Category: Story

  • Dragoness 5.3

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 5: Firsts

    Part 3: Sophie

    Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness. Breathe, Sophie LeeAnn. Breathe. Sophie tried to talk herself into a calmer state, but her nerves were having none of it. Her body insisted on being in high-alert, total-freak-out mode as she climbed into the passenger seat of Sam’s personal vehicle. He, of course, drove a very safe and sedate Toyota Camry.

    Her brain spun in the effort to find a question to ask, and she exhaled in relief when Sam broke the silence.

    “So what’s the path for getting into a marketing career? I think you mentioned college that day you rode with me.”

    Yes! A safe topic about which she was knowledgeable.

    “It’s typically a four-year degree. I was lucky to have a state university only half an hour from home, so I could save money while I got my degree. I worked on stuff for my dad for free, but I got a job with the local paper doing basic layout stuff. I know, small town weirdness. Peshicot, AZ still has a physical newspaper to this day.”

    “Wow. Even New Albany and Williamson have moved forward in the world.”

    “I know! Everybody does eventually.”

    “So your job in Williamson – you got that right out of college?”

    “Mmhmm,” she nodded. “I interviewed via video conference during finals week. I’m kind of shocked they hired me, because my brain was not firing on all cylinders. But apparently even fried from finishing my senior project, they were willing to take a chance.”

    “Are you happy with your choice?”

    “The job or… what?”

    “Yes,” Sam laughed. “The job, Williamson, Bethel. All of it, I guess.”

    Sophie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Such a big question asked in so few words!

    “The job? I like it. I like telling visual stories and being creative. I can see myself working here for a long time. Williamson? I love the town. It’s cute and quaint and just…” She cast around in her mind for the right word. “Pleasant. It’s pleasant. My apartment I will definitely be moving on from with no love lost.”

    “Can I ask why you picked it?”

    She laughed. “You can, and the foolish answer is that it was very affordable for someone right out of college who paid no attention to the neighborhood. Almost the first day I moved in I realized I probably shouldn’t have chosen that place, but it was also a good learning experience. I’m really not sure how I could have known without coming up here first, and I wasn’t financially prepared to stay at a hotel for however long it would have taken to find an apartment.”

    “You rented it sight-unseen?”

    “Yes. Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again, and I’ll be gone when my lease is up in 3 months.”

    “I have to admit, that makes me feel better.” He shot her a sideways grin. She smiled back. She appreciated his concern. He wasn’t overbearing, but pushed her to think smarter about her safety. It meant more than she could find words for that he had rushed over when she was a little freaked by some flowers.

    “Who do you think would leave me flowers anonymously?” she blurted.

    Sam didn’t answer right away, as though he were taking her question seriously.

    “Categorically, my mind goes to any exes, someone you’ve turned down, or someone who is too shy to ask you out. Flowers tend to be romantic, so I’d ask those questions first.”

    Sophie barely resisted the urge to snort. “I have neither of the first two up here,” she replied quickly. “I have no idea how I would know the third.”

    “Obviously, me neither.” After a pause, he spoke again. “Would you like to talk to my boss, Sgt. Breitung? He’s a detective. He might have more ideas.”

    “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I don’t want to waste his time when nothing really wrong has happened,” she immediately deflected.

    “That’s fine. In the interests of full disclosure, I did email him tonight, so I’ll be keeping him in the loop.”

    That sent a ball of dread bouncing in her stomach, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want Sam to think she disapproved of his choice, but she felt keenly uncomfortable about spreading this around, even though she couldn’t articulate why.
    It was less than two minutes later that he parked at The Barnyard, and Sophie got her first glimpse of a large, red barn.

    “Wow. They went literal,” she commented as she climbed out of her seat. Sam laughed and, once again, offered his elbow.

    “They did. Wait til you see inside.” The gleam in his eyes made her apprehensive and excited all at once.

    One foot in the door, she knew exactly what he meant. The interior of the building was full of picnic-style tables with red-and-white plaid plastic tablecloths. From the rafters hung lights shaped like old-fashioned lanterns, and above, sitting on the beams, were hundreds of…

    “Are those chickens?” Sophie craned her neck and turned a slow circle.

    “Yup,” Sam replied with an amused grin.

    “Oh, my…”

    There was no wait since it was a weeknight, so Sophie soon found herself sitting across from Sam at one of the picnic tables. Loud country music played from hidden speakers. Waiters and waitresses in jeans and red t-shirts moved about the room, occasionally stopping to line dance and sing along with the music. Sophie spent too much time gaping at the plethora of country- and barn-themed decorations littering the walls and not enough time studying the menu, so when their waitress asked for their orders, Sophie had to sheepishly ask for suggestions.

    “The Rooster is the most popular,” the waitress pointed to a spot on the menu with her pen. “White cheddar and pepper jack cheeses, stone ground mustard, pickles, mayo, lettuce, and tomato. It’s a can’t-go-wrong classic.” She paused and move her pen to another point. “If you like spicy-”

    “No,” Sophie shook her head. “The Rooster sounds good.”

    The waitress smiled and jotted her order, then took Sam’s order for the Firehouse (the spicy one, she noticed) and a basket of fries.

    “So you like spicy food?” she asked as the waitress left.

    “Sometimes,” Sam shrugged. “And you apparently don’t?”

    “I don’t like my food with a side of tears, thank you,” she replied primly, earning a laugh from Sam.

    “Hey, I have a question,” she said randomly.

    “Shoot.”

    “Don’t take offense; I’m legitimately curious. Did you go to college? I don’t know what the education requirements are for a police officer.” She chewed on her lip, suddenly nervous. Had she asked that stupidly? Would he be upset?

    Evidently not, because he smiled and dug into the basket of fries the waitress dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the picnic table.

    “It’s different for different departments. Williamson only requires a high school diploma. I wanted more, so I got a two-year law enforcement degree from a technical college not far from here. Then 6 months at the police academy.”

    “What kinds of classes did you take? What did you study?”

    “Mm, some foundational stuff like history of law enforcement, basic principles, juvenile delinquency. Actually, there was a whole class just on police reports. It was kind of mind-numbing,” Sam admitted.

    “I can only imagine,” Sophie sympathized.

    “I’m planning on going back to school part-time this fall. I want to study criminal psychology.” Sam actually looked a little uncomfortable admitting that. Sophie wondered if that information hadn’t been taken well by everyone he’d shared it with.

    “That sounds amazing! I mean, terrifying to me, but so useful for you,” she admitted in a rush.

    “That’s my hope. I want to be a negotiator someday, and it will be good to start with an understanding of the human mind,” he explained.

    “Oh, my gosh. So much stress. God bless you for wanting to do that work,” she replied with a big smile.

    “Thank you. I’m pretty excited for it.”

    After that, little was said besides exclamations of delight over the food, with occasional stories of big-brother antics from their childhoods. By the time Sam dropped her off, walking her all the way to her apartment door, a lovely warm and fuzzy feeling had taken up residence. She felt happy and at peace, and thus it was not at all surprising when he gave her a very sweet good-night hug.

