Saving Mary

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Beginning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Saving Mary

Jeanne Neale

ISBN 979-8-89112-501-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89112-502-5 (Digital)

Copyright © 2024 Jeanne Neale

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Beginning

Looking up at the sky, I regretted my decision to walk as raindrops began to fall. I increased my pace and spied a recessed door under a large green canopy. Hurrying into the shelter as the rain became more intense, I watched, enjoying the drumroll sound and the fresh-smelling air. I was grateful for my shelter as I watched puddles growing in the street and, expecting the storm to be short-lived, decided to just stay here where I was nice and dry and wait it out.

The monsoon season was nearing its end; and usually, we would get about two, and maybe three, good storms each year. They would hit quickly with lots of rain, and then they were gone. They never lasted long, perhaps an hour at the most. The land was so dry the puddles would dry up fast, but there could be flash flooding.

Taking out my cell phone, I texted Aunt Louise. She was a worrier. I reassured her I was okay and would be home as soon as the rain stopped.

She replied, Mary, I am glad you are safe. Thanks for letting me know, and she asked me to bring home some lettuce for dinner. I texted back saying okay and sent her a happy face.

Suddenly, the door opened, and I almost fell inside. As I regained my balance, I glanced around embarrassed and ready to apologize for the intrusion.

I saw I was alone in an apparent reception area of a restaurant. Thinking a hot coffee would be good to help pass time till the rain stopped, I shut the door carefully and then started across the room where there was an open doorway, looking for someone to help. As I approached the opening, I heard raised voices; but before I could make my presence known, I could see around a corner an irate, red-faced older man facing a younger man who was saying, Dad, you can't do it. There has to be a better way.

The older man angrily but quickly replied, There isn't. Don't you think I have tried to find one?

Then the young one turned to his right and said to yet a third man I couldn't see, Uncle Sam, can't you talk him out of this? It's dangerous, and he could get hurt.

Get out of my way, son! the older man shouted. I am going. The sooner I get it done, the sooner it will be over. Now move!

Realizing he would catch me eavesdropping, I turned and quickly headed for the outside door thinking I could be gone before he saw me, but it wouldn't open. It was stuck. Struggling, I heard the older man say, Hey, who are you? Come back here!

Just then the door opened, and with a pounding heart, I was outside and free. As I checked behind me, I saw the father and son begin to chase after me.

Scared, I tried to blend in with the people who were beginning to crowd the sidewalk now that the rain had stopped and the sun was back out. I tried to calm down so I could think straight.

My five feet eight inches was tall enough to be noticeable, but my brown hair would not be as the man had only seen my red hat, which I stuffed in my purse. I couldn't do anything about my clothes, but I tried to blend in, keeping pace with those around me and trying not to run.

I didn't understand what I had heard, but the father's voice was definitely angry, and I had felt fear when they came into the reception area I was trying to leave. I knew I was wrong to have listened in as I had, but it happened so fast, and I hadn't realized it was a private conversation. I should have made them aware of my presence.

I did not dare to look behind me and attract their attention. We were on Second Street in Old Town Yuma, and across the street, I saw a familiar beauty parlor. I knew there was a bathroom in the back and a door leading to the parking lot in which I had left my car.

I opened the door to the shop and saw a man I didn't recognize doing hair in the front. He looked at me, and with a smile, I said hi and kept walking as if I belonged, and although he seemed a little surprised, he let me continue walking toward the back and turned his attention back to cutting his client's hair.

As I neared the bathroom, I looked back toward the front through the long hallway, and I saw the son going by the front window without looking in, so I felt safe for the moment.

Sagging against the door in relief that flowed through me, I finally could breathe again. I scolded myself, inwardly, thinking it was stupid to be afraid like this. No one was going to hurt me.

I realized the son would probably turn at the corner and go into the parking lot behind the street we were on. It was about three blocks long, and he would probably assume that that was where my car would be. If I tried to go to my car now, he would see me.

I felt the panic returning, and I could hardly breathe, but I took a few deep breaths knowing I had to calm myself down.

I had felt I was safe and I could get my car and get away. Now I was scared to even try.

I also didn't know where the dad or the other man I hadn't seen was. I needed to wait a bit to see if they too went by the front window.

I didn't want to leave the safety of the shop until I knew where they were. I knew what the dad and son looked like, but there was an Uncle Sam, and perhaps, who knew, there might be more of them.

Reassuring myself that only the dad and son had seen just my back, I assumed that they as well as any others would be looking for a red hat.

I just wanted to get away from here.

It was frustrating to be so close, to see my car and not be able to make my escape.

I knew it would only take minutes to get to it. I could be far away. I didn't know, though, if I could get to the car before the son saw me. He must have turned the corner by now and could be close to where I am.

Although I wanted nothing more than to get away, I told myself to be smart and stayed where I was.

I'd wait until I saw the son go past, and then I could safely go to my car.

The hairdresser in the front of the beauty parlor was watching me now, and I was becoming uncomfortable, afraid he would come back and ask me what I was doing.

At that moment, a bus stopped with a few older ladies exiting. I watched as they went toward the alley leading to Second Street. There was Lutes Casino Restaurant and Yuma Winery, and I figured that's where they were probably going. There was also a movie theater nearby. I didn't really care where they were going, but I saw my opportunity to get away.

The hairdresser started to walk toward where I stood looking out the window in the back door. Time was up. I still had not seen the son pass, but I needed to leave. I waved to the hairdresser and stepped outside, becoming part of the group of ladies.

