The Lady &
Bernie McGee
For Those Who
Believe in Love Above All
Stephen Sulkey
Chapter 1
It began simply enough on a typical, blustery, chilly afternoon in mid-February. A day like any other in the world, yet throughout history, many significant events have started on such ordinary days. Bernie Mary McGee, a spirited fourteen-year-old with fiery red hair flowing behind her, sprinted home from school, accompanied by her two best friends. On her right was Katie Hester, a tall, lively fourteen-year-old with black hair, and on her left was Lyle Canfield, equally tall with brown hair. The trio had been inseparable since their early grade school days in the historic, small, charming coastal town of New Bern, North Carolina.
New Bern is an old city by American standards, founded in 1710, and it once served as the state capital before and after the Revolutionary War. Many of its buildings date back to the Revolutionary era or even earlier. Once a hub of trade and commerce, the town has now transformed into a tourist destination at the confluence of the Neuse and Trent rivers, which flow into the Pamlico Sound—a vast bay sheltered from the North Atlantic by North Carolina’s Outer Banks, a long system of barrier islands stretching for approximately 200 miles along the coast. With a population of just over thirty-one thousand, New Bern is a pleasant and safe place to live and raise a family. This is where Bernie, Katie, and Lyle are growing into adulthood—ordinary American children in a delightful American town.
As they began their first year of high school, their bond was stronger than ever, and it was evident that they would remain friends for life. One teacher affectionately dubbed them “The Three Amigos” for their legendary escapades throughout their school years, while some classmates humorously called them “The Three Stooges.” Regardless of the names they were given, they were all kind-hearted early teens, never mean-spirited, and a source of pride for their parents—and, albeit sometimes almost begrudgingly, their teachers. Each morning, they would meet at a designated spot in town and walk to school together in a near-military fashion, much like the soldiers of the Revolutionary War. Every afternoon, they would either walk or run home as a tight-knit trio.
On one particularly damp and cool winter day, however, something most unexpected happened.
Gasping for breath and starting to sweat in the chilly air, the trio finally stopped running at a four-way intersection. To the left, a block down the street, Katie lived in a clapboard beige house that dated back to the 1920s. Lyle’s home was a small white cottage built in 1896, located about half a block farther. Bernie McGee’s route home took her right for one block, then across one more street. Her house was virtually new compared to her friends’ homes, having been built in the 1960s. This was where they always parted ways after each school day.
At fourteen, none of them, nor their parents, worried about their safety in this neighborhood or, for that matter, in New Bern in general. Although crime was not nonexistent, everyone in town knew one another and kept a watchful eye on their neighbors, their homes, their yards, and, most importantly, their children.
“Alright, I’m finished,” Bernie said with a huff, exhaling dramatically as she tried to catch her breath in the winter chill. “I’ll call you later, Katie, about the history assignment, and we can have a wonderful talk about Charlemagne the Great’s rise to power. The Middle Ages are just so incredibly exciting! I cannot wait until we get to the part about the Black Death; it is so cheerful.” She concluded with a chuckle.
Lyle flashed them a knowing grin. “History, right?” he remarked. “More like a talk about some guy in the band or on the football team who is just so hot!” He winked at them. To some degree, he might have known his friends better than they knew themselves, as he was exactly right.
“Lyle!” Katie called out, fully aware that he was correct. They had reached an age where the opposite sex had become a significant interest and a frequent topic of discussion. Any conversation between Bernie and Katie would often include the day’s cutest boy. But oddly enough, even though Lyle would have been on either girl’s list of attractive guys, neither of them saw him that way. Growing up together had solidified such a bond of friendship with him that romance, at least for now, seemed out of the question. Conversely, even though Bernie and Katie were considered pretty by any standard, Lyle did not see them that way either. It simply never crossed their minds.
“Alright, see you later,” Bernie said, waving the back of her right hand as she laughed at the two of them. It had been an ordinary school day, much like countless others before it, and likely many more to follow. At that moment, she had no inkling of the profound changes that lay only minutes ahead.
