Adoring Abbie: Seven Deadly Sins 6

By Ruth Munro

On All Hallows Eve, deep in the Australian country, its not ghouls and witches you need to be afraid of. It's the violent escapee from a recent jailbreak..
Abbie of course has no idea. She is on the hunt for a man. Not for the usual reasons. Yes she wants Mr Right, but her Mr Right is Mr Right Hook. Or possibly she needs a navy seal - they just seem to be in short supply in Australia!
She is willing to settle. Anyone who can stand up to her Dad will do; a man whose friends are not just dressed to kill!
They say lightning doesn't strike twice, and everyone knows your luck has to change - eventually.
Of course some women are like lightning rods; they attract trouble. On All Hallows Eve, normal rules don't apply anyway. On All Hallows Eve the problem is the sun always goes down. You never know what might come out to play. On All Hallows Eve what's hiding in the dark might just be your worst nightmare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Munro
• Release date: Aug 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463892466

Ruth Munro

I am Australian widow, who doesn't like to admit her age, with four children and two step-children, living and working in China. I wasn’t always a writer. At different times, for reasons of acute boredom I have pursued a lot of entertaining professions and hobbies. Personally if I lived my life the way I wanted I would spend all my time on my favorite activities. I like to catch up with family, write, read incessantly, watch movies, and study towards my Masters. Fortunately God insists I live a balanced life. So in my spare time I pray a lot, spend time with God, and work a full time job! I am so blessed because my genetics have meant I rarely need much sleep. As to my career I am an experienced teacher, although I have also worked for Social Security as a clerk, sold roof tiles, been a wife and mother, worked as a Podiatrist and run various departments (or worked in them) in my church. I have always taught. I held my first unofficial math class on the steps of my neighbour’s house when I was about ten. I am also a jack of all trades since I’ve been a single mother since my husband died when we were both 34. In 2012 after living in India for two months working at Asha Bhawan, God gave me the theme of this series, and revived my desire to create stories that amuse, but also make us think. I hope you enjoy them. I have just published the sixth book in the seven book series. I am still struggling with the seventh book in the series which is mostly written. I am taking too long I know, but I really hate the subject matter. I will get it done by December even if I have to rewrite the middle and change some major plot events. If you like my books please leave a review. If you hate them also write a review. Like all authors I will think about your criticisms, although like most of us I hate criticism! May my God bless you!

Book preview

Adoring Abbie: Pride (Seven Deadly Sins 6)

Text copyright © 2017 Ruth Kallman

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

This one’s for Graham, Phillip and the Brisbane Catholic Bushwalking Club who introduced me to bushwalking, and took me on the best walks I ever went on. You’ll probably never read this Graham or Phillip, but I owe this book to you.

Foreword

As always this is my apology section. I like to apologize in advance for all the travesties in my book I committed to get a laugh, and to state the people in my stories are fictional and are not based on any real person or event, not even Graham, Phillip or my Catholic Bushwalkers.

I tell a little white lie. Two bits in this book have some minor basis in a real event. One is the moment on the waterfall. You will recognize me in the moment she goes splat, (yes I really did that with the same result). Club members may also recognize what the leader of the walk did to provoke the reaction, though his motivations were possibly not the same as those of my hero! He may have had all sorts of noble aspirations, but my hero does not... The second is a comment by that same leader about the year some members of the club became couples, but I’ll leave that comment, exactly what it was, and the inspiration it became to the book to those in the know. Blessings to the club!

Also for those who like geographical truth in books… It’s roughly true. (Yes, I am crossing my fingers here and possibly my toes for extra latitude). Beacon View does exist. It’s in Bellthorpe National Park near Kilcoy in Australia, quite close to the Woodford Folk Festival Site and the jail. However, the tree under which Gretchen was found is probably not there, and neither is anyone called Gretchen as far as I know. The terrain I’ve used throughout the walks in the park, and the camping spots are also a figment of my imagination. Only information about plants and native animals may be true. Don’t go searching for any of it, or use anything you read to plan bushwalks. You’ll get very lost. Instead join a bushwalking club, and let them show you the real thing.

