A Life for a Life by Lynda McDaniel (best selling autobiographies .txt) š
- Author: Lynda McDaniel
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āFarther.ā
āNo, further. Itās an idiom, not a real neck that can be measured.ā Alex was silent. He hated being wrong. I knew I was right because I used to joke, once I got my sense of humor back, that the best thing I took away from our marriage was Alex teaching me the difference between further and farther. āBesides,ā I said, changing the subject, āarenāt you the one always questioning why Iām working on this case? Maybe this will get me to stop.ā
He agreed, and we talked about the store and Abit. I think he could sense I didnāt want to get off the phone, unlike my usual distaste for long conversations. He told me about his latest paying gigs (emphasis his), one in particular that involved research into the National Film Archive in Culpeper, Virginia, a charming town that was rapidly becoming a posh bedroom community for D.C.
āWhy donāt you come up? We could stay in one of the B&Bs there.ā
āHow could you suggest that with Jake missing?ā
āHey, throw me a bone, er, I mean, help me out here. Iām just trying to cheer you up. Once you find himāand I have a good feeling heāll get loose or someone will find himāyou could come for a visit. Get away for a while and let things settle down.ā
I thanked him and told him Iād think about it. A trip to Culpeper did sound nice. And the Southern Crescent train even stopped there. Or I could drive and bring Jake along. If we had time, I could take him into the city and show him Lafayette Park, Rock Creek Park, and all my old haunts, including the house I used to live in. I was feeling excited about the trip, but then remembered I had to find Jake first.
āStop the truck,ā I shouted.
It was raining pretty hard as the Rollinā Store headed through the Beaverdam community. Duane was grinding the gears, working hard to get us through some bad ruts. Weād just left our stop near the Ledfordās place when I saw something in my rearview mirrorāa blur moving round behind us.
āI caināt stop it here. Weāre in the mud.ā
āSTOP IT!ā
āWhatās the matter with you, Abit? Caināt you hear me?ā
āThereās something in the road!ā Duane went a few more feet and found solid ground. He put the brakes on, and I was out before he fully stopped.
āWhat the hell, are you ...ā
I ran back the way weād just come, and thatās when I knew for sure what Iād seen. A little skinny with a nasty old rope tied round his neck, but that was Jake, all right, coming about one hundred miles per hour straight at me. He jumped into my arms, and Iād never felt anything so good in my life. He licked my face all over, and if he hadnāt been so covered in mud, I might have done the same back at him. I carried him to the bus, and Duaneās face lit up. We walked back to the Ledfordās to ask if we could use their phone to tell Della weād found Jake. Mrs. Ledford welcomed us in and even gave us some coffee. Duane said Della was beside herself with happiness.
On the way back, Duane and I talked about how Jakeād probably chewed through the rope when he heard the busās gears grinding. Dogs are smart like thatāthey knowed things we didnāt. He sure stank from being wet and all, but he stank good. I was able to get most of the mud off himābut Mama was going to kill me when she saw how much was still on my overalls, which were my best since I was working with the public. But I didnāt care. We pulled up and Duane just laid on the horn, toot-tooting it. Della came running out the door, and I held up Jake to the windshield best I could since he was wiggling like a baby pig, and she came running alongside the bus as Duane drove toward the back where he parked it. What a reunion!
āOh, Jake, honey, where have you been?ā Tears were streaming down her face, and truth be told, me and Duane had wet faces, too. We all huddled together and patted Jake. Duane had to get on home, so Della and I sat together for a while, just loving the way Jake felt.
That night, Jake and I walked around our property well after dark. Iād bathed him, fed him an extra helping of his dinner, and threw his favorite chew toy. We were venturing out together for the first time in a week. I knew I couldnāt be overly protective, but I sure wanted to keep him close.
While he was sniffing something mysterious in the meadow, I looked up at the sky sparkling with stars Iād never seen before, city lights having stolen their luster my whole life. I felt a jolt run through me, a reminder that the power of nature was always available, though most of the time I was too worried or self-absorbed to notice. A visceral sense of gratitude and creativity took hold of me.
In D.C., Iād experienced something similar whenever I looked at the Jefferson Memorial or the U.S. Capitol. Glorious, imposing buildings. Or the astounding cherry blossoms along the Tidal Basin, when spring wasnāt too cold or wet for them to thrive. The inspiration they offered kept the mean old bastards in that city from blinding me to all we could be as a nation and as individuals.