Now alone, Bernie strolled off, thinking about the assignments she needed to complete that evening. Nothing complicated, just time-consuming. She was proficient at her homework and calculated that it would take no more than an hour—maybe less if she were lucky. Most of it was math homework, one of her best subjects, so she had no worries there. Rarely had she ever been stuck on a problem. She had a brain for figuring, her father often said.
As she walked along, she could feel the winter wind at her back. Overhead, a hawk hovered in the breeze, watching the trees, rooftops, and grounds for prey; any mouse, squirrel, or even small unattended pet would do. If someone looked up, there always seemed to be a seagull, a pelican, a hawk, or some other bird crossing the New Bern sky.
She could have taken a different route, but a third of the way up the street lay an empty lot that had remained untouched since New Bern's beginnings. In such an old town, that was certainly odd, and no one seemed to know the real reason why it was never built upon. The alleged reasons for its desolation were shrouded in mystery and legend. Some claimed it was an Indian burial ground, haunted by the spirits of the long-departed Croatans, the native tribe that inhabited this region of North Carolina before European settlers arrived. This tale, while captivating enough to frighten young Boy Scouts around campfires, lacked any factual basis, especially since no one had ever witnessed a ghost or any other supernatural phenomenon near the lot. There just seemed to be something unspoken that kept homebuilders away from that small patch of ground.
In the heart of a sprawling vacant lot, an ancient Live Oak tree stood, its gnarled branches stretching outward like welcoming arms. This majestic tree had been a mere sapling during the youthful days of George Washington, witnessing historical events unfold as he bravely fought in the French and Indian Wars—before the dawn of American independence. Southern Live Oaks are known for their remarkable longevity, often living for up to 500 years, which is astonishing even among the oldest of trees.
Bernie, like many of the townsfolk, held a deep affection for this venerable giant. Its resilience was evident throughout all seasons, with its small, glossy green leaves remaining steadfast and vibrant. The tree was not just a fixture of the landscape but a living chronicle of the town's history, having observed the relentless march of time through years, decades, and even centuries. There were murmurs among the residents about the possibility of the town acquiring the land surrounding the tree and transforming it into a serene oasis, Old Oak Park, where everyone could gather to appreciate the oak's natural beauty and historical significance.
Each spring, as part of its natural cycle, the Live Oak would shed its older leaves, making way for fresh new growth that kept its appearance evergreen throughout the year. Within the life of this magnificent tree, subtle transformations unfolded over many extended periods—not just the fleeting days or passing months, but decades that would blend into generations. How differently this noble oak perceived the passage of time compared to the fleeting lives of the countless humans who had come and gone throughout its existence!
Bernie stood before the great tree in a state of reverence, feeling a sense of wonder akin to that which one might experience when gazing upon the Pyramids of Giza, the mighty Roman Colosseum, or any other enduring monument that has weathered the tests of time. This Live Oak was not merely a tree; it was a symbol of endurance, resilience, and the rich tapestry of history that connected the past to the present. In some ways, it was a nexus between our world and something else, something eternal.
Still catching her breath and feeling her body cool down from the exhilarating run, Bernie paused to lean against the rough, gnarled bark of the ancient oak tree, a familiar refuge she often sought. The mottled shade it provided offered a much-needed respite from the relentless winter chill that had settled in. Its massive, twisted branches, draped elegantly with strands of Spanish moss, formed a natural canopy, shielding her from the biting, damp wind that swept in from the nearby Neuse and Trent rivers. As she slid down the tree trunk, the coolness of the ground beneath her felt like a soothing balm against her heated skin.
In this sanctuary, there would be time later for the burdens of homework, the chatter of friends, the melodies of her favorite music, and the allure of television shows. But here, in this moment, Bernie McGee had the luxury of solitude where the rhythmic thrum of her heartbeat echoed through her chest, each pulse a reminder of life’s vibrant cadence. With a small, curious bird foraging busily in a corner of the lot, she observed its careful movements. Cautiously, it darted about, glancing back at her as it pecked at the ground. A wave of envy washed over her; how simple its existence seemed—its world revolving around the basic needs of eating, sleeping, and eventually nurturing a new generation of birds. All it had to navigate were the threats posed by prowling domestic and feral cats, as well as the ever-hungry hawks gliding on the currents above.
