The Fragile Things, page 1
The Fragile Things
Mary Cantell
The Fragile Things
Copyright © 2024 Mary Cantell. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.
Resource Publications
An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers
199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3
Eugene, OR 97401
www.wipfandstock.com
paperback isbn: 979-8-3852-1037-4
hardcover isbn: 979-8-3852-1038-1
ebook isbn: 979-8-3852-1039-8
version number 02/12/24
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
To my beloved husband, my love always, and to the memory of my precious mother,
who nurtured the writing bud in me to bloom, thank you.
Above all, to my Lord, who guides my mind and heart to write.
Acknowledgments
Andrew Fidler, Upper Merion Twp. Police Dept.
Dion Reid, Lifeline Medical Services
Blaine Leis, Upper Merion Twp. Police Dept.
Debra Culvar, PennStarr
Judi Mobley, editor
Trayce Duran, editor
Chapter One
June 6
6:43 p.m.
An odd feeling came over Sarah the moment she walked into her apartment. She eased her feet out of her too tight shoes and dropped her purse and keys on the foyer table. Turning for her bedroom down the hall, her heart jolted at seeing something that defied all logic at the end of the hallway.
“Oh, my G—what in the world?” In shock, her gaze riveted onto scattered chunks of debris spread all over the polished hardwood floor. The porcelain from the cherished antique sculpture of her great-grandmother lay shattered at the foot of the open closet door like a cyclone had blown through the apartment. An icy chill tore through her as blood rushed to her face. “How did this happen?” The chaotic mess chafed her spirit—not only the effort it would take to clean it all up. . .no, it went beyond that. The beloved woman Sarah heard about in stories through the years was now reduced to mere rubble. Her life as a humanitarian, society matron, and her philanthropic identity were things Sarah admired. All that was left—the broken remains—lent zero respect for the once idolized woman. Sarah dropped to her knees as tears brimmed in her eyes.
“Hey, Mom,” fifteen-year-old Emily called from the opposite end of the hallway. “Here’s the receipt for the clothes you asked for. Mom! What happened?”
Emily’s voice sounded distant as though it came through a long tunnel. Sarah could barely hear anything but the thoughts running in her head. Did the statue fall by accident? Did someone throw it down on purpose—in anger, possibly? She gently picked up one of the porcelain shards and hoped it could be pieced together again but soon realized the improbability. Some of the statue had crumbled into all but dust.
“Oh, Em, I just can’t even fathom how this even happened?” She shook her head and stifled her desire to scream. As much as she wanted to keep the sculpture for sentimental reasons, she would have to deal with the loss. Though, thankfully, there were others items in her inheritance that may have been worth more than mere sentimental value, and she looked forward to getting the artifacts appraised—the silver, china, and oil paintings—to, hopefully, sell for some extra cash.
“Maybe, we could put it back together?”
Sarah slowly shook her head. “No, it’ll be impossible.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“It’s not your fault, Em.” Sarah wiped her moist eyes with the back of her palm.
Sarah sighed and stared at the overwhelming sight, taking time to gather her thoughts. Unbelievable. Who could have done this? She surveyed the extent of the damage that covered the entire lower end of the hall and joined Emily in picking up the bigger pieces, setting them aside on top of the hallway table. She could toss them later. Right now, she didn’t have the heart to do it.
After clearing most of the debris, she took out the vacuum cleaner and plugged it in. Exhausted from shopping all day, this wasn’t the best time to tackle the chore, but her neat-freak sensibilities kicked in. It would be better to clean up the mess now than have to face the task in the morning.
“Thanks, Em. I can handle the rest. Why don’t you just go put your new clothes away?”
“You sure, Mom?”
“I can finish up here. It’s fine.” As Emily went to her room, Sarah was about to flip the vacuum cleaner switch when something caught her eye. She stepped closer to the closet and peered inside. The back shelf, partially obscured in shadow where the rest of her inheritance had been stored, was empty. “What?” she cried. “Where’s my other stuff?” Her favorite painting—the bowl of fruit—was missing, something she loved as a child. Viewing the painting when she visited her great-aunt’s home in Florida gave her a rush. The life-like character of the subject matter drew her finger to the painting where the fuzzy peach appeared invitingly real. Sarah racked her brain thinking of where else she could have possibly stored the items rather than in the hall closet until reality hit: The sterling silver tea set, the silverware collection, and several Hummel figurines were gone. Stolen. She didn’t know their exact worth, but they certainly were worth something. Of course, the Hummel collection was definitely valuable. Watching old artifacts being appraised on Antiques Roadshow enough times proved the worth of the pristine china figures. First, a priceless possession is destroyed beyond belief, and now the other treasures from her inheritance had disappeared. In the shadows of the dim hallway, curiosity crept over her. What was next?
