| Biographical Non-Fiction posted September 12, 2013 | Chapters: |
...20 21 -22- 23... 
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A visitor to our new house causes concern.
A chapter in the book Chasing the Elusive Dream
Visitor in the Night
by BethShelby
The incessant ringing of the doorbell at night startled all of us. We'd been in our new house a couple of weeks and were still in the process of settling in. With no close neighbors, a visitor at that late hour was unlikely.
The only contact we'd had with anyone from the little town was during the first week when the Baptist pastor came by and invited us to visit his church. We explained that our children were enrolled in a church school in Jackson, and we planned to keep attending that church. He smiled and offered his card.
"That's fine. It's all good," he said. "God has children everywhere. But if there is anything you need, or if I can help you in any way, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you so much, Pastor. We really appreciate the offer. It is so nice to meet you. If we need anything, it is good to know there is someone we can count on." I shook hands with him and took his card.
The kids and I were in the den watching an episode of The Brady Bunch, and Evan was in the kitchen helping himself to a dish of ice cream. Our phone was installed the week before, but no one had called to say they were coming over. Our house sat at the end of a long curved driveway away from the blacktop road. One side of the property faced the recently completed interstate highway. Since we'd had no time to put up window treatments, we could see, or at least hear, a car driving up. Tonight, we hadn't seen or heard anything, so who could be ringing our bell on a chilly October night?
Evan and I went to the door together. He turned on the overhead light and peered through a peephole in the door before opening it. A young girl stood outside shivering with cold in spite of the lined denim jacket she wore. She had on jeans and her hands were empty. Her straight brown hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon. A baseball cap completed her outfit.
"Hello," I said. "Can we help you?"
"Hi," she answered hesitantly. "I was wondering if I could have a drink of water?"
"Of course you can. Come on in out of the cold. What are you doing out on a night like this?"
"I've been hitchhiking," she said. "My ride put me out here."
"You're kidding! You came off that highway? Where do you live?" Evan asked.
"I'm from Ohio. I was living with my aunt, but she died."The girl's eyes shifted as though she had something to hide.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I have some left over chili." She nodded. "Well, come in and meet our kids. You can watch TV with them while I fix you something to eat. What's your name?"
"Mindy. My name is Mindy Wilson."
"Kids, this is Mindy," I said once we'd reached the den. "She's been traveling. She is going to stay with us a little while. I'm going to go and fix her something to eat. Mindy, this is Carol, Christi, and Don." I nodded to each child. They stared at her like she was from an alien planet. Carol, my oldest child, smiled shyly and said, "Hi Mindy."
Evan followed us into the den and sat down, keeping a sharp eye on her. I could tell he didn't trust her. For that matter, neither did I. Her story was too vague. Her Southern accent was thicker than mine. She's not from Ohio, I thought. She probably didn't even tell us her real name.
"How old are you, Mindy?" I asked as I pulled out a TV tray for her food and drink."
"Eighteen," she told me in a low voice. She's lying, I thought. She doesn't look a day over thirteen.
Mindy drank the whole glass of water without stopping, and proceeded to gulp the food down like she was starved. When I offered more, she nodded. "That's so good," she said. "Thank you. I would like some more."
Mindy quickly made herself at home. She was soon chatting with my children about the television shows and was petting our cat. Shadow curled up in her lap and started purring as though she considered Mindy a member of the family.
When I returned to the kitchen for more food, Evan followed me.
"We can't let her go back out tonight. It's too cold. But I don't feel right about her staying here either," he whispered."Something isn't right about her. Why would anyone drop her off in the middle of nowhere? Surely, they would have let her out in town. I think we need to call the sheriff or someone."
"Wait. I think I know where I put that preacher's card. You go back in there and take her this plate. I'll run upstairs where she can't hear me and see if I can call him. He may have an idea about what we should do."
I located the card and made the call. Pastor Bingham picked up on the first ring. When I explained the situation, the pastor got excited.
"Stop right there. I know exactly who this girl is. She lives right on the other side of the highway from you. She's been gone all day. We've had a search party out looking for her. Her parents are here with me now. They're worried sick because she's diabetic, and she has some emotional problems. She left home without her medicine. Don't say anything to her, and don't let her leave. We'll be right over."
Fifteen minutes later the bell rang again. This time it was Pastor Bingham along with the girl's parents. The pastor performed the introductions.
"Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, this is Bert and Leona Thomas. These are Sarah's parents."
"Sarah? She said her name was Mindy."
Recognizing the voices, the girl came out with tears streaming down her face. Her mother, also in tears, ran over and embraced her. Sarah's father patted her shoulder and looked uncomfortable. He had a hard look about him that made me wonder if he might have been Sarah's reason for leaving.
