Shattered Justice (9 page)

“Yeah, well, we do now. Or we will, when they fill the position.”

Dan frowned. “How? I thought the county couldn’t afford—”

“They couldn’t. But some rich guy decided he wanted to donate money for a new program to get deputies to those remote areas, and this is where the county decided to start. So, the money’s there. All they need is a deputy.”

Dan looked down at the paper. “I want to apply.” He didn’t know who was more surprised: Grayson or Dan himself.

The sheriff leaned his arms on the desk in front of him. “Figured you would.”

Okay. Dan was more surprised. “You did?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Just seemed a good fit. From what I hear, it’s a nice little town. Great place to raise kids. And it’s in the middle of the mountains.”

He picked up his pen and waved it in the air. “You’re always spouting off about how the valley’s getting too full of people.” He turned back to the report he’d been reading. “Can’t hurt to check it out.”

Nope. Couldn’t hurt at all.

The second confirmation came that evening, when Dan got home and sat the kids down to tell them what he was considering. When he’d given them all the information, he waited, not sure what to expect. Questions? Maybe. Resistance? Possibly. Anxiety? He wouldn’t be surprised—

“What’s the name of the town?”

Dan searched his daughter’s face for signs of apprehension, resistance. He saw only curiosity. And a glimmer of something else … something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Sanctuary.”

“Ohh—” that indefinable emotion deepened, bringing a warm glow to her chocolate eyes—“I like that.”

Understanding dawned. Hope. That’s what Dan saw in her eyes. Hope.

“Me, too.”

Aaron agreeing with his sister? “You do?”

The boy stuck his feet straight out in front of him, wiggling them. “Yeah. Sanctuary.” He repeated the town name, as though seeing how it fit not only on his lips, but in his heart. “It sounds like, I don’t know …”

“Like home.”

Aaron glanced at his sister, apparently letting her words roll around in his head, then nodded, a smile tiptoeing across his mouth. “Yeah.” He looked at Dan. “It does. It sounds like home.”

Dan leaned back in his chair. Okaaay … God
had
to be at work here. His children never agreed on anything.

Not ever.

Clearly, he was witness to a miracle.

Dan called personnel the next day, and a Realtor the day after that. The job was his in three weeks. His house sold in four.

Before he knew it—less than two months after asking his sisters to pray—Dan stood on the front lawn of the home he and Sarah had shared, surveying the loaded moving truck.

Kyla stood next to him, patting her brow with a mono-grammed handkerchief. She’d taken over the second Dan arrived with the moving van, orchestrating them all with precision and authority.

The woman was born to commandeer.

Normally Dan would have given her a run for her money—he was bigger and taller than she; he was sure he could take her—but today he was grateful that someone else took control. He had all he could handle dealing with the grief that kept popping up, seizing his heart and superseding his ability to make logical decisions.

“Well—” Kyla folded her handkerchief into a precise square and slid it into her pocket—“I think that’s everything.”

“It’d better be. I don’t think there’s an inch more of room in that truck.”

His sister’s one raised brow warned him a reprimand was coming. “Well, I
did
tell you to get the larger truck.” She gave a little sniff. “I do similar kinds of things for a living, Avidan. One day I hope you’ll actually listen to me.”

“Only if he’s totally lost his mind.”

They both turned, Dan to grin at Annie and Kyla to glare at her offending sister. Annie responded to the reprimand by sticking her tongue out.

Kyla drew back. “How lovely, Annot.
There’s
a picture to capture in stained glass.”

Annie was the picture of wide-eyed innocence. “Ya think? Hmm, it just might work.” She struck a pose, her tongue sticking out. “Take a picture of me?”

Dan stepped around the two women, shaking his head. “I’d like to say I’m going to miss these little exchanges between you two …”

Annie’s goofy face evaporated. “Aw, that’s so sweet.”

He reached the front door of the now empty house. “I’d
like
to, but I can’t.” He winked at them. “ ’Cuz I won’t.”

Dan stepped inside, closing the door against Annie’s protest and Kyla’s indignation. He made one last round through the barren house. It felt so sad … a skeleton of a life that used to be. Pausing in each room, he let the memories drift over him. Good memories. Memories that he’d keep with him always. Memories that gave him the strength to do what he knew he needed to do.

Until, that is, he came to the bedroom he and Sarah had shared. There, the memories were overwhelming, bringing back his loss with renewed sting. He leaned against the wall, taking in the bare room.

Early this morning, the moving truck pulled into Dan’s driveway.
His sisters arrived mere minutes later, and the day raced by as he supervised the hauling and loading of his and Sarah’s life together.

The kids had recovered from their stint in miracle land and were back to normal—aggravating each other at every opportunity. But they managed to keep their exchanges on a mostly friendly, bantering level, which Dan appreciated.

Now, standing in his bedroom, Dan felt the weariness bore into him. He rubbed at his throbbing temples. How could he say good-bye to this place?

To this life?

How could he—

“Daddy?”

He turned, schooling his features into some semblance of peace before he met his daughter’s eyes. “Hey, kiddo. I thought you were outside with your aunts.”

“I was. But Aunt Annie said she thought it was hard for you to leave. So I came to help.” She looked around, wrinkles forming a question mark on her brow as her hand went to the pendant at her neck. “There’s nothing here, Daddy.”

He followed his daughter’s gaze. “You’re right. And you know why?” He knelt beside her. “ ’Cuz everything that matters is going with me.”

“Can we go see our new home now?”

He touched his nose to hers, then stood and held out his hand. “You bet we can.” With her hand nestled in his, he led her from the room, his steps sure and solid.

If only his heart felt that way as well.

“YOU FEEL THAT?”

Dan turned to his son. “Feel what?”

