Shepherd’S Wife

By Axiom Gray

She bit down hard on her lip to stifle a scream of panic. It was Beau. He was waiting for her to come insidehe was waiting to meet her at the door. His evil thoughts poured from his mind like a nest of fire ants in Minas brain. In an instant, Mina knew everything that she was in store for if she turned that knob and continued on in.

Mina Shepherd, an average suburban wife, lives with a secret: she can hear peoples thoughts. Her entire life, she has struggled to keep the voices of others out of her own head. Though the knowledge tempts her, she often finds the truth to be an unwanted burden. Between being psychic and being terrorized by her abusive husband, Beau, her life is a cage from which she believes she will never be freed. That is until she realizes hearing thoughts is only the beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499027044

Axiom Gray

Axiom Gray is a Michigan author, who has written science fiction and horror for teens and adults. His current work, Shepherd’s Wife, is an adult science fiction published by Xlibris Publishing. His latest project is a continuation of his teen fiction saga: Irth, published in 2010.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

A five year old girl stood in front of a pink bordered mirror, swinging her sparkling blue skirt of her new princess dress. Black mascara streaked in all directions around her eyes like a fan, and her lips seemed to melt red as the overabundance of lipstick she had caked on almost dripped down her chin. Her soft, golden hair danced about her face as she spun in circles, giggling and singing a made up song of how there has never been a prettier princess in all the land.

What’s going on here? a sharp voice came from the girl’s bedroom door. A taller, blonde woman poked her head in with a feigned expression of disapproval. The little girl’s shocked countenance melted away into glee.

Mommy! she half ran, half skipped to the door. The woman gathered her daughter up into her arms and kissed her cheek.

I see someone found mommy’s makeup.

Aren’t I pwetty, mommy?

"My goodness, what a beautiful princess you are."

Mommy, can we pway pwincesses togetho?

Smiling brightly, the woman replied, Of course, little girl. We need to wake daddy up for work, first.

Okay!

Then how about some breakfast?

Pancakes!

Ah yes, the perfect food for growing princesses. The woman carried her daughter down the hallway towards the master bedroom. Quietly, she opened the door, revealing a bed with one large lump beneath the metallic gray comforter. She smiled at the child in her arms.

Shh, the daughter put a little index finger to her lipstick drenched lips, pulling away some of the red coating onto her finer.

Laughing quietly to themselves, the mother tiptoed across the bedroom carpet. The coarse snoring emanating from beneath the blanket made the daughter start to giggle, but her mother covered her mouth. They stared down at the dark-haired man drooling on the pillow, his prickling whiskers peppered his face.

Ready? the mother whispered to her daughter; her hand still gently covering the child’s mouth. The little girl smiled behind the hand and nodded. The woman mouthed one… two… three.

Daaadyyy! the little girl yelled as her mother plopped her on top of the sleeping man.

He sputtered and gasped, nearly knocking the girl off of him. His wide eyes softened when he realized he had been attacked by a toddler. Holy cow, baby girl! You nearly gave your poor daddy a heart attack. He blinked hard a couple times to focus them, and he laughed heartily when he noticed the mess of makeup smearing his daughter’s face. I hope you saved some lipstick for your mommy, he said and kissed his daughter on the cheek. He looked over at his wife, who smiled warmly from the side of the bed.

Good morning, honey, she said.

Did you have to let the Clown-Princess ambush me?

It was all her idea.

Nuh-uh! the little girl protested with a pouting face and furrowed brow. Both man and woman chuckled at the cuteness of the child. Gasping dramatically, she looked back at her mommy. Pancakes?

Yes, her mother giggled. Now, we can have pancakes.

That sounds amazing, the daddy replied, lifting his daughter up above him; inciting laughter from the small child.

Honey, be careful.

Oh, Sarah, relax, he said, his laughter had a hint of annoyance. He lowered the girl onto the ground beside the bed. First one to the table is a rotten egg.

She smiled and sniffed his face. Eww! You smell, wotten egg! she laughed and sprinted from the room, her frilly dress bouncing around behind her.

