Just a Love Story Read online

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Cathy giggled and cringed. “She is completely incognito in our little backwater hamlet. If anyone knew the truth, Shae would be crucified in the town square, or tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail.”

  Jo frowned. “Where is this?”

  “Longleaf, right in the middle of what used to be the dense forests of Redlands County, before it was clear-cut by Knox Lumber.”

  Nodding, Jo shrugged. “I know the area, Longleaf seems to be the type of place that was sealed in amber around 1956.”

  Shae smiled. “You’re right, the town is certainly behind the times.”

  “In more ways than one,” Cathy agreed. “So, I understand your family owns a few factories.”

  “Yes, we specialize in retooling facilities to manufacture recycled plastics into building materials.”

  Cathy jumped on Jo’s words like a hawk on a field mouse. “Where are these factories?”

  “Small towns in eastern Texas and western Louisiana.” Jo seemed a bit confused by the line of questioning.

  “Can you be more specific? My husband may be looking for a job soon.”

  Shae touched Cathy’s arm. “The mill isn’t shut down yet, I don’t know what I’d do if you moved away.”

  “Oh, I can work with you no matter where we live, we’ll just send stuff back and forth via email.”

  Jo handed Cathy a card. “Have him send a resume to this address. There’s also a website where you can see positions that are open.”

  “Wow, thanks!”

  The arrival of their food put an end to the line of questioning. They’d chosen to meet at the City Hall Café and Pie Bar. Shae had a hard time resisting pie of any flavor. “Fried catfish and pickled green tomatoes.” She perused the menu with anticipation. “Can’t beat this with a stick.”

  Jo laughed. “I knew you’d be a hoot. I could tell from your writing.” Jo nibbled on a hush puppy. “So, I’m fascinated by your books, especially the male heroes. Are they based on real people and where do your ideas come from?”

  Shae found herself blushing. The woman appeared to really like her work. She felt flattered and intimidated at the same time. “Oh, my goodness. No, my characters exist only in my imagination. And the ideas? They come from everywhere – songs, movies, the newspaper, sermons – mostly from my fantasies, I guess. So, tell me about yourself.” She didn’t want to be the entire focus of the visit.

  Jo looked between Cathy and Shae. “What can I say? Overworked. Stressed.” She held up one of the books. “This is what keeps me sane.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Shae said. “You should be going out on the town all the time. You’re so pretty.” Jo reminded her of the character who played The Good Wife, lots of curly dark hair and big eyes. If this woman couldn’t get a man, there was no hope for her.

  “At least the book doesn’t snore,” Cathy chimed in, then did her best impression of Lynn’s nightly noise.

  After that, the conversation centered mostly around the characters in Shae’s books. She was humbled by how involved this woman and her other fans seemed to be with the world she’d created. In some ways she was now truly two people, Shae St. John and Jessabelle, the author.

  When the catfish was gone, they splurged on pecan pie and banana pudding. After they’d eaten their fill, Jo hugged Shae goodbye and they promised to stay in touch.

  “Well, that went well. I never thought I’d see the day you’d have groupies,” Cathy teased her. “When are you meeting someone else?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I enjoyed talking to her, but it made me feel funny.” They climbed into the car and Shae started the engine. “Now, for the second phase of our trip. Demon Road.”

  “Oooh, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” Cathy fastened her seat belt and shivered a little at the cold blast of the A/C as Shae pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

  “Don’t be afraid, scaredy-cat, it’s broad daylight. I’ll protect you.”

  “I’m not so sure Pastor Dave would approve of our going down Demon Road.”

  Shae giggled. “I doubt Pastor Dave would approve of a lot of things we do together.” Both girls dissolved into laughter. “Look, Cat, there’s the state prison.”

  “Wow, I’ve never seen it up close. I didn’t realize it was made of such red brick.”

  They both stared at the sad, intimidating structure. “They call it the Walls for those bright brick walls. Did you know more people have been executed at the death row in Huntsville than any other prison in the country?”

  “This is Texas, I’m not surprised.”

  “True,” Shae agreed. “The prisoners built the electric chair themselves and they called it Old Sparky. There are many reports of ghostly goings on within those walls.”

  Cathy grew still, then turned to Shae. “Good grief. Morbid much? Are you planning a romance with the hero being an ex-con or something?”

  “No. A prison guard, maybe.” Shae pretended to consider the possibility. “At the women’s prison.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No!” Shae swatted Cathy on the arm. “Does it sound like a Jessabelle story to you?”

  “Neither does anything inspired by Demon Road!”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” She turned on a highway leading out of town and headed southwest. “Watch and learn.” Shae winked at Cathy, then began to speak. “The name of the road is actually Bolton and it’s not really much more than a dirt lane leading to a cemetery. Just imagine if you will, that a young woman lives in a small cottage on this road. One night, there’s a knock at her door and when she opens it, there’s a man standing there.”

  “Is he sexy?”

  “Of course!” Shae made another turn, enjoying the moment. “He’s in town because his brother is about to be executed for murdering their father.”

  “What’s the hero’s name?”

  “Hmmm, Will Collins.”