Her Sunday school teacher had once said that God created man in His image, which led Bernie to ponder the complexity of existence. If that were true, then God must lead an exceedingly intricate life, for she certainly felt the weight of her own complexities. The journey toward adulthood was expected to further complicate that complexity.
In what felt like the blink of an eye, she found herself reflecting deeply on everything: her life thus far, the fabric of her friendships and family ties, her dreams for the future, and the ambitions swirling within her mind. The interplay of fear and excitement danced within her; in just a few short years, she would emerge as a fully formed woman, much like a butterfly breaking free from its chrysalis. What challenges and opportunities awaited her? She wondered if college was a part of her fate. After all, she was a diligent student, and she had the grades to consider applying to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, just like Katie’s older sister had done. The thought of that prestigious institution filled her with a mix of hope and uncertainty.
But alongside that ambition lingered the possibility of a more traditional path, one where she might meet someone special, fall deeply in love, and perhaps spend her life right here in New Bern, just as her mother had. Like every fourteen-year-old, she longed for some kind of answer to the great mystery of her future, yet that answer always seemed to slip through her fingers like grains of sand. Only time, that ever-elusive guide, could reveal what awaited her. Yet the future appeared to her like a double-edged sword, sharp and multifaceted. Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed and looked up into the intricate web of branches that stretched overhead, wishing fervently that someone, anyone, could provide clarity about what lay ahead.
As she ruminated on these thoughts, she suddenly felt a gentle, ethereal burst of soft white light envelop her, reminiscent of lightning's bright flash yet devoid of any storm or thunder. Confused but intrigued, she marveled at this unexpected occurrence. Accompanying the light was a warm, delicate breeze that caressed her left side, its gentleness stark in contrast to the cool air typical of February 11th. This tender gust felt almost surreal in the winter chill, transporting her in her mind to some distant tropical island, with soft palms swaying nearby. The warmth of the breeze nearly lulled her into a brief reverie beneath the sprawling oak, offering a comforting embrace and a sense of profound peace to her restless, questioning soul.
Without warning, however, she instinctively turned her face into the warm breeze, and in an instant of startled awareness, she gasped softly in surprise. Her heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, momentarily losing her balance on the damp grass and leaves beneath her. Just as she felt herself tipping, she steadied herself against the rugged oak, her fingers gripping the rough bark to ground herself.
It was because she saw her, a slender woman standing less than ten feet away on the lot. Bernie had been so engrossed in her thoughts that the woman’s approach had gone completely unnoticed, and her sudden appearance startled her profoundly.
Their eyes locked, a deep connection formed in the space between them, infused with an unspoken comprehension that transcended the limitations of language. It was as if their souls were engaged in a delicate dance, conveying emotions and thoughts too profound to be captured in mere words. The moment lingered, thick with unexpressed feelings, creating a bridge that drew them closer together in a world where silence spoke volumes.
Bernie felt an overwhelming surge of emotion swell within her chest, a mixture of awe and curiosity that threatened to spill over. In all her fourteen years, she had never encountered anyone quite like the woman standing gracefully before her. This woman exuded an astonishing beauty that surpassed any standard she had ever known. It was not merely her physical features that captivated Bernie; it was an ethereal quality that seemed to emanate from the depths of her very soul.
The woman had long, flowing hair as dark as the deep night sky, cascading in soft waves that framed her face. Her eyes, a striking shade of deep brown, sparkled with an intensity that was at once youthful and yet ancient. They held a warmth that drew Bernie in, yet they also carried the weight of wisdom, suggesting this woman had seen and experienced an eternity beyond Bernie’s young years. Her skin was a rich, olive tone—a unique and warm complexion that caught the afternoon sunlight, lending her presence an almost enchanting glow.
