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A Lasting Embrace

By C. R. Noble

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Prologue

The screams of the women echoed through the hallway of the house. The pine floors creaked as they ran towards the stairs in the kitchen, half pushing, half balancing against each other as they frantically climbed to the upper floor, heading towards the attic. He was up there; they could hear him shouting. They ran to his voice, seeking his protection from the soldiers, the harsh yelling and the butt of guns pounding on the front door.
Shaking hands clutched long cotton skirts, pulling the material up from the floor to keep from tripping in their maddening dash to be away from the danger. Their chests were heaving from exertion; perspiration flowed and blouses stuck to their backs in the hot August afternoon. The suffocating warmth of the house was oppressive as they surged forward to the upper room.
Overwhelming dread mixed with sweat and terror, dripping from their faces, damp strands of hair flowing like thin muddy streams down their cheeks and necks as they struggled to run up the narrow staircase.
At the end of the upper hall, the heavy wooden attic door, which bolted from the inside, was shut tight. They moaned in unison at the sight of the closed door, but frantically lunged forward, grunting with the strain as they used their combined body weight to push the heavy attic door open. Their fingernails dug into the wood with their efforts. They must be with him, he will save them; he will know what to do; it was the single collective thought filling their minds as the heavy footsteps behind them warned of their impending doom.
Angry voices of soldiers were calling out to surrender or die. Desperation giving them strength, they pushed yet again and the door burst open from their efforts but as they saw him, loud shots filled the air and howls of pain and shock came from their mouths.
Rage and pain overcame them as the soldiers’ bullets pounded into the occupants of the attic. They screamed and clawed at the air as they fell, grasping blindly for support as their bodies landed one on top of the other. Bullets splayed into the yellow wallpaper intermixed with crimson spatters, creating a macabre mural on the attic walls of flesh and blood.
He fell last, the anger in his eyes glazing over as he toppled forward, hands clutching the woman in his arms. They landed on top of the other women who lay in a crumpled heap near his feet, skirts strewn over each other, blood spattered and muscles twitching as brain and nerves slowly ceased.
Their pool of collective blood spread out from the bodies, soaking the cloth of the long skirts, slowly swirling and settling into the knotty pine grooves of the wooden planks beneath them, before seeping down deep into the cracks of the floor.









Chapter One

Ella Reed pulled up and parked the 2010 Red Toyota 4-Runner in front of the house; the tires spitting rocks and dirt as she braked on the gravel road. Turning off the motor; she opened the car door and stepped out of the SUV in one fluid motion; her dark brown, shoulder length hair swinging slightly with her movements.
She slammed the car door shut, hearing the echo in the stillness of the afternoon air. It was surprisingly warm for a June weekend in Utah; the temperature already a hot, dry 90 degrees. She stepped back for a better view of the house, reaching both hands behind her head, lifting the heavy mane of hair from the back of her neck to cool herself.
Ella smiled as she surveyed the historic home, now hers as of a few hours ago. She had just closed earlier that day in the lawyer’s office in Salt Lake City. The house was of a bygone era; one of only a few hundred homes that still dotted the landscape of northern Utah; the last remnants of the Mormon pioneers who had built the carpenter-gothic style homes in the mid 1800’s. These older homes had such attention to detail, she thought to herself. Hand-crafted, they were carefully and painstakingly built by skilled hands to stand the test of time.
It had been surprisingly well cared for by its prior owner, an elderly single woman. The tall, steeply sloped roof had been shingled in a dark green that matched the tops of the pine trees that stood as guardians in the backyard of the old home, framing it against the bright blue sky.
Two white painted columns supported the roof of the front porch, framing the doorway, standing like sentinels. The left side of the house jutted forward with its large picture window as if to capture a better view for those inside. Gleaming white trim around the windows on both the main and upper floors matched the porch columns while the porch and brick siding of the home were painted a creamy pale yellow.
The pale color of the home contrasted beautifully with the deep forest green of the wooden front door, with its little square, old-fashioned window covered by a lace curtain that had aged to the color of deep cream. A walkway of large sandstone bricks, carefully spaced to let the green grass grow in between each crevice seemed to beckon her to approach and enter.
The house had originally been part of a farm with several acres of land, situated near the base of the blue peaks of the Wasatch Mountains in a lush green valley. As was the case with many family farms, tougher economic times had required the former occupants to sell off most of the land to survive. Now, less than half an acre of land was all that remained.
The freshly mowed lawn, a sun-parched mix of green and brown, was outlined by a rickety, but charming white picket fence which peeked through green boxwood shrubs which framed the front yard of the home.
To the side and back of the house, pine trees mixed with poplars shaded the property and provided the necessary windbreak common to most farm houses. The trees themselves were quite old and towered 30 feet or more into the air. They swayed slightly as a warm summer breeze began to filter down from the mountains to the east, brushing softly against each other with a rustling sound.
