from shooting me again!’ Mr Jones said.
‘You’re right. I was going to shoot you. But not in the foot this time. I would have aimed for the head.’
‘OK, then,’ Mr Jones said. A few seconds later he added: ‘Are you better now?’
‘Yes, yes I am. Thank you,’ Mr Smith said.
‘No problem,’ Mr Jones said.
‘Of course, now we have a new problem. We’re stuck out here in the woods,’ Mr Smith said.
‘You wanna try backing up?’ Mr Jones suggested.
‘That’s a good idea, Mr Jones,’ Mr Smith said, surprised to hear the words escaping his mouth. ‘I’ll try that.’
The engine had died upon impact with the small tree, so Mr Smith turned the key. Nothing happened. He turned it again. Still nothing happened.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘looks like this one’s dead.’
‘Guess we gotta steal another one,’ Mr Jones said.
Looking straight ahead into the crowded forest of mesquite trees, Mr Smith said, ‘You know I’m really going to kill you this time, don’t you?’
Mr Jones smiled and said, ‘I know you’re going to
try.’
VERA’S STORY
WEDNESDAY
That first day of the meeting was crazy busy. I heard a couple of sermons that were pretty good, went to a panel discussion on creationism vs. the big bang theory (no contest there), and had another choir practice that afternoon about four. Still no word on Rachael Donley. By the time I got to choir practice, the word had traveled around all our people and some of those from the other choirs (especially the altos – they tend to stick together, you know). There was a lot of chatter, but as far as I could tell, John Blevins was still the last one to see her. And no one, far as I could make out, had been up on the mezzanine level – where Rachael was last seen heading – at all.
I talked to Brother Joe, and told him what I’d found out.
‘She must have run into someone she knew,’ he said, ‘and left for some reason. I’m sure she meant to come back, but something came up. Hopefully she’ll call soon and let us know.’
I agreed with him and, after practice, headed to my room to get ready for dinner. It was then I noticed that Rachael’s suitcase was gone. As were her toiletries from the bathroom and her hang-up clothes from the closet. On my bed was a note:
Dear Vera,
So sorry I just ran off, but I saw a friend who I haven’t seen in a long time and she’s going through a divorce and is having a rough time. I couldn’t leave her alone. I hope you understand. Please tell Brother Joe and the rest of the choir how sorry I am to have just walked out like that, but it was an emergency. Have a wonderful meeting!
Best,
Rachael
Well, that’s rude, I thought. She could have at least called. And since she came back to the hotel, why didn’t she come talk to someone? If not me, then Brother Joe? Whatever, I thought, remembering that I hadn’t liked her that much anyway before this trip. I just hoped she didn’t try to get her money back on the room.
The sketch artist was gorgeous. I wasn’t the only one to notice it. Megan forgot about her new short bob and kept trying to flip her hair. Bess had the hair and was flipping it like mad. Only Alicia seemed impervious to Calvin Hedley’s charms.
Yes, Calvin Hedley. Horrible name for such a stud. Well over six feet, more like six and half, broad shoulders, round bottom, black hair, olive complexion and blue eyes to die for. And a smile that … Well, it was a heavenly smile.
Calvin and Alicia sat in the formal dining room, working away at the sketch, while we three ‘girls,’ and I use that term loosely, sat in the formal living room and watched. They’d been at it for an hour when I heard Willis’s truck pull into the driveway. I sighed and left the living room. I wasn’t up to giving my husband ammunition with which to tease me for the next ten years. ‘Drooling over a kid half your age,’ etc., etc., ad nauseum.
While he nestled his truck all snug in the garage, I got out a
‘You’re right. I was going to shoot you. But not in the foot this time. I would have aimed for the head.’
‘OK, then,’ Mr Jones said. A few seconds later he added: ‘Are you better now?’
‘Yes, yes I am. Thank you,’ Mr Smith said.
‘No problem,’ Mr Jones said.
‘Of course, now we have a new problem. We’re stuck out here in the woods,’ Mr Smith said.
‘You wanna try backing up?’ Mr Jones suggested.
‘That’s a good idea, Mr Jones,’ Mr Smith said, surprised to hear the words escaping his mouth. ‘I’ll try that.’
The engine had died upon impact with the small tree, so Mr Smith turned the key. Nothing happened. He turned it again. Still nothing happened.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘looks like this one’s dead.’
‘Guess we gotta steal another one,’ Mr Jones said.
Looking straight ahead into the crowded forest of mesquite trees, Mr Smith said, ‘You know I’m really going to kill you this time, don’t you?’
Mr Jones smiled and said, ‘I know you’re going to
try.’
VERA’S STORY
WEDNESDAY
That first day of the meeting was crazy busy. I heard a couple of sermons that were pretty good, went to a panel discussion on creationism vs. the big bang theory (no contest there), and had another choir practice that afternoon about four. Still no word on Rachael Donley. By the time I got to choir practice, the word had traveled around all our people and some of those from the other choirs (especially the altos – they tend to stick together, you know). There was a lot of chatter, but as far as I could tell, John Blevins was still the last one to see her. And no one, far as I could make out, had been up on the mezzanine level – where Rachael was last seen heading – at all.
I talked to Brother Joe, and told him what I’d found out.
‘She must have run into someone she knew,’ he said, ‘and left for some reason. I’m sure she meant to come back, but something came up. Hopefully she’ll call soon and let us know.’
I agreed with him and, after practice, headed to my room to get ready for dinner. It was then I noticed that Rachael’s suitcase was gone. As were her toiletries from the bathroom and her hang-up clothes from the closet. On my bed was a note:
Dear Vera,
So sorry I just ran off, but I saw a friend who I haven’t seen in a long time and she’s going through a divorce and is having a rough time. I couldn’t leave her alone. I hope you understand. Please tell Brother Joe and the rest of the choir how sorry I am to have just walked out like that, but it was an emergency. Have a wonderful meeting!
Best,
Rachael
Well, that’s rude, I thought. She could have at least called. And since she came back to the hotel, why didn’t she come talk to someone? If not me, then Brother Joe? Whatever, I thought, remembering that I hadn’t liked her that much anyway before this trip. I just hoped she didn’t try to get her money back on the room.
The sketch artist was gorgeous. I wasn’t the only one to notice it. Megan forgot about her new short bob and kept trying to flip her hair. Bess had the hair and was flipping it like mad. Only Alicia seemed impervious to Calvin Hedley’s charms.
Yes, Calvin Hedley. Horrible name for such a stud. Well over six feet, more like six and half, broad shoulders, round bottom, black hair, olive complexion and blue eyes to die for. And a smile that … Well, it was a heavenly smile.
Calvin and Alicia sat in the formal dining room, working away at the sketch, while we three ‘girls,’ and I use that term loosely, sat in the formal living room and watched. They’d been at it for an hour when I heard Willis’s truck pull into the driveway. I sighed and left the living room. I wasn’t up to giving my husband ammunition with which to tease me for the next ten years. ‘Drooling over a kid half your age,’ etc., etc., ad nauseum.
While he nestled his truck all snug in the garage, I got out a
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