Sarah’s anger simmered just below the surface and took quick command. She marched down the hall to the front door and boldly jerked it open. She wanted to scream that she’d been robbed. Violated, in fact. Assault her treasured possessions and they might as well have assaulted her. Nothing unusual lingered in the hallway. . .no lurking stranger or any evidence of a crime. Just an eerie kind of quiet.
Sarah’s adrenaline surged and caused her body to tremble as she searched the entire apartment. . .poking into the closets, peering under the beds and every conceivable place to make sure she and Emily were safe and no one else was in the apartment—possibly hiding. With her mind in overdrive, she was relieved to find they were, indeed, alone. Though if the robber had been there, her courage would surely rise to meet her match, and she would do whatever it took to protect her family. Three years of karate lessons would, hopefully, give her a leg up in defending herself. Thinking she should call the police, her thoughts turned to her ex-boyfriend, Nick—a cop. This would be a good time to call for help—or a hug. But on second thought, no. She couldn’t bear to see him now that they’d broken up. It would be too awkward. She immediately banished the thought and called the resident manager’s office to report the incident. Sadly, for her, Nick Durham was history. No use worrying about the past now. There were bigger issues to solve than why their love went wrong.
****
“Did you call the police?” Her best friend Cindy Holden’s voice pitched through the phone.
Still fueled with adrenaline, Sarah nervously threaded her hand through her hair. “No, not yet. I’m not sure if I should.”
“Why?” Cindy barked. “I would. I’m sure that stuff was worth something!”
“I know, but I’m just a bit . . . oh, I can’t even think straight right now. My nerves.”
“I would call them, Sarah.”
“I checked the entire apartment and then called the management office and left a message for Mr. Kramer. If he suggests that the police should enter the picture, I’ll deal with it later.” Sarah didn’t want to let on the real reason why she didn’t want the police involved and the possibility of Nick finding out. Reporting the incident to them would only cause her stomach to cinch even more amid its turbulence—especially, if they sent Nick over. He was the last person she wanted to deal with right now.
“Get a cup of echinacea tea in you or chamomile. It’ll calm you down,” her friend encouraged.
“I d-don’t even know if I have any.” As she walked to the cabinet, her legs still trembled. “I’m so rattled.”
“Deep breaths, Sarah, take deep breaths.”
“I know, I’m trying.” Sarah inhaled—in-through-the-nose-out-through-the-mouth—as Cindy talked her down from the precarious ledge where she stood. Cindy’s encouraging words sounded more like yammering through the phone; they barely registered to Sarah through the jangling of her distracted nerves. The rush of adrenaline kept her body shivering while her mind spun in a thousand directions. Would the robber come back? Did he mean harm or was this a warning? Stay with me, Lord.
“Hey, listen,” Cindy continued. “If there’s anything you need me to do, please let me know, okay?”
Silence.
“Sarah? Need me to come over?”
“Yes, yes, I will.”
“You want me to come over?” Cindy repeated.
“No, no. I’ll let you know—”
“By the way, the barbeque is tomorrow. Hope you, can make it. Food, fellowship, and fun. Should take your mind off this whole thing—at least for a few hours.” Cindy paused. “Hey, you there?”
Sarah sighed. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Listen, sounds great, but I gotta go.”
“Okay, hang in there, Sarah. Things will look better in the morning. I’ll be praying.”
“Thanks, Cindy. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
When Sarah hung up the phone, she realized it would take more than a cup of tea to fall asleep tonight. True, the barbeque did sound nice, and she loved eating outside, but for now, it was too much to even think about tomorrow.
In her room readying for bed, Sarah reached into her bedside drawer for the sleeping pills. Through the miscellaneous junk that collected there, she rustled her hand around until she felt the bottle, only to find all that was left were a few tiny fragments of the little white pills. It had been a while since she needed to take a sleeping aid. Something triggered her insomnia that she’d never experienced before after the passing of her husband, Brian, five years ago. After slipping into her softest nightshirt, she headed for the kitchen to check once more for tea. Midway, she stopped at her daughter’s door.
Sarah peeked through the doorway to Emily’s room, not wanting to invade her daughter’s personal space. “You doing okay, sweetie?”
Emily, lying in bed, glanced up from her phone. “Did you call the police?”
Sarah stepped into the room. “I’ve checked the apartment, so there’s nothing to be afraid of now. I thought it best to report it to management first. I’ll let them take over from there.”
