Evangeline (Part Twenty Eight)

And that’s the end of the story, at least as far as most people know.

Five years later, Evangeline and Tucker have not been found. After a year-long nationwide manhunt and no legitimate leads, the FBI deemed the file a “cold case.” Michael Kent left the FBI, got married, and travels with his wife around the world doing charity work.

Rumors still circulate about what might have happened to Tucker and Evangeline. Some people think that Sal Vanelli finally caught up with Tucker, and that both Tucker and Evangeline are sitting on the bottom of Powhatan Lake strapped to a 200 pound sack of gravel (the Vanelli’s are in the gravel business).

Some people believe that Tucker escaped to Mexico with Evangeline, and that he probably killed her and buried her in the desert. Rumor has it that Tucker is working as a waiter at one of the big resorts in Cancun.

The best stories involve alien abductions or satanic rituals. After all, how could two people just disappear off of the face of the earth without leaving one shred of evidence?

Like Elvis, there have been Tucker “sightings” on the beach in Miami, at a liquor store in Austin, and at the Emmy Awards in Hollywood. But the FBI has never been able to validate any of the claims.

You may be disappointed that this story doesn’t have a happier ending, or at least an ending that makes sense, which takes me back to the beginning and the reason I’ve been telling you this. Before I go to meet my Maker, I want someone to know what I saw on Christmas Eve five years ago. Call me a crazy old lady, but I know what I saw. You can make up your own mind about whether or not it’s true.

It had snowed that night and the moon was full. My daughter who is a nurse at the hospital called to tell me that Pastor and Mrs. Goodman had just given birth to a 7 lb. 6 oz. healthy baby boy. Not a thing in the world was wrong with him - no Down’s Syndrome, not even an extra finger or toe. He was perfect and it was a miracle. All those doctors had been wrong. Mrs. Goodman cried and said it was Evangeline’s singing that had made the baby well. Maybe having their healthy new son would begin to heal their broken hearts.

Anyway, I was so happy to hear the news about the new baby that I wrapped up in my old wool coat and went out on to the front porch to say a prayer of gratitude. The air was pure and crisp and the sky was jet black and full of stars.

I often look up at the sky when I pray. I feel like God can hear me better that way. I lifted my face and was just about to close my eyes when I felt something gently brush against my cheek like a feather. It was a butterfly, in the dead of winter, a beautiful, rare Panacea Prola butterfly indigenous to the Amazon River Basin. It landed on the back of my hand and slowly opened and closed its silver-blue wings.

I was in shock. What in the world was an Amazonian butterfly doing in Virginia in December? Then I realized that there were more butterflies, hundreds and hundreds of them. They began to swirl around me in a kaleidoscope of color, the light of the moon reflecting in their iridescent wings. It was like being inside a rainbow. My heart overflowed with joy.

Then the butterflies flew like a whispering river towards someone walking down the middle of the street.

That’s when I saw Evangeline, bare-footed, her hair a shining mass of perfect curls. There was a light about her, like the glow of a firefly, and the butterflies were drawn to it.

She stopped right beneath the first street light and turned to look at me. She smiled and raised her hand as if to wave hello, then reached right through the air and parted it like a curtain.

Then she stepped through and was gone. I stood motionless, not believing my very own eyes. The butterflies turned a glistening white, became snow flakes, and softly fell from the sky, covering Evangeline’s footprints.

I walked out on to the street and looked up in to the heavens and realized Evangeline was home at last.

The End

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Hebrews, Chapter 13:2

Miles to go Before I Sleep

Back on the road again. Patience is a virtue.

Peace.

Evangeline (Part Twenty Seven)

Michael Kent looked at his watch and prayed that they had found the place in time. Using the clues Stacy had given him, Michael had been able to find the bunker on an old county survey dated 1949. Someone had been expecting Russia to drop a bomb.

Now, surrounded by a full S.W.A.T. team and a few dozen state police, ATF agents, and FBI, it was easy to see why it had been difficult to spot from the air. Sheltered by a thick grove of pine trees, the tiny shed that covered the bunker would not have stood out as an anomaly, especially with a thick blanket of snow on the roof.