Laughing, the woman shook and sighed: Oh, that girl.

Have you told her, yet? he asked.

How can I, Max?

How can you not?

Just one more day, she said, sniffing back tears. I just want her to have one more good day with us. Can we please just do that?

He sighed and left the bed, his blue, wrinkled boxers clung to his hairy legs. His white, tank top accented his muscles. There was a time that his physique once made Sarah swoon. However, everything had changed. They tried to remain normal and happy in front of their daughter, but it was an illusion; one which neither of them could continue any longer.

I think prolonging it is cruel.

Sarah laughed satirically. It’s cruel regardless when we tell her. You act like this was my choice, Maxwell.

Hey! he snapped. They stopped and listened for their daughter to come running back in and seeing what the loud noise was. The small child’s voice was singing the princess song she had made up, completely unaware of the argument taking place in the other room. They looked back at each other, and he continued more quietly. Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, here. If you hadn’t done what you did.

I know, all right? I know. It was stupid of me to think you could be trusted with the truth.

"Oh right. It’s all my fault. It’s my fault my wife is a freak, and now maybe my daughter is too."

Shut up, she hissed. The bedroom walls trembled slightly as if in response to her words. He looked around the room, his eyes wide. She shook her head at him and sneered. Insect.

He gulped hard and did not respond. They stared hard at each other for a few moments before a small voice shouted from the other room. Am I the only one who wants pancakes?

Sarah broke away from her glare and opened the door to leave. He whispered. Sarah!

She reluctantly looked back at him with a hateful scowl. What?

For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.

I don’t want your apology, Maxwell. Save it for your daughter. Sarah left the room, donning her mask of happiness and contentment before entering the kitchen. Her daughter sat in a tall wooden chair at the dining room table, her little legs swinging gleefully. Sarah smiled warmly at her and began unloading the ingredients for pancakes.

Why are you and daddy so mad at each other? she asked.

Sarah nearly dropped the box of pancake mix. Wh-What? she asked. H-How did you… I mean, what makes you think daddy and I are upset, little girl?

I could hear you.

Oh, honey, Sarah sighed. Were you using your outside ears or your inside ears?

The little girl smiled sheepishly. Inside ears.

Willamina Rose Carrigan, Sarah admonished, placing her hands on her hips. What did I tell you about listening in on other people’s thoughts?

I’m sawwee, mommy, she replied. Her lipstick covered lips trembled and big blue eyes watered.

Sarah moved over to her daughter and hugged her. It’s okay, little girl. She pulled away and cradled her little cheeks in her hands. Looking into her eyes, she continued. We have to be careful, Mina. Do you remember why?

Because it’s a secret. Mina whispered.

That’s right. Sarah smiled. "It’s a very important secret. We can’t ever tell anyone. Okay?

Okay, mommy, Mina giggled, happy her mother was not upset.

Good. Now, let’s make some pancakes!

Yay!

Sarah put her blonde hair up in a ponytail as she re-entered the kitchen. She had made pancakes on several occasions for her daughter, so her hands nearly moved independently from her will as they opened cupboards and the refrigerator door collecting the ingredients to make pancake batter. A tune came to her mind and she began humming it as she freed a skillet from its cage beneath the oven.

What song are you singing, mommy?

Sarah shook a can of oil spray and coated the black surface of the pan. She looked back to Mina and replied. It’s a love song, sweetie. Because I love you!

Teach me! Teach me! the little girl bounced in her chair with excitement.

Smiling, Sarah returned to adding the ingredients into a mixing bowl and began singing the verses of the tune out loud for her daughter:

Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars.

Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.

In other words, hold my hand. In other words, darling, kiss me.

Fill my heart with song, so I may sing forevermore.

You are all I’ve hoped for; all I worship and adore.

In other words, please me true. In other words, I love you.

The words came to her lips so easily. It was one of her favorite songs. She was not a rock star, but her voice was still pleasant. The little girl squealed her approval and clapped. Sarah curtsied dramatically. Thank you! Thank you!