Any other resemblances to real persons, places, organizations or events are not intended by this author. While there are bushwalking clubs in south-east Queensland that are wonderful organizations, dedicated to promoting fitness, enjoying nature and connecting socially, the bushwalking club in my book is my own invention. Certainly no bushwalking organization I know, and certainly not the one I belonged to, would take a complete novice out on a moderately difficult weekend trip because of her unknown fitness levels. I completely blame my heroine’s character for this travesty; she was too proud to be honest, and deserved exactly what she got…

Finally, apologies for the long-winded apologies... I hope you at least enjoyed some smiles on the way.

Now for a more serious discussion, about the theme… In my opinion, pride like my three main characters have is a danger to friendships, organizations like churches and clubs and society as a whole. This is because whenever we think we are better we mentally put others in a sub-class and we decide they have fewer rights and can be treated badly. It also means we think we can do more, and deserve better positions of importance than we’ve earned – causing problems to all those around us. Having a skill, talent or more money does not make us better, it makes us blessed. All men and women were created equal, come into life the same way, are all flawed by human faults and we leave life with nothing, not even the clothes on our backs. I mean yes we are buried clothed, but I’d be surprised if the clothes come with us into the afterlife. Oops I digress. The point is - why then should any of us think we are better?

Unfortunately our society tells us we are special. It tells us we should think for ourselves and critique others. It doesn’t tell us we should critique ourselves. However the truth is we are all flawed. At the heart of each human stands three flaws: the lust of the flesh (or the desires of the body), the lust of the eyes (or wanting what we see whether we own it or not), and the pride of life (the thing some call ego but which positions our wants or needs as more important than what anyone else wants or needs).

Many people think pride is a good thing. Where is the boundary between self-respect and pride? What are the consequences in communities when one or two think they are better and deserve more than others? What does this say on a local level about moral issues that are affecting us all internationally? I don’t know the answer to that question, but locally it concerns me. Read on for a humorous look at what happens when proud people clash with each other and with a killer who is equally convinced he’s God’s gift to the one woman he loved and seems to keep losing track of.

Table of Contents

Front Matter

Prologue: On Luxuries and Necessities

Chapter One - My Papá’s better than your Papá

Chapter Two - Reality Check

Chapter Three - Looking for Mr Right

Chapter Four - It seemed like a good idea at the time

Chapter Five - Only a miracle can save me.

Chapter Six - What if…?

Chapter Seven - Knowing your limitations

Chapter Eight Unexpected discoveries

Chapter Nine Who done it?

Chapter Ten Natural disasters

Epilogue: When the end is just like the beginning

Prologue: On Luxuries and Necessities

Utility is when you have one telephone, luxury is when you have two, opulence is when you have three - and paradise is when you have none. – Doug Larsen

Gretchen

The path was dark. Johnno had said it was shady and reasonably steep. There was rainforest at first, but now the trees were thinning out a little into eucalypt forest. He hadn’t lied about the shade or the slant of the hill. It was tough going lugging a shovel and my heavy pack.

It was Friday and seemingly deserted. Most Australians were probably at the pub. It seemed to be what they did on Friday afternoons. I wished I was in one right now instead of climbing up a steep wooded hill alone. Still after I pulled my prank I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have Johnno. I was pretty sure I was in love.

I hadn’t expected to find love this week. I’d been aiming for the coast and then points north. Geography not romance was my aim.

Johnno and I had spent the week getting to know each other. We’d walked by the river, eaten out, and laughed insanely as lovers are wont to do. He’d had work in the day, but in the evening he’d been all mine.

I hadn’t realized till I met him how attractive Aussie guys were. Maybe it was their outdoor lifestyle, or their sense of humor, or their easy going attitude. Or it was all three.

He was built like a feather-weight boxer, until he stripped off, but then he was all muscle. I’d discovered that the first time we’d gone swimming at the Spring Hill Pool. It was more than that though. It was the whole package. He told a great joke, he spoke German which was great because we could communicate, and he had a million stories to tell. He was so good natured I wanted to kiss him every other second, and then there was the dimple…

We’d met early in the week, but about Thursday when I’d agreed to come on his weekend camping trip, we’d started making firmer plans. Plans that included the walk and the pranks, but also after the walk, and even after that…

I’d gotten here early because I knew I had a fair bit to do before dark. It was the day before Halloween so we’d planned some pretty graphic pranks. He had all the props I needed for the main prank I was preparing for now. He was into amateur theatre so he’d given me heaps of greasepaint, and stuff that mimicked real blood. This was going to be a lot of fun – once the hard work setting up was done.

