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Annie Glide's cottage was set high on Heartache Mountain, less than half a mile from Rachel's destination, but she had to stop several times to rest. In the end, it took her nearly half an hour to reach the notch. When she got there, she collapsed on a small outcrop of rock and looked down the other side of the mountain. Down toward the house where she had lived with G. Dwayne Snopes.
It sat brooding in the valley below, built on blood money and deception. The windows were dark now, and moonlight picked out the structure's shape but not its d
etails. Still, Rachel didn't need light to remember how ugly it was, how overly grandiose and phony, just like Dwayne.
The garish monstrosity had been his idea of a Southern plantation. A pair of black wrought-iron gates decorated with gold praying hands blocked the bottom of the drive, while the exterior of the house held six massive white columns and a balcony decorated with ugly gold grill-work. The interior was filled with crypt-like black marble, ostentatious chandeliers, swags and tassels, mirrors and glitz, all of it capped off by a marble fountain in the foyer featuring colored lights and a Grecian maiden with showgirl breasts. She wondered if Cal Bonner and his wife possessed the good taste to remove the fountain, but then, she couldn't imagine anyone with good taste buying the awful house in the first place.
It was a steep descent into the valley, but one she'd made many times during the four years she'd lived there as she'd escaped the oppression of her marriage on her morning walks. The impatient part of her wanted to make that descent tonight, but she wasn't that foolhardy. Not only didn't she have the strength, but she also needed to be better prepared.
Soon. Soon, she would descend Heartache Mountain and claim what belonged to her son.
Chapter Seven
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After the incident in the snack shop, Rachel dreaded having to face Gabe again, but for the next few days, he did nothing more than bark out orders, then ignore her while he performed his own jobs. He spoke little, never met her eyes, and in general, reminded her of a man doing hard penance.
At night, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep brought on by exhaustion. She had hoped the regular exercise would make her feel better, but the dizziness and weakness continued. On Friday afternoon while she was painting the interior of the ticket booth, she fainted.
Bonner's pickup turned into the drive from the highway just as she dragged herself back to her feet. Her heart thudded as his truck slowed. She tried to figure out how much he'd seen, but the inscrutable expression on his face gave her no clue. Grabbing her paintbrush, she scowled at him, as if he were interrupting her work, and he drove on.
Kristy volunteered to keep Edward on Saturday while Rachel worked, and Rachel gratefully accepted. At the same time, she knew she couldn't keep imposing on her housemate. If she were unlucky enough to still be in Salvation next Saturday, she would bring Edward along whether Bonner liked it or not.
Unfortunately, Rachel's plans to climb down the mountain and break into her old house the next evening after she'd tucked Edward in bed were thwarted by a torrential rainstorm. If only she could have driven, everything would be so much easier, but the locked gates made that impossible. On Monday, exactly one week since her car had broken down across from the Pride of Carolina, she promised herself she'd make the descent that night.
The day was cloudy, but dry, and by late morning, a few threads of sunlight had appeared. All morning, she'd been applying gray enamel paint to the metal walls of the rest-room stalls and thinking about how she would get into the house. The work wasn't hard, and, if it weren't for her dizziness and constant fatigue, even after her day of rest, she'd be enjoying it.
Leaning down, she used one hand to hold her blue chambray dress back as she dipped her paint roller in the pan. Painting in a dress was awkward, but she didn't have a choice. On Saturday, her jeans had finally given out in the seat, and they couldn't be patched.
"I brought you some lunch."
She spun around to see Bonner standing in the rest-room doorway, a fast-food sack in his hand. She regarded him with suspicion. He'd stayed away from her since that nasty scene in the snack shop last Wednesday. Why had he sought her out now?
He scowled. "From now on I want you to bring a lunch. And stop working long enough to eat it."
She, forced herself to meet his dead silver eyes straight on so he would know right away that his Jack the Raper performance hadn't intimidated her. "Who needs food? Your smile alone is enough to nourish me for weeks."
He ignored her jab and set the sack in one of the sinks. She waited for him to leave, but instead, he came over to inspect her work. "It'll take two coats," she said, doing her best to hide her wariness. "That old graffiti's hard to cover."
He nodded toward the door she'd just finished. "Make sure you keep the paint away from those new hinges. I don't want them binding up."
She set the roller in the paint pan and wiped her hands on the piece of terry cloth she was using as a rag. "I still don't see why you couldn't have chosen a nice eggshell-white instead of this drab old gray." She didn't care about the color. She only cared about keeping her job and not letting him suspect for a moment how little energy she had left for even simple tasks.
"I like gray."
"Matches your personality. No, I take that back. Your personality is about ten shades darker than gray."
He didn't tense up. Instead, he leaned back against the unpainted side of the stall and studied her. "Tell you what, Rachel. I might consider giving you a raise one of these centuries if you start restricting yourself to four words when I talk to you. Yes, sir. No, sir."
Let it go, her mind pleaded. Don't bait him. "It'd need to be an awfully big raise, Bonner. You're the best entertainment I've had since Dwayne. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do, and you're a distraction."
He didn't budge. Instead, he openly studied her. "You get any scrawnier, you won't be able to pick up that paint roller."
"Yeah, well, don't worry about it, okay?" She bent down to pick up a rag, but her head began to swim, and she had to steady herself on the edge of the door.
He caught her arm. "Grab your lunch. I've just decided I'm going to watch you eat it."
She drew away. "I'm not hungry. I'll eat later."