  • Dragoness 5.2

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 5: Firsts

    Part 2: Sam

    Sam Harrison wasn’t nervous for his firearm qualifications. He wasn’t nervous when he had to meet with his grand-boss. He wasn’t nervous when his radio squawked or his mother called or even when he heard Ryan was responding to a five-alarm fire.

    He was, however, nervous about picking up Sophie for their date.

    Sam didn’t date much. He could count all of his dates, first or otherwise, on just his fingers, and have a few to spare. Sure, New Albany had plenty of fine young ladies. They just didn’t flip his switch. Sophie… did.

    Unfortunately, he hadn’t been on shift all day, so he’d had very little to occupy his mind. He had cleaned his little 2-bedroom house, even though it didn’t need it. He had stocked his freezer, even though it didn’t need it. He had done three loads of laundry, which, in retrospect, had definitely been needed.

    Despite his constant checking, when he could think of nothing else to do, his phone said it was only 5:23, which was way too early to begin the 4-minute drive from his neighborhood to Sophie’s. It was amazing the difference in neighborhood a 3-mile drive could make.

    He had just resolved to take a walk around the block when his phone chimed a text notification.

    Sophie: Are you free?

    Sam just called her back.

    “Hello?” Hmm. She sounded a little squeaky, like she did when she was upset.

    “Hi, Sophie. What’s up?” He tried to keep a calm tone.

    “I, um… I don’t… This feels silly, but did you, uh, send me… something?”

    He could practically hear her nerves vibrating over the phone. Her vagueness set him on edge.

    “What did you receive, Sophie?” he asked.

    She let out a loud exhale. “Flowers.”

    “I did not send you flowers,” he confirmed. “Is there a note?”

    “No,” she whispered. “Why does that make me nervous?”

    “It’s okay, Sophie. Just leave the flowers on the floor. Were they outside your door?”

    “Yeah. I found them when I came home, but… I’m sorry, I brought them inside. I didn’t think anything was wrong until I couldn’t find a note. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

    “Nothing to apologize for, Sophie, truly. You did what was normal. Just leave them where they are now, okay? I’ll be over in 5 minutes.”

    “Thanks,” she whispered, then hung up. Sam drove as fast as he legally could, pulling into her building’s parking lot in 4 minutes. He cast a glance around downstairs, bummed yet again by the lack of cameras. Then he sprinted upstairs and knocked on her door.

    “Thanks for coming,” she said as soon as she opened the door. Sam reached out and squeezed her hand.

    “I’m happy to. I’m sorry the flowers made you nervous. Can I look?”

    “Over there,” she nodded toward the kitchen. He gripped and released her hand, then walked over to the bouquet. It was a large arrangement, with flowers spreading tall and wide out of a square vase. He confirmed no visible card, and nothing indicated where the flowers had come from. There was only one flower shop in Williamson, and he made a mental note to give them a call first thing in the morning.

    Fingerprints would likely be unhelpful. Sophie had touched the vase, and odds were good that whoever sent the flowers did not deliver them. Their best hope was that the flower shop had good records, cameras, or both.

    “I’ll talk to the florist here in town in the morning, but there’s nothing else to do tonight. Mind if I take some pictures?” he asked.

    “Go ahead,” Sophie replied, arms crossed around her waist. He took pictures from multiple angles before turning back to her.

    “Do you want to keep them?” he asked.

    “No,” she shuddered.

    “Trash bags?”

    “Under the sink,” Sophie pointed. He dug in the cabinet and pulled out a large enough bin liner to contain the whole arrangement. Then he packed it up.

    “I’ll toss it on our way out. Do you need some time before dinner, or would you like to go now?” he offered.

    Sophie looked down at herself. “Can I have 10 minutes?” She bit her lip.

    He couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. Take your time. Mind if I answer some emails from your living room?” He gestured with his phone.

    “Make yourself at home,” she smiled back, then disappeared into her room.

    Sam settled on the couch, but he didn’t answer emails right away. He sent just one, to his direct supervisor, Sgt. Victor Breitung. The man was a bloodhound with even the smallest mystery. Sam didn’t expect anything, but he knew he didn’t have the experience to do just about anything. He relayed the facts he knew as well as his plan to interview the florist in town when they opened in the morning.

    To his utter lack of surprise, (Vic was chained to his cell phone, after all) Sam received a response before Sophie returned. Vic suggested a few specific questions to ask the florist, asked for the photos Sam had taken, and wondered if anything else suspicious had happened to Sophie lately.

    “Hey, you ready?” Sam asked as he rose, then stopped to take in her appearance. She had changed out of her ill-fitting professional wear (why did the woman own nothing her size?) and into a pair of slim-cut jeans, sunshine-yellow sneakers, and a yellow-and-white polka dot sweater. She looked like sunshine incarnate, and he had to swallow a few times before he could process whatever she had just said.

    “Sorry,” he shook his head. “You look really nice.”

    Her cheeks flushed bright red as she looked down and wiggled her sneakers. “Uh, thanks.”

    “Before we go, can I ask a quick question?”

    “Sure,” she replied, wide-eyed.

    “Has anything else unusual happened lately?”

    She wrinkled her nose. “You mean like the flowers?”

    “Yes.”

    “Um… No. No, I don’t think so.”

    “Think so?” he pushed.

    “Well, there was a $5 Starbucks gift card under my windshield wiper one morning last week. I just figured someone was doing a random act of kindness.”

    “Do you still have it?”

    “Ah, no. I used it already. Sorry…”

    “All good. I take it there was no note?”

    She shook her head. “Nope. No writing at all. Just the card in the little paper holder.”

    “All right. Thanks. Ready for the best burger in Washburn county?” He winked and held out his elbow for her. She laughed lightly as she slipped her fingers into the crook of his arm.

    “A burger sounds delightful.”

  • Dragoness Contents

    Here are all the parts to this story. Note that you will get a “Page Not Found” error for posts that have not been released yet.

    1.1

    1.2

    1.3

    1.4

    2.1

    2.2

    2.3

    2.4

    3.1

    3.2

    3.3

    3.4

    4.1

    4.2

    4.3

    4.4

    5.1

    5.2

    5.3

    5.4

    6.1

    6.2

    6.3

    6.4

    7.1

    7.2

    7.3

    7.4

    8.1

    8.2

    8.3

    8.4

    9.1

    9.2

    9.3

    9.4

    10.1

    10.2

    10.3

    10.4

  • Dragoness 5.1

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 5: Firsts

    Part 1: Sophie

    Even though she was convinced it wouldn’t turn out, Sophie forced herself to attempt a pasta and tuna casserole recipe she found on the internet in order to stave off the madness of waiting for Sam to call. Tuna, macaroni noodles, cheddar, and a weird can of creamy soup she picked up tonight – what could go wrong?

    Apparently, everything. She didn’t have a means of shredding the cheese, so she chopped it as small as she could with a dull paring knife. The recipe didn’t specify to cook the noodles, so she didn’t. It also didn’t say whether she needed to thin the “condensed” soup, so she did.

