FanStory.com - Miracles - Chap 3by Begin Again

The parole hearing hadn't gone as he'd expected, and the veiled threats from Rossi still annoyed him. He hadn't asked for anyone's help and wasn't letting them control his plans. As the guard led him through the familiar corridors, he stood tall, refusing to acknowledge defeat or the chains around his wrists. He was free to accomplish what he wanted — even behind bars.

"Welcome back, John!" shouted an inmate, setting off a chain of jeers and taunts along the walkway.

The news of the parole denial had traveled through the prison grapevine faster than a slippery pig on a slanted slope.

A few brave souls called out, "Did you miss us?" and one even muttered, "There's always next time." His cell door clanging shut echoed through the dimly lit corridor — a harsh reminder of his confinement.

He sighed, then splashed cold water onto his face — a privilege he knew was rare among the inmates, though it did little to soothe his frustration. He glanced up, water dripping from his chin, when he heard a voice.

"Hello, John. Too bad about the parole denial."

He froze. His back stiffened when he recognized her voice.

Digging deep, he composed himself and turned, water dripping from his chin and a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the cell bars. "Eleanor," he mocked, "I didn't think they let the dead roam free around here. Or is this just another one of your tricks?"

"Tricks? That's your game, not mine." Her voice was low and dangerous, a storm brewing behind her calm facade.

"Did you come to gloat?" He grinned. "Or did you have something else on your mind?" His face was smug. "Too bad about Margaret's little accident."

Eleanor's form wavered, struggling to remain materialized as she held back a torrent of grief and rage. Her voice broke, her words nearly a whisper but fierce, "Every time I close my eyes, I see Margaret's lifeless face. I don't know how you did it, but I'm certain you're responsible for her death."

"You know nothing," he sneered, stepping closer, relishing her anger. "Please accept my condolences."

Eleanor's fists clenched at her sides, her breath quickening. "You think you're funny?" She hissed. "You're a monster, John."

He laughed, splashing water from the basin in her direction. "Cool down before you drop dead. Oh wait — you're already dead." His laughter echoed down the hall.

"You're going to pay for what you've done." Unspoken threats hung in the silence. Before she could continue, she sensed a visitor.

The guard entered the cellblock. Eleanor heard the clanging of the door and his approaching footsteps. She knew she must leave. She gave Doyle one last icy stare. "Watch your step, John. I will always have my eyes on you."

Doyle glared at her and jeered, "Margaret was just the icing on the cake. If you're watching anyone, it better be those close to you because I intend to take all of them down."

Eleanor compressed a gasp — recognizing the threat for what it was — another dagger to her heart.

The guard reached his cell and gave a questioning glance at Doyle, unaware of Eleanor's presence. "Everything alright, John?" he asked, glancing around the cell.

Doyle looked around the cell, noting that Eleanor had disappeared. "Just fine, Henry. Just spilled some water."

"I'll get someone in here to clean it up. Sorry to hear about the hearing today. How about I have the cook whip up a juicy T-bone?"

"That'll be great. I'll make sure you find a little something extra in your locker."

The guard nodded. "You're a good man, John." He walked away to complete his rounds.

Invisible but still in the cell, Eleanor muttered, "Maybe you'll choke on that steak. Too bad it can't be seasoned with poison."

Doyle chuckled. "You aren't going to get that lucky, sweetheart."

"Don't underestimate me, John. I could slip into that kitchen and do it myself, and no one would ever be the wiser." She smirked. "Think about it, John."

She melted into the shadows, leaving only a chilling silence and a promise that she was ready to fight.

*****

Jenna stirred and pulled the pillow over her head to block the sunlight filtering through the blinds. She moaned, "It can't be morning."

The rich aroma of coffee wafted into her bedroom. Still groggy from the sleepless night, she pulled herself to a sitting position, running her hands across her face to brush her hair out of the way. There was only one solution to the smell of fresh coffee — Eleanor was here.

She stumbled down the hall to the kitchen. Eleanor was standing by the coffeemaker with a cup in hand. She gave it to her daughter, minus her customary smile. "You look like you might need this more than I do. Though my day hasn't started very well."

Regardless of her own struggles, Jenna knew something was wrong. "Mom, what's happening? I didn't expect to see you this morning."

Eleanor pressed her lips into a fine line and inhaled sharply. "You need to sit down, dear."

Jenna took the coffee from her mother and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. She watched Eleanor pour another cup of coffee, keeping her back to Jenna. "Mom, you didn't answer. What's wrong?"

Eleanor wiped her eyes as she turned around. "There was a car crash this morning. Margaret —" Eleanor sighed. "She's — gone."

"Gone?" Jenna's eyes widened. "Aunt Margaret? Mom, what happened?"

"Her car went off the road."

"Where? How did the accident happen?"

Eleanor closed her eyes, trying to control her emotions. "It wasn't an accident, Jenna."

"I don't understand. You said her car crashed."

"Someone ran her off the road."

"On purpose? Who would do such a thing?"

"Only one name comes to mind, I am afraid."

Jenna stared at Eleanor. "The Judge! But how? He's behind bars." Remembering the parole hearing, she gasped, "They didn't release him, did they?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No, his parole was denied, but I have no doubt that he was behind Margaret's death."