The S.W.A.T. team slowly tightened the circle around the shed. Michael motioned for the captain in charge to move in. Suddenly, the quiet forest exploded with the shouts of the men on the S.W.A.T. team, “FBI! Put your hands in the air!” as they descended the wooden steps of the bunker in a rush of body armor and assault rifles.

For a long moment, Michael’s heart was gripped with fear. What would they find? He thought about Stacy and how if it hadn’t been for her –

“Agent Kent,” someone shouted over the radio, “Get down here right away. The area has been secured.” Then another voice crackled through the state police two-way urging someone to, “Call an ambulance” and his heart sank.

He made his way down the wooden steps. There, lying on her back on the floor was Prissy Montgomery. Her neck was badly bruised, and she was unconscious, but she was alive. One of the S.W.A.T. team members had taken off his goose down jacket and covered her as the room was like a walk-in refrigerator.

Michael began to look around. It appeared as though someone had recently pressure-washed the walls. They were perfectly white like freshly poured concrete. There was nothing else in the room. No furniture. No food. No Evangeline. No Tucker. Nothing. Not a speck of dust or a bit of debris or a strand of hair. The room had been sterilized.

Michael reached for his cell phone and hit the re-dial button. He had promised Stacy he would call when they had breached the bunker.

Stacy answered without saying hello. “She’s gone Michael. It’s over.” Michael felt the stress of the last few days suddenly overpower him. His knees grew weak and he sat down on the floor to keep from falling. He had failed. One girl alive. One girl dead. That’s the way it would end after all. Stacy was never wrong. If she said she was gone, then Evangeline Goodman was most certainly gone. And when Stacy said “gone,” she meant “dead.”

“Michael,” said Stacy gently. “I’m coming down there. I will be there tomorrow. I will help you find the body. I will help you.”

Michael closed his eyes and remembered her face and suddenly all he wanted was her arms around him.

Evangeline (Part Twenty Six)

Tucker felt the vibration before he heard it. He could feel it in his chest and in his teeth. He tightened his grip on Prissy’s delicate neck. Her eyes grew wide with confusion, then with anger, and then fear as she began to realize that Tucker was indeed trying to kill her.

Prissy grabbed Tucker’s hands and frantically buried her fingernails in to his skin, scratching and clawing at his cold grip. This only made him angry and he squeezed harder. Prissy’s face was a deep, purple-red. Her eyelashes fluttered as she gasped for air. Tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks in tiny rivers of pain.

The vibration grew stronger. Tucker could hear it now. Like a faraway swarm of hornets, a low buzz that tickled his ears. He glanced over at Evangeline and realized the sound was coming from her. She was humming, her eyes closed as in prayer, the long piece of duct tape still covering her mouth.

The room began to grow darker. The buzzing grew louder. Tucker felt dizzy and nauseated all at once. He could feel Prissy’s knees buckling under her. She was almost dead, if he could just stop that buzzing.

“Shut up!” he screamed at Evangeline. “Stop that noise right now, or you will be next!” he threatened.

Tucker’s mind began to reel. He saw tiny flecks of light and heard the sound of a choir humming long slow notes, “O Come, O Come Emanuel.”

Evangeline slowly opened her eyes and the room filled with butterflies. Only to Tucker Shaw they were razor blades, with wings.

Evangeline (Part Twenty Five)

Stacy Garcia was halfway between Chesterton, Indiana and Chicago when her cell phone startled her back from distant thoughts. She glanced at the number and her heart began to race.

It had been five years since she had heard from Michael, but in spite of everything, she still thought about him every single day and wondered what his life was like without her in it.

Michael was a man who believed in facts, science, and evidence. Stacy believed in things that couldn’t be proven. She had a gift that Michael couldn’t understand and eventually, it had become a wedge between them. He was determined to climb the ladder in the FBI, and there was no way he would succeed with a wife who could see the past, and sometimes the future.

Like her grandmother, Stacy had the “gift”. And even though law enforcement was always skeptical whenever her services were enlisted by some desperate detective, she had been extremely successful in helping to solve difficult cases. Now, she rarely aided the police. The more she opened her mind to “seeing” the crime, the more it affected her health. It was as if the gift came with a price.

