A String Through Midnight: Book One of the Flowers of Blood Romances

© 2011 Johanna Ridenow. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/7/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4678-3530-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-3529-9 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

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Contents

A String Through Midnight

CHAPTER ONE - PART ONE

CHAPTER TWO - PART ONE

CHAPTER THREE - PART ONE

CHAPTER FOUR - PART ONE

CHAPTER FIVE - PART ONE

CHAPTER SIX – PART ONE

CHAPTER SEVEN - PART ONE

CHAPTER EIGHT – PART ONE

CHAPTER NINE – PART ONE

CHAPTER TEN - PART ONE

Epilogue

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A String Through Midnight

CHAPTER ONE - PART ONE

I had a message on the office answering machine when I got back from lunch. That should have been warning enough that something was up. If I was wanted or needed the whole town knew my schedule. Between 12 and 1, I would be in the café catching up on the local gossip. Sara’s voice on the phone asking me to call her was a little surprising. I had just spoken to my sister this weekend. Her monthly visit with all her kids and her very portly husband Steve had left me drained but very happy just like it always did. Trying to keep up with three kids all between the ages of two and six when you weren’t used to it was a shock to your system. Dad or Papaw as he was called was totally tuckered out too. Her two boys and one girl had literally crawled all over him Sunday much to his delight but now it was Wednesday and he was back to his normal ornery self just like I was.

Hey Sis. I said when she answered the phone on the second ring. The real estate office she worked for had one of those auto attendant things. I hated them but they did make life a little simpler sometimes so I didn’t even need to talk to anyone before I found out what had my sister so excited.

Somebody just bought the old Jacobson’s place. Sara said all in a rush. Passing on news that nobody else had should have been a national past time as much as baseball, especially in a town as small as this one was. I was sheriff of the Podunk little town of Eagles Ridge and knew exactly how much excitement there was here. Not much, especially considering that I had lived and been a police officer in Atlanta for a few years before coming back here. When Dad had a heart attack four years ago, the doctor told him he better slow down if he wanted to make it to 65. He had hung around for a year and change, driving both of us crazy because I had to be sheriff in my own way not in his. Funny considering we really did things pretty much the same way it had been done here for 100 years or more.

I had some of the high tech stuff that the state law enforcement groups always wanted to give away to little towns trying to upgrade them into the 21st century. They couldn’t understand that I didn’t need computers with finger printing capabilities or fax machines that could spit out 20 pages a minute. If somebody took out a power pole on Friday night, it didn’t take a genius to know it was most likely one of the four town drunks. When childish vandalism happened, I knew who the culprits were and a stern talking to by the concerned parents and me would be followed up with a good spanking and a paintbrush or hammer to fix whatever had been damaged. You didn’t need modern technology to understand the people you grew up with.

But a new face in a town of under a thousand people would be something that would spark an interest. So who is it? I asked Sara.

I don’t know. It didn’t go through this office but an agent down in Atlanta. I just noticed it was off the available housing list this morning. When I did some digging I couldn’t get much. Even the bill of sale and title transfer are marked confidential and can‘t be accessed through public records. I have never seen that before but as fast as it all went through and no finance company on record I could find, whoever bought it had to pay in cash or some other certified funds.

Well that is something. I whistled out. Paid for it in cash. Do you remember how much the estate was asking for? How much property goes with that old cabin?

Well the county and state took if for back taxes years ago so the asking price was just to cover that. I think it was around $50,000 or something close. And remember that old homestead went from half way up the old logging road to the creek on the other side of the cut. That would be pretty close to 60 acres.

I forgot it went that far around. Shame on me, I should have known that. Everybody in town had hunted on that land since before I was born. Old man Jacobson’s never cared. He was just some crazy hermit that never bothered anybody. Sometimes people would leave a rabbit or two for him as a thank you or maybe bring him up some deer meat after it was processed and he would be real grateful like it was us that were doing him a favor and not the other way around. How long had he been dead now? Fifteen years maybe more because I barely remembered the old guy really.

So what do you think? Sara asked me.

What’s to think? I guess I had better get ready to welcome our new resident or residents. I shrugged even though Sara couldn’t see it. Let me know if you find out anything else but don’t you go getting into trouble because of that nosey nose of yours Sis. What ever is coming can’t be that big of a change. We’ve had new people move in before.

Well if you hear anything let me know. I may not live there anymore but that place will always be home. Sara said. Love you bro. Give Dad a kiss for me. She giggled and hung up. I wouldn’t kiss him but tell him about her phone call, definitely.

