge. One foot touched the ground and twisted under her weight. She almost screamed. Easy, she told herself. Just get out of here.

The Toyota sputtered. Don’t let that weak battery give out now! She grasped the wheel and drove from the alley through a maze of side streets. A quick look at the rearview mirror reassured her. No sign of Phillip. Praise God!

Traffic crawled as usual on the freeways. Finally she reached the foothills and began the climb to Idyllhaven. Repeatedly she glanced at the mirror for signs of Phillip’s Buick behind her. She wondered if she could feel free ever again.

Her thoughts drifted back to her first date with Phillip. Articulate and absurdly handsome, he wowed her mother from the moment she saw him.

Rachel remembered her own reservations. In his dark suit he looked too perfect, too good to be true. At dinner his heady conversation made her uneasy. In a grandiose effort to impress her, he bragged of his position in his father’s law firm. She remembered feeling ill at ease, as though she must mind her manners.

For the hundredth time she asked herself why she continued to see him. Now she felt shame at her weakness. His realm of wealth and power drew her like a siren. Only later did she see his cruelty and lack of integrity.

She shivered and reached for her cell phone. Now she had come halfway up the mountain, and the phone responded with static. She frowned. She would have to find a public telephone, if such a thing still existed.

Pine trees lined the highway on either side, and the prospect of finding one looked slim. She almost missed the abandoned eatery tucked among the shadows of a grove on her right. Dry needles covered the roof of the booth in front. With luck the telephone still worked.

To her surprise a masculine voice answered. Vince Cavalieri.

Rachel stammered. Excuse me. I’m trying to reach Samantha Jolie.

I don’t know where she is just now. Care to leave a message?

Yes, thanks. This is Rachel Fontaine. Please tell her I’m arriving today as planned.

A pause followed. Really? Okay, I’ll let her know.

Confusion gripped Rachel as she set the telephone back in place. She stuck her hands in her pocket and strolled to the edge of a precipice to look at the view. It felt good to stretch her legs. Wisps of clouds floated before her as she looked into the abyss below. She kept hearing the man’s voice. It sounded oddly familiar and yet far away.

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Though he had made this climb numerous times, Vince panted from the effort. The rigor of the hike tore at his lungs. Just ahead Louie turned and grinned, his pale lips tight over his teeth.

Hey, Vince, what’s the matter? Out of shape?

In the old days he would have laughed at Louie’s ribbing. Now Vince ignored the remark.

A gust of cold wind swept across the mountain. Today the thin air smothered Vince. He stared at Louie’s back. Just the sight of him sapped his strength.

Louie slipped on the narrow ledge and almost lost his balance. From instinct Vince grabbed his arm to steady him.

Thanks, old buddy. Louie stopped and studied him. How many times have we done this trail together? I’ve lost track.

Vince fought an impulse to hit him. I think you forget a lot of things.

What’s bugging you? You didn’t have to come.

Again the wind whistled through the pass and threatened to topple them. Nearby an eagle soared almost in reach. For a moment Vince clung to an outcrop of rock. It shifted under his weight, and he released it at once. A landslide could wipe them off the face of the mountain.

Despite the cold Vince felt dots of sweat on his upper lip. Why’d you mess around with Teri? I thought we were friends.

Louie flushed and turned away. So who told you? He climbed again, picking up his pace.

Vince grabbed his arm. Wait a minute. Do you think I didn’t see what was going on?

Louie shrugged. I was just a toy.

Vince yanked on Louie’s collar and swung him around. Her talk about the ice show didn’t fool me. She walked out on me because of you.

Listen, Vince, she can really skate. They took her on, didn’t they? Louie swallowed. Besides, you don’t see her hanging around here.

He shoved Vince and pulled away. Teri’s not worth crying over. You might as well know. She came after me.

She started it? That’s a laugh. Vince lunged at him. You scumbag! That offer from the scout unhinged her. You saw your chance.

Another gust almost knocked them off their feet. This time Louie steadied Vince and slid his knapsack off to crouch beside him. We’d better wait it out. The wind is getting fierce.

Vince’s knees gave out, and he sank down beside him. He stared into space. Teri would never betray him. He had worshipped her since grade school.

Louie threw a pebble into the canyon below. You never had girls ignore you. They always licked your shoes. He grimaced. Sure, Teri got my attention. She fawned over me, a nobody.

For a moment he hesitated. I think I was a way out, Vince. She didn’t want to marry you.

Vince jolted upright in bed. Drenched in sweat he clutched at the sheets. As always the nightmare drained him. Irretrievable and his constant accuser, Louie loomed over Vince like a vampire. He threatened to suck the life from him. Vince sank his face into his pillow to stifle a scream.

Chapter 1

R achel stared at the drawn curtains and took a deep breath. The old house looked forbidding. With Phillip in pursuit she dared not turn back. Door chimes echoed inside, but the place looked deserted.