Before she answered the phone, images began to appear before her mind’s eye. Two girls…concrete walls….and death….it was near. She was solving Michael’s mystery before she even heard his voice. Her connection to him had always been strangely powerful.

She answered without saying hello.

“Two girls. They’re in a small, dark, room. One of them is bound to a chair. The walls are concrete. They’re in grave danger Michael.”

Michael paused for a moment. He had forgotten how much he loved Stacy’s voice. It gave him a rush and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and summoned the most professional response he could muster.

“Hello Stacy. I hope you are well. The FBI would truly appreciate your assistance. Can you give me any other details of the scene?”

Stacy pulled the car over on to the emergency lane. The images were coming fast now. She could feel the cold dampness of the bunker. The room had an underground musty smell. Then she was looking in to a pair of cold green eyes and her throat began to tighten.

On the Road Again

I'll be traveling on business the next few weeks. Keep checking back for the final few chapters of Evangeline. She's almost home.

Evangeline (Part Twenty Four)

Tucker retrieved the message off of the internet voice mail box. The Feds were unwilling to commit to making the deposit until they talked to the girls to ensure they were still alive. They were insisting that Tucker speak with their negotiator. Guess he would have to kill Prissy today.

He turned off the cell phone and headed back to the fallout shelter through the fresh blanket of snow. Time to show the Feds he meant business.

He climbed down the steps into the shelter and winked at Prissy. “Everything’s going as planned,” he said with a smile. Prissy hopped up and threw her arms around his neck. “That’s wonderful Tucker! I am sooooo ready to get out of this dungeon!” she whined.

You mean your tomb. He thought to himself.

Evangeline was bound to a folding chair. Her ankles and wrists secured with duct tape. Tucker had also made sure to put an extra long piece over her mouth. The last thing he wanted was to hear her singing. He shuttered at the thought.

With her arms still around his neck, Tucker began to ponder how to kill Prissy. He could always shoot her. But maybe strangulation would be more fun? He could just imagine the look on her face when it dawned on her that he had tricked her, lied to her, and used her.

He slid his hands up to cup her face and gave her a long kiss on the mouth. “Ewww, Tucker,” Prissy groaned, “You need to brush your teeth.”

He smiled and slowly moved his hands down around her delicate neck, his thumbs making little affectionate circles so as not to alarm her.

Evangeline (Part Twenty Three)

Special Agent Michael Kent sat alone in his office in the mobile command center listening to classical music radio. He needed some time to figure out who Tucker Shaw was. As a profiler for the FBI, it was his job to create a personality framework of the kidnapper in order to assess his determination, motivation, and proclivity for violence. This would help them to understand what kind of person they were dealing with.

It had been a long day waiting for Tucker to reply with the go-ahead. The state police had combed the county, but a midnight snow had covered all the tracks and they had been unable to find a trail. Winter had finally come to Virginia.

Agent Kent put his feet up on the desk and took a deep breath. He knew the more time that passed, the less likely the two kidnapped girls would be released alive. It was just a statistical fact. He closed his eyes and tried to piece together the last few sections of the profile in his mind – prior crimes – family background – incarceration – drug abuse. It did not bode well for Prissy and Evangeline.

Suddenly a familiar melody filled the quiet space in the office. It was Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2. The music reminded him of a time and a place long ago, before he had chosen duty over love. A deep sadness squeezed his heart and memories poured over the wall that separated work from his personal life. He turned the volume up, put his head in his hands, and let himself travel back through time to a beautiful day with the love of his life.

By letting her go, he had done the right thing, hadn’t he?

Evangeline (Part Twenty Two)

The Tabernacle church was surrounded by flashing blue lights. There were county sheriff’s cars, state police cars, and a couple of black SUVs with dark tinted windows and small blue lights on the dashboard. The FBI had made it to Sommerville from Richmond in record time. After all, kidnapping is a serious crime that requires highly-skilled law enforcement, not hick town sheriffs and their deputies.

Inside the envelope that Tucker had left with the pastor’s wife was a simple note written with a dull pencil.