Dressed in a pure, white sweater that contrasted beautifully with her skin and hugged her figure just enough to suggest both comfort and style, she paired it with faded blue jeans that seemed to speak of countless adventures. What caught Bernie off guard, however, were the golden sandals the woman wore. They were adorned with tiny, intricate roses, their elegance rendering them enchanting against the chill of the winter day. This was no ordinary choice of footwear for the season, and it piqued Bernie's curiosity even further.
Around the woman’s neck hung a small silver cross on a delicate chain, which seemed to capture and reflect the sunlight filtering through the ancient Live Oak tree and the draping Spanish moss that adorned its branches. The crystal beads along the chain sparkled like tiny stars, enhancing the almost magical aura surrounding her.
Yet there was infinitely more to this woman than just her striking appearance. It was in her eyes—the way they glimmered with a youthful energy that belied an undeniable depth. Bernie felt something akin to reverence as she realized these eyes seemed older than she was, older than her parents, and perhaps even older than New Bern itself, the town in which they stood. They seemed to harbor secrets and experiences that could thrill and frighten her in equal measure, mirroring her apprehension about her own uncertain future.
Who is she? Bernie pondered, her mind racing with questions. The urge to retreat from the lot crept into her thoughts, but instinctively, she tightened her grip on the pile of books she carried, raising them slightly as if they could offer her protection against whatever unknowns lay ahead. Yet, an electric pull held her in place, and she found herself unable to turn away. The stranger was not just captivating; there was a magnetic quality to her presence that promised intrigue.
Was there danger? A fleeting thought crossed Bernie’s mind, momentarily igniting a flicker of fear. But as she continued to study the woman, she felt a reassuring intuition rise within her, affirming that this radiant figure before her could not possibly harbor any intentions of harm.
“Please,” the woman spoke softly, her tone imbued with a serene warmth that enveloped the space between them. Her voice was calm and inviting, like the warm, gentle breeze on this cool day. “There is no need to be afraid of me. I am here only to talk with you. I would never cause you any harm.”
The way she spoke surprised Bernie; there was a unique blend of formality and friendliness in her words, laced with a slight accent that Bernie couldn't quite place. As the woman extended her right hand, her fingers appeared elegant and poised, each movement imbued with a grace reminiscent of a world-renowned ballet dancer performing an intricate routine. She stood there with an unmatched tranquility, her expression patient as she waited for Bernie’s response, her posture relaxed yet composed.
“I am sorry,” Bernie replied, her own voice softening, the initial edge of caution retreating as she sensed the kindness radiating from the woman. “You caught me off guard. I didn’t hear you coming, and I certainly did not intend to be rude. My Mom and Dad would not like that at all.”
The stranger nodded her understanding. “Then I must apologize if I startled you, Bernie,” she said, her smile gentle and reassuring, like a soft ray of sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. “I did not intend to.”
Bernie felt a wave of panic wash over her. How did she know my name? Confusion bubbled up inside her, churning her thoughts into a tempest. She was keenly aware that she had never encountered this woman before. Who was she, truly?
“Do I know you?” Bernie asked cautiously, her voice tinged with measured suspicion as she scrutinized the woman before her. The lady's striking beauty, coupled with her strange, enchanting accent, made Bernie think she would surely remember her if she ever met her.
But the lady’s smile seemed to hold an indescribable power, captivating Bernie in a way that left her breathless. It was like witnessing a spring sunrise, as it gently melted away the remnants of winter’s cold grasp. In that fleeting moment, all of Bernie’s fears suddenly began to dissipate, replaced by a deep sense of warmth and flickering hope. She lowered her defensive stance, feeling a touch foolish for having raised her guard in the first place.
“Yes, I suppose you do know me, Bernie,” the lady continued, her voice like a soothing melody. “But we can discuss all that later. For now, I would like to express my wish to be your friend. I vividly remember being fourteen and living in a town even smaller than this one, and I know all too well how challenging it can feel. I want you to know that I am here for you.”
“For me?” Bernie echoed, a mixture of surprise and curiosity fluttering within her. Her mind raced with questions as she processed the woman’s words. What was she really saying to her?
