Page 40 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

“The doctor says Mrs. Davis can have visitors now, one at a time, but to keep it brief. Ma’am, she wants to talk to you first,” Vicki said, clearly not recognizing me or Russell from the mill. “Then you can come on in, sir.”

I didn’t have the emotional energy to ponder the ironies of Vicki not having a clue who we were even though Russell and I had worked for her father for years. I’d probably behaved the same oblivious way countless times in the past, and it shamed me to think about now. Silently, I followed her down the sanitized corridor to a private exam room in the emergency department.

While I’d believed I’d prepared myself, I was sadly mistaken. Annette lay on a gurney hooked up to a heart monitor, with an IV taped to her hand. Her ashen skin and weary eyes shattered me. “Annette, I’m so sorry this happened.”

“Wipe that scared look off your face. I’m not fixin’ to leave this earth yet.” Annette patted the bedrail for me to come closer. “But the doctor says I’ll need to put my feet up for a little while. I’ll need some more help from you until I can get my sea legs back under me.”

I was relieved to hear her stern voice, stronger than I’d expected from her pallor. Although I was confused to think she’d turn to me first for help.

“You know I’m happy to pitch in with more volunteer hours anytime. Or run additional, uh, errands.” No great hardship at all. I had always supported the library, but in my prior life, I’d purchased whatever I wanted to read. Those days had changed.

At first, my frequent stops at the Bent Oak Public Library were to meet Annette, and each time I checked out a book or two as a cover.Over time, my choices changed from whatever I could grab fast, to escapism reading, to novels I’d read in school and wanted to reread with fresh eyes.

Annette adjusted the white sheet covering her. “This is about more than reshelving books and picking up mail.” She motioned for me to move closer. “I wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency. We have a newcomer arriving in the morning.”

All my rambling thoughts of reading the classics scattered as I focused on what I thought she meant. The kind of “help” she provided to other women in need. Women like I’d once been. But while I’d contributed to those efforts in a peripheral manner, I’d never imagined I would be trusted with a more active role.

“A newcomer?” I needed her to confirm she meant what I thought.

“Like you. Like Libby. Someone who will be staying.”

Thebeep, beep, beepof the heart monitor filled the silence, chirping as her words sank in one at a time like the drip through the IV.

While I realized others had passed through, I didn’t know of anyone else who’d stayed. Or maybe their cover was rock solid. None of which mattered right now. “Tomorrow morning? Of course I’ll do whatever you need, but I don’t know how. What if I mess it all up? There are so many more ...”

“You will be just fine. I’ll walk you through it. But first, there are a few details that won’t—can’t—be written down.” Annette motioned me even nearer, until my ear was close to her mouth and she whispered, “She has two master’s degrees in math and accounting. She’s brilliant.”

“And she’s coming here because?” Would Annette answer? I’d helped in bringing her paperwork from the paralegal and post office but never opened the envelopes.

“She saw something she shouldn’t have,” Annette said, each whispered word an increasing effort as she adjusted the oxygen tube at her nose, “and the police won’t protect her.”

Talking was taking a toll. “You should rest now. Let me get the doctor—”

“No, just one more minute.” After two deep breaths, she continued, “She did nothing illegal. She was only guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, with nowhere to hide.”

“Annette, what about that new Witness Protection Program?” Created earlier this decade, I’d watched news stories about how it had revolutionized criminal investigations.

“The police will assume she’s involved. That’s just how things work sometimes.” Annette gripped my hand. “Please, I know I can trust you. She’s my cousin’s grandchild.”

I understood how dangerous a powerful man could be. My experience with my husband had given me a front row seat. After being locked away, I was never allowed to even discuss my own diagnosis with my physicians. Back in Alabama there had been rumors of our governor keeping potentially fatal medical information from his wife. I’d dismissed those rumors as impossible. Now? From my own experience, I found that the unimaginable was all too possible.

I didn’t have to think twice. I was all in. “Whatever you need.”

Chapter Eleven

Present and Past

Bailey Rae flipped from her back to her stomach, then to her side, struggling to get comfortable in a bed so much softer than the places she’d slept for the first six years of her life. The sheets were clean. She didn’t have to share. She had a pillow and a rag doll she’d pretended not to want, but when no one was looking, she’d hugged it until her arms went numb.

Maybe if she stayed really still and quiet, her mama would forget about her, and Bailey Rae could stay here. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d kept so quiet her mother had forgotten all about her. Once, Bailey Rae had spent almost a whole day in a motel after her mom and her boyfriend skipped the bill. Each of them thought the other had stashed her in the back of the station wagon.

Bailey Rae had hidden in the shower until they peeled out of the parking lot. She’d enjoyed the best day watching television and feeding herself by snaking her arm up into the vending machine like she’d been taught. She’d taken a nap on a pool lounger, full of Cheetos and two Snickers bars until her mom woke her up madder than a wet hen.

Yvonne’s number one rule: Don’t upset the latest boyfriend. And apparently, the boyfriend had been livid at backtracking for a snot-nosed kid.

This bed, though, was better than even the motel one because it came with a house owned by a grandparent-like couple. Everything inside her wanted to stay in Bent Oak, not that she would ever say the words out loud.Asking for stuff that couldn’t happen just hurt worse. Sometimes she thought her mom denied her those things just to be mean. Soon enough, Bailey Rae stopped asking for anything.

Meanwhile, might as well make the most of one good night’s sleep. In the morning she would stuff the doll and nightie in the back of the station wagon faster than she’d jammed those stolen Cheetos in her mouth.

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