Only the overgrown bushes that encircled the foundation of the home, roses long since bloomed and sadly in need of pruning, as well as the browning of the overgrown lawn, told the story of recent neglect and an owner’s missing presence.
It was a beautiful, yet sad picture as it stood back and apart from its nearest neighbors, newer homes of stucco and brick that spoke of modern times.
Some might prefer such older homes be torn down and replaced by new and modern houses. But Ella loved it. She had grown up near here and had always had a passion for all things old – buildings, furniture and the history of lives lived long ago. She breathed deeply and relaxed; it was like coming home.
Her own family had moved from Utah to California when she had entered her teen-age years and her folks still resided in Orange County. She had been living by herself in San Francisco for the last couple of years and had been paying a ridiculously high rent for a one bedroom apartment located a couple miles from the Presidio area.
When her company had offered the chance for a promotion with a new job that could be based anywhere, she jumped at the chance. Ella had immediately made plans to move back to her former home state where for less than her rent, she could easily afford to buy her first home.
She had missed having four distinct seasons that played out across the majestic mountains ranges of Utah. Peaks capped with snow six months of the year melted into a sea of dark pines and shimmering aspens during the warmer months.
Ella opened her purse to get the set of key handed to her earlier in the day by the lawyer handling the estate sale. As she rummaged through her bag, she walked across the sandstone path towards the once stately home.
As her fingers curled around the odd shape of a skeleton key at the bottom of her purse, she withdrew her hand and practically glided over the worn wooden steps to her new home. Ella was giddy with the pride of ownership; she finally had a place of her own.
The old wooden porch showed its age gracefully; the slight creaking of the painted boards assured her that all visitors would be announced long before they knocked.
Carefully inserting the long, slender teeth of the key into the keyhole below the round metal doorknob, she turned it and heard the click of the lock. She grabbed the knob but the door refused to open. Grimacing slightly she pushed against the door, first with her hand and then her shoulder before the heavy door finally swung inward to the foyer. A warm, stale whisper of air brushed across her face as she entered her new home, shutting the door behind her.
The pine floors gleamed in the late afternoon sun, glossy and smooth from years of wax and polishing. As promised, the lawyer handling the estate sale had sent someone to clean since the house had stood empty the last few months. The scent of lemon and beeswax filled her senses as she walked into her new living room or what was once considered the front parlor.
Ella stopped to look out of the large picture window towards the quiet lane in front of the home, lined with poplars and dappled in shade. This peaceful scene would be hers to enjoy every day; she hugged herself with excitement.
“Ok, time to get busy” she said to herself, stuffing the key in the front pocket of her blue jeans. Her voice echoed softly through the house, which was devoid of all furniture. Walking back into the hallway, her sneakered feet made little noise on the wood floor as she once again tugged with both hands to open the solid front door.
Once ajar, she pushed it all the open and then let go to see if it would stay open. It did, not moving an inch. The heavy door’s hinges were caked with years of paint. Ella figured the door was probably sagging slightly under its age, as well, which might be causing it to stick.
Just as well – it will make it that much easier to haul my stuff in, she thought and walked back into the light of the late afternoon sun, towards her car where moving boxes were stuffed high in the back seat, almost obscuring the view out the back window of the SUV.
The moving van was scheduled to arrive the next day with her remaining possessions, but the clothing, towels, boxes of kitchen items and a sleeping bag she had packed would suffice for now.
Grabbing a rubber band from the front pocket of her jeans, she deftly pulled her chestnut brown hair into a low ponytail at the base of her neck before opening the trunk of the car. Slim and strong, she still struggled to lift the heavy box of pans and utensils, her baby blue t-shirt riding up slightly from the waistband of her jeans.
She grimaced slightly from heat, a bead of perspiration trickling down the side of her forehead. Ella sighed, wiped her forehead with the back of hand and wished she had changed into shorts first. Straightening up, she balanced the weight of the box on her hip as she made her way up the front path, across the porch and into the house. A couple of hours later, she set the last box on the old white and gold speckled Formica countertop in the kitchen.
Wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, she sighed with exhaustion and leaned against the counter, then slowly slid herself down the cupboards to the floor. Her lower back ached slightly from hauling in her things and she rested the back of her head against the sunny yellow enamel cupboard door. The hunter green and white square pattern linoleum floor did not make for a soft seat, but she was too tired to move. At least it felt cool through the bottom of her jeans.
Reaching above her head to the countertop, she felt for the bottle of water sitting there, grabbed it and brought it to her lips, drinking deeply, draining the last of its contents.
Four boxes lined the single, long countertop with another five stacked one on top of the other against the kitchen wall next to the white gas range. She eyed the appliances, which looked to be about ten years old – not new, but she had been assured they were in good working condition. Thankfully, the pictures and information she had viewed at the online real estate site had been very accurate.