The rest of the day went the way just about every day did, quiet, slow and boring. But today was different, just the idea of having someone new to add to the same people I saw day in and day out gave my step a little more spring. Dad was beyond excited but he was worried and confused too.

Why would anybody want that old place? There are a few newer homes that are in town if they really wanted to move up here. He mused over dinner we always ate together. I had moved back in with him when I left Atlanta. The town could never afford a huge salary for their sheriff, so Dad had made due with what they could provide and Mom had worked down the mountain at different office jobs until cancer took her 10 years ago. My two sisters had found husbands away from our town and moved away too. But I was back and I would probably be buried here just like so many generations of my family had been. The Johnson’s had settled here right after the civil war. Some of the first to try and hack out a life on this mountain. Our family had been the peacekeepers even then and when the town incorporated itself back in the 30s they had elected their first sheriff, my grandfather. Now, so many years later there was still a Sheriff Johnson that kept the peace, solved squabbles and broke up first fights down at the one and only bar when the partying got just a little too much.

I don’t know Dad. I answered. There had been a huge lull in between him asking and me answering, making him think that I was indeed considering what he asked. I would hate to disappoint him by telling him I really didn’t care what motivation someone had for coming here. Whoever it was would bring a new face and maybe some extra money to our little town. Something we were always looking for. Construction along with other labor type work for the men and clerks and office jobs down the mountain for the women were the major sources of income for our town.

We had a few businesses in the town limits but not many. The post office had the general store attached to it. The café was the bar at night and had a small motel too that rented out the occasional cabin when people had out of town visitors or when by lucky chance we had a few tourists in the summer. We had a hardware store that had a variety of things that one would need for living around here and also sold all the fishing and hunting gear and licensees you would need to stay in compliance with all those stupid regulations everyone was always trying to force on us. We didn’t even have a real grocery store. Most everybody spent a lot of time down the mountain an hour away at a few larger towns and bought most of the store bought stuff before they came home. We grew food ourselves in small plots in our backyards; we hunted, fished and were pretty self-sufficient when it came to feeding ourselves.

A video store was trying to hold its own and so far was doing rather well. A large bank had opened a branch up here and was one of the biggest changes in recent years. The gas station had added a convenience store about the same time I came home but was only open from dawn to just after dusk. The streets definitely rolled up early here. I just hoped whoever bought the place actually lived here and stayed a while. A few people, attracted to a quieter life, bought places here and during the summer had enjoyed it but then the isolation of winter came and they didn’t know how to survive mentally without the malls and movie theaters. As soon as spring came and sometimes even before they would literally run away as fast as their cars could get them out of here. It takes a different mentality to survive the cold and snow of a Georgia mountain winter, a tough, strong and flexible mentality.

Even after all the thinking and discussion we didn’t really come up with anything that was helpful. Neither one of us had thought we would, it was just something different and that too was a good thing.

Dad left before I did the next morning. He was almost as excited as Sara had been. It was always nice to know something nobody else did and he couldn’t wait to start the gossip chain going. Most men thought only women gossiped and maybe in the bigger cities it was true but I doubt it. We called it swapping stories but it all came down to the same thing, people liked to talk, to guess at what they didn’t know about each other.

I was sure by lunchtime when I went by the café the rumors would already be flying. As it turned out I never even made it to lunch before my world was turned upside. I was heading out to walk up the street when I saw a very large black Dodge truck I had never seen before right outside the post office. No way this was a coincidence. As I crossed the street and was opening up the door a woman was exiting.

I tried to be a gentleman and hold the door for her but she was already brushing by me with a little packet of papers in her hands. WOW!

This woman would have stood out anywhere. Bright red hair almost the color of living flame, she was tall, almost my height. That would make her just a little less than 6 feet, maybe 5’10" with a strong build, not skinny or fat but a muscular, athletic in between. WOW. I said to myself again.

Well, she wasn’t getting away without me talking to her at least. She was already in the truck and as she had climbed up into it I noticed how well shaped her legs and thighs were. They were definitely not your average legs stuck into a pair of tight jeans.

When I rapped on the window she jumped but let it down with a press of a button. The soft whirring of the electric motor was the only sound. She didn’t even ask what I wanted. Just stared at me with the most unusual pair of eyes I had ever seen. Hazel could mean so many things and right now hers were green with gold swirling through them. As I stood staring back at her like some high school kid, she cleared her throat. Yes.

Are you moving in today? I asked sounding like a total idiot. Suitcases and boxes filled the back seat of the quad cab and even though I couldn’t see it I was sure the back was full too under that nice fiberglass cover so what else would she be doing.

