"Every problem has a resolution, the trick is finding it." - Janet Sue Terry
Nora Baxter, in one single night, discovered that her
husband was having an affair with another woman and also lost her unborn
child. She walked away from her life in Detroit, traveled to Cincinnati,
and set about to start a new one. At first Nora intended to ask Blake
for a divorce, however, as the months passed her hatred intensified, and
she could not bear the thought of being in the same room with him. In
addition, a divorce would free him to marry his lover, and Nora had no
intention of making it that easy for him. Almost two years later, by a
quirk of fate, Blake Baxter arrived in Cincinnati on business, and came
face to face with his wife on a dance floor at his downtown hotel. Who
could have suspected that he would go into a rage, kidnap her, and hold
her prisoner in a primitive cabin in southern Kentucky.
Contemporary Romance—Could their marriage be saved? Or
was it too late? Would Blake's hasty move to kidnap Nora and hold her
captive in his ramshackle cabin in the woods backfire in his face? Or
could he possibly reclaim her heart?
Eligah
October 23, 1973
Blake was rousted
from a sound sleep by the smell of food cooking. His stomach rumbled as
he blinked and wondered where he was. He could not see anything except
a glimmer of flickering flame through a crack in what he presumed to be
a door. He left his bed, opened the door, and saw an old man in his sparse
kitchen, frying eggs in a black iron skillet over a wood burning cook
stove. It was obviously very early morning because Inky darkness was all
that was visible through the dingy windows.
The flame from the
kerosene lamp danced merrily in the globe illuminating the center of the
room. The old man had been kind to him the night before by inviting him
into his home, giving him a dry change of clothing, feeding him dinner,
and offering him a bed for the night.
Eligah Johnston, as the old man had introduced himself, was sitting at
a scarred up wooden table with three odd chairs around it. He was sipping
coffee and wolfing down eggs and pancakes. He motioned Blake to a chair,
and then stepped over to the stove where he poured coffee from a blackened
pot into a dented tin cup. Blake nodded his gratitude as he accepted the
cup, and wondered why the man was up so early. Eligah returned to the
stove, fried eggs and pancakes, slid them onto a cracked plate, and then
sat them on the table before his guest. Sinking down into his own chair,
he pushed a jar filled with honey across the table. "Wild honey for
the pancakes," he grinned. "You can't beat it with a stick."
Blake glanced at his
wristwatch and saw that it was only four thirty in the morning. "Aren't
you up a little early?" he asked. "It isn't daylight yet."
The old man shook
his head. "City folk. By daybreak the fish'll be fed and happy, and
have no reason to bite."
"Fish?"
Blake asked in surprise.
"Yep, I'm off
to the river to catch a stringer of fish. I'm burned out on soup beans
and corn bread."
"What about my
car?" Blake asked.
"Gotta let the
mud dry up some first. The grounds too soft. I don't get much traffic
back here."
"When will you
return?" Blake asked him.
Eligah shrugged his
shoulders. "Don't know. Reckon I'll stick it out until I catch my
supper. You can go back to bed, or come along, it makes no never mind to
me. I don't reckon you city boys know much about fishing anyway."
The old man's remarks
irritated Blake. Ignoring his breakfast he asked, "Where's the river?"
"Over yonder
a spell," Eligah said waving his hand toward the front of the cabin.
Blake followed closely
behind Eligah as he picked his way through the forest by the beam of the
flashlight. He was wearing a slicker and boots even though it had stopped
raining. Fortunately he had been able to offer Blake a pair of boots that
were almost worn out, but still served the purpose. Blake shivered as
the dampness in the woods penetrated through his shirt.
Even though the flashlight
cast a narrow beam ahead of them, Blake realized that Eligah knew just
where he was going. However, Eligah's, "just over yonder," proved
to be a mile or so down the declining tangled path. By the time they got
to the riverbank the uncomfortable darkness had faded, and the sun began
to rise. Blake was thankful for the light.
Eligah handed him
a pocketknife and told him to cut a tree limb to use as a cane pole. "No
need to search for fish, they hover near the bank early in the morning."
As Blake put a crude pole together, Eligah built a fire and brewed coffee.
Once it was finished, he poured himself a cup and squatted near the fire
to drink it. Blake was quick to follow suit, and soon enough the chill
had subsided.
The sun shimmered
on the river as fish leaped from its depths. Water lapped against the
bank nearly touching their toes as they stood waiting for a nibble. The
breeze was chilly; the ground damp from heavy rains and the shirt Blake
wore offered scant protection. Nevertheless, the place was peaceful, and
the array of autumn ambers, reds, oranges, yellows and browns, were panoramic
in their intensity. Added to the feeling of serenity was an awareness
that wildlife was nearby. This was evidenced when a deer leaped from the
nearby woods and drank from the river. From time to time, Blake returned
to toss wood onto the fire and warm his hands.
Eligah barely blinked
as he stood with rod and reel in hand patiently waiting for a bite. It
was apparent to Blake that the old man did not indulge in small talk while
trying to catch his dinner.
By eight o'clock they
had a stringer full of fish and mutually decided to head back up the path
toward the cabin. A hundred feet away; Blake looked over his shoulder
and suspected that few locals knew about this well stocked fishing hole.
It had been a rare treat to accompany his host on his early morning expedition.
