From a Distance - Softcover

Bargainer, Vernon

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1475981619 ISBN 13: 9781475981612

Verlag: iUniverse, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Nineteen-year-old Sarah Lock is on a desperate run for safety. As she sits behind the wheel of a stolen truck and speeds away from Dallas, Texas, she knows the battle is not over. Emotionally devastated, Sarah watches helplessly as her dream of finding someone to love her despite her shame-despite the wounds of a humiliating stigma thrust upon her as a child-shatters before her eyes. Sarah, in possession of many secrets, boards a bus and heads back toward Dallas, knowing that her personal safety is dictated by every decision. Knowing an abusive husband will soon be looking for her-and his truck-Sarah finds her way to her Aunt Gina's home, where she vainly begins to search for her purpose in the world. But as her past continues to haunt her, Sarah vows to never let romantic love enter her life again. Seeking solace and peace through the healing grace of nature, she dances in a lush meadow beside her hideaway, unaware that a young man is watching her, patiently waiting for the opportunity to change her perspective on everything. In this poignant tale, a young woman takes a journey that leads her to the brink of surrender as fate deals another blow and sends her on a mission no one ever expected.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Vernon Bargainer holds a degree in psychology from the University of Texas and has worked for thirty-five years in human relations. He has six children and five grandchildren. Now retired, he lives near his family in Mesquite, Texas.Vernon Bargainer says, of himself, that he is a lifelong student of human relations, and his qualifications arise from 80 years of making life work. He authored At The Feet of Angels, From a Distance, It Is Morning and I Remember Running.

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From a Distance

By Vernon Bargainer

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2013 Vernon Bargainer
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-8161-2

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

A rackety old pickup finally misfired its way out of townwhile a distraught young woman strained at the wheel andprayed to the gods for mercy. Nineteen-year-old Sarah Lockwas running. After a while, she looked in the rearview mirror,sobbing, and nodded as she saw her hometown, Dallas, recedingin the distance. Maybe a little speed on the open highway wouldthwart the backfiring of her stolen truck. She peeled away likea shot tiger. Must be the cheap gas, she thought.

Sarah glanced toward the grassy roadside outside thepassenger window and flinched at the sight of the little wadof money she'd pitched into the seat just minutes earlier—fiveone-hundred-dollar bills she had dug out of a jar in the pantry,her last tangible effort before bounding away. Now she wasthinking, What am I going to face trying to buy a hamburgerwith a hundred-dollar bill? At once, she sobered, knowing thatin the days ahead, she would face many other such pesky andmuch more compelling questions.

But this is it, thought Sarah. The dream is gone; it's over.No one would understand why she ran, no one in her life. But ithad to be done; it had to be settled at once, nipped in the bud.With good luck, she should be in Oklahoma City by noon. Shestomped the accelerator, fixed her eyes on the road ahead, anddrove on, brokenhearted but resolute in what she was doing. Atonce, the trusty old vessel backfired again. One more for theroad.

Now that she was settled on course, Sarah tried to relax.Gently, she caressed the left side of her jaw with two fingers, andthe tears came again. Before she could dwell on that matter, shewas startled by sirens screaming in the rear. The red-and-bluelights of the police car were closing fast—much to her delight."Come on down," she taunted, as if they could hear her. Sheraved on, "Nothing would serve my cause any better than to beidentified as going north out of Dallas, heading for OklahomaCity in this forsaken old 1999 Chevy pickup." At this point,there would be no reason to suspect it was a stolen vehicle, so itwas unlikely they were after her.

Sarah sped to seventy-five miles an hour and started drivingnonchalantly with one hand. Now she was rocking her headfrom side to side as if in rhythm to music in the car. At once,the blaring police chaser was at her back bumper. She laid on aseductive smile and glanced toward the car as it whizzed by andproceeded on ahead. "Curses!"

All the excitement seemed to be over. Traffic wasmonotonously light, and the highway had become boring. Evenold Grumpy managed only an occasional backfire. Too bad, forshe would have preferred to be distracted, fully occupied withmundane thoughts. Instead, she was taken back to thoughts ofher shattered dream. Once more, she tested her aching jaw andjerked back when she felt the deep pain of a bruised bone. Atonce, she tapped her lips, as if calling for their help, and startedshaking her head.