“Got to love the internet” she said aloud, her alto voice echoing slightly in the otherwise empty kitchen. While in California, she had retained a realtor in Utah and had spent the last three months viewing houses from the multiple listings site that he forwarded to her. Some of the historical homes she had viewed had needed far too much updating for her taste, with ovens and refrigerators that appeared to be pre-World War II with electrical wiring and plumbing to match. Her love of old things only went so far…
This home, however, had been cared for and updated through the years, retaining its charm but providing more modern day conveniences. It’s most recent occupant had been an old, retired school teacher. A spinster who had been a great grand-daughter of the original owner of the home, she had no living relatives and the house had been sold as part of the estate sale after her death at the age of 87.
Ella had purchased the home for a song. The attorney and realtor handling the sale had met her at the local bank early that morning. After signing what seemed like 500 different papers, she was the proud owner of a home, a 15 year mortgage and a set of ancient looking skeleton keys.
The grumbling of her stomach reminded her that it had been several hours since her last meal. Placing her hands on the cool kitchen floor, she rolled over to her knees and pushed herself up.
She scanned the kitchen for her purse and after locating it behind a box, rummaged around inside for a breakfast bar she had thrown in that morning at the hotel before checking out. The protein bar in one hand and the other hand massaging the lower part of her aching back, she started up the stairs towards her new bedroom.
The late afternoon sun cast shadows across the pine stairs as she made her way up to the landing, grabbing hold of the smooth wooden banister for support as held the protein bar in the other, munching excitedly as she ascended to the second floor of the home. The stairs creaked slightly under her weight. Stopping at the top of the landing, she flipped on the light switch.
Two upstairs bedrooms ran along the left of the hall corridor. A third door on the right of the hallway led into the bathroom; a former bedroom that had been converted when indoor plumbing was added. A fourth door at the end of the hallway led to the attic. All the upstairs doors except for the attic had old-fashioned round glass handles that gleamed slightly in the soft electric light.
Finishing the breakfast bar and stuffing the wrapper in her back pocket absent-mindedly, Ella’s heart raced as she opened the second door on the left and stepped into what would be her master bedroom, her mind filled with possible decorating ideas.
The pine floor boards shone brightly and the room was filled with a soft scent of lemon wax. The orange glow of the summer evening sun peaked over the top of the pines in the backyard, stretching long thin beams of waning light into the room.
Ella snapped on the overhead light and looked around, pleased with the size of the room, which was bigger than it appeared in the online pictures she had viewed . The bare room looked over the backyard with its triple set of windows that were devoid of any curtains or blinds.
With the tall pine trees standing as guards against the backyard fence, the entire back of the house was very private. She shivered slightly at the coolness of the room which was surprising considering the heat of the day. Typically, the upstairs of the house would be warmer since heat rises, she thought to herself. The shadows of the trees must help keep it cooler, she reasoned as she walked back out of the room and crossed the hallway into the old-fashioned bathroom. It had obviously not seen a remodel for many years and she was glad; it was charming.
An old-fashioned white claw foot tub sat against the far wall of the bathroom, encircled by a white shower curtain that hung from the ceiling, attached to a circular rod. A single white pedestal sink was topped with a small medicine cabinet and mirror. A free-standing yellow pine vanity to the right of the sink held two drawers which provided the only counter space. The toilet seat was positioned against the opposite wall from the vanity. The pale yellows walls perfectly matched the tiny white and yellow mosaic tiles that lined the floor in a checkered pattern.
Ella noticed a smudge of dust on her cheek as she looked in the mirror and turned the white porcelain cross-shaped water faucet handles on, releasing a flood of warm water across her fingers. Thankfully, the water ran clear. She had been afraid of rust. She dabbed at the dirt on her cheek and wiped her hands across the legs of her jeans to dry them off.
“Towels” she said aloud, making a mental list of immediate to-do’s. She pulled the rubber band from her hair and raked her fingers through her long silky hair and satisfied with the image reflected back, turned from the mirror and stepped back into the hallway.
A slight motion in the bedroom, a flickering of a shadow, caught her eye and startled her. She jumped slightly and cautiously stepped towards the room. Her heart pounded as she quickly scanned the area around her. The shadows of the tall pine trees in the back of the house moved back and forth slightly, casting playful shadows across the wood floorboards.
Shrugging it off, Ella switched off the light and went to inspect the other bedroom before stepping back into the hallway. The wood floor squeaked slightly under her weight, causing her to startle in surprise.
“You’d better get used to having all kinds of noises“, she muttered to herself, “Old houses groan and creak worse than little old men.” She heard her mom’s voice all over again as she had tried to talk Ella out of purchasing the older home. “You’ll end up pouring all kinds of money into a place like that. Those old homes creak when the wind blows, the plumbing gets air in the pipes and it sings like a tea kettle, and don’t get me started on the mice in those places! They’re creepy! Why an old home? You better make sure you have the plumbing and electrical checked before you buy anything!”
