Let Me Go (An Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Ashley couldn’t help feeling as though she was making the biggest mistake of her life as the silhouette of the mountains materialized on the horizon on the other side of the windshield. Allowing Brett to visit Mettler Ridge was a huge risk. She hadn’t slept well – waking several times during the night – worried both about her father’s medical condition and how to keep the peace between her fiancé and her family. The resulting fatigue made matters that much worse.

She stared out the passenger window of Brett’s SUV as they drove east on interstate twenty-four, counting the signs that proclaimed, “See Rock City” and “Visit Ruby Falls,” ending with a total of seven each before the roadside billboards were replaced by walls of limestone. It was a silly game but helped to take her mind off of the impending visit.

She looked at Brett and wondered whether he felt as anxious about the trip as she did. As if sensing her unease, he glanced toward her – his rich chocolate hair peeking out from beneath his Ralph Lauren ball cap – winked and rested his hand on her knee. His touch still had the power to command her heart to stand still.

Smiling back at Brett, she hoped she’d be able to run interference between him and her relatives. Her plan was to limit his contact to only the members of her immediate family. She’d keep the visit short – two hours at the most. And after they’d been there around thirty minutes, she’d make an excuse to send him into town on an errand. That way, once he returned, there would only be around fifteen minutes or so left before it was time to say their goodbyes.

She hated cutting the time spent with her father so short, but she could think of no better alternative. After Brett’s visit was over – once he felt he’d given her the support she needed – she’d be able to return to Mettler Ridge on her own. And from now on, for her father’s sake, she promised herself she would make the trip at least once every month.

Ashley’s ears popped with the altitude change as they began the climb up Mettler Mountain. She pulled two sticks of gum from her purse and handed one to Brett.

“This will help with the pressure,” she said, thinking that the steady chewing rhythm might also help to calm her nerves. If that didn’t work, she’d have to find something else to count.

Brett chuckled and pointed to the fifteen-foot-tall standee of Bigfoot lurking next to the highway as they exited interstate twenty-four on their final trek into Mettler Ridge. The black paint had peeled, exposing rust spots on the metal beneath, making it look as though the creature was suffering from mange.

“Was that statue there the last time we were here?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it.” Having been erected when Ashley was no more than five years old, the metal monster had essentially become Mettler Ridge’s mascot. Now the sign had been left to rot in the hazy mountain air.

Just like the town, she thought.

Brett tilted his head and smiled. “Well the last time we visited, the only thing I had eyes for was my beautiful fiancée.”

Ashley knew his playful banter was most likely an attempt to lighten her mood – and she loved him for it – but it would take more than sweet words to lift her tension.

As they rolled into town, a row of coke ovens greeted them. The cave-like brick structures built into the side of the hill had been used during the town’s mining days to cook the bituminous coal, turning it into industrial coke. Now they lay abandoned, covered in kudzu vines. Ashley’s father had often told stories about her ancestors who had worked in the coal mines for very little wages in the late eighteen-hundreds. Although she’d also grown up poor – the majority of her clothing coming from the donation box at the church in town – she felt sorry for her ancestors whose lives had been short and rough.

Before turning onto Main Street, they drove past a white shotgun style house with a sagging roof, its fenced yard dotted with at least a dozen baby goats. Brett smiled and pointed again as the kids chased each other around the yard, their bleating loud enough to penetrate the SUV’s closed window.

“I can’t believe they allow goats right in the middle of town,” he said.

Although the animals were cute, instead of bringing a smile to Ashley’s face, the sight made her heart ache.

“When I was around ten years old, Daddy bought two kids to raise for their milk. I went crazy over those little babies, playing with them every chance I got. Then one evening a bobcat broke into their pen. It killed them both and dragged one of them off into the forest.”

Brett squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I guess that kind of thing must happen a lot around here.”

Ashley nodded. The incident had left her devastated and, from then on, she never wanted any more pets.

The shortest route to her father’s home would take them past Hope Auto Repair, the shop co-owned by her father and Uncle Russ. Since it was Saturday, she knew her cousins – responsible for starting the engagement party brawl – would be there. To avoid the shop, she directed Brett south down Barfield Street. Because he’d only been to her father’s house once, right after they became engaged, she hoped he wouldn’t notice the detour. To her relief, he made the turn without question, never mentioning the shop.

Ashley turned away from the window when they reached the trailer park on the north side of town, right at the edge of the city limits. She didn’t want to see the place where she had lived right after graduating high school. Preferred not to think about that time in her life. Pushing away the images that threatened her mind, she focused on the road ahead.

As they turned onto Fenton Hill, a stand of oaks flanked both sides of the roadway creating a canopy so thick it blocked the sun’s rays like a treed tunnel.