For a while his mind had been distracted, and he had forgotten the heartache,
fear, and confusion that he suffered because of Nora's disappearance.
When they reached
their destination, Eligah fixed himself another pancake and dowsed it
with honey. Once he finished eating, he yawned, "It's time for my
nap." Blake watched in astonishment as he disappeared into his bedroom
and closed the door.
After finishing his own breakfast, Blake stepped out onto the front porch
and shook his head in woe at his car. It was sunk down to the axles in
mud. Not knowing what else to do, he returned to the bedroom that Eligah
had given the night before, and crawled between the well-worn quilts.
When he woke up a
few hours later he could hear Eilgah banging around in the kitchen. He
entered the room, took a seat, and watched the old man clean the fish,
roll them in cornmeal, and fry them. "You cook a lot," Blake
observed.
Eligah cackled, "Yep,
I like to eat a lot too. "
"How do you get
to the grocery store without a vehicle?"
"Walk,"
Eligah said, and then pointed out the window. "Or go over the hill
yonder and catch the school bus. I ride it to the general store, hang
around there all day, pick up some grub, and then ride it back home when
it makes its evening run."
"That's a long
walk," Blake mused thinking about the distance from the beginning
of the dirt road to the cabin. The only store he had seen was miles back
up the main blacktop highway. He seemed to remember a sign that said Colony
School close to it.
"Maybe for a
city boy."
Blake asked, "Have
you got time to help me get my car out of the mud now?"
"Yep, but you
might as well hang around and share the fish since you helped catch em."
Blake was hungry.
"I might as well," he agreed.
The fried fish was
worth hanging around for. The old man was an excellent cook. After the
meal he sped through washing the few dishes they had used, and stacked
them on a shelf.
"Go fill the
water buckets," he told Blake pointing at two empty pails. "While
you're at it, bring some wood in for the stove."
Blake was not used
to having people tell him what to do. However, he was dependent upon the
man's hospitality. He grabbed the two five gallon galvanized buckets and
headed to the creek behind the house. However, the water proved to be
the easy part, for the old man was not satisfied until he had toted and
stacked ten armloads of logs beside the wood burning stove. Hot, sweaty,
and weary of the fading light, he asked Eligah, "Care to help me
free my car now?"
"Yep, right after
I wake up. It's time for my nap."
Blake was beginning
to like the lumpy old iron stead bed and went back and crawled into it.
This time he was up before Eligah. When the old man did get up, he set
about to mix peanut butter and honey together, spread it on crackers and
offer to share with Blake.
"Are you going
to help me free my car now?" Blake asked him.
"Yep, right after
I eat," Eligah said. "But you might as well stay all night,
it's getting late."
Blake sank down in
the chair opposite the old man and picked up a cracker sandwich. "Why
not? I don't have anywhere else to go."
Darkness found the
two men sitting on the rough board floor of the porch, legs hanging over,
smoking rolled up cigarettes and drinking moonshine from tin cups.
Almost twenty four
hours had passed since Blake's arrival when Eligah asked him where he
was from.
"Detroit Michigan."
"Cold country
up that way," Eligah commented. "I was there in the fifties
and never saw so much snow."
"We get a lot
of snow," Blake agreed. "Incidentally, don't you think we need
some light?"
"Nope. It's a
waste of kerosene."
"You ever thought
about getting electric out here?"
"Electric don't
come out this far."
"Too bad."
"It would be
another bill to worry about."
Blake nodded.
"Where you know
Roy from?" Eligah asked.
"We were in the
Navy together."
"Did you go to
Vietnam?"
"Yes," Blake
replied.
"I fought in
World War Two myself."
"War is nasty."
"Yep."
"How far did
you say it is to Roy's house?"
"Miles."
"Miles?"
Blake asked.
"Three, maybe
four."
"Did I pass him
on my way here?"
"Nope, you didn't
go far enough."
"You think we
can get my car out of the mud tomorrow?"
"Yep, the ground
will be drying up by then."
"You going fishing
in the morning?"
"Nope. Had my
fill of fish today. Don't need no more til next week."
The two men spent
the rest of the evening in silence content to drink moonshine, smoke rolled
up cigarettes, and stare off into the darkness.
It took only three
days to exhaust Eligah's meager supply of oil, tobacco, and groceries.
Although he got the bulk of his food from hunting wild game, stealing
duck eggs, robbing wild beehives, and fishing, he did need other supplies
as well. "Today I need to go to the store," he told Blake over
breakfast.
"How you getting
there?"
"I reckon I'll
walk."
"Why don't we
dig the car out and drive?" Blake suggested.
The old man nodded.
A few of hours later
Blake got his first view of London Kentucky. It appeared clean, charming,
laid back and wholesome. The main road was lined with restaurants, banks,
office buildings, grocery stores, and other shops. The Courthouse, which
was located on the right side of the street dominated the center of town.
The newspaper office was to the right of the Courthouse, the prosecuting
attorney's office to the left, and the jail was behind it. Various Banks
flanked the opposite side of the street.
Although Eligah normally
bought his supplies from the general store near his house, he was pleased
to make the eight-mile trip into town. He wanted to hang around the Courthouse
to hear the latest gossip. That worked out well for Blake because he needed
to call home.