Her daughter’s beautiful green eyes reminded Sarah of the startled countenance of a baby fawn when a beam of light hit. . .so vulnerable and unsure.
“Don’t be afraid, Em.” Sarah sensed her daughter’s unease. She moved closer and crouched down at Emily’s bedside. “Everything will be okay,” she gently comforted, patting the bedsheet. “We’re safe.”
Emily’s focus went back to the screen.
Sarah cast her gaze around the room for a moment. “Well, you need your sleep, honey.” She eyed the girl’s phone, hating new age technology. . .such a distraction for kids these days. “And don’t forget hockey camp starts on Monday. You need to get your things ready soon. Should be fun, right?” Sarah kept her voice upbeat to help assuage any lingering fears that Emily may have concealed.
“I know,” came her daughter’s same distracted reply.
“And don’t be on your phone all night, please.”
Emily grunted something that sounded half-agreeable, so Sarah didn’t balk.
“Love you, Em.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
****
Sarah padded her way to the kitchen. She peered into all of the cabinets, one by one, hoping to find at least one tea bag somewhere. She spotted an old decorative tin but found nothing but a couple of creamers and sugar substitute packets. Adjacent to the tin, a box of chocolate fudge cookies beckoned. She thought better than to eat so late at night, but the cookies were calling her. She sat at the oak table and munched one after the other, letting the sweetness and crunch take over and lift the tension that held her nerves like a vice. In the silence, odd sounds inside the apartment startled her. First, the loud pop of the old refrigerator made her jump, and then a random breeze abruptly slapped the kitchen window shade and sent her nerves jangling. After consuming more cookies than necessary, Sarah put the box back in the cabinet and then checked the front door once more before going to bed. The chair placed under the doorknob would, hopefully, secure not only the apartment but her peace of mind.
On her way back to her bedroom, she passed by the closet in the hallway where her inheritance had been kept. A sense of unease swept through, and a bolt of shock seized her as she imagined a gnarled hand reaching out from the shadows. She mentally recoiled and steeled herself to reject the ghastly image. Stop thinking about horror movies, Sarah. They’re fiction. Almost to the bedroom door, her foot landed on one of the errant shards the vacuum cleaner hadn’t picked up. Ouch, damn it! She bent over and pried it out. Will this day ever end?
In bed, Sarah opened her Bible to the Twenty-third Psalm and read the text over and over, letting the words calm her spirit. Later, as the sedative effects of the sugar worked their way through her system, leaving her brain in a numbing fog, she reached for the cord to lower the window shade. Outside in the distance, a police car cruised down the main driveway around the building. Her mind turned to Nick. Once again, her thoughts were never far from him, like a revolving loop in her mind. She strained to make out the number marked on the side of the vehicle. Was it by chance his cruiser #1872? Even by the illumination from the halogen street lamp, she couldn’t make out the number. Was Nick patrolling the building or possibly checking up on her?
Slipping back into bed, Nick’s image floated in her mind. His dreamy light blue eyes captivated her, and his statuesque physique stirred her lust. Whenever he held her in his arms, she always wanted more of him. His caress just wasn’t enough. Too bad the demands of his job: the long working hours, along with his occasional temper and some bad habits eventually wore away some of the patina of her longing. Lifestyle differences built up so much that they chipped away at their relationship until, one day, it went bust. “It’s over,” she said, begrudgingly. “I can’t do this any longer.” Nick’s face remained stoic as she spoke, and the light went out of his eyes. She regretted the surge of emotion that had welled up inside her the night she yelled at him and caused him to leave—this time, for good. The indelible hurt in his eyes would forever sear her mind.
Sarah needed someone in her life right now, if anything, to protect her both physically and emotionally. Not only for herself but for Emily, too. Deep down, she’d wanted so much for Nick to be a father-figure to her daughter. They’d gotten along well enough, and she thought, finally, her family could be whole again. Without the support of a man, things could go south for a young girl like Emily, so headstrong and impulsive, she could easily go off course without the reins of a masculine influence.
As she lay under the sheet, her mind raced. Scenarios played out like a kaleidoscope of horror scenes from TV crime dramas where evil motives and human nature collided. She no longer watched those types of programs, especially late at night, because the stories haunted her long after she’d turned off the TV. Often, the culprits in the tragedies were those near and dear to the victim. Exes in relationships often played a part long after they separated. Sarah held her pillow tightly as thoughts of Nick surfaced again. If he had been involved in any way, the truth would come out sooner or later, but for now, she couldn’t bear knowing. If he’d been the perpetrator, it would tear her apart. Better to leave it alone—for now—and let management handle it.
Nick would never do anything to harm Emily or her. Would he?
Chapter Two
June 7