Jenna shook her head and watched her mom. "We all have reasons to hate him, but he is in jail."

"He is. I even visited him this morning."

"You went to the hearing."

"No, I went to his cell after saying goodbye to my sister."

"To his cell!" Jenna screamed, but then Eleanor's other words hit home. "Oh, Mom, you were at the accident. But how?"

"She called my name, and a vision flashed through my mind. I saw the crash." Tears rolled down her face. "I was there, but I couldn't save her."

Jenna jumped off the chair and wrapped Eleanor in her arms. "I'm so sorry." She squeezed a little tighter before stepping back. "But how can you be sure the Judge is behind it?"

"He laughed, Jenna. I could still see my sister's lifeless body cradled in my arms, and he laughed. He said that he was going to take down everyone who put him in that hellhole. That includes you, Matthew, Garth, and who knows who else he has a grudge against. Maybe the parole board, too."

Eleanor's cold, harsh words settled over both women.

Jenna shivered, clutching her coffee mug like a lifeline. "He threatened — all of us?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her chest tightened. She forced a steadying breath, hoping Eleanor wouldn't notice her shaking hands. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll stay alert."

But Eleanor caught the shadow in Jenna's eyes and touched her shoulder gently. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

Jenna managed a tense smile. "I'm fine. Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess."

But Eleanor's eyes didn't leave her daughter's face. She had a mother's instinct, and it told her this wasn't just a bad night's sleep. She opened her mouth as if to say something but stopped, deciding to let Jenna come to her when she was ready.

"Alright," Eleanor said gently, though she couldn't hide her concern. "I'll be here if you want to talk."

Jenna murmured a quick "thanks" and retreated to her room, shutting the bathroom door behind her. She leaned against the door, her fingers curling around the doorknob as her mind drifted to the dark places she'd tried to bury.

As she stared into the mirror, vivid images of her nightmare surged back — the cold night air, her heart pounding, and the sound of footsteps echoing behind her.

A clatter from the kitchen — something falling to the floor —made her jump, and her breath quickened. Panic clawed at her throat as she recalled the sensation of strong hands gripping her arms. What if Doyle had something to do with the rape? The thought slashed through her like a knife.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to suppress the memories. The echoes of her screams rang in her ears, but no sound escaped her lips.

She turned to the sink and splashed water on her face, gripping the edge as her breathing grew shallow. Staring at her reflection, she fought the rising panic, willing herself back to the present, away from the fear. It was easier to pretend the rape wasn't part of her reality.

As Jenna's reflection battled the flood of memories from the nightmare, she knew she had to pull herself together. The morning's news about Aunt Margaret was shocking, and the revelation that Doyle might be responsible was upsetting, but she had a business to run. Today, she hoped to make an important decision and hire a new assistant. "Get your act together! You can't change anything, so move forward. Isn't that what Mom would say?"

She reached for her phone and searched her contacts until she found Rebecca's name. She had met Rebecca at a networking event a few weeks ago. The woman had recently moved to town. Jenna had been intrigued by her energy and enthusiasm, sensing a kindred spirit in the newcomer.

With a deep breath, Jenna tapped the screen to call Rebecca, hoping she could turn her chaotic emotions into something productive. As the phone rang, she glanced at the kitchen, where her mother stood at the counter, pouring herself another cup of coffee, her face clouded with concern.

"Hello?" Rebecca's voice came through bubbly and upbeat.

"Hi, Rebecca! It's Jenna. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

"Not at all! I'm just getting settled in. How are you?"

Jenna hesitated, knowing she didn't want to unload her worries on Rebecca, who was still trying to find her footing in a new place. "I'm okay, but I could use your help. I've got a few events coming up, and I'm looking to hire someone. I remembered our conversation about event planning and thought you might be interested."

"That sounds exciting! I'd love to help out. What do you need?"

Jenna felt a spark of enthusiasm return, pushing aside the heaviness of the morning's news. "I have a wedding event next month, and with the holiday season approaching, I need someone to assist with the details. It could also be a great way to get to know the community."

"Absolutely! I'd love to be involved. Let's meet up and discuss it more."

Jenna nodded, even though Rebecca couldn't see her. "Perfect! How about tomorrow at The Rustic Cafe? It'll give us a chance to review everything, and you can tell me more about settling in."

"Sounds like a plan. I'm looking forward to it!"

"Me too! I'll see you then." Jenna ended the call, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

She returned to the kitchen, where Eleanor was sipping her coffee, her face still etched with worry. "Were you talking to someone?" Eleanor asked.

"Rebecca. I'm hiring her to help with the upcoming events."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "The young woman you met at the last networking meeting, right? That sounds promising. Is she settling in well?"

"I think so. She seems enthusiastic about getting to know the area," Jenna replied, forcing a smile. "Plus, I think we both need something to focus on besides what happened to Aunt Margaret."

Eleanor's expression softened, and she nodded. "You're right. It's important to keep moving forward. I'm proud of you for taking this step, Jenna."

"Thanks, Mom. I'm just trying to keep things together."