To the town of Sommerville:

Wire $1,000,000 in to account # 00098970653 at The Swiss Credit Bank in Zurich by 5:00 p.m. on December 21 or Evangeline Goodman and Prissy Montgomery will both be killed.

Call the following voice mail box and leave a message to let me know you have received this message by 5:00 pm tomorrow night, or I will kill Prissy Montgomery just to show you I mean business. The number is 999-708-7675.

Once I know you have received this message, I will call with further instructions.

Don’t piss me off.

Tucker was a good listener and had learned a few things about new identities from his cellmate in prison. He’d also learned a great deal about Swiss bank accounts from Prissy Montgomery. He could disappear in to a big city in the u.s.a. for a while, laying low and living simply for a year before sliding over the border.

He had a new California driver’s license, social security card, veteran’s i.d, and a Swiss Credit Bank ATM card. Soon, Tucker would become just another California beach bum. All he had to do was get to the Standard Iron train depot and hitch a ride in an empty box car.

According to his internet research, the train ran straight across the country to the port in San Diego. On foot, he could be at the depot in twelve minutes if he cut through Saunder’s Dairy, climbed the fence behind the loading dock, and zig zagged through the stacks of iron pipes to the waiting train.

Tucker had timed himself three times before the kidnapping, always making the journey in the darkest hours of the night to avoid being seen. Two of the three times he made it in twelve minutes. Once he made it in 20, only because he twisted his ankle and had to hop the remaining 100 yards, so that time didn’t count.

Evangeline (Part Twenty One)

Tucker and Prissy discovered the hideout completely by accident. Hiding their relationship from Prissy’s father had forced them to look for secret meeting places. On one such adventure, they stumbled across an abandoned fallout shelter.

At first they thought it was just an old garage, but once inside, they found a door in the floor that opened to a 10 x 10 concrete room, complete with musty old cots and a few rusted tin cans.

The hideout was deep in the woods behind Grandma Shaw’s farm. At one time, there had been a house on the property. But now, only the crumbled outline of the foundation remained.

Tucker pulled Prissy’s car in to the garage, making sure to leave room to open the door in the floor. The garage was so overgrown and surrounded by thick pine trees that it would be almost impossible to see it from the air. Tucker’s only worry was that someone may have seen him turn on to the old logging road. His tracks would be fresh.

Prissy and Tucker had stocked the fallout shelter with enough food, water, beer, and toilet paper for about two weeks. Prissy had also insisted on new blankets, oil lamps, bug spray, folding chairs, and a large mirror to hang on the wall (to make the room look larger). She couldn’t imagine being down in that hole for two weeks without a shower, so Tucker had rigged up a small camp shower behind the garage, on the promise that she would only shower at night, in the dark, and no more than every three days. Prissy reluctantly agreed.

Tucker had also been thoughtful enough to hang a blanket across one corner of the room and had designated it as the unisex bathroom, complete with a portable potty (he couldn't wait to tell Prissy it was her job to empty it).

The wind began to howl through the old garage as the three descended the creeky wooden steps in to the darkness. Tucker’s flashlight threw a halogen beam into the black velvet of the fallout shelter, highlighting newly spun cobwebs and their own reflections in the cracked mirror on the wall.

The plan was in motion. Too late to turn back now.

Evangeline (Part Twenty)

Piece of cake, that’s what it was.

Evangeline and her mother had been so startled to see Tucker and Prissy and the gun that they’d stumbled in shock to Prissy’s car without resisting. Tucker made Evangeline get in the back seat, all the while pointing the gun at her mother’s head.

Prissy quickly tied Evangeline’s hands, stuffed a rag in her mouth and placed a flour sack over her head, tightening the cotton draw strings just enough to be uncomfortable. Then Tucker shouted at Evangeline to lie down.

Mrs. Goodman was handed a large envelope with the words “Instructions for Ransom” scrawled across the front in black magic marker.

“Take this to Prissy’s father,” Tucker hissed, “if you ever want to see your daughter alive again, make sure they give me what I want.” With that, Tucker and Prissy jumped in the car and left Mrs. Goodman, still shaking in a cloud of dust.