    45 minutes after putting what amounted to a weird bowl of sloshy stuff in the oven, her smoke alarm was going off, and she opened the oven to a homogeneous glob of food with burnt bits of still-hard noodle sticking out the top.

    How in the world could food be still wet and yet burn?

    Sophie shut off the oven in frustration and started flapping a towel near the smoke detector to try to get it to stop chirping. She opened all the windows to the 45-degree April night air. And of course, in the middle of hopping around with a towel, her phone rang.

    “Hello?” she managed to speak, somewhat breathlessly, while trying to maintain towel movement.

    “Sophie, it’s Sam,” he greeted.

    “Hi!” she squeaked, but she had paused long enough that the smoke alarm started beeping again. “Ugh!” she groaned in exasperation.

    “Are you all right?” Sam’s concern was obvious. “Should I call Ryan?”

    “Huh?” Sophie’s brain couldn’t follow while she was trying once again to silence the thing.

    “The fire department, Sophie. Is your apartment on fire?”

    “No! No, just my pathetic attempt at cooking,” she grumbled. “Hang on.” She dropped her phone on the counter and resumed rapid towel movements long enough to silence the alarm again. Then she climbed awkwardly onto the counter and dismantled the alarm from its batteries, dropping the whole thing onto the floor as she climbed down.

    “I’m so sorry,” she apologized the moment she picked up the phone.

    “No worries if you’re sure you’re okay?” He sounded doubtful. She huffed.

    “I’m good.” Embarrassed and hungry, but unharmed.

    “You sure? Ryan’s on shift tonight. I can get him there in less than 5 minutes.”

    “Oh my goodness, no! Please. Just a smoking tuna casserole.”

    “I feel like that should be a famous dish at a fancy restaurant. Smoking Tuna Casserole. You could make a fortune,” Sam teased.

    “Not with this… glump,” Sophie grumbled.

    Sam laughed out loud. “I have never heard of a ‘glump’, but I can actually envision it. Yuck.”

    “Yuck, indeed,” Sophie agreed.

    “Well, I’m on patrol so I can’t fix your dinner problem tonight. But what’s your calendar look like tomorrow? I’m off.”

    “Thursday? Wide open.”

    “How about I introduce you to The Barnyard? They make the best burgers in New Albany. And believe me, between Ryan, my dad, and I, we have tried every cheeseburger in the county.”

    “I trust you. And that sounds delightful,” Sophie replied.

    “Excellent. Can I pick you up at 6?”

    “That works for me.” Butterflies accelerated from fluttering to Daytona-500-speed in her stomach. She was going on a date! Tomorrow! With Sam Harrison!

    “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sophie Lane,” Sam signed off with a smile in his voice. Sophie said goodbye, then dropped her phone on the counter and did a happy dance around her tiny kitchen.

    She wanted to tell someone, but who could she text? Amy would be excited, but ask her ten million questions and be overly nosy. Her mother would analyze her outfit far more than Sophie cared to do, leaving her more nervous than excited. She hadn’t made deep friendships in high school or college or her new job.

    Dad. What 23-year-old wanted to call her dad about a first date? But maybe it was okay to not be normal. Sophie grabbed her phone and put it on speaker while she started cleaning up her kitchen mess.

    “Sweetie-pie! How’s my girl?” Dad’s cheerful voice never failed to boost her spirits.

    “Bad and good,” she summarized.

    Dad laughed. “Well, let’s get the bad out first so we can camp on the good. What’s wrong?”

    “Nothing terrible. I just tried to cook and have a burned lump of goo. It’s gross. My smoke alarms went off.”

    “Ouch. I’m sorry, sweetie-pie. I know that was never your strong suit, but I’m proud of you for trying.”

    “Thanks, Dad. I was trying to take my mind of waiting for Sam to call.”

    “Is this the good?”

    “Yeah. He, um, asked me out,” she half-whispered, feeling suddenly nervous.

    “Hey, that’s great! You’ve spoken highly of him in your emails. Where’s he taking you?”

    Sophie spent 10 minutes talking about Sam and their date. At the end of the call, she was pleasantly surprised to find her kitchen almost back to normal, too.

    Could she turn the clock ahead 24 hours? That would be marvelous…

  • Dragoness 4.4

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 4: Witness

    Part 4: Sophie

    She couldn’t sleep. Sophie had followed her most relaxing evening routine. The apartment had no tub, but she took a warm shower with a eucalyptus tablet to soothe her. She drank another cup of decaf tea. She ate a bowl of soft noodles, even though she wasn’t that hungry. When she was still awake at midnight, she texted Jonathan. It was only 10 in California.

    Thanks for the noodle bowl!

    She attached a picture of the silly cat bowl with noodles in it.

    Cute. I’ll show Cici in the morning.

    Thanks. 🙂

    Why are you still up? Don’t you usually go to bed earlier?

    Can’t sleep. I had a rough evening.

    What happened?

    Ever the big brother, Jonathan had never asked if she wanted to talk. Many times he felt like a bully, but ultimately Sophie knew he loved her.

    I stopped an assault in my building lobby.

    2 seconds later, the phone rang.

    “Seriously, Soph?”

    “Hello to you too, brother,” Sophie replied sarcastically.

    “Sophie.”

    She sighed. “I came home late from grocery shopping, and this guy was man-handling a girl in the lobby, yelling at her and pulling her hair. I didn’t think, I just yelled at him. She got away, and I happened to have my pepper spray in my hand so he didn’t come after me. I called the police, and everybody is fine,” she summarized as unemotionally as possible.


    “Whoa. Slow down, there, kiddo.”

    “I hate that nickname,” she groused.

    “Tough. What made you think you should get involved in a physical altercation? Do you know these people?” Jonathan began his interrogation.

    “I already gave a police report,” Sophie objected.

    “And now you’ll give me a report,” Jonathan countered, then just waited.

    “No, I don’t know them. And nothing made me think I should get involved. I just reacted, I told you that. Nobody else got hurt. And the policeman happened to be a friend of mine from church, so we’re all good.”

    “Yet you’re still awake at midnight. Who’s the policeman?”

    “His name is Sam Harrison. I met him doing that ride-along.”

    “Ride-along?”

    “Don’t you ever read your email, Jonathan? I send you, Mom, and Dad the same one every week,” Sophie chastised.

    “I skim. Elaborate.”

    “Fine. About a month ago, I got assigned to help rework the city’s marketing, specifically the law enforcement branch. I did a ride-along with Sam to see what a day in the life of an officer is like, and get a better feel for their work.”

    “Sam?”

    “Jonathan,” she growled.

    “Is he a good guy?” Jonathan growled back.

    “Yes,” Sophie replied emphatically. “He is an upstanding citizen, a police officer, a faithful church attendee, and respectful to his parents.”

    “You met his parents?”

    “His mom invited me for lunch after church. I repeat, read your emails.”

    “Apparently,” Jonathan muttered, then sighed. “What do you need to fall asleep tonight?”

    The question surprised her. Jonathan wasn’t touchy-feely. He’d always been more the kind of brother to beat up her bullies than ask if she was sad. She sighed too.