I started trying to explain how this all came about, but a sharp look from the pastor warned me to be quiet. The parents thanked us for calling and left quickly. This might have been the end of the story but, it wasn't.
About three weeks later, I got a call at work at two o'clock in the afternoon. Sarah had run away again. According to the pastor, a group of our new neighbors were at our house peering into the windows trying to determine if Sarah, once again, had taken refuge there. Pastor Bingham wanted us to come home right away and unlock the door so they could search our house.
"I'm sure she isn't there," I said. "We haven't seen her. With our doors locked, how could she have gotten in?"
"We didn't see anyone when we looked in your windows. But one of the neighbors saw the curtain moving upstairs. We think she may be hiding up there. We'd appreciate it if you'd come home and look. If she's not there, we need to know, so we can go from there."
"Well, Okay. I'll have to call my husband because we rode together, and he has the car. I'll see if he can get off work."
We both made arrangements to leave early. I wasn't happy about people staring into the windows of our house. It felt like they were invading our privacy. The fact that a curtain was moving upstairs made my heart beat faster. Once we got there and opened the door, I was thankful the crowd standing around didn't insist on searching for themselves.
Evan went upstairs to check. In minutes he was down, holding the cat. "I think I see why the curtain moved. The window is Shadow's favorite place to sit. I'm sorry, but Sarah isn't here. If she shows up here later, we'll call you."
This time, Sarah had hitchhiked a ride with a truck driver. She called her parents a couple of days later from Kentucky. She'd learned the hard way that life isn't easy for a teenager on the streets with no money. I'm fairly certain she never ran away again.
Life at home may be difficult sometimes for young people, but at least, if a girl has a roof over her head and parents who care, it is much better than being on the street.
The incessant ringing of the doorbell at night startled all of us. We'd been in our new house a couple of weeks and were still in the process of settling in. With no close neighbors, a visitor at that late hour was unlikely.
The only contact we'd had with anyone from the little town was during the first week when the Baptist pastor came by and invited us to visit his church. We explained that our children were enrolled in a church school in Jackson, and we planned to keep attending that church. He smiled and offered his card.
"That's fine. It's all good," he said. "God has children everywhere. But if there is anything you need, or if I can help you in any way, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you so much, Pastor. We really appreciate the offer. It is so nice to meet you. If we need anything, it is good to know there is someone we can count on." I shook hands with him and took his card.
The kids and I were in the den watching an episode of The Brady Bunch, and Evan was in the kitchen helping himself to a dish of ice cream. Our phone was installed the week before, but no one had called to say they were coming over. Our house sat at the end of a long curved driveway away from the blacktop road. One side of the property faced the recently completed interstate highway. Since we'd had no time to put up window treatments, we could see, or at least hear, a car driving up. Tonight, we hadn't seen or heard anything, so who could be ringing our bell on a chilly October night?
Evan and I went to the door together. He turned on the overhead light and peered through a peephole in the door before opening it. A young girl stood outside shivering with cold in spite of the lined denim jacket she wore. She had on jeans and her hands were empty. Her straight brown hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon. A baseball cap completed her outfit.
"Hello," I said. "Can we help you?"
"Hi," she answered hesitantly. "I was wondering if I could have a drink of water?"
"Of course you can. Come on in out of the cold. What are you doing out on a night like this?"
"I've been hitchhiking," she said. "My ride put me out here."
"You're kidding! You came off that highway? Where do you live?" Evan asked.
"I'm from Ohio. I was living with my aunt, but she died."The girl's eyes shifted as though she had something to hide.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I have some left over chili." She nodded. "Well, come in and meet our kids. You can watch TV with them while I fix you something to eat. What's your name?"
"Mindy. My name is Mindy Wilson."
"Kids, this is Mindy," I said once we'd reached the den. "She's been traveling. She is going to stay with us a little while. I'm going to go and fix her something to eat. Mindy, this is Carol, Christi, and Don." I nodded to each child. They stared at her like she was from an alien planet. Carol, my oldest child, smiled shyly and said, "Hi Mindy."
Evan followed us into the den and sat down, keeping a sharp eye on her. I could tell he didn't trust her. For that matter, neither did I. Her story was too vague. Her Southern accent was thicker than mine. She's not from Ohio, I thought. She probably didn't even tell us her real name.
"How old are you, Mindy?" I asked as I pulled out a TV tray for her food and drink."
"Eighteen," she told me in a low voice. She's lying, I thought. She doesn't look a day over thirteen.
Mindy drank the whole glass of water without stopping, and proceeded to gulp the food down like she was starved. When I offered more, she nodded. "That's so good," she said. "Thank you. I would like some more."