"I am a genius!" Tucker shouted. Prissy nervously looked over her shoulder at Evangeline's flour-sack covered head. Evangeline glared at her through the loosely woven fabric, and although Prissy could not see her eyes, she felt them. A feeling of dread settled in to her stomach causing the acid to rise in her throat. Prissy closed her eyes and prayed to whoever would listen for a speedy and harmless resolution to the kidnapping.

All she wanted was Tucker and an engagement ring. Was that too much to ask?

Evangeline (Part Nineteen)

Tucker was on his sixth beer.

Prissy held her hand up to the sky. She parted her fingers so that the golden fire of the setting sun was between her middle finger and ring finger. If she squinted just right, it looked like she was wearing a huge diamond ring, the kind she expected to receive from Tucker. It would be so romantic to be married on the beach in Mexico. She smiled and let out a happy sigh.

Tucker glanced at her before he opened the car door. “I gotta piss,” he snarled. He slammed the car door and staggered behind a big blue dumpster. Prissy rolled her eyes and wondered how she would ever teach the boy manners. “If he doesn’t stop drinking beer, he will be peeing all night” she thought.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pastor Goodman’s white station wagon coming up the alley. Her heart began to race in her chest. Tucker peered out from behind the dumpster and held his finger up to his puckered lips to indicate that she needed to be quiet. Prissy sat motionless while sweat began to trickle down between her cleavage. “How can it be so hot in December?” she wondered.

From her vantage point, she could see that Pastor Goodman was alone. Where were Mrs. Goodman and Evangeline? The Pastor seemed preoccupied and hurriedly unlocked the back door to the church without glancing Prissy’s way. After the Pastor was inside, Tucker bolted back to the car and slid in behind the steering wheel.

“Where in the hell is his wife and daughter?” Tucker shouted at Prissy.

“I don’t know,” Prissy whined. “They must have decided to drive separate cars for some reason. And don’t you dare yell at me Tucker Shaw!”

Just about that time, Prissy spotted Evangeline and Mrs. Goodman walking around the corner of the back of Higgin’s Pharmacy. They were smiling and enjoying what appeared to be a chocolate milk shake. Higgin’s Pharmacy makes the best chocolate milk shakes in the entire world. Prissy’s mouth watered at the thought.

“This is perfect,” Tucker muttered. “It will be easier to grab her without Pastor Goodman around. I might not even have to use my gun.” Tucker caressed the cool steel of the pistol and winked at Prissy. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

Prissy and Tucker stepped out of the car and headed down the alley towards Evangeline and her very pregnant mother.

Evangeline (Part Eighteen)

The back door to the Tabernacle Church opened up on to a narrow alley. Across the alley was a very small grassy lot where the pastor parked his car. Tucker Shaw had driven up and down the alley several times, figuring out the best way in and the best way out. It was the final preparation for his ticket out of town. He was ready to get the show on the road.

Prissy picked Tucker up at 5:00 pm and they headed to the spot he had chosen to hide the car, one block from the back door of the Tabernacle Church. They sat and waited as the sun went down for Pastor Goodman and family, to arrive at the church for the Christmas Pageant rehearsals.

Prissy was very unhappy. Tucker had only allowed her to bring one small bag. Did he realize how difficult it was to choose only two pairs of shoes? And what about all her expensive clothes, and makeup, and accessories? She sat and fumed, unable to look at Tucker. How could he be so cruel?

Tucker was oblivious to Prissy’s mood. His mind wandered to long stretches of beach, warm ocean breezes, and a caramel-skinned Mexican cutie bringing him frosty beverages. He couldn’t wait to get there – especially knowing that any day now, Sal Vannelli & Company would be showing up looking for blood. He felt the cold fingers of fear clutch his heart and he tightened his grip on Sal Vannelli’s Colt .38 Special.

Evangeline (Part Seventeen)

As Mrs. Goodman approached her seventh month of pregnancy, her doctor put her on bed rest. Evangeline began to do even more around the house to help out, including cooking the entire Thanksgiving Dinner.

The closer she got to her due date, the more anxious Mrs. Goodman became about the baby. Evangeline could sense her mother’s anxiety and began to sing to her as often as possible. Mrs. Goodman said that when Evangeline sang, she could feel the baby turn, as if to position its head closer to the sound of Evangeline’s voice.