You should be a pwofeshabull singer, mommy.

Professional, sweetheart, Sarah lovingly corrected. "And thank you, but I’m not that good." Lifting the bowl up, she poured its contents into three small circles on the skillet. Immediately, a hiss erupted from the skillet and a cloud of smoke rose up, perfuming the kitchen with the alluring scent of pancakes.

Smells good, Max yawned as he came into the kitchen.

Sarah tried not to frown. She poked at the sizzling pancake batter with a spatula for a few moments before deciding to scoop them up and flip them onto the other side. Perfect, she mumbled with a glimmer of pride at the golden brown skin of the pancakes.

Mmm yes you are, Max said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She cringed at his touch, but she knew he was just trying to keep up appearances. He had no idea that the little girl sitting in the dining room, swinging her tiny legs off the ground, already knew they were fighting; that she was special just like her mother. He suspected, but Sarah prayed he would never discover it for certain. His grip around her waist tightened, and she could hear his pleading thoughts begging her forgiveness.

She swallowed a sorrowful sigh that crawled up her throat. She knew he had buckled under fear. It was an understandable cowardice. The things she could do were so far beyond most people’s reality to comprehend; seen only in science fiction books and movies. In his pathetically simple mind, Max was trying to help. However, he could not have picked a worse individual from whom to seek help. Sarah bit her bottom lip, willing the panic away. She had directed all her anger and fear at Max. He was the nark; the most convenient patsy for the blame. Although, she knew who the blame truly fell upon. It was hers. It was her secret to keep; her gamble that she lost.

A speck of hot grease leapt off the skillet and landed on Max’s hand. He pulled away quickly. Yeowch! He shook his hand and shrugged the pain off and smiled so to not alarm Mina who was staring at him with concern. He shot a sharp glare back at Sarah.

She raised an eyebrow and mouthed, it wasn’t me. Ever since she had told Max the truth and demonstrated her abilities after he laughed at her, thinking her insane, he has jumped at every shadow and creak in the house thinking it somehow a manifestation of Sarah’s will.

"Will you get me a few plates… dear?" Sarah asked with a contrived smile.

"Of course… honey."

Max returned with three glass plates from the cupboard, and Sarah loaded them with pancakes. Okay, take these to the table and feed that baby before she starves, she said loudly so her little girl would hear.

Pancakes! she shouted gleefully.

Max entered the dining room and served the patient child. In a few moments, the whole family sat at the table and began feasting. Sarah savored every bite, trying to commit every second she had left with her daughter to memory. It would not be long. They would be coming for her.

Sipping on some milk, Mina sat back in her chair and released a tiny burp; a milk mustache lined the caked lipstick on her lips. Sarah and Max both burst into laughter. Oh, little girl, Sarah chuckled. I love y—

A high-pitched doorbell rang through the house. Sarah looked away towards the door and could not think of who might be visiting at such an early hour. Max wiped his mouth with a napkin and left his seat with a tired groan. I’ll get it.

Wait, Sarah said. She could feel a pressure building on the other side of the door. It was someone… like her.

It’s probably the UPS guy.

Max! Wait! she started for the door, but Max had already opened it.

A deep voice came from the other side. Good morning, Mr. Carrigan.

Max gulped and glanced over at Sarah, who covered her mouth to stifle a cry. No! It’s too soon! Not now. Please, God, no!

May we come in? the voice asked.

Uh, I wasn’t really expecting you gentlemen, Max replied.

Mommy? What’s wong?

Quiet, Mina, Sarah turned and whispered. She tapped into her daughter’s thoughts and said to her: We’re going to play a game, sweetheart. Does that sound fun?

Her little eyes grew to the size of saucer plates. She smiled and nodded vigorously.

Okay, honey. You go hide and be very, very quiet. Mama is going to count to ten. Go, now!

Covering her mouth, the little girl could barely contain her elation as she dashed away from the table and headed for the basement to hide. Sarah wiped away a tear from her cheek and continued to listen to Max’s conversation; vainly hoping her witless husband could somehow convince the men at the door to leave and not bother them again.