We all walked through the alley toward the main street and Lutes; there were about seven of us, and I started talking to one of the ladies, hoping it would help me to blend in.

I didn't look back to the parking lot and continued talking with my new friend. She was telling me she and her friends were going to Lutes for lunch, and didn't I just love the atmosphere and the food?

I agreed and continued along with the group. I knew though, as I was quite a bit younger, I'd stand out and, disengaging myself, entered the thrift store we were passing.

I said hi to the lady there and just wandered around. There were a lot of old antique-looking items that someone had collected, some glassware, some dolls; and I saw some small tables. And of course, there were books. I started looking at them, and I realized I had a view of the window in front, and the bookshelves would hide me. I could even see into the windows of the restaurant across the street where all this began.

I watched, while pretending to look at the books, and was rewarded by seeing father and son, along with another gentleman who might be Uncle Sam, go in the restaurant. I waited another ten minutes, then I picked up a couple of books and took them to the lady up front to pay and then left the store.

Heading back toward the ally, I didn't allow myself to look at the restaurant across the street, barely breathing until I was past. I kept a steady pace all the way to the car, got in, and quickly drove away. I felt sure I had escaped their notice.

Driving home, I thanked the Lord for getting me out of that scary situation. I tried to laugh at myself and put what had happened in perspective, but the whole thing was so bizarre. Nothing like this ever happened to me, and now it was over, and I was headed home, safe and sound to the foothills and Aunt Louise.

During the twenty minutes it took, I went over and over in my head the conversation that I had heard. For the life of me, I couldn't make heads nor tails of it. I got that the son was anxious about his father, and there seemed to be something frightening them. From what I heard, the son was trying to stop the dad from doing something that might get him hurt, and yet I hadn't heard enough to make sense of anything. What I had heard certainly should not have meant someone needed to chase me down. Then I realized they didn't know how long I had been standing there and didn't know how much I had heard, and maybe that was the problem.

Shrugging, I tried to shake it all off. Seeing the grocery store, I remembered my aunt was waiting for some lettuce.

Chapter 1

When I arrived home, Aunt was waiting for me. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and I started to prepare the salad.

I had lived with my aunt Louise since I was eighteen. I was born in Saint Louis and had lived there until my parents died in a car accident. My aunt Louise, my mother's sister, brought me to Yuma to live with her; and I had never regretted it. There had been too many sad memories to stay there.

Aunt and I were close. You don't go through grief like that together without forming a special bond. Yuma was home now.

I considered my aunt a saint. She was a small lady, barely five feet, but she had an aura about her that gave her such stature that you didn't realize she was that tiny. She ran her house and me like a lightning bolt, full of energy and power, and she had made the world right again.

Through the years, I never doubted she loved me without reservations. Even when I disappointed her, she was there for me. She was my rock and my moral compass. When things went wrong, she was the one I turned to for help.

I had been in my first year of college when I moved to Yuma, and it was easy enough to continue my education here. I finished school and received my degree in nursing.

I was now twenty-three years old and had worked at the Yuma Medical Center for over a year.

I always got a little thrill when I thought that I, Mary Sellers, was a nurse.

I didn't have to work. My parents had left me financially secure, but I realized I needed a purpose in life.

I had been asked why I stayed in Yuma, and I always answered I loved it here. I wanted the small-town atmosphere. In the winter, there was that feeling of excitement with all the winter people. They were on vacation basically; and in the spring when they left, it was a quieter, small-town lifestyle again.

If I got bored, the ocean was close enough, and also there were mountains.

My best friend Jenna and I had just returned from San Diego. We had stayed at SeaWorld, right by the ocean, and had paddle-boarded and played in the sea for three days. Tomorrow I was back to work, and I had been doing errands today in Old Town.

Life was fairly uncomplicated, and I was content with that. I had already experienced enough grief in my life and now just wanted peace.

That is, until today.

I didn't want to tell my aunt, the worrier, about what had happened. It wasn't as if I had to go back to Old Town for anything, so the likelihood of being seen by those men was next to zilch. The sooner I forgot about it, the better too, I thought. There wasn't anything I could do anyway. After all, I had just inadvertently overheard something and been caught eavesdropping. Even though they had chased me, I didn't want to remember that or that I ran.

*****

I awoke the next morning as our dog Tommy was nudging me to get up. As a general rule, I refused to get up before the sun was. I hid my head under the covers; but when I felt his cold, wet nose, I gave in and got up.

I wandered out to the kitchen where the automatic coffee maker was still brewing, and impatiently, I waited for the coffee to finish. It smelled so good. When it was finally ready, I poured a cup and took it to the bedroom to drink while I got dressed.

Tommy was following me everywhere I went as if to say, Hurry up. I want to go for my walk.

Laughing at him as I almost stepped on his feet, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Looking in the mirror, I tried to do something with my hair. I considered myself ordinary, not pretty but not ugly either, but found my curly brown hair a detriment. I tried to tame it with the brush, but as usual, I gave up and just put it in a ponytail. This was the only way I could keep it halfway under control. Otherwise, it just stuck out everywhere.

I had put on my favorite blue jeans and a blue T-shirt and checked in the mirror to make sure I looked all right. I felt I was too thin but could eat like a horse and not gain an ounce of weight to the annoyance of my friend Jenna.

Grabbing Tommy's leash, I made him sit while I attached it to his collar, and then we took off for our walk. The desert was close, and we usually headed toward it. There were no cars around this early, and we had the street all to ourselves.

I had watched a lot of episodes of the Dog Whisperer and wanted to be like him walking Tommy. Be the