The baby was due December 28th, right between Christmas and New Year’s, so Pastor Goodman and Evangeline planned to do all the decorating and cooking for the holidays. They were also very involved with the Christmas Pageant, so things were a little crazy around the Goodman household.

It was about a month before Christmas, when Evangeline noticed that Prissy Montgomery had suddenly become very interested in her. Prissy actually spoke to Evangeline when she passed her in the hall at school, and she made it a point to personally invite Evangeline to her private Christmas party at the country club. All this seemed a little odd to Evangeline, but being the kind of person she was, she assumed that Prissy had matured, buried the hatchet, and realized that life was too short to harbor old feuds.

Evangeline could not have been more wrong.

Evangeline (Part Sixteen)

The plan was simple. Kidnap the creepy girl with the cash-generating vocal cords and demand a million dollar ransom. Tucker believed that there were just enough “Jesus Freaks” around Sommerville who would be more than willing to pony-up the money. He got the idea from Prissy, who claimed that Evangeline’s voice had brought in hundreds of thousands of dollars in offerings to the Tabernacle Church.

With the holidays approaching, Evangeline would be performing in the Christmas Pageant. The whole town would suffer if she wasn’t around to add her angelic voice to the traditional production. After all, people drove from neighboring states just to hear her sing “O Holy Night.” This brought in a great deal of extra revenue to Sommerville. The gas stations did better. The restaurants did better. The shops along Market Street did better. Sommerville’s Christmas Pageant had become a tourist attraction.

Tucker knew he had to act fast and grab the girl in time to paralyze the town’s holiday plans. He believed it would be motivation enough to force them to pay quickly. The sooner they paid, the sooner they got their song bird back, and Christmas could go on as usual.

Meanwhile, he would be soaking up the sun in Cabo with some sexy senorita. Tucker needed Prissy’s help to implement the plan, but he had no intention of taking that spoiled Daddy’s Girl to Mexico. It would be “adios” Miss Montgomery as soon as he had his hands on the cash.

Evangeline (Part Fifteen)

The phone call came the same day we had our first snow of the winter. Grandma Shaw hung up the phone with a puzzled look on her face. She then informed Tucker that someone named Sal Vannelli had called from Chicago asking if Tucker lived there. The minute she said “Sal Vannelli,” all of the blood drained from Tucker’s face and he dropped his spoon into the gigantic bowl of Captain Crunch he was devouring.

Yes, the father of Tucker’s former (pregnant) girlfriend Sandy back in Chicago, had tracked him down. Tucker knew this could only mean one thing. He did not have long to get out of town. If Sal Vannelli knew where he was, that meant the whole Vannelli clan did too, and if the Vannelli clan knew, Tucker was as good as dead.

Tucker needed money, lots of it, and he needed it fast. He called Prissy and asked her to meet him at their rendezvous spot. Two hours later, they had devised the scheme. With enough cash, they could head for Mexico and disappear. Tucker always wanted to go south of the border, and he certainly was a big fan of tequila.

Evangeline (Part Fourteen)

Speaking of love, from the moment she saw him, Prissy Montgomery was “in love” with Tucker Shaw, much to her father’s chagrin.

Prissy never intended to annoy her father, but for some reason, she seemed to find ever more creative ways to displease and exasperate him. Tucker was 21 years old and Prissy was sixteen. The age difference was unacceptable to Garrison Montgomery and he forbade Prissy to have anything to do with Tucker Shaw. But of course, that only made Tucker much more mysterious and interesting to Prissy. So she ignored her father’s instructions and continued to rendezvous secretly with Tucker.

It was about the same time as Prissy’s infatuation with Tucker began, that very bad things started to happen around here. There were robberies. Lots of guns were stolen. Drugs began to show up in the high school – something that had never been a problem before. There was vandalism. Windows were broken. Mailboxes were crushed. Empty beer bottles littered the road sides. Yes, something dark was happening in Sommerville.

Evangeline (Part Thirteen)

I believe true love comes along once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. I had such a love a long, long time ago. There is no way to explain that kind of love. I could write for the next 20 years about him, but never come close to understanding or illuminating the profound depth of our connection. They say true love is the heart’s recognition of its counterpart in another. To this day, my heart beats faster at the very thought of his name.