One of the men at the door replied: Yes, well, we don’t really have the luxury of calling ahead and setting up an appointment.

Max nodded and faked a laugh. Yeah, I guess you boys don’t. Well, gosh, I’m real sorry you made the trip all the way out here. Uh, Sarah’s uh… Sarah’s not here.

Ugh, weak. Sarah rolled her eyes at Max’s painfully transparent lie.

"Mr. Carrigan, you’re right. We have come a long way. Too long to have you stand here and lie to us. Now, do yourself a favor and let us in."

Guys, guys, there’s no need to get so upset.

Last chance, Max, the man at the door said.

"Hey, look buddy. This is my house. Now, I think you boys should just turn around and—" Max’s voice cut off. He gasped and clutched at his throat as if some invisible hand were trying to strangle him.

Idiot. Sarah sighed. Mina was not watching. Sarah’s vindictive side had no qualms letting the bastard die. He had betrayed her trust and brought these men here. However, Max’s death would only cause more problems than it would solve. Sarah racked her mind for a solution; a way out. However, they were trapped. She could gather Mina up and escape out the backdoor, but a life on the run was not fit for a child. Mina deserved better than that. The men had only come for one psychic. Sarah sniffed, choking back sorrowful tears as her only choice was made clear.

She looked back to the basement door. She could hear Mina’s playful giggles as she waited for her mommy to come and find her to complete the game. With a heavy heart, she made her decision and walked across the kitchen. She placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. The invisible hands seemed to release and he fell to the ground, choking and coughing. Leave him alone. I’m the one you want.

You’ve got a lot to answer for, Sarah, a lengthy man in a gray suit said with a hint of worry in his words. He knew who she was and what she of what she was capable.

I could say the same for you.

Where’s the girl? the other short and chubby man asked. His suit was a pale yellow. Sarah knew them both. The gray-suited man was Tony. The short, fat one was Bernard.

What girl?

You’re a worse liar than this sack of shit, Bernard chuckled.

You’re looking at the only girl in this house, Tony.

You’re lying. He said you had a daughter.

"Had is the operative word there, Sarah replied coolly. I was pregnant with baby girl, but there were complications, and I miscarried." She had become so adept at lying, the story came to her as easily as breathing. She could feel them reaching for he mind to confirm her story. However, she knew how to keep them out.

Bernard’s chubby face began to redden with frustration. "He will want to talk to you, nonetheless."

Oh, I’m sure he and I have nothing left to say to each other, she said.

Our orders, Sarah, Tony replied. Are to bring you and the girl back. That’s what we’re going to do.

Let’s be honest, here. You need me to go willingly. There’s no way you have the power to drag me out of this place.

There was silence for a moment. Sarah chuckled darkly and then continued. This is the deal. I go with you. You leave Max alone, forever.

You know we can’t do that.

"Those are my terms. I’ll surrender myself entirely, but that’s the condition.

We can’t risk exposure, Sarah.

Oh please. Exposure? As you pointed out earlier, who’s going to believe one word from this sack of shit?

There was another moment of silence as Bernard produced a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. He glared at her until someone picked up the phone on the other end. She could only assume it was… him. Bernard apprised him of the situation and waited for instructions. Meanwhile, Sarah linked with Mina in the basement and listened to her try to hum the new song she learned from her mother. Fwy me to the moon and let me pway among the stars.

She almost wished she had not reconnected with Mina’s thoughts. Hearing her daughter made leaving her behind nearly impossible. However, there was no life for Mina with these men. With Max, she had a chance.

All right, Bernard said, ending his call on his phone. Approval from upstairs. The civilian, Maxwell Carrigan will be pardoned from any further interference. However, if he starts flapping his lips to others about us, Sarah…

Don’t worry, she interrupted. Her eyes met Max’s, who looked away in shame. "I think he’s learned exactly what the consequences are for revealing our secret."

He better have. Bernard said.

Come along then, Sarah. Don’t give us anymore trouble. Tony pleaded.