Sarah's whole life had been a wrangle, trying to overcome ademoralizing stigma placed on her during her early childhood.Years later, providence allowed her a life-changing event, whichbrought great promise—but it was not to be. The battle wasnot over after all. Within this crisis, it wasn't physical painthat hurt so much; rather, it was the emotional devastation,the destruction of her dream, the denial of freedom from thehumiliating disgrace thrust on her as a child.

* * *

Oklahoma City was positively inviting. There were no visiblelittle battles going on, either in the traffic or on the sidewalks.The only thing that possibly might have enhanced this picturewould have been a sign, reading "Welcome Fugitives." Forgetit, thought Sarah. This isn't a stolen truck after all. It's mine.She slapped the steering wheel and snorted loudly. So, by golly,I'm not a fugitive; I'm just a missing person. No law againstthat, right? Otherwise, life certainly seemed to be at ease inthis warm Southern city—just what a desperate, heartbrokenwoman needed.

Having frequently visited her late aunt who had lived nearthe city, Sarah generally knew her way around. Now, she drovestraight through town and into the parking lot of a four-storyapartment building. She just sat for a while, resting her head onher clenched hands near the top of the steering wheel. After awhile, she leaned back, took several deep breaths, and stared fora few moments vaguely into the sky. Then she glanced towardher lap, shaking her head at the dull mid-length black skirtpulled tight around a green satin blouse with sparkly magnoliablossoms and a huge, double-ruffle neckline. This outfit wasfamiliar to all who knew her, and since it would now be missingfrom her wardrobe, it surely would be held as the primary IDelement in tracing her.

Okay, it's time!

Sarah crammed the little wad of money into her gaudy over-the-shoulder,black leather bag; snatched the keys from theignition; and bumped open the door with a determined shoulder.As she twisted her way out of the old relic, she made a quicksurvey of her surroundings. There was no one in the parking lot;a couple of people were just entering the building. She slammedthe door, locked it, and strolled toward the apartment, tryingto appear calm and confident. Once inside the building, sheglanced at the desk which, mercifully, was very busy at themoment. She hurried to the elevator, rode it alone to the fourthfloor, found the stairwell, entered it, and walked half a flightdown. The plan was in motion.

In the stairwell, she lifted a pair of sleek black slacks fromher bag, as well as a tan, short-sleeved silk blouse and a pairof black high heels. No one would notice that these items weremissing from her wardrobe, for they had been on loan to avery close friend who had returned them a couple of weeksago when she moved to Arizona. Sarah had stored this outfitin a dry-cleaner's bag and then replaced it with another setof clothes when she ran. Now, quickly, she donned the newensemble. When it was fully in place, she twisted around a bit,somewhat prissily, as if modeling in a fashion show. Then shestuffed her runaway clothes into the bag, whirled it over hershoulder, tightened her lips, folded her arms, dipped her head,and whispered, "There!"

Back on the street, Sarah walked away from town for a blockand then circled back, walked two blocks, and caught a bus todowntown. She rested inside a busy shoe store until it was almosther turn. In a few moments, she eased out of her seat and headedfor the door, mumbling, "I'm sorry, y'all; I forgot something. Seeyou later." She dawdled out of the store and proceeded towardthe Greyhound bus station. It had been a long day, and she wassleepy and hungry. No matter, she had to press ahead.

Soon, she was hit with a sense of needing to hurry. It was1:15 p.m., and the bus was scheduled to depart at 2:30. However,the station was just minutes away. So now is the hour, thoughtSarah, for that strategic though dreaded phone call to MommyDear. Dreaded, because, as supportive as her mother had alwaysbeen, there was still one critical issue in their relationship, onethat had haunted her for ten years.

Leaning against a storefront with her huge bag slouched onthe pavement behind her ankles, Sarah lifted her cell phone andnervously dialed her mother's number in Dallas.

"Hello."

Mom?"

"Hey."

"Mom, no problem; I just called to let you know I'm fine,but I'm somewhere else."

"Than...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: iUniverse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2013
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1475981619
• ISBN 13: 9781475981612
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 300
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: KreGa Onlinehandel GmbH; 4950000000000; info@krega-onlinehandel.de; ; Birkenweg 31; Brakel; 33034; Deutschland