    “I don’t know. I tried comfort food, tea, and a hot shower. Nothing helps.”

    “Maybe you should text Sam,” Jonathan suggested out of the blue.

    “What?” Sophie scoffed.

    “He’s a good guy, right?” Jonathan countered.

    “You’re weird. And you’ve been listening to Mrs. Striker too much.”

    “I’m not matchmaking, kiddo. You obviously trust this guy, and being a police officer, I’m wondering if he knows a thing or two about how to remind you that you are safe. I’d give you a hug if I were there, Soph.”

    A tear snuck down Sophie’s cheek before she could reply.

    “Thanks, Jonathan. I’ll take a rain check.” She sniffed quietly.

    “You got it. Go to sleep, kiddo. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

    “Love you.”

    “Love you, too.”

    Sophie stared at the black screen of her phone for 30 more minutes before she worked up enough courage – and fear – to text Sam.

    This is Sophie Lane.

    His response came less than a minute later.

    Hi, Sophie Lane. Can’t sleep?

    Darn insightful people…

    No. My brother said I should text you.

    I’m glad you did. Is your door locked?

    Yes.

    Windows shut and locked?

    I live on the second floor.

    And?

    Sophie huffed before climbing out of bed to close and lock her bedroom window. She liked sleeping with fresh air, but maybe this was more important.

    Done.

    Good. Do you keep your phone by your bed?

    Yeah. Why?

    Then 911 and I are only a phone call or text away. Okay?

    Okay.

    Sophie cast around in her mind for something to say, but nothing came. She stared at the back of her eyelids, trying to fall asleep, but peace was just beyond her grasp.

    Suddenly, the buzz of her phone ringing had her eyes opening. She swallowed down a jolt of nerves when she saw the name on her screen.

    “H-hello?” she stammered.

    “Hi, Sophie. Sorry if I scared you,” Sam’s mellow voice came over the line.

    “No, it’s fine. I was just trying to fall asleep and failing.”

    “I’m sorry. I could tell you were struggling, but texting just doesn’t go as well for me. What’s running through your mind?” Sam asked.

    Sophie took a few deep breaths before answering. “I keep replaying the scene in my mind. I try to find more details, or remember words I forgot. But the more I watch it, the less I remember, the more confused I get, the more…” She swallowed, not wanting to acknowledge her fear.

    “Scared?” Sam suggested.

    “Yeah,” she admitted.

    “I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” he reassured. “Want a suggestion?”

    “Please.”

    “Tell me about the most pleasant day you remember from last summer.”

    What in the world? Such a weird request. Sophie cast around in her mind, finally settling on the farewell picnic her mom had prepared.

    “Before I moved here, my mom and dad had a little picnic with me in the back yard of our house in Peshicot,” she said, hearing her own voice soften with warmth at the memory.

    “Walk me through it. What was the weather like? What did you see and hear? How did the food taste?”

    Sophie began talking about the blazing sun, the shade under the canopy, her mom’s cactus garden and dry river, the crackers with cream cheese and prickly pear jelly she loved… She talked for at least 5 minutes straight before realizing both that she was rambling, and that she was deliciously relaxed.

    “Whoa. Thank you,” she said fervently.

    “You’re welcome, but I think I should say thank you for my first taste of Arizona. You’re making me want to go.”

    “You definitely should. It’s so different from Wisconsin, but beautiful in its own way,” Sophie encouraged.

    “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, can I give you one other thing to think about?”

    “Sure!” She was already feeling worlds better. What else was there?

    “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

    Sophie’s heart stopped, then took off like a freight train. Sure, she’d had dinner invites before, but never from someone who managed to make her feel so much – safe and nervous all at once.

    “Um, y-yes,” she stammered. “Please.”

    She could hear Sam’s smile in his voice. “Excellent. Then you think about that and your Arizona picnic. I’ll call you tomorrow night to work out the details. Deal?”

    “Deal.”

    “G’night, Sophie.”

    “Goodnight, Sam.”

    How was a girl supposed to get any sleep with a date on her mind? And yet, within 10 minutes, Sophie drifted off with a dorky grin on her face.

  • Dragoness 4.3

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 4: Witness

    Part 3: Sam

    The second the door shut behind Katie and Denise, Sam stared at the door until Sophie flipped the deadbolt with an eye-roll.

    “You’re here. What’s going to happen?” she asked. On anyone else, the question would have sounded snobbish and bratty. On Sophie? Naive and sheltered. Her poor big brother must have gone through the ringer when she was in high school.

    “Locking doors is a simple safety precaution that even I take in my own home. We lock the precinct. Leaving your front door unlocked when you’re a witness to a crime is a very bad idea,” he replied, masking his exasperation beneath a somewhat false facade of calm.

    “Oh,” was all Sophie replied, furrowing her brow in thought.

    “Mind if we sit?” Sam gestured to her loveseat and chair.

    “Oh, goodness, of course. Do you want some tea or water?” she offered.

    “No, thank you, but help yourself if you do,” Sam replied as he took a seat in the single chair.

    “I was making Denise tea…” Sophie trailed off, chewed on her bottom lip, then scurried into the kitchen. Sam barely kept his smile contained as he waited for her to return. She was so… quirky. Quiet, but in a peaceful sort of way.

    He was beyond grateful that she was unharmed, and took the minute she was gone to say a quick prayer.

    “Thanks,” Sophie mumbled as she settled into the far corner of the loveseat. She tucked her feet carefully under her, smoothing down her skirt. Between her palms she held a huge yellow mug with a smiley face. She inhaled deeply of the steam, then blew gently on the hot liquid.

    “What do I need to do now?” she asked after she had taken a tentative sip. Sam balanced his pocket notepad on his knee.

    “Walk me through what happened tonight,” he prompted.

    Sophie nodded, staring across the room toward the kitchen. Sam knew it was normal for people to not make eye contact when recalling an event.

    “When I came home tonight, I was going through the lobby like normal when I heard a woman – Denise – cry out like she was in pain. I hadn’t seen them because they were tucked under the stairs. The man had his hand in her hair. He was very angry. He yelled at her. I, uh, I yelled too. He let her go enough that she could pull away, and I told her to go upstairs. Then we came here.” Sophie paused with a frown on her face. Sam just waited.

    “I know I said more, but I can’t remember. I don’t understand,” Sophie muttered.

    “It’s normal for the adrenaline rush to cloud your memory. It may come back, and it may not. Don’t pressure yourself to remember more than you can right now. Just tell me what comes to mind,” Sam tried to reassure and encourage.

    Sophie nodded and sipped her tea. The silence grew between them, but Sam forced himself to remain patient.

    “I told him to stay away, and he said something like, ‘Why would I want to stay away from a…’” her voice trailed off as she swallowed. She took two deep breaths. “‘A pretty thing like you,’” she finished on a whisper.

    Emotions in your back pocket, Sam reminded himself as he felt anger at the unknown suspect rise.

    “Do you remember anything else he said?” he prompted.

    Sophie chewed on her lip again. “I don’t think so… Wait! He told the woman something about staying out of things that weren’t her business. Or stay out of his business. Something like that.”