Branden was a soldier. His duty was to his country. So when his country called him to Korea, he went. Six months later he was reported Missing in Action. His body has never been recovered. Sometimes duty requires us to do the opposite of what our heart wants us to do.

When I sit on the porch late in the afternoon, I like to imagine him walking down the street, coming home to me, arms open wide. Branden always looked so handsome in his uniform. I saved all of his letters to me, every one. It is all I have left of him.

When the person you love the most in the world is gone, there is nothing that can fill that space in your heart. And neither time, nor distance, nor other love can lessen the pain of losing it. It is an abyss, an immeasurable void in my life. The older I get, the deeper it becomes.

I eventually married a good man and moved on with my life. But the love I have for Branden was, and is, the only absolute I’ve ever known.

Evangeline (Part Twelve)

Grandma Shaw was indeed surprised by Tucker’s sudden appearance in her driveway. But Tucker was her only grandchild, so she did what any grandmother would do, she took him in. He seemed to her to be a little lost and down-in-the-dumps, so Grandma Shaw was exceptionally patient. Yet after three months of sitting on the sofa watching television all day while eating her out of house and home, Tucker’s grace period ran out.

Grandma Shaw inquired around town about work and discovered that Garrison Montgomery (Prissy’s father) was looking for a handy man/gardener/errand boy. She went straight over to the bank and struck a deal with Garrison. Tucker would work five days a week from 9:00 am until 3:00 pm and would basically do whatever it was that Garrison Montgomery needed done. Tucker would earn $10 an hour. His lunch would be provided. A pretty good deal for a recently-released ex-convict (although Grandma Shaw forgot to mention that minor detail to Mr. Montgomery).

Tucker was not happy when Grandma Shaw told him the news, but the more he argued, the deeper she dug in her heals, and eventually she wore him down. After all, he had learned a few skills in prison such as painting, basic carpentry, and ceramics, although that last one might not be very helpful.

So began Tucker’s first real job on the first Monday of summer vacation. Prissy slept in until noon that day then lazily made her way down to the kitchen for something to eat. Through the big windows of the kitchen that looked out onto the back lawn, Prissy saw him. He was on a ladder with a bucket of paint in one hand and a paint brush in the other. He had taken his shirt off and was precariously perched as he strained to reach the top of one of the round columns on the back veranda. The muscles in his chest and arms caught her attention, but it was the tattoo that gave her a sudden rush of excitement and danger and adventure. It was a dragon. The tail formed a circle around his belly button, and the dragon’s body rippled vertically up the middle of Tucker’s chest, the flames from its mouth forming a circle around a small black heart.

Prissy Montgomery smiled. This was not going to be another boring summer.

Evangeline (Part Eleven)

Grandma Shaw had one of those fancy gates at the entrance to her drive way, the kind where you have to push a button and get permission before the gate will open. Tucker was not expecting that. He was hoping to surprise his ol' granny. (This was the first of many miscalculations by Tucker Shaw.)

He pushed the button and waited.

He pushed it again and waited, still no answer. Then he noticed a small strip of paper taped to the mailbox. It read, "Gone to the bank. Leave packages at gate" signed, "M. Shaw." Tucker put the truck in park and turned the motor off. Seemed like a good time for a nap.

He was just about to doze off when he heard someone singing. He sat up and looked around. There was a girl with a head of massive brown curls riding a bicycle and singing as she pedaled along. The closer she came, the clearer her voice became. It was a voice that made his skin want to bubble up and slide right off his body. He covered his ears with his hands and watched her pedal slowly by in the rear view mirror, glancing his way as she rode along.

After she disappeared around the curve, he cautiously lowered his hands. Her voice faded in the distance. Then suddenly, his truck was surrounded and the interior of the old Ford grew dark. Butterflies, thousands of them were flying into the windows their wings beating against the glass. Tucker sat motionless and terrified. Then just as quickly, they were gone.

He laughed uneasily to himself. Then, he thought about the girl on the bicycle and an ice cold fear ran down his spine.