Yes. No elaboration, nothing to add, not even the hint of smile.

Do you need help? I offered. Trying to be friendly and helpful as I could be. That’s what sheriffs were supposed to do, right?

No. No, thank you. No, butt out. Just, no. Well this wasn’t getting me anywhere.

I’m Sheriff Johnson, Martin. I introduced myself holding out my hand to shake hers.

I know. She said quietly but didn’t raise her hand to return my friendly gesture. Mystery lady wasn’t shy or she wouldn’t be staring back at me without dropping her gaze or blushing, so that wasn’t why she wasn’t talking to me and didn’t want to return a simple handshake. What was wrong with this woman?

If you need anything my office is just down the street. I offered again. This woman was extremely difficult to figure out. Most people would have said more than four words by now but she didn’t seem to want a longer conversation.

Yes. She said and raised an eyebrow asking if there was anything else I wanted to get off my chest. How could she say so much and say absolutely nothing at the same time? I stepped away from her truck and she rolled up the window, put the truck in reverse and drove away. She never asked for directions or help of any kind. Most new people had to be guided around for the first couple of weeks. The country roads and cow paths that were supposed to be roads, crisscrossed and meandered around so bad that most got lost whenever they wandered beyond the buildings of the town. Mystery lady had gone the right direction first time and turned at exactly the right dirt road out of town that she should have. She didn’t have a GPS on her dashboard so how did she know where to go? Mystery lady was getting more interesting every second.

When I went into the post office it was just buzzing with talk. Martin. I heard my name called by Mrs. Moody, the silver haired skinny little woman that ran the post office and with the help of her equally thin and nosey husband, the general store. She was almost hopping up and down with whatever news she had. Did you see her? She asked in a high-excited voice.

Yes. I nodded.

Well, what did you think? She asked trying to get my opinion out of me before she gave anything away.

Quiet, very quiet. I answered honestly.

She opened up a box here in town. Her name is Amanda Fleming. I gave her a copy of the policies that we are supposed to give and she read through them so fast I don’t know how she managed to move her eyes like that.

Did she saying anything else? Where she was moving from or what she did for a living? I asked my curiosity peaked.

No, I tried to ask but all I could get were one word answers and if I got more pushy than that she just looked at me like I was being nosey and didn’t answer. Just sort of stared a hole right through me until I went on to something else. She is an odd one, pretty enough to give most of the young men delusions of grandeur but I don’t think this one will be a very easy conquest.

I agreed. They will still try. You know some of the men around here don’t have a lot of common sense especially about stuff like that.

And how about you Martin? Mrs. Moody asked with a motherly chuckle. Just how much common sense do you think you are going to have when it comes to our new lady?

Oh, probably enough to get me out of the trouble I will get myself into. I agreed with a hearty laugh. I wasn’t that much smarter than all the other guys in town. I just knew when to back off and there were a few that didn’t. She wouldn’t be an easy push over and I had to ask myself just how much damage she was going to cause to a lot of the male egos around here. I had already suffered a little bit of that. I knew I wasn’t a homely man and the fact that she wouldn’t give me the time of day was not just a disappointment but let a little air out of my ego too.

So are you going to go a calling? Mrs. Moody pressed.

Madame. That would be rude. Not even giving somebody the chance to unpack before you were intruding. The old Jacobson’s place is going to take a lot of work, especially if she plans on spending the winter up here. Whether she knew it or not Ms. Fleming was in for a tough go and I hoped she wasn’t against asking for help because she was going to need it.

It took until the next afternoon before I had my first problem from the old Jacobson’s place. One of our town’s Romeos had been the first casualty of the war I could see brewing. Greg thought of himself as a ladies man but to hear all of his old girlfriends talk; he didn’t really have all that much to brag about. He was a man of average looks but to me Greg was little on the slow side and more than a little bit hot tempered. Still in his mind he was quite a catch. So it came as a very rude shock to him that not only would the new lady turn him down so fast but also sent him running home with his tail between his legs. The way she did it I found absolutely hysterical, at least at first.

Martin that woman up at the old Jacobson’s place is a nut case. Greg Miller said as he came charging in my office late Friday afternoon. I had sort of expected something like this to happen but not nearly this fast.

Now how could you know that already, Greg? I asked trying to keep the laughter out of my voice.

Well I went up there wanting to make sure it was okay to hunt. I go there all the time and I didn’t want her thinking I was just trespassing. He started. So that was the excuse he used for his visit, not all that creative but reasonable.

