Body of Ash (17 page)

26

RACHEL

Friday 10:30 AM

Stepping out of the barn, Rachel eyed the maroon Nissan parked on the street. Taking a moment to adjust to the bright sun, she scanned the front yard for her parents. Jason motioned that the coast was clear, so she hustled down the driveway. With her backpack clutched under her arm, she tried smiling as her boyfriend opened the truck’s cab door. A guy with shoulder length blonde hair was fixed behind the wheel. Pale eyes stared from a face coated with a layer of acne and a sparse goatee.

With a nod, he mumbled, “Hey.”

The interior of the truck smelled like cigarettes and armpits, but Rachel pretended not to notice. She tried giving the stranger a polite smile before turning her gaze back to Jason.

“You’re going to come for me, right?” she begged.

“As soon as I know your parents don’t have the police watching me,” he assured. Reaching for her face, he ran his
thumb along her jawline. Nestling her chin into his palm, she kissed his skin. 

Knowing their intimate moment was being observed, Rachel tried pulling herself together. Sitting back, she studied her boyfriend for any sign of alarm. In the early hours of the morning, he had come up with a plan for getting her out of town by cashing in an old favor. She was hesitant about agreeing, but insisted she would be fine.

“You’ll call me?”

“Don’t worry. Ernie’s a good guy – he’ll keep you out of trouble.” His brown eyes were encouraging. He would take her himself if he could.

“I’ll try,” the gardener muttered. “As long as she isn’t high maintenance, we’ll get along.”

Rachel swallowed. Jason had told her Ernie had an apartment in Torrington, a small city only half an hour away. Although he wasn’t the brightest guy Jason had ever met, he was nice enough. The twenty-something-year-old had been doing landscaping for the Thompson’s for years. When Jason had discovered Ernie smoking weed behind his parents’ house, he could have had him fired, but instead the two became friends. Rachel knew taking off with the pothead
wasn’t an ideal situation, but it beat the alternative of going home or having Jason’s family get in trouble.

What were her parents trying to prove by sending her away?

Her first inkling was that they wanted Jason out of her life, but now she wasn’t so sure. They were having relationship troubles and she was in the way.  She wished she could sit down with them and have a rational conversation. Maybe she could help by doing more around the house so they could focus on their marriage, but Rachel knew there was no debating with Mr. and Mrs. Jones. They made it clear a long time ago that they were her guardians and not her friend.
Neither had an interest in fostering a closer relationship.

No more controlling me. I can’t take it. 

The engine turned over and the truck rumbled to life. Jason pulled off his leather jacket and tucked it around her shoulders.

“Here, take this with you. You might need it.” He kissed her cheek before closing the door between them. With two knocks, he tapped the window and waved goodbye.

A sinking feeling settled in Rachel’s gut. Holding her sole bag to her chest, the bench seat rattled beneath her. With a
few jerky movements, Ernie shifted the truck into gear until it was rolling down the street. As she watched her boyfriend growing smaller in the side view mirror, she wished she could jump out of the truck and back to the security of Jason’s loft. 

The closeness the two shared the night before wasn’t planned, but she didn’t regret it. In all of her fantasies about making love for the first time, the scenarios involved her and Jason on a canopy bed sprinkled with rose petals in a room with dozens of lit candles and champagne. She would have also loved to be wearing something sexy from Victoria’s Secret while feeling confidant and uninhibited, but that didn’t happen either. Instead, she and Jason gave each other their virginity on an old couch in a barn. It was slightly awkward and a bit uncomfortable – not the epic first time experience she had dreamed about. But, it had a sweetness she would not forget.

She had been raised to believe that sex was only for those who were married, but after witnessing Marge Finch’s bold play for her father, Rachel wondered if Brian even believed in the values he preached. If a pastor didn’t honor God, should she?  Was the life they were leading all talk?  Rachel had always believed the Lord had a special path for her to follow, she never anticipated it would leave her feeling abandoned.

Leaning against the driver’s side door, Rachel felt wrong about comparing what she and Jason had shared to her father and his exploits.  She couldn’t help but feel like there was nothing dirty or wrong about giving herself fully to the boy she had pledged her heart to for so long. She loved Jason and doubted either of her parents could understand that.

“Your stomach is growling,” Ernie said.  “I don’t have lots of food at my place.”

Rachel looked down at her belly. She hadn’t even noticed the protest it was making about her lack of nourishment, but now that he had mentioned it, she was starving. 

“I have some money. Maybe we can stop and I can buy some groceries?” she asked. She wasn’t an experienced cook, but knew how to make the basics like pasta and chicken. She wanted to be welcomed in his home. If cooking him dinner would show her appreciation, she would be happy to do it.

Ernie gave her a side long look before returning his stare back to the road.

