You Can't Hide Theresa Sneed (top 10 non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

a part of it all. She squirmed uncomfortably, wondering what sort of person wanted to inflict fear in another. Ick. Anyhow, the nightmares had died down, and she’d moved on with her life.

She’d gotten her GED and would soon start classes at UMO. It gave her a sense of pride, improving her lot in life. Getting married to a college professor was great motivation. She bit her lip. It troubled her that he was so much smarter than her, but that was nonsense—he was book smarter, that’s all—just a few more books smarter than she.

Twisting a strand of loose hair around her finger, she grinned at the thought of Sam Hancock—strong, handsome, and so unlike Merrick. How did I ever get so lucky? Lucky, she thought. Me? Hardly, and yet, if all the bad stuff in her life hadn’t happened, she’d never have met Sam. She let the screen door slam behind her and went inside her grandparent’s cabin.

Brochures and wedding catalogs littered the kitchen table. Elle had looked through each one with an eye for frugality, if not to just appease her mother, Lucy Heard. Her mom had sent the magazines and brochures. She wanted her daughter to have an elaborate wedding, but Elle didn’t care if they got married before a judge and ditched the formal wedding altogether. But Lucy was relentless, and called every other day to see how the plans were coming along.

Lucy had begged for the wedding to take place in California, where most of Elle’s family lived, and Elle had reluctantly agreed, with a huge nudge from Sam. She felt bad that Sam’s family would have to incur traveling expenses, but Sam said that when a couple from two different states decides to get hitched, someone would be inconvenienced. She looked up as Grammie Gwen entered the room.

“Have you decided on colors?” Gwen leaned over the pile of papers and books.

“Hmm. Yes, I have, as a matter of fact.”

“Oooo,” Gwen said. “Tell me.”

“Well, let me show you.” She swept the books aside and pulled a bag off a chair. Reaching inside it, she removed a swatch of deep blue material. “These are the colors I want, um, navy blue, for my bridesmaids.” Searching deep into the bag, she took out a handful of pine cones, “this color brown,” and then she removed a bar of natural soap in a burnt orange, and a handful of cranberries, “oh, and this, too.” She pulled a peach from the bag.

Grammie Gwen looked at her like she was crazy. “It’s lovely, dear.”

“Really?” She didn’t think her grandmother was being completely honest.

“Hmm,” Gwen tapped on the soap. “I just can’t picture it.”

“Of course you can’t. That’s just a bar of soup, but imagine it as a flower.”

“Soap as a flower?”

“No, the flowers are the color of that soap.”

Gwen shrugged. “It’s your wedding, sweetheart. Whatever you want is what I want.”

“That’s right, Dearie,” Grandpa Joe said, coming up behind them.

Elle smiled. Grammie Gwen and Grandpa Joe had always supported her in anything she did. It was her mother that she knew she’d have to convince. She was grateful for Lucy’s help though. Elle had been dragging her feet, not because of lack of excitement on her part, but because of the amount of details a wedding took to plan.

She supposed her mother was probably a little put out with her right now. Lucy had already mailed the invitations—three months early, and Elle hadn’t even decided on the food yet. The phone rang. “Oh, that’s probably Mom. She said she’d call at noon today.”

Gwen picked it up and held it to her ear. After a few seconds, she hung it up. “That was strange.”

Elle looked up from the pile of pine cones and soap. “What’s that?”

“No one said anything, and then they hung up.” Gwen picked up the soap and brought it to her nose. “I guess it was a wrong number.”

“Yes, wrong number,” the words trailed off Elle’s lips. Whoever had made that vicious prank call a year ago, wouldn’t be able to call again anyhow. Their new number was known to only a few. “I’m going into town to get a sandwich, you want one?”

“No dear,” Gwen said. “Papa and I are going to Bangor in a bit.”

“Okay,” Elle gave her a quick hug and grabbed her purse. She skipped down the steps and then flung her purse into the jeep, trying to shake off the swirl of fear building in her gut. Whenever she thought about that prank call, it took a while for her anxiety to settle. Maybe some Phil’s Fudge will help calm me down, she thought, as she turned the key and started the engine up.

With Grammie Gwen gone to Bangor, Elle wasn’t in much of a hurry to get back to the cabin. She took another bite of her crab roll—best sandwich ever, well, that, and the ham melt. She stuffed the fudge in her purse and then glanced at her watch. Sam would be back in a little over an hour, and then she had him for the whole weekend—minus his lesson planning and grading papers. Ugh. She glanced around as she left the small restaurant. A quick stop at Bragdon’s Flower Shop, and then she’d head back.

“Hey, thanks, Mr. Bragdon,” she said. Having assured her that any florist could find the perfect matches for her colors, Elle felt more confident in relaying her choices to her mother. She grabbed the steering wheel to hoist herself up into the jeep. From the corner of her eye, she saw something glistening on the floorboard.

What’s that? She walked around to the other side of the jeep to get a better look. Her eyes widened. She recognized it immediately—the distinctive, raised, gold-lettered band from an expensive Cuban cigar, the exact brand Merrick smoked. Her hand shook, as she picked it up, and turned it around in her fingers. Cut it out, Elle, she thought, berating herself. “This is nothing, just a sick