    “Any hints or details on what business that might be?”

    “No.”

    “Did he touch you at all?” Sam hated that question, but it needed to be asked.

    “No,” Sophie denied with a head shake. “He came at me, but I had grabbed my pepper spray earlier because my-” She stopped abruptly, looking at him with pink cheeks and a guilty expression.

    “It’s all right,” Sam said the first thing he could think of to reassure her.

    “I’m sorry. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to take two trips, so I was carrying my work bag and three shopping bags, but I still tried to be a little bit smart and put the bags over my wrists so I could hold my pepper spray in one hand and I did get my keys out before I walked away from my car.” Sophie’s words tumbled out in such a rush that Sam had to work hard to process everything she said. When she finished speaking, she cradled her mug in her left hand and held up her right, palm towards him. He noticed half a dozen little cuts on her palm.

    “What’s that?” he gestured, frowning.

    “I guess I got scared and squeezed my keys too hard,” she replied quietly, gaze averted.

    “I’m glad you had them out, Sophie,” he said with a smile. That earned him at least a flicker of a glance.

    “Did you wash your hand when you got back?” he asked.

    “Uh, no.” Sophie frowned.

    “Why don’t you take care of that right now, please,” Sam suggested. She nodded and set her mug on the coffee table, and returned a minute later with clean hands. Sam pondered her words while she was gone, eternally grateful that the threat from a tiny canister of pepper spray kept this suspect at bay.

    “Okay. You referred to him earlier as a druggy. What gave you that impression?” Sam headed in a new direction.

    “His skin was kind of yellow. His eyes were bloodshot. He smelled bad. He was super skinny. His clothes were filthy. And he was jumpy, underneath his anger,” Sophie rattled off.

    Wow. That was… observant.

    “What did he look like? Height, size, hair color, etc?” Sam prompted.

    “Dark hair, almost black. It was long-ish but shaggy like his cut grew out too long, not intentionally.” She held her hand up to her ear. “It was this long.”

    Sam jotted notes, nodding to encourage her to keep talking.

    “His eyes were also dark. He was white, paler than me I think. Um… height, you said? I didn’t get that close to him, but I think he was taller than me. I’m 5’8″,” she supplied.

    “What was he wearing?”

    “Dirty jeans and a t-shirt from some rock band.”

    “Shoes?”

    “Oh. Uh… I don’t remember. I didn’t look. I was too worried about his head and hands.”

    “All good. Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Sam asked his standard end-of-interview question. Sophie squinted, brow furrowed, as she thought.

    “Is there something missing?” she finally asked.

    Sam barely resisted smiling. Sophie was a pleaser.

    “Not that I can see, but if you think of anything else, even something that seems insignificant to you, just tell me. Okay?”

    “Okay,” she nodded, and finally, her face relaxed into a little smile.

    “Did you get your groceries put away?” Sam asked.

    The sudden switch to something personal apparently threw Sophie for a second, but a glance in the corner showed her plastic bags sitting next to her book bag.

    “Oops! No,” she squeaked, jumping up from the couch.

    “I’ll let you get to that,” Sam said as he rose. “I need to get back to work. But I meant what I said – if you think of anything, call. Also, if you need anything, call. If you see that man again, call.”

    He laid a business card on the kitchen counter next to where Sophie was clutching one of her grocery bags.

    “My work cell is on the front, but here…” He grabbed a pen from his pocket and scribbled on the back of the card. “My personal cell, too. For any non-emergencies.” He smiled, and she did too.

    “Thank you, Sam. I’m glad it was you who came,” Sophie commented softly, fingers nervously picking at the handle of the grocery bag.

    “Me too, Sophie. I’ll see you around.”

    “See you,” she replied. She followed him to the door, and he listened to the deadbolt slide home before walking away. He couldn’t stop the little curious voice in his mind that wondered – would she call?

  • Dragoness 4.2

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 4: Witness

    Part 2: Sam

    Sam was getting a little bored on patrol when his radio crackled.

    “Assault at 1900 5th street, possibly still in progress,” came the clear dispatcher’s voice.

    Panic slammed Sam’s gut a split second before he picked up his radio.

    “Show 793 responding,” he barked out. He flipped on his lights as he executed the fastest (but still safe) U-turn of his life. He screeched to a stop outside Sophie’s building not 30 seconds later, requesting an update from the dispatcher. He should have more information by now.

    “Assault occurred in the building lobby. Vic and caller are in apartment 204, second floor on the left.”

    Sam knew. Before the dispatcher described the location, he knew it was Sophie.

    But wait. Victim and caller?

    “Suspect?”

    “Left him in the lobby.”

    “Show me 10-96,” Sam updated, giving the code to indicate both that he was now on foot and that he wanted backup.

    “10-4, 793.”

    He leapt from his cruiser, leaving the lights flashing, and sprinted toward the front doors. At the last minute, he remembered to shove his emotions in his back pocket and use his training and logic. He stood to the side of the front door and peered through the glass.

    The poorly lit lobby was empty, but he couldn’t see behind the staircase toward the hallways. He opened the door cautiously with his left hand and kept his right hand hovering over his weapon.

    It took less than a minute to ensure no one was in the lobby or the first-floor hallways. By that point, another cruiser had appeared outside. He waited for his backup – Officer Katie Fleming – before ascending the stairs. They quietly tag-teamed up to ensure the second floor hallway was also devoid of humans.

    “You want me to come with you to check on the vic?” Katie offered.

    “Please,” Sam nodded, swiftly approaching apartment 204. He reached for the radio at his shoulder before knocking.

    “Show 793 and 814 entering apartment to take vic statement,” he reported.

    “10-4, 793. 11-40 please.” Sure – let him know if an ambulance was needed.

    “Will do.”

    Sam took a steadying breath before knocking. He had no clue what he would find behind this door. Who was the vic? Who had called? Most terrifying – was Sophie hurt? He hadn’t spoken to her outside of church the last two Sundays, but he had spent pretty much all his free time, and a not insignificant amount of patrol time, thinking about her.

    He forced himself to knock before he got any deeper in thought. It only took a few seconds before the deadbolt moved and the door was flung open.

    Sophie.

    Sam exhaled fully for the first time in 10 minutes.

    “Sam!” she exclaimed, some of the worry line fading from her forehead.

    “Please tell me you checked the peephole first,” he couldn’t help poking at her.

    “Of course,” she replied earnestly, eyes wide. “I needed to make sure it wasn’t the…” She glanced behind her, then leaned in closer to whisper – “druggy from downstairs.”

    Deep breaths, Sam reminded himself. Deep breaths. And protocol. That would save him from the insanity of this reckless woman.

    “May we come in?” he asked, choosing to not respond to her commentary just yet.

    “Of course,” Sophie practically jumped back from the opening. She held the door wide and eyed Katie warily as the cop duo made their way into her tiny living room.
    Nothing had changed in her apartment since the night he had given her safety tips, except that she had turned on every single lightbulb in a 2-mile radius. Oh, and the bottle-job redhead on the couch was new.