When no one responded, she walked to the edge of the porch and peered around the corner. Bright sun reflected off a mound of sand in the backyard. She squinted to observe the scene. Suddenly, like a thunderclap, a crash exploded the silence. Rachel jumped and held her hands to her ears. Her jarred senses weakened her resolve, but only for a moment. Jays still scattered from the pines while the sound echoed through the forest.

She set her jaw and swung her bag over her shoulder. She had no intention of retreating. Here she faced the unknown, but to yield to Phillip’s demands threatened her very life. Nothing would deter her, she decided, especially this little old man in dirty overalls.

He flung rusty pipes into a pickup and whistled under his breath. He scarcely looked up. She ain’t home, lady. She’s staying in the village.

Rachel studied the bearded man as he bent over his work. He looked as ancient as Santa Claus, but he heaved the pipes into the truck like tinker toys.

These city folks are all the same, he said. They got to have their comforts.

He straightened and pulled a soiled bandana from a rear pocket. Well, what’re you staring at? I said Mrs. Jolie’s not here. He honked into the kerchief. I’m not about to take charge of decorating too.

Excuse me, I thought she expected me. I’m—

Never mind that. Mac Osborne frowned at her valise. You can pack them samples home. She won’t be around for a while.

Rachel stood her ground and stared at the pipes. What are you up to? Those things look rusty.

Why do you think we’re taking ’em out? The weather’s hard on things up here. Mac kicked a pipe and pointed his thumb at the house. This here’s only half the place it was. The Thatchers were the richest folks on the hill. They kept things up nice. Never should’ve sold out to them doctors.

He scratched his head and frowned at her. Say, you hard of hearing? I got work to do. Can’t be bothered with some young chit.

Rachel liked this grouch in spite of herself. He reminded her of her grandfather, whose bursts of temper fooled no one. She could always melt his heart with a smile. Gramps was long gone now, and she missed him.

She turned to look at a bed of impatiens in riotous bloom. Obviously they had received loving care, and the pinks and reds brightened her spirits.

Are these your work? They’re lovely.

The corners of Mac’s mouth turned up. He couldn’t help himself. This prissy young thing had hit on his favorite subject.

Well, if you like flowers, take a look at the pansies. He leaned to pull a weed and stuck it between his teeth. They wallow here like it was heaven. Never seen anything like it.

For the first time he looked Rachel in the face. You a mountain girl? I don’t remember seeing you before.

I’d like to be. She smiled. But Idyllhaven’s short on hospitality. I’m the new manager here.

Oh, my. Mac wiped a hand across his brow. Samantha won’t like this. She expected you next week. The place is torn up.

Didn’t she get my letter? She invited me to stay with her. Rachel glanced at the house. Several shutters hung askew. I guess I could find a room. I sort of burned my bridges behind me. She shivered at ever facing Phillip again.

Mac’s expression softened at the catch in her voice. Little lady, your new boss has a lot on her mind. Why’d you think she needs help with her tearoom?

He stole a glance behind him. It’s not that long since her husband died. He was the one who knew about business. With all her big plans, the pitiful truth is Samantha don’t know what she’s doing.

At the sound of a car engine, he looked up. Hey, here she is now. Maybe you can work something out. Mac shook his head and turned back to his work. But the plumbing’s out for now. It’ll take weeks to fix things up around here.

When a battered Plymouth careened onto the driveway, it ground to a stop beside them. Mac muttered and loped over to open the car door.

Samantha Jolie bobbed out at once. Mac, aren’t you rid of those yet? The new ones come today.

Now, Samantha, don’t fret yourself. My crew’s here first thing tomorrow.

Still pretty in her sixties, Samantha blew a wisp of yellow hair from her eyes and winked at Rachel. What would these men do without us?

Mac grunted and ambled off rattling his wheelbarrow.

Anxiety creased her forehead as Samantha watched him leave. I hope he’s capable. She sighed and turned to Rachel. My husband trusted him implicitly. I suppose I must too. My dear, I don’t believe we’ve met.

Rachel held out her hand. Rachel Fontaine, Mrs. Jolie. I’m the manager your agency hired. Didn’t you get my letter?

Well, this is a surprise. I didn’t expect you so soon. Sometimes the mail is slow. Samantha dimpled. I’m glad you’re here just the same. Come on in.

She spoke over her shoulder as she led the way up the back steps. In the past my husband took care of hiring, but I’m sure the agency made a fine choice. A pretty girl will be an asset.

Suddenly Samantha frowned. But do you know figures? I mean have you worked with accounts? Again she dimpled. Of course you have, or you wouldn’t be here, would you?

Rachel followed her into the large kitchen and saw a vintage stove near the door. Opposite stood a Sears refrigerator, yellowed with age. Faded blue paper lined the walls.

Dismayed with what she saw, Rachel took heart when she noticed the beams in the ceiling. Are those cedar? They’re beautiful.

Harold always said the place was built well. He polished those up first thing. Samantha threw her purse down.

In the breakfast nook Rachel gasped at the view from the bay windows. Above the timberline a wall of granite reached for the clouds. Fingers of snow still clung to the top. "You must have