She smiled at the thought of her over-protective mom; it made her heart ache a little as she made her way back downstairs into the kitchen. She loved her mom so much and was really going to miss living so far from her. She had tremendous respect for her mother, a wonderful woman who loved her children and raised them with her own strong moral character – urging them to work hard, take care of others, be kind and make the best of any situation. She was a friend as well as a mother.
Her mom was a smart, tough woman who had grown up in a tar-paper shack in a little town in Idaho. Her grandparents had been poor but proud. Their house had outdoor plumbing and dirt floors, but her grandmother had kept it sparkling clean, nonetheless. The kids and the yard were always tidy. “Poor was no excuse for lazy” her mom had said many times.
Her mother had a happy childhood despite her poverty and after graduating high school, had joined the army to see a little more of the world. She never got much further than North Carolina, but that’s where she had met Ella’s dad. Three months later, they had been married and were still going strong over 40 years later. Ella’s eyes flooded with tears as she thought about her mom. Utah was a lot further away than California and in a different time zone. It was going to be an adjustment for both of them.
Ella’s mother had also not been happy about Ella returning to Utah. Their family had lived in Utah for several years when she was young because of her father’s job. They were not religious and did not attend church, which made them stand out in the predominantly Mormon culture. Ella though, had started attending a local Mormon church, or ward as they are called in the LDS religion, with some of her pre-teen friends. She had wanted to feel accepted and part of the crowd. In Utah, that meant hanging out with the Mormon kids and going to church-sponsored activities.
Things had changed when she was about 14; her mom had started to attend a local non-denominational church and quickly had her dad attending as well. Ella had also gone a few times, at the insistence of her mother, which seemed to make her Mormon friends nervous. They had started asking her to attend more of their various meetings and not just the activities. They were always mentioning how their church was the only true church and seemed very worried she would choose the Christian church her parents attended.
After a while, it had started to feel like she was being torn between her parents and her friends. Being a strong-minded and slightly rebellious 14 year old, she resented the tug of war and quit going to either church. No matter how much her parents or friends pleaded with her, she had refused to attend any religious function or even discuss it. Religion seemed to drive one’s very way of life in Utah and she had wanted no part of it.
But by her 15th birthday, her dad had received a promotion and the whole family had transferred to California. Her mom had found another little Christian church a couple of miles from their new house in Huntington Beach, but other than holidays, Ella stubbornly refused to attend. She felt scorched by the experience in Utah and didn’t care to repeat it.
Relocating to a new city and starting her freshman year of high school was about all Ella could handle at the time. Lonely and in a new school, she had focused on schoolwork to occupy her time. Having little social life had worked well for her grades; she hade earned a perfect 4.0 all through high school. Coupled with excellent SAT scores, Ella had her choice of scholarships by the time she graduated. She decided on UCLA.The downtown area gridlock convinced her parents that daily commuting was not the best or safest option and they agreed to let her move into the dorms. With a full scholarship; money had not been an issue.
For Ella, the situation had also resolved the pressure to attend church as well. A little distance eased the pressure of her relationship with her mom and while she was in college, she had called home regularly to chat. Her mother’s loving voice, full of encouragement, helped get Ella through the tough, lonely freshman year at college.
They had spoken more openly over the phone and had held long conversations about friends, politics, her future and even talked about God. Ella had hated to hang up the phone; her renewed relationship with her mother had been a lifeline when she was drowning in school and making the transition from juvenile to adult.
She could also tell that her parents were really into the church thing by then; they rarely had a conversation where her mother did not mention Jesus or something about the church she was attending.
By her junior year, both her mother and father had been “born again” as they called it. They had been baptized at their local church and their already-strong marriage seemed to thrive in their new found commitment to the Lord. Even if she didn’t understand it completely, she was happy for them. Their marriage was stronger than ever and they seemed to be so content and joyful.
Ella’s mom would always tell her that she was praying for her – for guidance, wisdom and happiness. Her mom’s prayers seem to have worked too, by her sophomore year in college; she had made friends, chosen a major and started to date regularly. She was never serious with anyone, though, always wanting to focus first on her studies. Ella knew she had been blessed with a full scholarship, neither of her own parents had ever attended college and she wanted to make them proud. She had stayed away from the partying and sexual activity that many of her friends had indulged in during their college years. Boys could not compete with a good book, a pizza and some cozy pajamas. She loved to learn and devoured books, reading everything she could get her hands on.
She knew her mother was concerned that with the move back to Utah, she might be invited to attend an L.D.S. (Latter Day Saints, the official name of the Mormon Church) ward again. Her parents’ view on Mormonism had worsened after they converted to their new Christian religion. Her mother now believed that Mormons were not Christians because they didn’t believe that Christ’s death and resurrection on the cross were enough for salvation.