When I asked her if it was alright she got this funny look on her face and asked why should she let me on her property. I told her it was the neighborly thing to do. Then do you know what she asked next?

No what? This was proving to be very interesting. At least Greg had gotten more than one word answers out of her.

She asked where she could get a hunting license for those? Those what? I asked back. I was thinking most city folk don’t know that the only thing in season right now are rabbits, squirrels and just plain varmints but that isn’t what she was asking about. She asked what type of license you needed to hunt neighbors. It sounded like great sport and she had never hunted those before.

I almost blew the soda I had been drinking out of my nose at that last part and it was all I could do not to laugh. That woman had a mean streak in her. Looking at Greg I realized he had taken all of it very seriously. He was sweating and nervously swallowing. Greg could be an idiot at times but Ms. Fleming had scared him down to his socks and that didn’t happen very often. What was it he had said? She got a funny look on her face, what type of look would that have been? Could she have been serious? I guess I was going to pay a call on our new resident a lot sooner than I had planed.

By the time I made it out to the old Jacobson’s place it was already dark. There was a small glow in the cabin that flickered giving off uncertain lighting. Probably an oil lamp or something like it since the cabin didn’t have electricity. As I got out of my truck I felt something hard and cold press up against my back. Leave. Was hissed out quietly from the night.

I don’t want trouble. I said just as quietly. It’s only Sheriff Johnson. I heard you had a little trouble today. Just wanted to check up on you and make sure you were okay.

The muzzle dropped away from my back and she was standing right beside me dressed in black with all her red hair shoved in a cap. I never even heard her or knew she was there. She had just appeared in the glow from the cab light of my truck.

Thank you, but I can take care of myself. Please don’t come back especially in the dark. It isn’t safe. I wouldn’t want something to happen to you. Amanda said softly. Her voice, even though it had no actual menace to it said she wasn’t kidding around at all.

Greg said you were rather defensive of your property. I wanted to explain why I was here. Find out for myself how serious she was about her property and who she would allow on it. Now it seems that Greg had every right to be nervous. That gentle nudge from her rifle that she still had in her hands was something that would make any hunter nervous if it was pointed in their direction. A very good 30-06 with an extremely expensive scope that she held like she knew which end of the gun meant business.

Greg? Amanda asked. Oh, the looser that came up here today on the pretext of hunting. She snickered. I may not be from around here but I really don’t like being talked to like I’m stupid. The only thing in season now is rabbit and maybe some bird game. I don’t like being played for a fool or have somebody think they are going to get in my pants by making gooey eyes at me.

Wow, was she blunt. She had Greg down to a tee though. I’m sorry about him but I don’t think he will be bothering you anymore.

I know. She said and smiled a feral type smile, showing all her teeth like it was a challenge.

That still doesn’t answer the question of when it is hunting season will you mind if we use some of your land? I pressed. Well she had a very dark sense of humor I was coming to find out, very, very dark.

Sheriff, I came up here to get away from people. I don’t want visitors. I don’t think I’ll be in any need of help but if I do it will be under my terms and not someone else’s. I will post those areas that I want people to stay out of so there are no misunderstandings. When I have complied with all the laws and regulations it will be my right to defend my land, my house and my person. Have no doubts I will shoot anyone that comes here that I don’t want here. I know how to use this rifle and I won’t kill unless pressed but I don’t have a problem with that either.

I swallowed almost as loudly as Greg had. I had no doubts that Ms. Fleming would indeed do exactly what she said she would. She wasn’t crazy like Greg thought; she was dangerous, very, very dangerous.

As I drove home, I had to ask myself how could a very pretty woman learn all the stuff she seemed to know? Why would she be seeking so much solitude? What was it in her past that made her so defensive, so quiet and secretive? There was always a reason behind what people did. They may not make sense to somebody else but the reasons were always there.

I was worried about what trouble she would cause. But more than anything I was just plain intrigued. I never met anyone like her before. Well met I guess was the wrong word. I barely knew her name and she didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to make my knowledge base of her any larger.

By the next day Greg had spread the tale of his narrow escape and I was hard pressed to keep down the rumors that Amanda was an escaped lunatic from an asylum. I had to make so many promises that I would investigate our newest resident, invade her privacy like I knew she wouldn’t want just to keep the crowd that showed up at my home from becoming a mob intent on driving her out before most people even knew what she looked like.

How had everything gotten so complicated so quickly? Ms. Fleming was quiet, different and not what everybody had expected that’s how. I started making phone calls and looking things up on the net. Had Sara look into the