Chapter One
Four Years After Abigail's Journey
"And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off... I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest."
~ Psalm 55:6-8 ~
he past no longer existed for Madison Crawford.
She had left it behind-- buried with him, with the pain she had been forced to accept. The rush of freedom quickened her pulse, fed her wildest dreams of living a normal life. The thirty-four years of her entire existence, the existence that led up to this moment, would never be remembered again. She wouldn't allow it. Let the memories haunt her, let them come and see how far they would get. Her heart would be numb to their cries, her ears would be deaf to their torment. She refused to be the pathetic puppy who cried when the food dish remained empty, only to be beaten later for making so much noise.
An ache stirred within Madison as she watched the dark terrain speed past her bus window. She had to forget. She would forget. Tonight marked a new beginning, a life untouched by agony or the familiar terrors that for so long had refused to let go. The tortured voice within her screamed until she trembled, but Madison hardened herself against the pain. If running long and hard could erase the past, then she would succeed. She had gathered what little she could and bought a ticket to the farthest destination she could afford. It didn't matter where, as long as her surroundings wouldn't remind her of him.
She had to be dreaming. Here she sat-- alone on a dark bus, on her way to nowhere in particular with fifty-two cents in her pocket. She moved the grocery bag at her feet, touching it once more like a child clinging to a treasured blanket. Some old clothes, a mirror, a hand brush. Nothing worth stealing, but they meant the world to Madison, for they were all she had.
If she were awake, surely she would feel more than she did.
The bus rolled to a stop, and the driver turned in his seat and again stared at her. For the past few miles she had been the only passenger left, deepening her awareness of being so very much on her own.
"This is your stop, ma'am," the driver said with a harmless smile.
Distrust made her unable to return the gesture. Ever since the last passenger disembarked at Chaumont, Madison had been especially grateful God had placed her seat at the back of the bus. The driver looked at her too much, too long, too hard to make her feel at ease.
Despite the announcement that her journey had come to an end, Madison felt an unexpected, hesitant fear at the prospect of leaving. She stared out the window, shuddered at the night that obstructed her view. "Where am I?" she asked. When the driver didn't answer, she turned, saw the look of concern in his face.
"This is Three Mile Bay, ma'am. You bought a ticket to come here, remember?"
She remembered, though she had no idea where Three Mile Bay was, or what awaited her through those bus doors.
"Is there anyone I can call for you?" The driver's growing concern frightened Madison, and she shrugged off his question with a quick, unconcerned reply.
Locating her grocery bag, she took a deep breath and stepped off into the jagged unknown. It took strength to hide her nerves from the driver, to look as though she belonged there, that she had someplace to go. As if to punctuate the loneliness of her resolve, the bus pulled away, leaving her to stand in the dark.
A cold September wind cut through the thin protection of her pullover, and she scrambled to put on the flannel shirt rolled up in the grocery bag.