Yet, alongside the tender invitation, another wave of concern washed over Bernie, instilling hesitation in her heart. Her mother had always instilled in her a crucial caution: be wary of strangers and the ever-present "stranger danger," particularly those who claimed to want to help or offer lovely gifts. There were many unpredictable individuals in the world, some of whom sought to isolate others, often harboring dangerous intentions. How could someone so exquisite and graceful possibly mean harm? The notion seemed almost unfathomable.
As if attuned to the turmoil swirling within her, the lady gently shook her head from side to side, her smile unwavering, assuring Bernie of her sincerity.
“No, Bernie,” she said gently, her voice carrying a warmth that dispelled any lingering unease. “I would never do anything to hurt you. In fact, I have never caused harm to anyone in my entire life.” With a soft smile, she gestured toward the expansive oak tree, its thick trunk and sprawling branches casting a welcoming shade. “Come, let us sit and talk beneath this magnificent old tree. I noticed you here earlier, lost in thought, so I’d like to join you.”
With her fear now melted away, Bernie felt a sense of assurance wash over her as she settled against the sturdy oak. She let her back rest against its rough bark, grateful for its strength and stability. Soon after, the lady approached, her demeanor serene as she took a seat beside Bernie, seemingly savoring the moment's tranquility. For a brief pause, both of them gazed upward, admiring the intricate network of twisted branches that intertwined high above. Sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting a dappled glow over the lady’s face and hair, which struck Bernie as one of the most beautiful sights she had ever encountered.
“So, how do you like your school?” The woman inquired, raising her eyebrows in a way that suggested she genuinely wanted to know, hoping to guide the young girl into a comfortable conversation.
“It’s fine,” Bernie replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m doing really well in my studies, and I’m mainly enrolled in AP courses.”
“AP?” The woman tilted her head slightly, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion as she struggled to grasp the reference.
“Yeah, it stands for Advanced Placement. It’s for the students who are, well, a bit more advanced, I guess. I have good grades, and my mom says I’d get bored in regular classes—there wouldn’t be any challenge. Since I’m enjoying school and don’t have any trouble with my classes, I think she’s right.”
“I see,” she said with an understanding nod, her eyes reflecting empathy. “That does make sense. I never had much of an opportunity for education myself. Where I grew up, girls weren’t allowed to attend school; it was only the boys who got that chance.”
“Really? That’s so weird,” Bernie exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. “Not in this town! My parents are really supportive, and they want me to go to college. But I’m still trying to figure out what I want to study. I really enjoy all the STEM subjects, and I think I’m good at them, so maybe a scientist is in my future?”
“STEM?” The lady asked again, her interest again piqued, her brow furrowing in confusion.
“Wow, you really must not be from around here,” Bernie remarked with a playful tone. “STEM stands for science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Dad always says I’m curious about how things work, and I like to take them apart, so that engineering might be a good fit for me. But I’m not entirely sure yet. Chemistry is also something I enjoy, so who knows? I still have time to figure it all out.”
The lady nodded thoughtfully, clearly trying to relate to Bernie’s experience.
“Where I grew up, we didn’t have any of those opportunities. The world was a vastly different place back then,” she stated, her gaze drifting into the distance as if she could still visualize the life she had left behind.
“Wow, that sounds like a completely different world,” Bernie said, her excitement bubbling up. “I’d love to hear more about it. It sounds like a place I’ve never even considered before. Was it really different from here?”
“Yes,” the woman responded, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “It would be very foreign to you—not at all like the United States. We had entirely different customs, multiple languages, and nearly everything about life was distinct from the life here in New Bern.”
“Geography wasn’t my best subject,” Bernie admitted, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. “But you really must tell me about your home. I want to know where you came from! Maybe one day I can visit other places like Asia, Africa, or Europe. I don’t think those places would be better or worse than good old New Bern, just different. But it would be so cool to see them firsthand.”