Mindy quickly made herself at home. She was soon chatting with my children about the television shows and was petting our cat. Shadow curled up in her lap and started purring as though she considered Mindy a member of the family.
When I returned to the kitchen for more food, Evan followed me.
"We can't let her go back out tonight. It's too cold. But I don't feel right about her staying here either," he whispered."Something isn't right about her. Why would anyone drop her off in the middle of nowhere? Surely, they would have let her out in town. I think we need to call the sheriff or someone."
"Wait. I think I know where I put that preacher's card. You go back in there and take her this plate. I'll run upstairs where she can't hear me and see if I can call him. He may have an idea about what we should do."
I located the card and made the call. Pastor Bingham picked up on the first ring. When I explained the situation, the pastor got excited.
"Stop right there. I know exactly who this girl is. She lives right on the other side of the highway from you. She's been gone all day. We've had a search party out looking for her. Her parents are here with me now. They're worried sick because she's diabetic, and she has some emotional problems. She left home without her medicine. Don't say anything to her, and don't let her leave. We'll be right over."
Fifteen minutes later the bell rang again. This time it was Pastor Bingham along with the girl's parents. The pastor performed the introductions.
"Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, this is Bert and Leona Thomas. These are Sarah's parents."
"Sarah? She said her name was Mindy."
Recognizing the voices, the girl came out with tears streaming down her face. Her mother, also in tears, ran over and embraced her. Sarah's father patted her shoulder and looked uncomfortable. He had a hard look about him that made me wonder if he might have been Sarah's reason for leaving.
I started trying to explain how this all came about, but a sharp look from the pastor warned me to be quiet. The parents thanked us for calling and left quickly. This might have been the end of the story but, it wasn't.
About three weeks later, I got a call at work at two o'clock in the afternoon. Sarah had run away again. According to the pastor, a group of our new neighbors were at our house peering into the windows trying to determine if Sarah, once again, had taken refuge there. Pastor Bingham wanted us to come home right away and unlock the door so they could search our house.
"I'm sure she isn't there," I said. "We haven't seen her. With our doors locked, how could she have gotten in?"
"We didn't see anyone when we looked in your windows. But one of the neighbors saw the curtain moving upstairs. We think she may be hiding up there. We'd appreciate it if you'd come home and look. If she's not there, we need to know, so we can go from there."
"Well, Okay. I'll have to call my husband because we rode together, and he has the car. I'll see if he can get off work."
We both made arrangements to leave early. I wasn't happy about people staring into the windows of our house. It felt like they were invading our privacy. The fact that a curtain was moving upstairs made my heart beat faster. Once we got there and opened the door, I was thankful the crowd standing around didn't insist on searching for themselves.
Evan went upstairs to check. In minutes he was down, holding the cat. "I think I see why the curtain moved. The window is Shadow's favorite place to sit. I'm sorry, but Sarah isn't here. If she shows up here later, we'll call you."
This time, Sarah had hitchhiked a ride with a truck driver. She called her parents a couple of days later from Kentucky. She'd learned the hard way that life isn't easy for a teenager on the streets with no money. I'm fairly certain she never ran away again.
Life at home may be difficult sometimes for young people, but at least, if a girl has a roof over her head and parents who care, it is much better than being on the street.
The only contact we'd had with anyone from the little town was during the first week when the Baptist pastor came by and invited us to visit his church. We explained that our children were enrolled in a church school in Jackson, and we planned to keep attending that church. He smiled and offered his card.
"That's fine. It's all good," he said. "God has children everywhere. But if there is anything you need, or if I can help you in any way, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you so much, Pastor. We really appreciate the offer. It is so nice to meet you. If we need anything, it is good to know there is someone we can count on." I shook hands with him and took his card.
The kids and I were in the den watching an episode of The Brady Bunch, and Evan was in the kitchen helping himself to a dish of ice cream. Our phone was installed the week before, but no one had called to say they were coming over. Our house sat at the end of a long curved driveway away from the blacktop road. One side of the property faced the recently completed interstate highway. Since we'd had no time to put up window treatments, we could see, or at least hear, a car driving up. Tonight, we hadn't seen or heard anything, so who could be ringing our bell on a chilly October night?
Evan and I went to the door together. He turned on the overhead light and peered through a peephole in the door before opening it. A young girl stood outside shivering with cold in spite of the lined denim jacket she wore. She had on jeans and her hands were empty. Her straight brown hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon. A baseball cap completed her outfit.
"Hello," I said. "Can we help you?"
"Hi," she answered hesitantly. "I was wondering if I could have a drink of water?"
"Of course you can. Come on in out of the cold. What are you doing out on a night like this?"
