Wistful in Wisconsin

his brow. “Why would I need to bring her?” He’d have to spend a half-hour or more with her if he drove her out.
Her no-nonsense look hinted at the steely determination that made this woman such a wonderful wife and mother. “She’s more likely to come if you drive her here. And, anyhow,” she shook a finger in his face. “This is your plan, not mine.”
“Yes, my plan. Such as it is.” He snorted and held a hand over his heart. “Thanks for being a fellow conspirator in my hour of misery.”
Then he grew serious, all sarcasm gone from his voice. “Really, I am desperate.” His shoulders slumped. “Not so much for myself. For her.”
With one eyebrow raised, Myra tapped a finger to her lips. Speculation sparkled in her eyes. He looked at her blankly for a moment and then went pale.
“No, don’t even think it.” His head whipped from side to side. “I am not in love.”
A chorus of giggles sounded from just beyond the kitchen. His nieces obviously thought his discomfort was hilarious. Definitely just like their father, who roared with laughter so that the startled baby started in crying.
Myra reached for her son. He pulled at her front and rooted his nose in her dark blouse. With a sigh, she looked from Fred to her husband. “Definitely two of a kind when it comes to love.”
As she left the room, she called over her shoulder to him. “Three days from now. Come right after lunch.”

Chapter 3
The Remembering
The man gripped her naked legs while female hands held her pinned down on the bed. The terrible man, from one of the lumber camps, taunted her, telling her to stop fighting.
In her dream, the hands on her shoulders became chains. The man transformed into her stepmother, telling her she should give in. “Do what I tell you!” she’d scream at Lilah.
Her stepmother disappeared. The monster from last summer was back. Lilah twisted in her blankets as she relived the moment. She screamed at the man and cursed his future. In desperation, her mind escaped from what was being done to her. It searched and found a scene she’d read in one of the novels she regularly devoured.
Wilhelmina, the heroine, faced a fate worse than death. When the villain ripped at her clothes, she had cursed him. Of course, after that in the novel, the hero rushed in and saved her.
Irrationally, Lilah’s mind argued that if she laid a curse on this man then her hero would arrive. She’d try anything at this moment as she struggled to knee the man who held her prisoner.
“May you never father children. May you shrivel and waste away. If there’s any justice, your family line is done.”
Even now, in a nightmare, she felt the pain. His hand slapped her face, bringing a gush of blood from both sides of her lips. Amazingly, she hadn’t lost any teeth. Also, surprisingly, the women holding her down didn’t release her. One whimpered, but they held onto her.
“You’ll give in now. When I’m done with ya, I’m expectin’ ya to take back yer curse.” She blocked out the foul names he’d called her. Those taunting words were harder to forget. Maybe because of what happened next.
With a scream, Lilah jerked awake. The silent emptiness comforted her after the vivid dream. No one had heard her cry out. The soundless room meant she was alone and safe.
Taking in a deep breath, she held it. Then, slowly, Lilah allowed the air to seep past her lips. A tremor went through her, and she repeated the breathing exercise. This time she focused on her hands, feeling warmth rush into them, the way the doctor taught her.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, the girl let her legs dangle as she ran a shaky hand over her brown hair. Odd, but touching her hair had always been a comfort to her.
Months had passed since the experience. She grumbled out loud to chastise herself.
“Nine months, Lilah! Why are you torturing yourself with something that happened nine months ago?”
Wanting to rationalize her fear she continued talking aloud. “It will take time. A woman doesn’t just forget being kidnapped and taken to a brothel.”
A tremble went through her. She breathed deeply and waited for warmth to rush to her hands. “Focus on something else,” kind Doctor Weber told her. Maybe this night she would do something to change her life.
“If only.” Two simple words. They left her mouth with all the anguish she felt trapped inside.
If only what? If only she’d never come to Idyll Wood, Wisconsin? If only Fred Sittig would see they needed each other?
Dreams were odd. Why did she never dream about Fred rescuing her?
She hugged shaky arms around her middle and remembered. In her mind, she saw the man reach for a rope. He looped one end around her foot and tied it to the bedpost. As he reached for another, a tremendous crack thundered in the room. The beast froze and all heads turned toward the ruined door.
A blonde giant shoved aside the wooden remnants. That same gorgeous man who had invited her out for lunch only the day before, when she’d arrived in Idyll Wood. He stepped into the room, gun drawn and took command of the situation.
“Lay down on the floor. Now!”
The brothel customer immediately flopped to the floor. In an irony that she happily remembered, her rescuer used the rope the scoundrel had meant for her. He’d bound the man tightly, bringing a cry of pain from him.
“Be glad I’m a sheriff so I can’t bust you in the mouth. Appears to me that’s what you did to that girl there.”
Sheriff Fred Sittig. That night, as he whipped off his long duster and covered her with it,