Aaron sat as far forward on the seat as his seat belt would allow. “I’m not sure. I just got a kind of … charge, I guess. Excitement. Like we’re goin’ on a real adventure.”

“An adventure.” Dan mulled that over. “Yes, I guess you could say that. Starting a new life is definitely an adventure.”

“Look, Dad! That’s where we turn, right?”

It was, indeed. Dan turned the moving truck off the Crater Lake Highway, just opposite the Sanctuary Ranger Station. His sisters and Shannon followed him in Dan’s car. Just after turning off the highway, he came to a large, rustic sign at the side of the road.

The wooden sign hung from a frame of logs, and large letters were burned with artistic precision into the weatherworn
marker. Aaron read out loud: “Welcome to Sanctuary, A Little Bit of Heaven on Earth.”

Dan looked at his son. “Sounds pretty good.”

Aaron glanced at the tall evergreens all around. “It’s sure not like Central Point or Medford.”

A pang of worry plucked at Dan’s innards. He drove on. “Does that bother you?”

“Nah.” Aaron grinned. “I was never that crazy about living in town anyway. Besides, I bet we get snow for Christmas up here!”

Relief brought a smile to Dan’s face. “I think you can count on that.” From what he’d heard, December usually brought as much as a foot of snow up here. All the years they’d lived in the Rogue Valley, Aaron and Shannon had prayed for snow at Christmas. Unfortunately, the white stuff rarely fell on the valley floor, so Christmas after Christmas they were disappointed. A few years there was actually a dusting on Christmas Eve, and both kids ran outside to scrape up what they could into snowballs. But a real snowfall? It just hadn’t happened.

There should be snow aplenty in Sanctuary. In fact, though it was late March and warm enough to be comfortable outside, there was still some on the ground now. So that would be a real treat for the kids. Dan planned to let them play outside as much as they wanted.

Anything to distract them from the pain of setting up a new home without their mom.

Aaron spotted another sign just on the outskirts of town. His chin dropped. “Is that right, Dad?”

“Hmm? Is what right?”

Aaron read the sign: “Sanctuary, population 659½.” Dan and Aaron stared at each other then broke into laughter.

“A
half
? Does that mean, like, half a person?”

Dan shook his head. “I suppose we’ll find out, son. Should be interesting.”

Within minutes, they reached downtown Sanctuary—such as it was. Rather than sidewalks, Sanctuary had old-fashioned wooden walkways. Dan wasn’t sure if that was for atmosphere or because they’d just never replaced the original sidewalks.

All along the walkways, in front of the few select businesses keeping the downtown alive, were rows of rocking chairs, most of which were in use by locals of all ages.

Dan drove through town slow enough to study the buildings lining the street. Continuing his role as tour guide, Aaron read off the business names as they passed them. “The Sanctuary Trophy Room …”

Dan smiled. The Trophy Room, so called because of the multitude of hunting trophies mounted on the walls, was the town’s one somewhat formal restaurant. He and the kids had eaten there once. Aaron thought it was cool; Shannon, on the other hand, couldn’t eat a bite. When Dan asked her why, she looked up, her lip trembling.

“I can’t eat in front of
them
!” She jerked her chin toward the animal heads looking down on them. “I mean, what if this hamburger is their … their
cousin
or something?”

Needless to say, it would take a little time to convince tenderhearted Shannon to go back there.

“The Sanctuary Beauty and Video Salon …”

Beauty and videos. A different kind of combination, but one that made infinite sense, or so Mabel Jones, the owner of the place, had told Dan on his first visit to town. “Who chooses the videos families watch? The mother. So she can kill two birds with one stone.”

“The Sanctuary Fire Station, Post Office, First Evangelical Church of the Savior’s Brethren, the Sanctuary Public Library …”

And on the list went. Dan looked forward to getting to know each establishment—and the owners—well. That was one of the great things about living in a small town. Everyone knew you—

“Um … Dad?”

He glanced at Aaron. “You run out of buildings, son?”

Aaron frowned. “Well, no. I mean, yes, pretty much. But that’s not why I stopped.” He pointed out the truck window. “Look.”

Dan directed his attention out the window and had to fight back a laugh. Behold, one of the drawbacks of moving to a small town. While Dan and Aaron had been studying Sanctuary, the good people of the town had been studying them. Anyone seated in a rocking chair leaned forward to watch Dan’s truck as it rolled by.

He nudged Aaron. “What say we stop and say hello?”

Aaron peered out the window. “You sure they’re safe?”

“Safer than most, I’d guess.” He parked the moving van alongside the walkway. A quick look in his side mirror showed him his sisters had followed his lead and parked behind him.

Dan grabbed the door handle, then nudged Aaron. “Ready to check out your new hometown?”

“Let’s go!” Aaron hopped out of the van.

Annie was already on the sidewalk, waiting for them. “What’s up, brother? I thought we were going to the house first.”

He held his arm out for Shannon, who came to stand next to him. “Aaron and I just thought it would be nice to meet our new neighbors.”

Annie looked over her shoulder at the rocking chair crowd, several of whom were still leaning forward to watch—and listen—better. “Why bother?” she whispered. “I’m betting they already know everything about you there is to know.”

“Either that,” Kyla said, joining them, “or they’ll make it up.”

“What’d that nice-looking young man say?”

Dan and the others turned at the loud, querulous question. Two white-haired women sat side by side in their rockers. A tiny dog decked out in a sparkly collar perched on one woman’s lap.

The taller of the two women swatted at the other’s arm.
“Lower your voice, Agatha. You want those folks to think we’re gossips?”

“Parsnips?” Agatha peered over her glasses at Dan. “What’s he got to do with parsnips?”

“For heaven’s sake, Aggie!” The taller woman rocked her chair at a furious pace. “Turn up your hearing aid.”