She said they believed that you have to be baptized as a Mormon and even worse, that you could become a god yourself if you worked your way to heaven by attending their temple ceremonies and lived according to the rules of their church. Evidently, one of their key sayings is that “like God once was - man is; like God is – man can become” or something similar.
Ella had never heard her old friends talk about this kind of stuff and figured they must have saved the deeper religious beliefs for adults. Either way, she had heard enough to know she would not be getting mixed up with the LDS church ever again.
She had truly come to respect how her parents’ lives had changed since they had made the decision to live for Jesus. They seemed more at peace somehow and appreciated what they had and were grateful for it. Instead of worrying about their jobs and retirement, they were instead very giving with their time and money, helping others yet always having enough to meet their own needs.
Their marriage, always a happy one, had also seemed to deepen in love and respect. All in all, they were content and truly joyful; their family had grown closer through their changed attitude towards life.
Ella didn’t have the same relationship with God that her parents did; she could see the difference between her parents’ faith and her own. But, she did believe in God and had always figured, in the back of her mind, that one day when she was older and had more time, she would get more into the religious thing – into having a “personal relationship with God” like her mom and dad. With her new job as Director of Project Management for an international finance company, she would not be traveling as she had in her past positions and could work virtually. She intended to look for a non-denominational Christian church once she settled in and hoped to make some friends here, perhaps even meet someone.
Her hectic life in San Francisco and constant travel had left little time for a social life and as she approached 30, Ella wanted to make a home, slow down to enjoy life a little more and hopefully, find someone to love and have the kind relationship that her parents had found.
She sighed and made her way down the stairs, back into the kitchen, where she grabbed her purse and keys off the counter and scooting around boxes stacked on the kitchen floor, headed towards the front door.
A few minutes later she was in her car, the air conditioning blowing tendrils of hair around her forehead and she weaved through the country lanes towards the main street of the growing town of Perry, Utah.
Perry was first settled by Orrin Porter Rockwell in 1852. A law man in what was then called the Utah Territory; he had been called "the Destroying Angel of Mormondom" and acted on the authority given to him by Brigham Young and other LDS church leaders to keep the locals, Mormon or not, in line.
However he only laid claim to the land and never actually built a residence there. In 1853, William Plummer Tippets built a cabin at the location and in 1854, the town’s namesake; Gustavus Adolphus Perry was made a branch president for the Mormon Church at the location and in 1877, was made a bishop in the first ward. A very small town in comparison to her former home in San Francisco, Perry had just over 4,500 residents and represented the quiet existence that Ella was seeking.
She pulled in to the local grocery store and parked her SUV next to a white passenger van with “South Valley Church” written on the side in big blue letters and a picture of a large cross on a hillside.
Mormons eschew the sign of the cross, so it definitely belonged to a Christian church. It was a good sign, she thought, swinging her long legs out and stepping on to the hot asphalt parking lot.
Ella shut the door to her car and clicked the key fob to lock it just as a tall, good-looking, blond haired man passed her car and opened the door to the van. Ella smiled as she read his t-shirt, “Jesus Can” emblazoned on the front; the logo printed inside a drawing of a soda can made to resemble the Coca Cola insignia.
Things are getting better and better she thought to herself as she made her way into the store, he’s definitely not a Mormon, very cute and goes to a local Christian church. This could make me and my Mom both happy.
She glanced back through the store window and looked at the church name and address on the van. She had driven by the building on her way to the store. She made a mental note to take a closer look on her way home.
After stocking up on groceries, she paid the clerk and wheeled the shopping cart filled with brown paper sacks out to her 4-Runner. The van was no longer there but remembering the address, she finished loading the sacks into the back of the SUV and drove out of the parking lot, navigating around a pothole before pulling out onto the main road.
A four wheel drive vehicle ensured travel to the mountains for skiing in the winter, hiking in the summer and sometimes, just getting around the block, would be possible. The Toyota 4-Runner was a necessity for living in Utah. The weather could change rapidly and go from sun to rain to a full-fledged snow storm in just a few minutes. Ella patted the wheel of her trusty vehicle as she drove slowly down the road, not wanting to miss the address she was looking for…
The church was a quaint little white building, one story and small, but very well kept. A beautiful pine cross was attached to the side of the brick structure. It was set further back on the lot and was framed by pine trees. As she neared the building, a movement to her left caught her eye. The same attractive man that she had seen at the store was mowing the green lawn in front of the church.
The now-familiar van was parked under the shade of a willow tree in the front corner of the parking lot, adjacent to the building. Before she was quite aware of what she was doing, Ella had pulled her car into a parking spot and turned off the motor. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she smoothed a stray hair away before exiting the car.