    “Sophie, this is Officer Katie Fleming,” Sam introduced his coworker, who shook hands with Sophie. “Officer Fleming, my friend Sophie Lane from church.”

    “Nice to meet you, Ms. Lane,” Katie replied with a smile. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, nodding her head toward the redhead.

    “Oh, um…” Sophie hesitated, chewing on her lip. “The man downstairs called her Denise, but she hasn’t said anything to me since I convinced her to wait in here. I’ve never met her before tonight.”

    The redhead kept her eyes down, hands twisting nervously in her lap. She sat on the loveseat cross-legged.

    “Did you place the 911 call?” Sam asked.

    “Mmhmm,” Sophie nodded and bit her lip again. Her gaze bounced between Sam, Katie, and Denise.

    “Divide and conquer?” Katie asked, casting her glance toward Denise. Sam got it – he could get more out of Sophie since he knew her, so even if Denise clammed up with Katie, they’d get one good accounting. He nodded.

    “Is there another place we could talk separately from Denise and Officer Fleming?” Sam asked Sophie.

    She stared at him like he’d asked her to solve a quadratic equation.

    “It’s a one-bedroom,” she finally spoke on a very delayed exhale.

    Duh. No other place to go besides her bedroom, which wasn’t great for making a police statement.

    “Denise? I’m Katie,” Katie spoke softly as she crossed the room. Sam watched before asking Sophie anything further.

    “Hi,” Denise squeaked, then cleared her throat. Sam noticed Sophie watched with rapt attention, too.

    “Are you hurt?” Katie asked, her tone reminiscent of one he’d use for scared stray dogs – so soft, so gentle, that you couldn’t possibly feel threatened. Katie was 100% the right officer for this task.

    “N-no,” Denise stuttered. “He only pulled my hair.” She ran a hand over her vibrant hair before flicking a glance at Sophie. Sam was itching for details.

    “How would you feel about riding with me down to the station to get your statement, Denise?” Katie asked, still maintaining that soothing voice.

    “I, uh… I guess I can do that,” Denise finally answered after a few hard swallows. Sam imagined she had probably had less-than-pleasant interactions with a police station already. It showed a certain amount of fortitude that she was willing to go now.

    “Thank you.” Katie held out a hand, and Denise rose from the couch, following Katie from the room. Denise paused at the doorway to look at Sophie.

    “Thank you-” she paused, her voice choking. It took her a minute and working her jaw back and forth a few times to compose herself enough to speak again. “Thank you for helping me.”

    Sophie took the woman’s offered hand in both of hers and squeezed gently.

    “I’m thankful I was in the right place at the right time for you. I hope everything works out for you,” Sophie spoke earnestly, but with a smile.

    “You, too,” Denise gave a tiny smile, and then she and Katie were gone.

  • Dragoness 4.1

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 4: Witness

    Part 1: Sophie

    It was already dark when Sophie arrived home late one Tuesday evening. The weather had been so nice – actually above 65! – that she had taken a long walk around Lake Williamson before getting her groceries and coming home. Now at 7:30, she was tired and hungry, which she found to be an unhelpful state of being.

    She filled her arms with her work book bag and three plastic grocery sacks. A little voice in her head reminded her of Sam’s advice to have a free hand, but she just didn’t have enough energy to care. She’d come home to this apartment a million times. She’d be fine this once.

    As a concession to his wisdom, she did slide the bag handles onto her wrists and grip her pepper spray in her left hand, keys in her right. There. Now she was armed for… hauling her groceries in? A little bubble of slightly hysterical laughter rose in her gut, but she didn’t want to add to the image of this neighborhood housing the village crazies.

    She pushed open the unlocked door and entered the dim lobby as usual, mind already spinning on what she could easily make for dinner. Honestly, it was probably going to be a ramen noodle night. Maybe she’d even use the silly cat bowl Jonathan’s daughter had picked out for her for Christmas. Never trust a toddler to do Christmas shopping.

    “Ow!” The woman’s high-pitched cry reached Sophie’s ears before her brain could process where it was coming from.

    “That’s what you get for stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong!” snarled an angry man.

    Sophie whipped her head around to find a horrifying scene. A man in dirty jeans and a ragged rock band t-shirt had his fist in a woman’s curly, artificially red hair. While it was too dim in the lobby, especially tucked behind the stairs as the people were, to see many details, Sophie discerned the man’s near-black hair. His face was blotchy red in his rage, but beneath that his skin had a sickly, almost yellow pallor.

    “I’m sorry!” the red-headed woman wailed. She wore a much cleaner pair of jeans with a too-short top and sparkly stiletto heels. Sophie’s mom probably would have called her a ‘hussy’. All Sophie knew in that moment was that the man was hurting the woman. Instinct kicked in before common sense had even a chance of prevailing.

    “Hey!” she yelled as loudly as she could. The man’s head snapped up, eyes sparking fury. His momentary distraction was apparently enough for the woman to yank her hair out of the man’s grip and back away.

    “What are you doing?” Sophie challenged with false bravado.

    “Denise, get back here!” He lunged for the woman with a snarl as she stepped away, tripping over her heels.

    “No!” the redhead screamed, turning around to run. Sophie saw tears tracking down her face. Her mascara had run, and that paired with red lipstick made her face quite a surprise. Sophie stepped sideways into the space the woman had just occupied, placing herself between the angry man and the fleeing redhead.

    “Go upstairs,” Sophie commanded her quietly, shocked she could speak with how hard her entire body shook in fear. The redhead scrambled behind her and was on the stairs in seconds.

    “What do you think you’re doing?” the man growled at her. Sophie’s mouth went dry as a desert when he prowled closer to her. Now she could see his dark, bloodshot eyes. Fear snaked up her spine and curled up, tight and sick, in her belly.

    “I- I…” she stammered. “Stay back!”

    The man laughed evilly.

    “Now why would I stay away from a pretty little thing like you?” he drawled. Sophie imagined he thought he was trying to sound more pleasant and less threatening. His voice slithered over her with all the comfort of nails on a chalkboard. He was a snake.

    “I’m calling the cops,” she argued, although she immediately knew her hands were too full to even try digging her phone out of her crossbody purse.

    When he suddenly lunged for her, she instinctively put up her hands to shield her face. The man jumped back as if he’d been electrocuted, but maintained his evil stare.

    Confused, Sophie didn’t question the reprieve, but began backing up the stairs. The man’s dead, emotionless stare followed her until she rounded the corner. Then she turned and ran as fast as she could to her corner unit.

    Her breath came so quickly and her hands shook like a chihuahua. She tried to curl her fingers into fists and squeeze to get them to calm down. That’s when she noticed she had gripped her keys so tightly they had made tiny cuts in her right palm – and she saw the hot pink pepper spray canister in her left hand.

    That’s why he had stopped! Thank you, Lord, for Sam’s advice, Sophie took a moment to pray.

    Sam. He would know what to do. But she should probably call 911. She put the pepper spray in her skirt pocket and pulled out her cell phone, initiating the call. Before it connected, she noticed that the redhead was huddled in the corner across from her apartment door.