  “Nice. What does he look like?”

  “Say...a young Christopher Reeve type, the way he looked in Morning Glory.”

  “Yum.” She turned toward Shae. “Better and better. I love how your mind works, what else?”

  “His brother has been in prison for almost a decade and Will knows he killed his father to protect him. The father was abusing Will.”

  “Why is Will at the heroine’s house? And what’s her name?”

  “Gee, she has to have a country name, she’s unassuming, gives him a sense of tranquility.” Shae thought another moment. “Her name’s…. No! I’ve got it, the heroine’s mother was fanciful and named her daughter something weird like Fantasia, but she goes by the simple name of Fanny.”

  “I like it!” Cathy rubbed her hands together. “And he can tease her by telling her he’s going to spank her fanny!”

  “Ha! You’re getting into this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, so why is he there? At her house?”

  Shae drove a short distance, then hit the steering wheel with her hand. “They’re originally from the area, and he intends to bury his brother in the cemetery at the end of Bolton Road. I think it’s called Martha Chapel. He’s on foot. After he checks on the plot and makes sure the grave has been dug, he walks back down the road. It’s getting dark, and he’s tired and thirsty. He stops to ask for a drink of water. And the rest, you could say, is HIS-story. Ha!”

  “Oh, I love it! When will you start this one?”

  “Soon. I have so many I want to write, I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up.” Shae put on her blinker. “We’re here,” she announced in a hushed tone.

  Cathy shuddered, looking out the window. “So, what are we supposed to see?”

  “I don’t know.” For a few moments they drove past lonely meadows and dark wooded groves. “There are a lot of tales about this place. Floating red lights seen at night. The apparition of a small boy riding a tricycle.”

  “Weird and very disturbing.” Cathy kept her eyes on the passing landscape. “Look.” She pointed
to a small cottage with a purple wisteria vine winding around the posts of the porch. “There’s Fannie’s house.”

  “Could be.” She smiled as she took everything in – the trees, the lonely surroundings, the winding dirt road before her. “I see the cemetery ahead. Do you want to stop?”

  “Not really.”

  “Oh, come on, let’s do it.” Shae pulled up next to an overgrown hurricane fence. “Doesn’t look like its frequented very often. Seems sad.”

  “And a little spooky.” Cathy reluctantly left the car to follow her friend.

  “A lot spooky, if you believe the stories told about this place.” She didn’t wait for an invitation to continue, she just kept talking. “People who visit the cemetery return to their cars and find new handprints left in the dust on their vehicles. One woman came here with a friend and they saw this old man wandering among the headstones. She didn’t really pay any attention to him, but she got a good look at his face. That night…” Shae dropped her voice to a whisper, “that night, when she stepped from the shower, the same man was standing in her bathroom. She gasped and screamed, then the guy just vanished before her eyes.”

  “Good grief.” Cathy hugged herself. “A peeping Tom’s ghost!”

  “That’s not all, another man told a tale of coming here with a friend and as they were walking through the cemetery, they were horrified to see an arm sticking up out of a grave.”

  “Oh, Shae, please.” Cathy began looking around furtively.

  “The guy went to grasp the hand sticking up out of the grave and his friend tried to stop him. He felt compelled to touch the hand, but when he did, it grabbed onto him and started pulling the hapless gentleman down toward the grave. He screamed and managed to free himself, but when he looked around there was someone standing next to his buddy. The guy darted forward to protect his pal from whomever was looming behind him, but just before he reached his friend, the stranger lifted his head and looked him in the eye. The man gasped, seeing the men were exactly the same – doppelgangers of one another. In the next second, he whirled to look at what he thought was his buddy and he’d disappeared into thin air. The frightened fellow bolted back to the car. As he neared it, he noticed handprints in the dust on the hood. When he climbed in and locked the doors, he realized his friend was dead in the back seat.”

  “Good gravy, girl. That’s horrid. You sure know how to tell a story!”

  For the next little while, they eased through the cemetery, almost as if they were afraid of disturbing the residents. When Shae had seen enough, she led Cathy back to the car. “Let’s hope when we leave, we don’t take any hitchhikers with us.”

  “Yea, we don’t need any trouble,” Cathy agreed.

  Before Shae could get her seatbelt fastened, her friend screamed.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Look.” Cathy pointed to the windshield right in front of her face. Shae stared at the glass, trying to see through the glare of the afternoon sun. “Oh, crap.”

  There was a large handprint on the glass.

  “Dang it, let’s get out of here.”

  Once she got the car started, they took off at a faster rate of speed than when they’d come in. They hadn’t gone far until Cathy’s phone rang. “Lynn,” she announced, then answered the phone to see what her husband had to say. “Hey, babe.”

  Shae kept her eyes on the road, her mind full of the day’s happenings.

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  The panic in Cathy’s voice turned Shae’s head. “Something wrong with one of your kids?” she whispered.

  Cathy shook her head. “I know, I should have told you.” She stared at the floorboard. “We’ll talk about it when I get home. Okay?”

  Once she’d hung up, there was silence in the car.

  “What’s wrong?” Shae asked.