"I've been hitchhiking," she said. "My ride put me out here."
"You're kidding! You came off that highway? Where do you live?" Evan asked.
"I'm from Ohio. I was living with my aunt, but she died."The girl's eyes shifted as though she had something to hide.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I have some left over chili." She nodded. "Well, come in and meet our kids. You can watch TV with them while I fix you something to eat. What's your name?"
"Mindy. My name is Mindy Wilson."
"Kids, this is Mindy," I said once we'd reached the den. "She's been traveling. She is going to stay with us a little while. I'm going to go and fix her something to eat. Mindy, this is Carol, Christi, and Don." I nodded to each child. They stared at her like she was from an alien planet. Carol, my oldest child, smiled shyly and said, "Hi Mindy."
Evan followed us into the den and sat down, keeping a sharp eye on her. I could tell he didn't trust her. For that matter, neither did I. Her story was too vague. Her Southern accent was thicker than mine. She's not from Ohio, I thought. She probably didn't even tell us her real name.
"How old are you, Mindy?" I asked as I pulled out a TV tray for her food and drink."
"Eighteen," she told me in a low voice. She's lying, I thought. She doesn't look a day over thirteen.
Mindy drank the whole glass of water without stopping, and proceeded to gulp the food down like she was starved. When I offered more, she nodded. "That's so good," she said. "Thank you. I would like some more."
Mindy quickly made herself at home. She was soon chatting with my children about the television shows and was petting our cat. Shadow curled up in her lap and started purring as though she considered Mindy a member of the family.
When I returned to the kitchen for more food, Evan followed me.
"We can't let her go back out tonight. It's too cold. But I don't feel right about her staying here either," he whispered."Something isn't right about her. Why would anyone drop her off in the middle of nowhere? Surely, they would have let her out in town. I think we need to call the sheriff or someone."
"Wait. I think I know where I put that preacher's card. You go back in there and take her this plate. I'll run upstairs where she can't hear me and see if I can call him. He may have an idea about what we should do."
I located the card and made the call. Pastor Bingham picked up on the first ring. When I explained the situation, the pastor got excited.
"Stop right there. I know exactly who this girl is. She lives right on the other side of the highway from you. She's been gone all day. We've had a search party out looking for her. Her parents are here with me now. They're worried sick because she's diabetic, and she has some emotional problems. She left home without her medicine. Don't say anything to her, and don't let her leave. We'll be right over."
Fifteen minutes later the bell rang again. This time it was Pastor Bingham along with the girl's parents. The pastor performed the introductions.
"Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, this is Bert and Leona Thomas. These are Sarah's parents."
"Sarah? She said her name was Mindy."
Recognizing the voices, the girl came out with tears streaming down her face. Her mother, also in tears, ran over and embraced her. Sarah's father patted her shoulder and looked uncomfortable. He had a hard look about him that made me wonder if he might have been Sarah's reason for leaving.
I started trying to explain how this all came about, but a sharp look from the pastor warned me to be quiet. The parents thanked us for calling and left quickly. This might have been the end of the story but, it wasn't.
About three weeks later, I got a call at work at two o'clock in the afternoon. Sarah had run away again. According to the pastor, a group of our new neighbors were at our house peering into the windows trying to determine if Sarah, once again, had taken refuge there. Pastor Bingham wanted us to come home right away and unlock the door so they could search our house.
"I'm sure she isn't there," I said. "We haven't seen her. With our doors locked, how could she have gotten in?"
"We didn't see anyone when we looked in your windows. But one of the neighbors saw the curtain moving upstairs. We think she may be hiding up there. We'd appreciate it if you'd come home and look. If she's not there, we need to know, so we can go from there."
"Well, Okay. I'll have to call my husband because we rode together, and he has the car. I'll see if he can get off work."
We both made arrangements to leave early. I wasn't happy about people staring into the windows of our house. It felt like they were invading our privacy. The fact that a curtain was moving upstairs made my heart beat faster. Once we got there and opened the door, I was thankful the crowd standing around didn't insist on searching for themselves.
Evan went upstairs to check. In minutes he was down, holding the cat. "I think I see why the curtain moved. The window is Shadow's favorite place to sit. I'm sorry, but Sarah isn't here. If she shows up here later, we'll call you."
This time, Sarah had hitchhiked a ride with a truck driver. She called her parents a couple of days later from Kentucky. She'd learned the hard way that life isn't easy for a teenager on the streets with no money. I'm fairly certain she never ran away again.
Life at home may be difficult sometimes for young people, but at least, if a girl has a roof over her head and parents who care, it is much better than being on the street.
 Recognized |
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This story takes place in Mississipp in 1969.
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