Sarah sniffed and nodded. She reluctantly broke the connection between her and Mina. Any longer and the two men would sense the psychic presence in the basement and know Sarah was lying. She was doing this for Mina. She had to give her a chance at a normal life. With a heavy sigh, she stepped out of the door with the men in black suits. Her mind pierced into Max’s. You had better take care of her, or so help me, you will regret it!

He broke down on the ground and sobbed. His weakness made her stomach churn. He would have to live with what he had done for the rest of his life. That would be punishment enough.

Mama? Mina’s voice surfaced on its own in Sarah’s head. She must have felt Sarah disconnect them. Mama, are you coming? I’m hiding."

It took everything in her to not fall apart in front of Tony and Bernard. She had to stay stoic and strong. She could not reveal Mina’s existence.

Mama?

Sarah did not respond. She quietly stepped out of the house and followed the two men to their black Cadillac in the driveway. Very inconspicuous, guys.

Shut up and get in, Tony retorted.

Mama. Can you hear me?

Sarah took a deep breath to keep the emotion down in the pit of her stomach. She climbed into the back and slightly sank into the soft, leather seat of the car. She felt a sense of déjà vu, and could swear she had had a nightmare like this; ripped away from her daughter forever.

Mama! Sarah could feel her daughter’s fright. She had to keep her mental wall strong and impervious so as to not draw attention to the psychic link.

Before he closed the door, Tony asked: So, honestly, did you really lose the baby?

I told you what happened already.

He laughed. "Yeah, and I told you, you’re full of shit."

Sarah rolled her eyes at him. I’d be careful how you speak to me. If you haven’t heard, I’m pretty dangerous.

Ha, you wouldn’t dare, he replied.

Sarah turned and narrowed her eyes. She reached deeply into his mind and tugged at his fear response. With some more effort, she felt her mind grip his throat and squeeze. He choked and squirmed beneath her power. He was a fly she had between her fingers. A little pressure in the right place, and she could snap his neck like a twig. When you see David in Hell, you can ask him what I wouldn’t dare do.

She pulled her power inward, releasing the man’s throat. He sputtered and growled. You’ll be sorry you did that.

I’m quaking, she said facetiously.

He slammed the door and stomped away to the front of the car. Sarah felt the engine rumble alive and the car pull away from the house. Mina’s thoughts were frantic, and it killed her to listen to them. Mommy! Mommy! Where are you? Are you hiding? I’ll come find you.

Gently, Sarah whispered to her daughter. I love you, little girl. It’s going to be all right. Stay with daddy.

Mommy! Mommy! Come back! The terror of her daughter’s voice sliced through her mind, pulling tears from her eyes. I’ll make you pancakes! I pwomise! Don’t weave me! Sarah’s wall was crumbling. She had to stay strong or her captors would notice something. With a mournful sigh, she severed the mental connection between herself and her daughter. The little voice vanished in her head, and she felt a sharp, physical pain pierce her chest. Stubborn tears began to flow, and she could not will them away any longer.

Goodbye, little girl, she whispered. Please forgive me.

The car sped off down the street, unnoticed by neighbors and denizens. In a few minutes, it turned the corner onto the highway and left the small neighborhood forever.

1

30 years later

Her shaking hand reached for the bottle of ketchup on the second shelf in aisle five of the local grocery store. The hustle and bustle for groceries had thankfully died down a bit since the holidays were over, but Mina was still afraid of making too much of a spectacle with her jittery nerves. Beau hated it when she made too much of a fuss, and when her Beau got angry, there was nothing more terrifying except maybe God Himself. She darted a glance from left to right and the same two older women on either side of her were still there, searching through the spices and powders with their brittle, weathered hands. One was reminiscing about the good old days when chili powder agreed with her stomach, and how her famous enchiladas were single-handedly responsible for winning the heart of Carlos, her husband of 60 years. The elderly Latino woman continued to fidget with the memory, trying to decide if the inevitable heartburn would be worth the savory nostalgia, but as usual her graying wisdom overruled her youthful impulse and she tucked the chili powder back into the holding rack with a bitter sigh. ¡Odio ser vieja! she hissed venomously to herself, and waddled away with her cane in an attempt to get as far away from the tormenting memories as possible.

