The Magic of Christmas by Betty Gordon

Author:Betty Gordon [Gordon, Betty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mainstream Anthology
Publisher: L&L Dreamspell
Published: 2010-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

I had to get out of this tunnel, put some food in my stomach, and figure out my next step. If someone floating around the dark wanted to contact me, I was more than willing.

I tried to figure out where the cabinet would be on the other side of the wood. “Whoever is here, help me get out. I promise to come back.”

Gentle sobbing started again.

“Please, I promise. Help me and I’ll help you if I can.”

The words had just left my lips when I dislodged a panel. Finally—an escape hatch.

I moved the panel back and forth trying to dislodge it when suddenly it loosened from the bottom. I raised it and saw an opening so small I didn’t know how I could have fallen into it. If I got through it once, I could do it again. I pushed my arm through the opening trying to see my watch. I was shocked, ten o’clock. Okay, if it’s ten, the guard should be coming around in fifteen or twenty minutes—time to get out and into the cabinet again before escaping through one of the back doors.

As I folded myself into my hiding place, the guard opened the door. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he would hear it. I held my breath as he flashed his light around the area. It was obvious he didn’t expect to see anything out of order. I waited five minutes and gingerly opened the door, scanned the room, and scooted to the closest exit. I didn’t think about burglar alarms or guard dogs—stupid, but fortunately, no sirens and no dogs.

I hurried to my car parked in a safe area several blocks from the Palace. Once I was behind the driver’s wheel, I almost collapsed. Several young men strolled by pausing to give me the once-over. With trembling fingers, I turned on the ignition, pressed on the accelerator, and moved toward Interstate 45 and my small apartment in Clear Lake. I admit my mother’s warning that I was a “nobody” came through loud and clear—maybe, maybe not.

Once home, I took the button from my purse and held it under the light. It was scratched and tarnished, but the form of an eagle was clear. If I remembered my history right, buttons on the Union uniforms had a raised eagle on top. I wasn’t sure, but if so, it seemed strange that a button from the Union army would be in the tunnel of not only a home in the south, but one where the original owner, Colonel Gresham, a native Virginian, had served in the Civil War. If the button was Union, it couldn’t be his. On the other hand, could this tunnel have been used for nefarious purposes? I couldn’t imagine that, but I had to keep an open mind.

I turned the button over and over in my palm hoping for some kind of inspiration. That inspiration had to be Aunt Trixie.

After showering, changing clothes, and getting a cup of coffee, I called my aunt in Chicago.

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