Gabe Cottam glanced up from the lawn he had just started to mow and seeing the attractive, young, brunette woman step out of the red Toyota, quickly shut off the mower. He instantly grimaced at his actions since he had just coaxed the old thing into starting after cleaning the spark plugs and putting new oil in the motor. He had hoped to finish the lawn before nightfall, but looking at the pretty woman approaching him, decided this might be worth getting up early tomorrow to finish the job before the men’s prayer meeting at 7am.
Green-blue eyes met the dark brown gaze of Ella, who smiled tentatively as she approached him. Her heart thumped slightly harder as she walked up to meet the tan, attractive man, wishing she was dressed in something nice than her t-shirt, jeans and flip flops.
Why had she pulled in? She was just going to drive by; it was like someone had taken over the car and next thing she knew, she was in the church parking lot!
Ella took a deep breath and stuck out her hand, smiling. “Hi, my name is Ella Reed. I just moved here. I bought a house out on Garfield Street” she said slightly awkwardly, gesturing with her head towards the direction of town where her new home was located. Her voice sounded a little high and breathy and she was talking to fast. She did that when she was nervous or unsure of herself.
Ella found her hand enveloped by a strong, large tan hand and firmly shaken. His face crinkled into a friendly smile, straight white teeth flashed against his sun-bronzed skin. As their eyes met, their hands clasped each other’s an extra second longer than necessary and blushing slightly, Ella pulled hers back.
Gabe reluctantly dropped her hand. “Hello, my name’s Gabe Cottam. I’m happy to meet you. I’m the assistant pastor here at South Valley Church. Can I help you?”
“Hopefully” she said. “I wanted to find out what time services are held?” She spoke the first thing that popped into her head.
“Sure, come on in”. He gestured for Ella to follow him through the glass double doors that led into the lobby of the church. The fluorescent lights he turned on cut through the darkness that was encroaching as the sun set.
The cool, quiet lobby was a blessing after the heat of the day.
“Let me show you around. All of our meeting times are listed on our bulletin board”. His deep voice resonated in the empty lobby which was flanked in old wooden pews softened with big throw pillows in multiple patterns and sizes that decorated the corners of each bench. Her sandals flapped on the large dark brown tiled floor as she followed the associated pastor into the church.
“So you’re looking for a church home?” he asked as they stopped by the oak double doors leading to the sanctuary and the wall where the bulletin board was located.
“Yes, I was driving by and saw the church and thought I would stop and get some information.” Her voice sounded calm but inside she felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. His green-blue eyes seemed so piercing against his tan face she was having a hard time concentrating.
“Well, we’d be happy to have you come on Sunday and check us out. Do you have family here?” Ella saw his eyes glance towards her left hand inquiringly.
“My family is located just outside of L.A., but we used to live in Brigham City when I was a young girl.” She had technically avoided the question of being married or single, but thrilled slightly to the fact that he seemed interested.
“I love to ski and missed having snow at Christmas, so I decided to move back here.” She smiled as she spoke, thinking of the powdery-soft white snow that Utah was famous for – she had always enjoyed having all four seasons when living in the state and was excited to experience them again.
“I hear that! Skiing was one of the main reasons I came here after I graduated from Abilene.” He smiled at her and had a hard time taking his eyes off her face. Realizing he was staring, he smiled again and looked away, pointing to the glass-encased bulletin board with its little white letters that listed the services and announcements for the church.
“We have two services on Sunday mornings, at 9am and 11am. Our congregation has been growing and so we recently had to double our services. Our Sunday bible classes start at 10:00am.”
“If you’re interested, we also have a couple of small groups that meet on Wednesday evenings, as well. We usually arrange to meet at someone’s house or occasionally come to the building.” His friendly smile and easy-going manner should have put Ella at ease, but she was very aware of how good-looking he was. She couldn’t help herself and glanced down at his left hand to see if he wore a ring. He didn’t. She looked up quickly hoping that he hadn’t seen her. Luckily, he was pointing towards the bulletin board and didn’t notice as he continued to talk about the church’s worship schedule and activities.
When he looked back at her, she was meeting his eyes and smiling just a little too much, but she couldn’t help herself. The single associate pastor grinned back broadly and was suddenly very glad he had decided to come a little early to the building and mow the law. He offered to show her around the church and touched her shoulder lightly as he pointed out the classrooms.
Ella’s heart beat a little quicker at his touch and was surprised at her reaction. She wasn’t unused to the touch of a man but this one was really having an effect on her. An attractive 29 year old, Ella had had her share of dates and relationships, but no one and nothing had grabbed her heart and felt more important than her career.
As a project manager and now director for a global financial business, she had to deal with a large variety of people from around the globe, presenting business strategies and leading meetings. While she traveled regularly, today’s technology also allowed her to virtually manage and maintain interactive sites and projects from anywhere. She was a smart, independent and capable woman who knew her own mind and knew how to play with the big boys. Slim and athletic, Ella was also a life-long outdoors woman who loved to run, play tennis, golf and ski.
