You Can't Hide by Theresa Sneed (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

friend.” She sat down across from him again. “He listens to me.”

“I listen to you.”

She wiped at her eyes. “No, you don’t.”

“Sure, I do.”

“Really? Then what’s bugging me right now?”

“Well, um,” he stammered. After a moment of thought, he bounced his hands into the air. “How am I supposed to know that, if you don’t talk to me?”

Unbelievable. “Exactly.” She growled. “You won’t let me.”

“That’s ridiculous, Sally. I’ve always been available to talk to you anytime, anywhere.”

She stood. “Hmm.” She paced the narrow path between them. “Okay, Professor Hancock,” she said, forcing his real name out. “From the earliest time that I can remember, whenever I try to talk to you about . . . you know what,” she said, instinctively dropping her voice low, “either you, or Mother, or Mom, you all stop me.”

He made a face. “Is that what this is about?” He clasped his hands together on his lap. “There’s no reason to bring the past up.”

“Not for you, maybe, but for me, there is.”

“Why, Sally? Why can’t you just leave it in the past?”

“It shouldn’t matter why, Dad. It should only matter that I need to talk about it.”

He drew his head back. “That’s a very grownup way of thinking.”

“I am thirteen,” she said, with a sigh. “There are disconnected things about the past floating around in my head.”

His eyes widened. “Perhaps, you should see, Ms. Tangier?”

She grimaced. Ms. Tangier was Nancy’s therapist. She’d only met her once, years ago, and remembered her as a firm, schoolmarm sort of person. “Can’t I just talk to you?”

“Of course you can.” A few people passed by on a path that crisscrossed the area. “But, not here.”

She stood firm. “You promise?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

A deep sigh left her throat, and without a second thought, she flew into his arms. “Thanks, Dad.”

Twenty-Four

The Ladies of the Lake

A light rap on the front door of her cabin awoke Nancy. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the clock. She’d slept well into the morning, unusual for her, but a good indicator that she had needed it. All at once she realized, she’d slept through the whole night—also unusual for her, and another good sign, she hoped.

The rap sounded again and brought her to the door. Expecting to see Millie, she was surprise to see Sofia standing there.

Sofia glanced at her clothing. “I see, I awoke you. Well, no matter—you’re up now. Millie tells me you like to write. I’ll expect to see you at ten in the lodge.”

She didn’t give Nancy a chance to respond, but turned and walked back toward her yellow cabin.

She is so odd, but I like her. Wait. She thought back and grinned—those had been Millie’s almost exact words about Wendy. She started to shut the door, but looked down. A note lay on the floor, the morning sunlight resting across it like a beacon of hope. Or warning, she mused, always the pessimist—another quality she sought to improve.

Bending over, she picked it up. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she stifled a yelp.

I know who you are.

She clutched her hands to her chest, the note crumpled within her tight grip. It had been foolish for her to reveal that much about herself. Absolutely foolish.

A shadow appeared at her door.

“No,” she moaned, filled with fright. Forcing herself to look, she brought her eyes up to the intruder.

“Oh. It’s just you, Millie!” She burst into tears. “Oh, it’s just you,” she repeated, between broken sobs.

Millie rushed to her side. “What’s wrong, Nancy?” She pried the note from her shaking hands. Her face went blank. “Who wrote this?” And then her eyes questioned Nancy’s, as if she expected an explanation for the strange message.

Nancy couldn’t find the words.

Millie sat her down on a chair and then pulled one over beside her. “Look, I know from what you said last night about that horrible man, and now from this letter,” she said, waving it in the air, “that you have something to hide.”

Nancy’s eyes widened.

“But not from us.” She put her hand over Nancy’s quivering one. “No one—not a single person here—would ever reveal your identity, whoever you really are.”

Nancy remained quiet.

“Look,” Millie said, pulling her hand away. “We’re all hiding from something. And now, at least, I know what you’re hiding from.” She shuddered. “I really don’t care who you are, but I do care about you, and why you’re hiding.” She stood. “So, someone figured it out. Not a big deal, is it?” She looked down at the handwritten note. “It’s a woman’s handwriting, wouldn’t you agree?” She thrust it into Nancy’s face.

Nancy grimaced and pulled away.

“It’s a bit cryptic, though, isn’t it?”

Nancy managed a nod.

Mille tapped the note. “It looks as though someone wrote this when they were a bit tipsy, wouldn’t you say?” This time, she didn’t push it toward Nancy, but just let the edges of it fall forward so she could see it. “You can tell by the sort of slurred letters in places.” She pointed to the words, clearly showing the wavy letters formed across the piece of scrap paper.

Nancy took a good look at it. “Maybe,” she said.

“Even so, I think I recognize the handwriting.”

Nancy sat up straight. “Whose is it?”

“I need to make sure first.” Millie’s lips pressed tight. It was apparent she wasn’t going to reveal her guess. “Get dressed. We’re going to show this to Wendy.”

Wendy was the only one who had known about Nancy’s past. It was part of the requirement to be let into the secluded group of women. There had to be a significant need. And for safety measures, the proprietor of the property needed to know what precautions had to be in place to maintain the safety of all the women.

Nancy reluctantly agreed. Anyhow, she’d be leaving the lake today, if the writer of the mysterious note wasn’t revealed.

Millie climbed into the golf cart. “I’ll drive.” The keys were already in it, which shouldn’t have surprised