Standing there, I felt my heart beat fast as I thought about how much I really did love my new life. I could see funky old Coburnās in the moonlight, and I was struck by how my humble store drew on every skill Iād acquired over my lifetime. I felt a sense of purpose like never before. And there was Jakeārunning free. Home again. Happy.
The next day, though, I returned to my usual troubles. Besides Gregg and what to do next, I woke up in the night worried about where Abit had found Jake. I was so relieved that he was safely home, Iād forgotten to ask. And I wondered when Alex was going to get back to me about Gregg.
Two of those questions were answered later that afternoon, while Abit helped me put up supplies in the storeroom and stock the shelves out front. The phone rang when I was in the bathroom, so I shouted at Abit to answer it.
āReally? You want me to answer the phone?ā he asked. I could hear how incredulous he was.
I cracked the door and shouted, āYes, please. Iāll be out in a minute.ā (Iād learned that a small store offered little to no privacy.) āAnd hurry upāthe phoneās about to go to the machine.ā I heard a voice so serious I thought, for a moment, that someone else had come into the store and grabbed the phone. Then his voice became more animated. He even laughed. Who in the world was he talking to?
When I came out front, Abit mouthed, āAlex.ā He was really enjoying himself, and I didnāt want to break in. I was glad he no longer seemed suspicious of Alex. He recounted how heād found Jake and then said, āWe donāt know exactly. It wasnāt that far from the Ledfordās, but we know they hadnāt taken him and tied him up.ā
Then he said, āHereās Della,ā holding the phone out but suddenly grabbing it back. āEr, when are you coming own here again? You promised me a ride in the Merc.ā I chuckled at him and took the phone.
āHi there. Whatās up?ā
āGreat news about olā Jakey Boy.ā
āYeah, weāre all pretty happy about it. Thanks to Abit,ā I said, looking over at him in the canned goods. He was beaming and started juggling three small cans of creamed corn (a favorite hereāespecially since the empty can made a dandy receptacle for tobacco juices). When did he learn to do that? I wondered.
āI did that research on Gregg you asked for.ā
āAnd?ā
āWell, he must have lied on his Forest Service application, because after some digging, I found some youthful indiscretions.ā
āHow youthful? Were they sealed?ā
āYeah, teenage shit, Iād imagine. So maybe he didnāt have to lie. I shouldnāt have made him sound like Kipland Philip Kinkel.ā
āWho?ā
āOh, some sick teenager in Oregon who went on a killing spree. You know how it is with journalistsāwe know way too much trivia.ā
āSo nothing serious in his background, at least not beyond his teenage years? What did he do before the Forest Service?ā
āHe was involved in banking, of all things. Which could speak to his skill in forgery, if he kept up his delinquent ways, that is.ā
āOh, thatās a stretch. But Iād never pictured Gregg as a banker.ā
āWhich is probably why heās not one any longer. You donāt seem like a bookkeeper, either.ā He was referring to my first job, right out of college, when that was all I could get, even with a journalism degree.
āAnything else?ā
āHe was married for about five years in the ā60s; they didnāt have any children and divorced in 1968. One thingāshe did get a restraining order against him. I couldnāt find any violations of that, though, so I donāt know if he just lost his shit when she left him.ā
That worried me, given what Kitt said and my own experience with his ill-tempered rejection. I didnāt want to talk about that with Alex, so I asked, āWhen did he leave banking?ā
āAbout the same time as his divorce. Thatās when he worked with runaway kids. Not sure how he qualified for that, but so many kids were in trouble then, he probably fell into it. I couldnāt find anything much after that and before the Forest Service. Heās been a model employee thereāquickly rising to ranger in your Podunk town.ā
āHe doesnāt work in a town. He oversees half a million acresāor at least his district.ā
āOkay, heās ranger of the year. Whatever. Thatās my report. I still think you need to be careful around him. Looks can be deceiving.ā
I thought to myself, youād better believe it as I pictured Alex taking off his wedding ring so someone could run her fingers through his wavy hair with good conscience. āThanks, Alex. I really appreciate your research. But I havenāt heard any reason to stop believing heās the good guy we all think he is.ā
āNot āall.ā If heās been framed, someone in that wilderness you call home doesnāt like him.ā
āOr someone needs a patsy, and it has little to do with who.ā
āWhom.ā
I felt like hanging up. He was right that time, but so what? Nobody used āwhomā in conversation. āOkay, I guess thatās it,ā was all I said.
Abitās head popped up like a whack a mole. He dramatically mouthed āWhen?ā I knew what he meant, but I
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