This love of the outdoors had been one of the key points in deciding to move back to Utah. The closeness of a variety of outdoor activities and the four distinct seasons would allow her to enjoy what she loved most. As well, she had looked for these same qualities in a mate. Too many of the men she had dated in San Francisco were climbing their way up the corporate ladder, putting in long hours in the office and longer hours in the bars at night. They weren’t interested in going for a hike or playing golf unless it was related to a business negotiation and a chance to advance.
Gabe Cottam, on the other hand, seemed to be the exact opposite. Stocky and strong, his ‘Jesus Can’ shirt was not tight, yet draped nicely over his broad chest and exposed strong, tan forearms. His loose, faded blue jeans did not disguise his muscular legs beneath the material.
Great, I’m in God’s house and lusting over the pastor. This would definitely not win her any points in heaven, she thought to herself. Get it together, Ella! She tried to focus on what Gabe was saying as they walked down the hallway and toured the building.
As they strolled through the small, but neatly organized church with its classrooms decorated with various craft projects from the children proclaiming “Jesus loves me” or depicting various bible characters, Gabe asked more about Ella’s new home.
“So you live out on Garfield Street, huh? That’s a pretty little country road. Are you and your husband in one of the new subdivisions out there?”
“No, I don’t care much for brand new cookie-cutter homes… and it’s just me, actually. I’m not married,” she said with a smile, just in case he returned her interest, she thought she would throw that little bit of knowledge in.
“I like homes with character. I bought an older home – one built in 1850; a really well-maintained Carpenter-Gothic style home that was owned by an elderly woman named Miss Walker. Did you know her?”
They had made their way round the building and were back in the small lobby outside the sanctuary doors. The sun had completely set by now and she could see the darkening sky outside the glass double-doors of the church.
“Idina Walker?” Gabe ran his hand through his blond hair in an unconscious gesture. “I didn’t know her personally. She was LDS like most folks around here, so she attended one of the local wards. But I heard about her. A lot of people had.”
“She passed away last year, I believe. I remember reading her obituary in the paper.” The strange tone of his voice caused Ella to look up at him quizzically. He caught her glance and gave her a crooked smile.
“Sorry, I’m also the youth pastor here. Some of the kids watch those ‘ghost hunter’ paranormal-type shows on TV and love to talk about haunted houses. I try to use their discussions to turn them to what the bible says about life after death, but in the process – I’ve heard some wild stories about Ms. Walker and her house.”
He saw her quizzical look and smiled apologetically, continuing. “She kept to herself pretty much, except for when she would come into town for groceries or to go to her church since I moved here. I think she started to get really senile the last few years. Living in that house by herself for most of her life probably didn’t help, either.”
“Folks around here knew her because she was a school teacher for over 40 years. People said she would talk about her family that lived with her and she’d mention her ‘sister wives,’” Gabe made quote marks with his fingers in the air at this polygamist term, “but Ms. Idina Walker was never married and certainly not to a polygamist, according to the folks from around here. I heard they pushed her to retire thinking senility was setting in.”
“From the obituary, I read she was an only child and her own parents died when she was a little girl. Her elderly aunt had lived in the house and took her in. But I heard the aunt passed away when Idina was in her early twenties. She basically lived alone in the house for last 50 or 60 years.”
Gabe cleared his throat after Ella’s face started to look concerned at the information he was sharing. “Sorry, that was probably way more than you wanted to hear.”
They stood by the front doors of the church now. “Hey, the house is really nice, though! I drive by there from time to time and always thought it was a great architectural piece; a really attractive place. Ms. Walker took care of it, too. I know a few guys she hired to paint and take care of the yard, if you need any help.”
Ella had listened to the story behind her new home with increasing interest. “Wait, did you say sister wives?” she said. “Isn’t that what polygamous wives call each other?”
“Yes, ma’am”, Gabe said with a slight southern drawl. “I’d heard that her family was descended from polygamists. The poor woman must have started to think her family’s history was her own.”
“It was really sad because with no other family members, she was allowed to live on her own, unattended, for many years, which probably wasn’t the best thing. She’d only leave home to get groceries and go to her church until she quit driving.”
“I was told that when her ride came to pick her up one Sunday morning and Idina didn’t come right out; they went in and found her sitting in the living room. She had passed away sitting in her chair, all dressed for church”.
Gabe grinned at Ella. “Sorry, but this is still kind of a small town. You pretty much hear everything that’s goes on.”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it. I didn’t know that she had passed away in the house,” Ella began. “My real estate agent and I basically worked with the lawyer that settled her estate. I figured she had been in a nursing home when she died.”