“I think we can do that.” Scratching his head, an instant smile spread across his face. “How much you got?”

27

ANGELA

Friday 1:30 PM

By the time noon had come and gone without a word from her daughter, Angela could no longer wait idly. Sliding on linen trousers and a cream blouse, she pulled her hair into a bun in an attempt at looking presentable. Having spent the night and early morning waiting for news about Rachel, she never slept. At dawn, she called Rachel’s friends but none of them admitted to seeing her. She even spoke to Jason’s parents, but they insisted he was home alone all night.

There was only one other person her daughter might turn to. Angela looked at the phone. She knew she had to place the call, but the thought of admitting what was happening to her mother made the situation worse. In her mind, she could imagine Sylvia’s disapproving tone. The woman had mastered the art of being cold a long time ago.

Grasping for an alternative, Angela placed her cell phone back in her hobo bag and reached for her keys. Brian had left early and she hadn’t heard anything from Officer Barry despite leaving two messages. How either man could pass off a seventeen-year-old girl being out all night as an act of hormones infuriated
her.
Small towns could be dangerous and if anyone thought otherwise, they were damn fools. 

If they won’t search for her, I will.

Removing a school picture of Rachel from its silver frame on the mantle, she stuffed the 5 by 7 into her purse and began devising a list of places the teen might be. If she couldn’t find her, she would call her mother and seek Sylvia’s help.

After cruising through town and running out of ideas as to where Rachel might go, Angela checked the grocery store, Lucinda’s Diner, McDonald’s
and the library.  The only place left was Big Wally’s, the small coffee shop by the bank.  It wasn’t a hangout for her daughter’s crowd, but a blue collar joint to get a hot drink and a breakfast sandwich. Entering, the smell of grease assaulted her senses, adding to the nausea that had been building there all morning. Other than a few men who worked at the town garage chatting together at a booth, the place was quiet.

Scanning the seating area, Angela noticed an overweight black woman at the end of the counter. It was becoming more
common to see minorities in the area. Brian was constantly harping about the demographics changing due to the gangs moving up from Hartford, but Angela knew he was a bigot. She believed the Latino and African American populations were growing. Nervously, she stepped towards the woman.

Dressed in a light blue parka with beautiful braids pulled into a pony tail, the woman was about her age. One look at her hands and Angela knew she was a laborer.  Her chapped skin and short nails were only adorned with a simple wedding band. Perhaps she worked as a housekeeper at the local nursing home. Her father, Ralph, had large, weathered hands. Hands that could work at a desk all day, but still go home and use a shovel, unafraid to get scratched and dirty, lifting large stones to build a patio in the backyard. Not Brian, his were smooth with wiry hair on the back of his knuckles. No callouses, no scars, just an aversion to work.

Pulling the photo from her purse, she asked. “I’m looking for my daughter. I was wondering if you’ve seen
her?
”

Turning her round face to meet Angela’s, the woman smiled. Her eyes were kind as she reached for the photo. “She’s a pretty girl. I would have spotted her if she had been by here. Has she been gone long?”

“Since last night.”
Angela placed Rachel’s picture back in her leather purse. 

The woman patted the stool next to her at the counter, “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee with me. I bet by the time you get back home this morning, your girl will have come home and be sleeping off a long night with her friends. Kids are like that these days.”

Angela nodded. She wished it was as simple as Rachel staying out past curfew, too tired to make it home. “I don’t think I can drink any more coffee today. But thank you for the invitation.”

The woman reached for her hand and gave Angela a gentle squeeze. “Hang in there, honey. Things will work out.”

Angela could feel the corners of her mouth tremble. It was odd how the one person she would have avoided any other time was the kindest person she spoke to all morning. The support the woman offered her was almost painful. It had been a long time since anyone had shown such warmth.

“Okay,” she whispered. Turning to leave, she wanted to express how thankful she was, but knew she couldn’t possibly find the words.

Once in her car, Angela flipped down the visor and dried the tears that were welling in the corner of her eyes.  She had to pull herself together and make the call. If there was a
chance that Rachel hitched a ride to Sylvia Bennett’s house, then Angela knew she had to turn to her mother for help.

The two women weren’t close.  Her mother preferred males. Angela’s brother Perry had been the pride and joy of Sylvia and Ralph Bennett. She had often wondered why they bothered to have a second child since they were so invested in their first born. No matter what she accomplished, it never stood up to Perry’s pursuits.  Even after her brother rebelled and joined the armed forces instead of going to college to become an investment banker like Ralph, Angela’s existence in the home remained seen, but not heard.  News that Perry died in the Gulf War cemented her fate as the child who could never live up to her brother’s memory.  When she married Brian, he fell into the same trap of being compared to Perry and always found lacking.