I hate being old, Mina whispered the words of the regretful Latino woman and considered how fortunate the woman was to have only her old age be the main grievance of her life. Mina could not help herself, listening in on the poor woman’s thoughts. It was something she had always done, even as a child. Ideas and opinions and feelings that were not her own would flood her mind, assimilating themselves into her own thoughts. Over the years, she had thankfully learned to dampen the reception, but when her mind wandered or became heavy with anger, fear or sorrow, the floodgates would reopen and Mina could hear what was on the mind of everyone around her. Her mother had told her once that it was rude to listen in on the private thoughts of others, that it was intrusive. Mina’s mother, Sarah, also had the gift, just like her mother before her.

Mina remembered an instance when she was four years old and she first started hearing thoughts. Her mother had placed her in a corner for a time out after Mina overheard Mr. Dorian next door planning on meeting with another woman on his anniversary. He told Mrs. Dorian that he had a business meeting in Tokyo, and he would be gone for a week. Being the precocious child she was Mina had logically concluded it was her moral duty to march next door and tell on Mr. Dorian. It was only right.

Mina remembered heading over next door to see Mrs. Dorian, who had the most beautiful garden. She watered and managed it every spring and summer in her sunhat and light yellow jumper. Mina, teddy bear in hand, crossed the tree line between the properties, and approached Mrs. Dorian who was delicately removing a wilted snapdragon from its vibrant brethren and replanting a new one in its place to complete the seamless row that stretched across the house; a line of gold, red and electric orange wrapping around the front like a river reflecting the image of a sunset. The enchanting garden had ensnared Mina’s young mind and she had nearly forgotten why she had visited, until Mrs. Dorian noticed the child behind her. Why, hello Mina, Mrs. Dorian greeted the child with a smile that radiated a peace and serenity that Mina wanted to bathe herself in.

I have a secret to tell you… Mina whispered, cupping her little hand to her mouth. Mrs. Dorian giggled, and stood up from the garden brushing the dirt from her dress. Even caked in earth, Mrs. Dorian looked regal when the sunlight touched her.

Well, I have cookies in the oven. Why don’t we have ourselves a little girl talk, and you can tell me all the secrets you want, Mrs. Dorian whispered sweetly back. Removing her gardening gloves, Mrs. Dorian held out her silky smooth hand to Mina. Taking hold of it, Mina skipped happily into the house with Mrs. Dorian.

When Mina was punished for her revelation that day, she thought her mother was angry that she had tattled on Mr. Dorian. She still remembered Mrs. Dorian’s shaking hand clasping hers as the woman led her back home. She had been nearly shivering with fury. However, she never once took out her rage on Mina. She had simply been a child. When Mina’s mother opened the door to find Mrs. Dorian waiting with her daughter outside the door; however, the yelling exploded from her like a geyser. Mrs. Dorian had not believed Mina about her husband’s infidelity, and she had accosted Sarah for spreading odious lies. It was not too long after that when Mina’s mother insisted they move to Michigan. Looking back, Mina knew it was because of what she had done. She had attracted too much attention in the community, and they needed to leave.

Excuse me! an elderly woman’s voice screeched, yanking Mina back from her recollection. Mina glanced over to the side of her, and saw the other elderly woman glaring at her through owl-like trifocals, her wrinkly lips pursed together in a sour expression. Her leathery arms folded over her sagging breasts which were unfortunately visible through her tight light blue top. She tapped impatiently with her left foot on the ground, her orthopedic slip-ons smacking the ground slowly, but steadily. I would like to grab some ketchup before I die, dear! she growled through her stained dentures. Mina quickly stepped aside for the nasty old woman. Mina tried to control herself, but the temptation was too much. What was this woman’s deal? Mina let her mind loosen up and allow the stray thoughts to enter. Margaret Turner, widow of Bernard