Excerpt From "When God Came Running To Primrose Cottage"

By Nancy Arant Williams

A dread alarm sounded in my brain, seeing his glasses, neatly folded on the trunk, next to his favorite gray-blue overstuffed chair, with his newspaper lying on its seat. Ernie never went anywhere without his glasses tucked in his pocket. He could see well enough without them to get around his rustic cottage, but for everything else he needed his glasses. And where was Fred?

I felt panic rise inside me. Help Lord. I nervously checked the bedroom, and bathroom, where everything was neatly in order. I don’t know what I expected to find, but felt my shoulders sag in relief, not to have found him hurt or worse.

He had owned his hundred acres of riverfront property for over fifty years. He loved the place, refusing countless offers to buy, no matter how high the price.

In its usual spot sat the Rust Bucket, his sun-bleached, rust colored 1967 Nova, the color of which particularly amused him, because any new rust would just go unnoticed. I pulled out my penlight and checked the area, relieved to see nothing unusual.

I jumped a foot in the air when I heard a soft whine and turned to see Fred, cowering in the lengthening afternoon shadows. “Fred, what’s going on? Why didn’t you come when I called?”

When I reached out to pat him, he cringed away and disappeared around a corner. What on earth was going on?