She shivered slightly, “I can’t say it thrills me that she died in my living room, though, you know? I mean, it’s not like I believe in ghosts or anything…”
Before she could stop herself, she continued.“I do always wonder about what happens to people when they die, you know? Do the good go to heaven and the bad to hell right away, or is there some kind of waiting period? Does your spirit wander around until judgment day?”
Why on earth did I just say that?, she thought. He’s going to think I’m a nut case or something.
Before Gabe could respond, several teenagers opened one of the glass doors and walked in the lobby, laughing and talking as they waved. “Hi Gabe, sorry we’re a little late,” they said almost in unison.
Gabe had been formulating a response to Ella’s question when they were interrupted. But the young people walking in the door made him aware of the time. His youth group was meeting tonight. He had gone to the store earlier to get some sodas and snacks for them.
Ella was glad for the interruption, even though the entire evening had turned out to be very interesting for so many reasons. She quickly put out her hand to Gabe and he shook it warmly. “It was very nice to meet you, Gabe. Thank you for showing me around the church. Oh, and for giving me a little background on my new haunted house,” her voice teased slightly.
“Now I can go home and sleep really well knowing that I’m sharing the place with crazy Miss Walker tonight.”
Gabe turned back to face Ella and shook her hand, covering it with both of his own. “I hope we see you Sunday” he said with a wide smile. “Remember, I was just repeating stories the kids tell me. I wouldn’t worry about a thing. I don’t believe in ghosts at all – just spirits” he said cryptically. “We should talk some other time about your question, though.”
His tanned hands were warm and completely enclosed her own. Giving him one of her best smiles, she reluctantly pulled her hand free. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” Ella could actually feel herself blushing and grabbed her sunglasses off the top of her head and stuffed them in her purse, then pulled out the keys to her car.
“Thanks again for the tour and the information. I’ll try to make it if I can. I’m at the mercy of the moving company and I have to be there to meet them. I’m living out of a few boxes at the moment.”
She nodded and smiled to the teenagers who were eyeing her and Gabe curiously. She colored slightly at their open stares and pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the warm summer night.
The country lane was not well lit, reminding her she would be coming home to a dark house. She hadn’t thought about turning on a light before she left. Didn’t plan on being gone quite so long, she thought to herself as she pulled the 4-Runner into the gravel driveway, the headlight beams reflecting off the pale yellow structure, now covered in shadows in the twilight of the evening. Only the darkened shapes of the pine trees behind the house were visible now against the dark sky. The stars were just starting to shine and the moon cast a pale beam across the doorway.
Ella pulled up the back door of the SUV and grabbing a couple of grocery-filled sacks, headed up the walk towards the house. After getting all of the groceries into the kitchen, she put away her purchases.
Glancing at her watch, she realized it was now almost 10 p.m.; exhausted from the events of the day, she headed back out to the SUV and grabbed her sleeping bag from the back seat. Cradling it in her arms, Ella leaned against the car and looked back the house.
Her breathe caught in her throat for a moment and her heart pounded as a shadow in the upstairs window seemed to move. She blinked rapidly and looked again but saw nothing more than the shadows cast from the moon’s glow on the house.
She shook her head slightly. It was just like when she was a kid and watched a scary movie. She saw monsters everywhere. Ok, then. Don’t be stupid, she thought to herself. No more about Miss Walker. It’s my home now.
Walking determinedly towards the house, she carried the sleeping bag in front of her like a shield and kept her eyes fixed on the open front door.
The old wooden porch creaked under her feet in unison to the crickets chirping. Dropping the sleeping bag in the hallway, she shoved the door to close it, then turned the lock on knob and fastened the chain bolt.
Humming loudly to keep her brain occupied from thoughts of a crazy dead woman, she set her purse on the kitchen counter and walked up the old wooden stairs to her bathroom on the second floor.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she grabbed her pillow from where it was lying on a stack of blankets on the bedroom floor. Ella hesitated as she looked around the vacant room. The unusual conversation regarding the house’s former tenant started to swirl around in her mind.
Her stomach tightened up a little, her pulse quickening. “Lord, be a shield around me,” she muttered under her breathe, repeating the words that her mother often said when she was feeling anxious.
A slight shiver went up her spine and her hand hesitated as she switched off the light to the bedroom. Deciding to sleep downstairs in the living room, she gave a wary glance across the bedroom which was lit softly by the moon shining through the window, fingers of light creeping across the wood floor.
She hugged the pillow tight to her and headed back down to the front room. Unrolling the sleeping bag, she threw the pillow on top of the unzipped bag and sat on the floor as she slipped off her shoes.
Sighing with weariness, she placed both feet inside the bag and lay down, closing her eyes and sighing softly. The minute her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep slumber, exhausted from the day. She heard none of the footsteps that paced back and forth in the upstairs hall for a few seconds, old pine boards creaking softly, before the old house fell silent.

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