Unseen by Bush Nancy

Author:Bush, Nancy [Bush, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781420109795
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2009-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The dying rays of the sun illuminated the rhododendrons that flanked Johnny’s Farm’s driveway as Gemma sped right on by. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the wooden sign, so she turned around in the next available place, a private road nearly a quarter mile west, then she worked her way back. As she approached, she realized the sign had all but been swallowed by the rhododendrons, which were a good eight-feet high with impressive trunks the size of a lumberjack’s arms. Their thick, evergreen leaves left JOHNNY’S FARM looking like JOHNNY’S FA and the wood had grayed, the paint faded. Beyond the rhodies was a long, gravel track. As Gemma turned in she could see the roof of a barn over a small rise and a chimney that was probably connected to the farmhouse. A stand of firs stood to the west side of the property, and behind, atop another rise, she could just make out the line of a fence, also out of grayed wood.

She drove up the lane cautiously, her truck rattling through trough-like potholes, making her sway in the driver’s seat. Pulling up in front of the farmhouse, which looked similar in age and style to her own, she yanked on the brake and stepped out. A stack of pumpkins sat on the sagging steps of the front porch, ready for carving, and a sharp breeze grabbed her hair, bringing with it a slap of rain. She moved quickly up the porch steps and pressed the bell. Hearing nothing, she made a fist and rapped her knuckles on the front door panel. Eventually she heard someone making their way to the door.

It opened slowly and Gemma guessed this was Patrick Johnson. He hovered somewhere in his late seventies or early eighties, nodding as he opened the door. “You look good, girl. I was worried about you. C’mon in.”

Gemma smiled faintly as she entered the house. She could smell the remnants of bacon and fried onions.

“Would you like somethin’ to drink?” he asked politely.

“I’d better not. I’m kind of—confused, I guess. You have my cell phone?”

“Yessum.” He gestured limply toward the couch in the front room and headed toward the back of the house. Gemma perched uncomfortably and looked around. The cabbage rose wallpaper appeared to be original. Whereas her own home had faced numerous facelifts of one kind or another—paint, carpeting, reroofing, repaving—the Johnson farmhouse felt as if it were sinking under the weight of deferred maintenance.

She inhaled a breath when he returned with her purse and cell phone, each in one hand. She was so grateful she hardly knew what to do. “Can I pay you, a reward? It sounds like if you hadn’t gotten me to the hospital, that I might have been far worse off.”

“Ah, no.” He rubbed his jaw slowly, then looked over his shoulder. “You want to see the car?”

“Yes. Please.”

He led the way through the kitchen and out the back toward the barn, moving slowly and deliberately.

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