The Missing Mother by Janet Auchard Blain

Author:Janet Auchard Blain [Blain, Janet Auchard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Hope

I looked at my watch and decided I had been walking for about ten minutes when I noticed a drive way heading up a hill on the right side of the road. Grass grew in the middle of the tracks, but I could tell that someone had been using the road so I turned in that direction. A steep hill had me winded by the time I got to the top. The drive opened up to an old barn that had seen better days. I walked past the barn and saw a two story house with peeling paint and boarded up windows. Exasperated, I walked to the front of the house and knocked on the door. I knew the house appeared vacant, but I had to try. I really didn’t want to walk back down that hill and continue to look for another farm. I pounded on the door, then turned and called out hoping someone would be in the barn. I looked in that direction but didn’t see anyone. The barn stored a combine and other large machinery. Corn had been planted all the way up to the barn and house. Whoever owned this farm had moved away years ago, but the land continued to be cultivated. So many farmers leased out the land once their age made it too hard to do the farming themselves. That seemed like the situation here.

I walked around the house following the drive and looked to see if a vehicle had been parked anywhere on the place. The wind stirred the stalks of corn and birds sang in the trees. I finally turned around and began walking back to the barn. I stopped and listened. I could hear someone calling. I waited a few seconds and heard it, again. Maybe someone could be home after all. I climbed back up to the porch and pounded on the front door again. I could definitely hear someone calling for help. The hoarse voice sounded desperate. I tried the front door, but couldn’t get past the lock. Coming back down the porch steps, I went around to look for a back door. Sure enough, another entrance stood in the middle of a wide porch. The locked door refused to open the same as the front door. I wedged my fingers into the wood nailed to a window frame next to the door and began pulling. The nails squealed as I pulled the first board off. I could still hear someone calling. “I’m coming” I shouted.

I got three of the boards off of the window and took off my shoe to break the glass out of the area I had uncovered. I carefully crouched down and made my way into the room. An old kitchen with appliances painted white enamel showed chips around the edges. The house smelled old and musty. No one has lived here for a long time, I thought.

The hoarse voice called out again and I found a set of stairs leading up to the next floor.

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