That was why I was dressed in ripped clothing and had already put a heap of stage make-up to good use. It was making me very hot but Johnno had said to make it look authentic. I couldn’t hack off limbs, but I had faked oozing blood and gory wounds reasonably well, and I was wearing stage paint that made me look bloodless. I’d be aided by the dark night tonight. There wasn’t supposed to be much of a moon.

Finally, about 4pm I reached the spot we’d planned. I had about 2 hours to prepare. Under the huge tree I pulled out the spade I’d lugged all the way up here and began to dig. I was so busy digging I didn’t even hear the stranger walk up to me.

Hi! he said, and made me jump. I swear all the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. I turned around slowly and that was when I realized there was something wrong.

It wasn’t the clothes. They were drab and striped but some men have no taste. It wasn’t the look on his face. He was smiling in welcome. No it was the knife.

I screamed and tried to run, but he was too close. God help me, he was too close. He caught me and began tearing at my shorts. I tried to fight him. I really did. I threw a punch. It made him mad. I tried to struggle. It made him madder. It was hopeless. How do you fight a knife in the arms of a madman?

That, he said, still smiling, was very stupid. Did you think I wouldn’t find you Marlene?

I don’t speak English, I told him.

It wasn’t a real lie. I hardly spoke it at all. I understood more, but often heard it wrong because Australian English sounds like the speakers only say the first syllable and they slur the rest of the words, saying them very fast.

Don’t lie bitch, he said, ignoring my accent and broken English. Then he knocked me onto the ground and jumped on top. Marlene, he said, you’ve been a very bad girl, and now I’ll have to teach you a lesson.

I’m not Marlene! I screamed in German. The afternoon got hellish after that.

Abbie

I’d been insane. There was no other explanation. It had all seemed so possible. It had even sounded like fun when I’d signed up for this. Now too late, I knew better.

What had I been thinking? Sure I’d beaten the whole field of girls in the 1800m track event in high school, by a lap. Truly, I was reasonably fit for someone who did a Pilates and yoga class every week. This though, was something else. I hadn’t realized as soon as you turned eighteen your fitness plummeted! The leader for the ‘walk’ had not said we’d be climbing Everest at the speed you’d do the 100m dash. What was even more humiliating was there was a granny in the leading group of ‘walkers’. A granny! How the hell did someone with that many wrinkles even walk, let alone climb with a pack like that?

The walk program had said this was simple. It said TNtML… I read the fine print. That meant some ‘Tracked walks’, some walks with ‘No tracks’, ‘Medium difficulty’, and a ‘Long walk’. When I thought about it that just seemed to mean we’d get to see some real bush, away from the tourists, and it had to be long. It was a weekend trip. I’d reasoned any mobile adult could walk the 26 kilometers we’d be doing in two days without a problem. I hadn’t realized the program was a lie. It should have read SRMPtC75%, or scrambling over rocks and mud on poor tracks while climbing up a grade of at least 75% in most bits! Fortunately for the moment there was finally a track, even if it was practically vertical.

Then there was my other dilemma. The one that hadn’t yet humiliated me, but would if I didn’t find a quiet corner very, very soon… In Kilcoy we’d stopped for dinner at this little place with awesome greasy burgers and potato wedges crisped just right. None of the rest of the club had eaten; they’d just grabbed drinks or chocolate bars. I had grabbed a chicken burger with the works and wedges. I’d been starving, since I hadn’t eaten all day. I was regretting it now. Either the food had gone straight through me and was insistently demanding I let something else out the exit now, or I had food poisoning.

Behind me about one meter and walking as if he was losing his patience was the 2IC, or second in charge. He didn’t call himself that, but he was. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him.

So, he said. You’re a PE teacher huh?

Yeah, I said briefly. I was. It was the kids who ran around. I blew whistles. It’s an important job blowing whistles. Not for the faint hearted. Not just anyone can do it.

Hmmm. he said.

I wanted to slap him upside the head, but I didn’t because if this all got too much I needed him to carry me out. He looked strong enough to do it. He was carrying a pack three times the size of mine, and walking up the cliff behind me. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Think Tarzan or George of the Jungle, but clothed more discreetly and you’ve got the picture. Incredibly strong, well-honed muscles, but not the kind you saw in Mr Universe competitions – the kind you used.

Just then my belly gave another gurgle, and I knew I’d run out of time. I couldn’t keep hoping the ‘short walk’ to the camp site was going