    “Come in,” Sophie whispered, not knowing if the angry man would follow.

    “I don’t wanna get ya in trouble,” the woman argued, also whispering.

    “911, what is your location?” a male dispatcher asked in a calm, unhurried voice.

    “1900 5th Street, apartment 204,” Sophie replied into her phone, then tilted it away from her mouth.

    “It’s fine,” Sophie tried to assure the woman and encourage her inside.

    “And what’s the emergency?” the dispatcher’s voice came in her ear.

    Thankfully, the redhead accepted Sophie’s invitation and stepped into the apartment.

    “I need to report an assault,” Sophie’s voice shook, but she was determined to do the right thing.

    With a final scan up and down the hall, Sophie stepped in behind the stranger. She twisted the deadbolt home and heaved a huge sigh of relief.

  • Dragoness 3.4

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 3: Saints and Sinners

    Part 4: Sam

    “Hey, Ryan!” Sam greeted his brother heartily as soon as he exited the car. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

    “Didn’t know they let you out of the station anymore,” Ryan teased back.

    “Ha, ha,” Sam deadpanned. “Don’t quit your day job.”

    Ryan laughed and enveloped Sam in a bear hug. Neither man was small, but man – Ryan was definitely gaining muscle.

    “You eat anything besides protein these days?” Sam quipped with a light jab to Ryan’s arm.

    “Hey, now. Just because you’re jealous…”

    “Pshaw,” Sam scoffed. “I’m doin’ just fine, thanks.” He flexed his bicep.

    “Boys!” their mom hollered from the porch, giving a pointed look toward the street once she had their attention. Sam winced when he turned to see Sophie standing awkwardly next to her car while he and his brother picked on each other in the driveway.

    “Sorry, Mom,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, then quickly made his way to Sophie.

    “Sorry,” he repeated when he reached her. “This is my brother Ryan. Ryan, this is Sophie Lane.”

    “Nice to meet you, Sophie Lane,” Ryan gave a hearty but gentle handshake. Why did Sam suddenly want to shove his elbow into Ryan’s ribs?

    “Nice to meet you, too, Ryan,” Sophie returned the greeting with a nervous smile.

    “Come on inside,” Sam suggested, gesturing towards the front porch where his mom still stood watch.

    “S-sure,” Sophie stuttered, then tottered slightly when her heels caught on the lumpy grass.

    “Careful,” Sam caught her elbow. She blushed but said nothing. When they reached the sidewalk, she pulled her arm back. Bummer for Sam…

    “So how’d you two meet?” Ryan asked from Sophie’s other side.

    “Work,” Sam replied shortly. After a 3-second pause, Ryan held out an open hand and raised his eyebrows in a gesture requesting more information. Sam sighed.

    “Sophie works for a marketing company that’s been hired to redo Williamson’s image or something,” he explained.

    “Oh! We had some of the Jordan Designs people at the firehouse,” Ryan chimed in with excitement. “Hey, wait. Were you Sam’s ride-along?”

    Sophie cast a look at Sam right before they reached the porch steps, and he wished he was a mind-reader.

    “I was,” Sophie replied demurely.

    “Welcome, Sophie,” Sam’s mom greeted as soon as their feet hit the porch. “Come on inside. Shoes on or off, doesn’t matter! Follow me through to the kitchen. Boys, you can set the table while I get to know Sophie.”

    Not for the first time, Sam had the impression that Laurie Harrison was a whirling dervish – a force to be reckoned with. Did the woman never stop talking? Moving? Managing? He suspected not. He wondered if his dad even got to fold his own socks, but Mom probably did that her way, too.

    Also, he and Ryan were grown men. At 25 and 27, surely they were eligible to be called something other than ‘boys’. It sounded so juvenile.

    But if he didn’t get moving, he’d surely be stuck with something worse than setting the table.

    “Not those dishes, Ryan,” he heard his mom admonishing as he came down the hallway. “Yes, dear, the nice ones. Salad plates too.”

    “Salad with quiche?” Ryan questioned.

    “Fruit salad, dear,” Mom replied in a rather patronizing tone, as if this should have been patently obvious.

    Fruit salad went on salad plates? News to Sam, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and grabbed a handful of silverware from the drawer.

    “Sophie, tell me where you’re from. Wisconsin native?” Mom hurtled from directing her sons back into conversation. Sam noticed Mom had set Sophie with a paring knife and a pile of grapes to halve. He wondered if she had volunteered or not.

    “No, I’m from Arizona,” Sophie replied. Sam was mildly surprised. First, he hadn’t ever thought to ask her that. Second, why had she chosen Wisconsin? Third, the coat she had pulled on during the ride-along made way more sense.

    “Oooh, how exotic!” Mom exclaimed. Sam barely restrained his snort of disagreement.

    “Not really to me, but it’s definitely different from here. There’s a lot of hard-packed sand. Very different vegetation. Less green. But I can’t get used to the cold.”

    Mom laughed lightly. “I can imagine. Dan took me on a trip there once. I loved how toasty it was!”

    “Did you grow up here?” Sophie politely returned his mother’s original question while also deftly steering the conversation away from herself.

    “A few towns over, but still in Wisconsin, yes. Besides a handful of trips with Dan and the boys, I never left. I love the green grass and changing seasons. And the cheese.”

    Mom laughed again, then directed a sharp glance at Sam. “Forks on the left,” she corrected. Sam sighed and did as she asked.

    “I am surprised by how many types of cheese there are,” Sophie commented.

    “Ryan, go find your dad,” Mom directed traffic. “Oh, my, yes. Although I would imagine any decent-sized city grocery store would offer many of the same options? Sam, grab those trivets.”

    Sam hesitated in the kitchen doorway. What was a trivet again? Sophie discretely pointed to two thick but small wooden cutting boards – or at least that’s what he thought they were. One was shaped like the state of Wisconsin, and one like a cow. His mother’s kitchen was currently decorated with a cow theme. When he was younger, she had gone through an apple phase, then a corncob phase. He’d seen pictures of a floral pattern before he was born.

    With a grateful smile to Sophie, he grabbed the thick wood slabs and laid them in the middle of the big round table.

    “Wow,” Sophie couldn’t hold back her surprise as she stepped into the dining room with a bowl of the fruit she’d helped cut up. Sam grinned.

    “Cool, isn’t it?” he agreed.

    “Dad built it,” Ryan supplied as he set the warm loaf of bread in its ceramic cow basket on the table, as well.

    “What is it?” Sophie asked.

    “A built-in Lazy Susan,” Sam replied, giving the middle tier of the table a spin. The table sat 6 generously, 8 comfortably, and about 16″ from the outside edge was a second “table” that rested on top of well-greased bearings. All the food went on the Lazy Susan, which could then be slowly spun around so everyone could reach what they wanted.

    “It’s amazing,” Sophie whispered.

    “Just don’t pinch your fingers,” Sam cautioned, pointing to the half-inch gap between the tabletop and the Lazy Susan. Sophie nodded, then gently rested the crystal bowl she held in one of the remaining open spots.