  “Trouble’s found us, the shit has hit the fan.”

  A tingle of despair skated up Shae’s spine. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all over town. People are talking about you. They know you’re Jessabelle. They know you’ve been writing those books.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When it was over, Shae didn’t even remember making the drive from Huntsville to Longleaf. She kept imagining the worst, trying to picture what people would say, what they would think, how they would look at her.

  Cathy barely said a word, not until they crossed the bridge over Lake Sam Rayburn and drew near the end of their destination. “Shae, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

  “What am I feeling?” She swallowed a walnut sized lump in her throat. “I feel like I’m heading to the gallows. I know what’s coming. I have this incredible urge to pass through town and keep driving north. Go to where no one knows my name or my face.” Blowing out what she hoped was a cleansing breath, Shae chewed on her lower lip for a second before continuing. “But I can’t.” She laughed sadly. “I can’t. Coretta needs me. I’m all she has. I just bought a house. I have money coming in, but it’s on a sixty-day delay.” Even though the sky was clear, she could see a storm brewing, a storm that would blow her from the face of the earth if she didn’t find something to hold on to.

  “I’m so sorry. I know these people as well as you do. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “No, I know it won’t,” Shae murmured softly. She slowed to make the turn off the main highway, driving by the high school which sat right across the street from the church they both attended. The church where Shae worked. The church where she mentored the children she loved so much – Cricket, Grady, and so many others. “I know this sounds stupid, but I’m scared, Cathy.” She took a deep breath, feeling how her heart was racing. “I did this to myself, I have no one else to blame.”

  “What did you do?”

  Cathy’s question caught her a little off guard and she took a breath, trying to calm the trembling sweeping over her body. “What did I do? Well, I wrote a book containing language and sexy details that I knew would offend many of the people I’m acquainted with – just to make money.”

  “Money for your grandmother’s well-being.” She placed a comforting hand on Shae’s shoulder. “Did you hear what you just said? You wrote a book. That’s all. A book.”

  “I wonder if everyone else will see it that way?”

  She didn’t have to wonder long.

  They didn’t see it that way – at all.

  After Shae dropped Cathy off and went home, her whole world began to systematically fall apart.

  Pastor Dave called and asked her to come to his office.

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  Hearing the disappointment in his voice, she picked her purse back up and made the short drive to the church. With a heavy heart and reluctant steps, she entered the Life Center and went to the pastor’s office. This was so difficult, the man was her friend, her religious mentor, as well as her employer. He was the person she enjoyed talking to more than anyone else in the world. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yea, have a seat.”

  She sat, and for several long moments there was total silence in the room.

  Finally, he raised his head and looked at her. “Are you writing books under the penname Jessabelle?”

  “Yes, I am. I needed the money for Coretta’s care.”

  He shook his head. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. Why didn’t you write something decent? Something so you could hold your head up high if anyone you knew read it? Why resort to such filth?”

  “They’re not filth. They’re detailed, but it’s beautiful. My couples are in love and they’re committed. It isn’t porn.”

  He sighed. “I’m not going to argue with you. I just can’t have you at the church anymore. You can’t be on staff. People will never look at you or anyone who supports you the same ever again.”

  “So, I can’t work here. Do you want me to stop playing the piano?”

  He nodded. “A
nd I’ve never told anyone they weren’t welcome at the church anymore, but I think it would be best if you…stayed away.”

  “I see. Do you want me to work out a two-week’s notice?”

  “No, I want you to clean out your desk now.” He stood and motioned for her to leave the room. “I’ll stand by as you do it.”

  Frozen with mortification, Shae could barely move her feet. Pastor Dave placed a box on her desk and she filled it with a few personal belongings.

  “I need your keys.”

  Her hands shook as she took them off the key ring and placed them in his hand. “Well, thank you. I guess this is goodbye.”

  To her humiliation, he said no more, but escorted her to the door. Once she was on the other side, he locked the door behind her, turned his back, and walked away.

  Even though the weather was warm, Shae felt a cold breeze wash over her and she shivered beneath its touch.

  As she drove through town, it seemed to her that everywhere she looked, people stopped to watch her drive by. She knew they recognized her car, nothing happened to anyone in town that escaped notice. Shae could literally drive up and down the streets and name the occupants of every home, who they were related to, and what they did for a living. Now, these people she’d known all her life were looking at her with hate in their eyes.

  Word traveled fast.

  By nightfall, everyone would know she’d been turned out of the church in disgrace, and they’d know why.

  * * *

  Shae didn’t sleep that night. She rolled and tumbled, kicked off the covers, then finally rose to pace around the house. Going to the window, she peered out, glad she didn’t have any close neighbors.

  When the sun dawned in the east, she felt odd, having nowhere to go. She tried to write, but the words wouldn’t come. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearing nine. Maybe if Cathy came over, they would work, and she could feel better. Before she could find her phone, there was a knock at the door. Feeling a rush of trepidation, she hurried to the window. When she saw Cathy, she went to open the door. “Hey.” Glancing behind her, Shae noticed the empty drive. “Where’s your car?”