“I used to hate this part of the road when I was growing up,” she told Brett. “I would never ride my bicycle through here. I was always afraid something would reach out of the darkness and grab me.”

Back then, she’d been teased by her older brother for being scared, but now she realized it was normal behavior for a little girl raised on stories about Bigfoot. Even though she no longer believed in monsters – at least the nonhuman kind – the chill from the sudden absence of sunlight still made her uncomfortable.

Just as they exited the canopy, her father’s mailbox popped into view. The SUV wobbled as they drove up the hard-packed dirt driveway. Ashley hoped Brett wouldn’t be upset by the fine grains of dust now pummeling his new black car. When they reached the wooden bridge that stretched across the creek on the one-hundred-and-fifty-acre property – passed down in the Hope family for generations – he slowed the SUV to a crawl. Although the weathered structure appeared ready to fall, she knew Kyle and Shane kept the piers underneath in good condition.

“Don’t worry about the bridge,” she told Brett. “It will hold.”

They continued through the tangle of hardwoods and thick underbrush past the fork that led to Kyle’s trailer. The drive then snaked left into the clearing. As she caught sight of the house her great-grandfather had built, a wave of dread hit Ashley, making her want to run in the opposite direction.

Trees cleared from the home site had been milled into the lumber for the house, the labor bartered, and the rock used to build the foundation and fireplace gathered from the land. The small Appalachian farmhouse had gone through many changes since her great-grandfather’s time – electricity had been added and water from the well piped in – but the long narrow front porch remained the same.

As Ashley hopped from the door of the SUV, she heard a sharp baying split the air. Her father’s Bluetick hound dog, Ace, ran to greet her, his tail flopping from side to side. She kneeled down to scratch his head and noticed her father walking toward her from the back yard.

Spencer Hope appeared years older than the last time she’d seen him just seven months prior, his gait slow and uneven. More gray ran through his auburn hair than what she had remembered, his once healthy complexion had turned sallow, and his blue eyes seemed dull and sunken in their sockets. His appearance tugged at her heart. She worried the doctor had discharged him from the hospital way too soon.

Ashley wrapped her arms around her father’s neck, breathing in the minty scent of dipping tobacco.

“Daddy, what are you doing out here?” she asked, her voice stern. “You just had a heart attack; you should be inside the house. Resting.”

Knowing how stubborn her father was, she hadn’t really expected to find him in bed, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to be out walking around so soon.

“I reckon I’ll rest once I’m dead,” he told her.

“Don’t say that, Daddy.”

Although she wasn’t really superstitious, Ashley didn’t want her father to tempt fate with his words.

Brett appeared at Ashley’s side.

“Hello, Spencer,” he said, offering his hand as a gesture of peace. “I hope you’re feeling a lot better today.”

Ashley could tell by her future husband’s eyes that the sentiment was genuine. She held her breath, waiting for her father’s response, fearing the worst.

Spencer stared at Brett’s outstretched hand, hesitated a moment, and then gave it a quick shake. Ashley let go of her breath in relief. She longed for her father and Brett to become friends, not just in-laws. But she realized that due to her past mistakes, Spencer would have trouble trusting any man she chose. At least until after they’d known each other for a while.

“I’m a mite better,” her father replied, his eyes hard and voice rigid. “I was fixing dinner when y’all pulled up.”

Her father always referred to the mid-day meal as dinner and the evening meal as supper.

“Let me do that for you, Daddy. I don’t think you need to be cooking right now,” she said, concerned that her father was pushing himself too hard. As he always did.

Brett and Ashley followed Spencer behind the house to the old stone grill located in a shady area bordering the forest. The edges of the charcoal were already white from the heat. Spencer pulled a few strips of bark off of a nearby shagbark hickory tree and handed them to Ashley before relaxing in a lawn chair next to the grill. Using a tire iron, she lifted the grate and tossed the strips onto the fire. The wood added a savory flavor to meat and anything else cooked over the flame.

Ashley heard rustling in the woods. Her brothers emerged from the trees wearing camouflage shirts and hunting caps. Kyle carried two shotguns, each open with the muzzles pointed toward the ground. Shane followed close behind, a white-tailed buck arched across his shoulders. Although Shane was younger, at six foot three, he stood a head taller than Kyle and was clean shaven, whereas his brother sported a goatee. Both Ashley and Kyle were blonde like their mother, but Shane had inherited his father’s auburn hair.

“About time we seen you again,” Kyle said as he accepted a hug from his sister, his shaggy hair tickling her forehead.

Ashley loved her brothers, but their bond was not as strong as it had once been. The older she became, the less connected she felt to her family and their way of life.

Shane stared at Brett, his jaw rigid.

“Best not keep her away for so long,” he said as he carried the buck toward a maple tree a few yards from the grill.

