In Danger's Arms

Chapter 1

Groverfield, Texas. A long way away from New York. She'd been driving for more than twenty-four hours, terrified and more alone than she'd ever been. With no particular destination in mind, she'd ended up here, in this town. Tucked away in the belly of the state as it was, the town was small, quiet, inconspicuous. It seemed a good place for someone who wanted to disappear.

There were a few ordinary-looking buildings scattered here and there—an antique shop, a bank, a fast food restaurant. Ashley turned toward the restaurant, Pam's Diner, as announced by the illuminated sign in the window. She was tired and miserable and, most importantly right now, hungry.

Sitting in the parking lot, she looked into the rear-view mirror at her reflection, one that continued to take her by surprise, even now. Her chocolate complexion was still smooth and flawless and her large, dark-brown eyes, although reflecting shadows of sadness now, were still striking. But she'd cut off her thick, black, shoulder-length hair, a product of her African and Indian ancestry. It was now barely six inches long and dyed a light brown. A change in her appearance she'd made back at Maurice's cabin. 

With a small sigh, she finger-combed the short strands at the front, then undid her seatbelt and turned to unlock her door. Her glance landed on the pair of glasses that lay at the front of the car. An additional attempt at disguising herself. Should she bother with those? Can't be too careful, she decided, picking them up.

It was late Friday night, approaching ten o'clock, and only a few people were in the streets. There were even fewer inside the diner, she noted as she entered, looking warily around. It had become second nature, this need to scour her surroundings. Every place, every building she visited was given an extra amount of precautionary attention. A car pulling up beside her suddenly would always get a second look.

Satisfied that all was well, she joined the short line to the cashier. She ordered a chicken sandwich and pineapple juice, and then went to sit toward the back where she had a sweeping view of the outside.

She put the straw in her drink to her lips and took a sip of the sweet and sour liquid. Unwrapping the sandwich, she bit off a piece and discovered she wasn't as hungry as she had at first imagined. Depression was robbing her of her appetite. And her spirit.

Ashley sighed deeply, pushing the sandwich away as her eyes misted over. Her brother's funeral was tomorrow, Maurice had informed her. And she'd not be there, would not get the chance to tell him good-bye. 

She removed her glasses and covered her face with her hands. She tried to hold back the tears. It was no use. Her eyes overflowed and she cried silently for her sibling, her dear, sweet brother who wouldn't have hurt a fly.

"Are you all right, young lady?"

Ashley looked up and saw a woman somewhere in her sixties standing beside her. Ashley quickly wiped the tears away with the back of her sleeve and slid the glasses back on her face.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," she said, turning her head away.

"Well, you don't seem fine to me," the woman answered. "You're not from around these parts, are you? I don't remember seeing you before." Without seeking permission, she sat down in the seat across from Ashley. Her warm, black eyes were full of questions as she placed her laden plastic bag on the table between them.

"No, I'm not from here," said Ashley.

"So where're you from?"

"New...Jersey."

"A long way from home, eh? Visiting relatives?"

"No." She had no relatives now to visit.

The woman got up, perhaps sensing Ashley's reticence. "Well, take care now," she said, placing a gentle hand on Ashley's shoulder. "And dry those beautiful eyes of yours. Whatever it is that's bothering you, I hope you'll find some peace soon." She took up her bag and stepped away. "I'm Madge, by the way. Madge Jackson."