Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [127]
That was when I saw the pair of headlights.
I immediately assumed it was the police. I was freezing, in the middle of a miscarriage, and I didn’t even have shoes on. Now there was the possibility that I was going to be arrested for being out past curfew.
“Is everything all right?” I heard a man’s voice ring out through the darkness.
All I could see was the outline of a person standing over me. “I’m fine,” I blurted out, hoping that whoever it was would just go away.
“You don’t look fine,” the man pressed, moving in closer to where I lay covered in mud. I could tell by the way he stared down at me that he didn’t believe me.
“Here, let me help you with that tire,” he said gently. I hovered over him as he worked to put the front end of my Ford Ranger back on the jack. My body involuntarily shivered as I stood watching him. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Why don’t you just go and sit in my truck while I fix your tire?”
“I can do it myself,” I insisted, not wanting to put him out and involve him in my predicament.
“I’m sure you can,” the man said, smiling, as he led me to his truck.
I felt so foolish sitting in the passenger seat as this stranger set about changing my tire. The air blowing from the car’s heater began to warm me, and I tried to calm myself down. I grew worried as the man lowered my truck to the earth and then turned to get in beside me.
“Why are you out here?” he asked. His face looked remotely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. He was not much older than Allen, maybe about twenty-five or so. I knew he was just trying to be kind, but I could get into a heap of trouble even talking to a strange man. All I could think of was getting out of there and fast. I knew he was waiting for an answer to his question, and I provided none.
“Are you okay?” he continued. “It looks like you have a black eye.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I quickly replied, looking down at my feet. I felt embarrassed that he had noticed my bruise from a recent argument with Allen.
“I’m Lamont Barlow,” he told me. At that moment, I realized how I knew him. He was a friend of Meg’s sister and for a while Meg had had a crush on him. She’d even borrowed his four-wheeler a couple of times that past summer.
“Oh,” I replied, unwilling to tell him my name. After a few minutes, it became clear that I wasn’t going to offer any more information.
“Well, here’s my phone number,” Lamont said, handing me a piece of paper he’d torn from a pad. “If you ever need anything—”
“I don’t think I will,” I cut in politely, and reaching for the door handle I climbed out of his truck. I felt incredibly weak, and the cramping in my stomach was intense. But I put on my best face and started toward my truck. “Thanks a bunch for helping me,” I said, waving and straining to smile.
“Do you need a ride home? I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive,” Lamont yelled after me.
“No,” I shouted back, assuring him I was fine. Home was the last place I wanted to go at that moment. “Well, I’m just gonna follow you out to make sure you’re okay. You have my cell number if you feel dizzy or can’t drive. Call me and I’ll pull over.”
I watched in my rearview mirror as we crawled along in the muck toward the highway. As soon as I hit the paved road, I floored it. I didn’t want him to know anything about me. I was certain he was going to turn me in to Uncle Warren.
I could not have been more wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PROMISE NOT TO TELL
Trust in God. He works in mysterious ways.
—SHARON WALL
Day was breaking as I steered my truck back toward town. All I could think of was getting to my mother. Pulling up in front of Uncle Fred’s, I called up to my mom’s room to have her buzz open the gate. Through the large windows of the back door, I could see my mother in her bathrobe, hurrying down the stairs toward me. Her face grew flushed with concern when she took