Dim sunlight filtered through the haze of a day that held the scent of rain. Quiet waves whispered their barely perceptible sound to the sandy shore while a chipmunk foraged in last fall’s matted leaves. It was there – in a large mass, hardened by rain, wind, and cold – that she found it.

The chipmunk dug into the leaves, pulling them apart, and tugged at it – still shiny in its plastic packet – then, finding it too heavy, yet too delightful to abandon, dragged it to a bush under which she disappeared. She traveled slowly, pushing and pulling her treasure through her burrow’s path until she reached an impressive stash of nuts and seeds, berries and mushrooms. She placed her new acquisition alongside of the rest. Chipping with satisfaction, she nudged her jellybean-sized pups, still too blind to see what the excitement was about.

It was here. I know it was, he mumbled to himself. He’d stolen it from an employer last fall and hidden it just to be sure he wouldn’t be blamed. Now that winter was past and his job was, too, he’d cash it in. No one could outsmart him.

And two little eyes peered out at him from underneath a bush.

Images: pexels-sam-forson-987967.jpg; pexels-michael-steinberg-321464.jpg; “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, attributed to Margaret Hungerford in her novel Molly Bawn, 1878; “Justice, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.” Zora Neale Hurston

Here’s a peek at the first page of a project I’m working on: the sequel to Mrs. Covington’s Sunday School Dropouts. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1

We’d all like to see into the future, Colin. But we rarely consider whether we’d actually like what we see, which is why the hope and a future scripture in Jeremiah that everyone is so fond of might not turn out quite like we imagine.

“Yes?”

“Oh, hello. I don’t believe we’ve spoken since Andi’s Christmas party! Ha. Just a second . . .”

Cathy grabbed a BB gun from the broom closet, kicked the screen door open with her foot, and took the shot.

“Get him?”

Harry made whining noises and Cathy let him out.

“Heh heh. I do have some luck once in awhile. What can I do for you Police Chief Jasper?”

“Why don’t you put the gun away and sit down.”

“Wha . . . why?” Cathy peered out the window, then set the BB gun back in its rack just inside the broom closet. “Is it Andi? Oh my dear. She said she was having lunch with you sometime this week. Is she okay?!”

“Are you sitting down?”

A chair scraped across the floor as Cathy pulled it out and sat down.

The chief cleared his throat.

“We’ve discovered something in the matter of your husband, Perry’s, disappearance. When would you be available to come down to the station to go over some things?”

Cathy patted her chest. Her heart’s thumping could surely be heard through the phone lines.

“Now! I can come now!”

“Or tomorrow morning?”

“Oh. Okay?’

“Okay. Check in at the front doors, and they’ll direct you to the proper office.”

“I’ll be there first thing. Thank you . . .”

“Thank you,” Jasper replied as he hung up.

Cathy looked at the phone still in her hand, and brushed a tear away.

Image: pexels-anna-khomutova-5706336.jpg; Mrs’ Covington’s . . . (c.) 2021, Connie Pease, All Rights Reserved