    “Everybody, have a seat!” his mom suddenly declared. She and Dad each carried a quiche to the already-laden table, and the five of them sat. Dad led the prayer, and then there was quiet for a while as everyone filled their plates. Sophie watched Sam and his family chat with quiet fascination, seeming markedly uncomfortable when asked questions about herself.

    “What about your family, Sophie?” Mom asked during a lull in the chewing.

    “I have an older brother Jonathan. He lives in California with his wife and daughter. My parents still live in Peshicot, AZ. It’s a small town like Williamson or New Albany. My dad runs a plumbing business. My mom helps him out with paperwork and stuff.”

    “How nice that at least the small-town element feels familiar,” Mom chattered easily.

    “Marketing and plumbing are so different. How’d you get into that? Oh, and what does your brother do?”

    “Jonathan is a computer programmer,” Sophie replied, graciously ignoring the question pile. “I chose marketing because it comes easily to me. I helped my dad and our church with a few projects before committing to the profession. I like to help people present themselves in the best light possible.”

    She had said much the same thing on the day they met. Sam could admit he had made assumptions about her based on preconceived notions of marketers in general. Sophie did not fit any of those negative stereotypes, and he found he rather enjoyed sharing her time and company.

    What to do, what to do…

    Then his mom cast a slightly devious look towards him and Ryan. “I have to ask, Sophie. Any boyfriend in the picture?”

    Nothing. He would do absolutely nothing.

  • Dragoness 3.3

    Find all the parts of this story here.

    Chapter 3: Saints and Sinners

    Part 3: Sophie

    Sitting between Sam and his mom was just… awkward. Oh, Sam was great. Gave her space, made sure she was following along – she saw his glances – even that shoulder bump of solidarity and encouragement. He was kind in ways that still surprised her after their initial meeting. He had been openly unenthusiastic about her job. And yet, here they were – and he had held her hand. Her palm still tingled almost an hour later.

    Sam’s mom on the other hand… Sophie could guess many things about the woman. Chatty. Nosy. Pushy. Probably also loving and generous and endlessly cheerful. The kind of woman who loved her son to death. Also the kind of woman who likely wanted to see said son paired off.

    Sophie stifled a sigh at the thought. Her experiences at her home church had taught her that when a church busybody set her sights on you, nothing – not even having to organize the congregation’s 50th anniversary bash – would sway her from her rightful throne of matchmaking. Sophie had hated every minute of being Mrs. Striker’s “project”. She feared she had only been spared by moving to the opposite end of the country. She had a sneaking suspicion she and Sam were about to become Mrs. Harrison’s “project”. Heaven, help us all. There were only so many places she could move to next.

    Amy’s peskiness hadn’t helped her unsettled mood. Sure, they talked at church and rehearsals, but to suddenly call three times in a row? There’s a reason God invented voicemail, Amy.

    Focus on Sam, Sophie reminded herself of the one peaceful person around her right now. As the service drew to a close, Sam’s attention remained unfatigued on the pastor. He greeted the people in front of and behind their pew with handshakes and his subdued friendliness. Laurie Harrison bubbled, talked, laughed, and generally exuded a wild zest for life. On her other side, Dan Harrison smiled indulgently at his wife and exchanged a few words with other men.

    “Now, Sophie, normally I’d ask you to join us for Bible class, but Pastor’s taking a break during Lent to make time for the extra services in his schedule. So instead, can I persuade you to join us for brunch?” Laurie launched into conversation.

    “Oh, um, I…” Sophie had no clue how to respond, and glanced behind her at Sam. Rats, he was still talking to the man in the pew behind them.

    “Come on. Just an hour or two. I made quiche,” Laurie said as if this should be the world’s greatest temptation.

    Maybe it was, because… “Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Harrison,” Sophie found herself replying without really thinking.

    “Oh, dear, please call me Laurie. We’re going to be friends, right?” Laurie bubbled on. Sophie just smiled, at a loss for words.

    “Mom,” came Sam’s warning growl over her shoulder.

    “What?” Laurie feigned innocence to Sam, who just shook his head.

    “Let’s go, sweetie,” Dan took his wife’s elbow as the usher gestured for them to leave church. Sophie followed the elder Harrison’s out of the pew and into the crowded little narthex. There she turned her phone back on to see 6 additional missed called and 9 text messages, all from Amy Shachar. She looked up to find Sam hovering close by.

    “Would you excuse me for a moment? I’m going to return these calls,” she explained, waving her phone.

    “Sure. I’ll find you in the parking lot before we go. I hear Mom persuaded you with quiche?” His tone held a hint of laughter.

    “She did,” Sophie replied sheepishly. “I’ll be honest, I’m not the best cook.”

    Now Sam’s laughter escaped for real. “Me neither. Steak and potatoes in the air fryer is about all I manage.”

    “Tuna salad,” Sophie offered with a shrug.

    Sam winced. “My mom’s quiche definitely wins over both of our options.”

    Sophie smiled. “I’ll be back.”

    She ducked out the front doors, skirted people lingering on the steps, and found a quiet spot in a sunny corner of the parking lot. Amy answered before the first ring had finished sounding in her ear.

    “Are you okay?” She sounded a little out of breath.

    “I’m fine, Amy. What’s wrong?”

    “What’s wrong? You’ve never missed church, and you just went AWOL. Are you okay?” she repeated.

    Sophie barely stifled a sigh. “Of course. I just went to a different church this Sunday, that’s all.” She knew she didn’t owe her an explanation, but if it helped her calm down, she’d happily offer one.

    “What church?” Amy continued suspiciously. “There are no other Lutheran churches in Williamson.” Amy was a die-hard Resurrection devotee and automatically hesitant about all other churches.

    This time she let the sigh escape. “No, but there’s one in New Albany.”

    “Those old stodges?” Amy’s voice dripped with disdain, which raised Sophie’s hackles.

    “That wasn’t nice, Amy,” she chided gently.

    “Fine,” she snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been worried sick about you.”

    A nice thought, but it made her a little uneasy.

    “There’s no need to worry. I am just fine,” she assured.

    “Okay. Thank you for calling me back, and I apologize if I overreacted.”

    If?

    “I forgive you,” was all she could say.

    “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you on Friday, right?” Amy said.

    “Yes.”

    “Same time & place?” she asked.

    “You’ll see the message. You know I don’t talk about this,” she reminded her.

    “Sorry, yeah. Okay. Have a good day, Sophie.”

    She softened. “You too, Amy.” She almost added ‘thanks for caring’, but figured she’d be better off just letting it ride. She ended the call and tucked her phone back in her purse just as Sam approached.

    “All good?” he asked.

    “Yup. Just an abundantly cautious girl, I guess,” Sophie tried to mentally shrug off the conversation and her discomfort with it.

    “Nice to have friends who care,” Sam tossed out. Now Sophie physically shrugged.

    “Ready for quiche?” Sam blessedly changed the subject.

    As if on cue, Sophie’s stomach signaled the fact her oatmeal had been consumed more than four hours ago, and she couldn’t help laughing even as she blushed.

    “Yes, I think I am!”