“She’s free to come here for a visit any time she wants,” Brett replied. “I haven’t tried to keep her away.”

Her fiancé was telling the truth. Ashley could have made the trip alone, but she’d been too focused on earning her master’s degree and making wedding plans, something she now felt guilty about. But she also understood the reason for her family’s assumption that Brett was responsible for her absence.

“Don’t blame Brett; it’s my fault,” she told her brothers. “I know I haven’t been back here as often as I should, but I’m planning to change that.” And with her father in bad health, she would.

Shane gave her an unconvinced look as he hoisted the buck onto the meat pole hanging from the maple. He secured its hind legs in the air with the head pointed toward the ground as Kyle spread a tarp underneath. Ace sat close by, as though waiting for a treat.

Pulling a knife from his pocket, Kyle split the deer open, starting from the anus, cutting down to the neck. He reached inside the body cavity and began pulling out the internal organs, laying them aside on the tarp.

Ashley glanced at Brett. His face, tanned from the golf course, had turned pale. She followed his gaze back to the half-butchered buck dangling from the maple tree with the discarded entrails below and remembered he’d never been hunting.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, wishing she had known her brothers were planning on bagging a deer today so that she could have prepared Brett ahead of time.

“Yeah. Fine,” he said, his voice clipped.

Kyle and Shane exchanged glances as if noticing Brett’s discomfort. It was clear they wanted the opportunity to taunt the city boy dressed in the Polo shirt and freshly pressed khaki shorts.

“You like deer?” Kyle asked him, his arms covered in blood up to his elbows.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’ve never eaten venison before.”

“Ain’t nothing better than fresh deer back straps on the fire,” Kyle told him.

Brett glanced at the grill, seeming to realize for the first time that Kyle and Shane were preparing their lunch. Even more color drained from his face, making him appear nauseous.

Ashley put her hand on Brett’s arm.

“Why don’t you run into town and pick up some sandwiches from the grocery store?” she asked him, feeling horrible that her family had ambushed him this way and also wanting to stick to her plan of limiting her fiancé’s time with her father and brothers.

“I can eat the venison, it’s fine,” he said.

Ashley knew Brett was trying to save face, not wanting to appear weak in front of her family.

Shane smiled. “Stick around till dark. We’re frog gigging down at the creek. We can cook you up a mess of frog legs,” he teased.

“Stop it,” Ashley said, not amused by her brothers’ behavior.

Shane continued, “Ace is getting some age on him. But he can still tree a possum. You like possum? Or how ‘bout some rattlesnake?”

“Polecat,” Kyle suggested.

“That’s enough,” Ashley warned her brothers, anger rising in her chest.

She turned to Brett. “We don’t have to eat the deer.”

“I know that,” he said. “But if nobody minds, I’d like to use the restroom.”

Good idea, Ashley thought. “Go through the kitchen and down the hall. It’s the first door on the left.”

She waited until her fiancé had disappeared inside the house before turning on her brothers.

“What’s wrong with the two of you?” she asked. “Can’t you just try to be civil for five minutes? Brett has made every effort to be nice to you and all you want to do is embarrass him.”

“He ain’t no man if he can’t take some ribbing,” Kyle said, preparing to skin the buck.

Ashley heard her father cough. She turned around and looked at him, wondering if he wanted to add his opinion to the argument.

“Y’all quit your squabbling,” Spencer chided.

Still infuriated, Ashley continued her rant.

“If you all really loved me,” she stated, “you’d try to get along with Brett for my sake. With the way you’re acting, he might just decide that he doesn’t want to marry me.”

Her father looked at her, worry etching his haggard face.

“You done got yourself a heaping bigger problem,” he told her.

The apprehension in Spencer’s eyes sent a chill down Ashley’s spine.

She flashed back in her memory to the day her father had told Ashley and her brothers that their mother was sick. That she was dying of cancer. The expression he wore now was hauntingly similar.

But she knew the news couldn’t be about her father’s health. He had said that the problem was specifically Ashley’s. That it was much worse than the conflict between Brett and her family.

What could be more important to her than marrying Brett?

“She ain’t got no problems,” Shane said, walking over to their father. “Ain’t had none since she hooked up with Fat Cat.”

Ashley wished that her family could understand that although money helped a lot, it didn’t make all your troubles magically disappear.

“What is it, Daddy?” she asked. “What’s happened?”

Spencer nodded toward the lawn chair next to him.

“Better sit,” he told her.

Hearing that she couldn’t take the news while standing caused her stomach to twist. Doing as she was told, Ashley perched on the edge of the battered metal chair, bracing herself in anticipation of her father’s next words.

He met Ashley’s gaze.

“Looks like husband number one’s getting out of the pen,” he said.