They engaged in a long, deep conversation that felt rich and illuminating. The topics wove effortlessly through their shared experiences—school, Bernie’s parents, and the myriad concerns that crowded the mind of a teenager standing on the precipice of adulthood. Bernie McGee felt as though the very act of speaking with this woman was a sanctuary, a safe haven where she could express herself without filters or fears. Words poured from her like a waterfall, unearthing emotions and thoughts she had kept locked away even from her closest friends, Katie and Lyle, and even her own parents. There was an ease to the exchange, as if the barriers that usually existed between total strangers had dissolved into thin air.
As the lady spoke, all of Bernie’s worries—her insecurities about high school, her fears about growing up, and her uncertainties about the future—seemed to fade into the background. This woman, whom Bernie guessed was likely in her thirties based on her appearance, shared stories from her childhood with an exuberance that transported Bernie to a time long past. She recounted vivid tales of friendships formed in a peculiar, distant land with strange customs that fascinated Bernie yet left her bewildered. They spoke of a time when the woman was just fourteen or fifteen, living a life that felt worlds away from Bernie’s own. She described her home as occupied by an immense foreign power—an expansive empire that impacted daily lives and muzzled dissent with overwhelming military force. It was as if a dull ache of curiosity was about to become a full inquiry; Bernie speculated it might be one of the small, lesser-known countries nestled near Russia. She struggled to comprehend the intricacies of the woman's experiences, regretting that her history and world studies lessons hadn't sunk in more deeply during class.
Suddenly, as the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue through the leaves, Bernie became aware of the time. Frantically, she pulled out her phone and gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief and a rush of adrenaline.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, nearly leaping to her feet. "It's almost six! My parents are going to kill me! I’m so sorry, but I really need to leave now, or I’m totally dead meat!"
The lady smiled knowingly, her expression a blend of amusement and understanding. "I completely understand. You should never displease your parents. But please, promise me that you will come back here."
"Of course, I’m in!" Bernie replied, her enthusiasm bubbling as she felt a flicker of hope for a connection she desperately wanted to nurture. "When do you want to meet again?"
"If you can tomorrow, I’ll be right here waiting for you," the lady stated firmly, her voice warm and inviting.
"Alright then, see you later, alligator!" Bernie called out, a playful wink in her tone, as she dashed toward home. She cast furtive glances back at the lady, reluctantly pulling away, knowing full well the consequences she was about to face at home. Her mind raced; she felt like a hunted deer, aware of her potential fate if caught.
Behind her, the woman waved, a serene smile on her face, as if she knew everything would be alright.
As Bernie made her way home, she couldn’t help but observe the world around her with a newfound appreciation. The lush greenery of the bushes and the towering trees seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Old, charming houses from the 1700s lined her path, each one infused with stories of its own. Dogs and cats lounged lazily on porches, glancing up at her with curious eyes. Above her, birds soared gracefully through the sky, their calls echoing like a symphony. Squirrels chattered in the branches, adding playful notes to the sounds of the evening.
In that moment, a profound shift began to take root within her. Before meeting the lady, her world had been centered around her own experiences: her past filled with mundane concerns, her daily tasks, and the looming uncertainties of her future. Now, however, she felt her entire universe expand outward, stretching toward infinity, as if she had just discovered a portal to broader horizons. What had this mysterious woman done to her? These thoughts lingered in her mind all the way home, igniting an eagerness to speak with her again.
As she burst through the kitchen door, the atmosphere shifted. Her mother, Sarah McGee, cast a piercing glance that could have felled an eagle soaring in the Carolina blue sky. Bernie recognized that look all too well; it was a terrifying harbinger of impending doom.
‘I'm so dead,’ she thought, feeling a chill race down her spine.
“Where have you been, young lady?” Sarah’s voice filled the room, her eyes smoldering with parental anger. Bernie knew that being addressed as "young lady" was the notorious kiss of death; it felt like the fatal kiss in a mobster movie, just before everything went downhill.
“I am so, so sorry! I completely lost track of the time,” Bernie stammered, frantically weighing her words. She braced herself, understanding that she was standing at a precipice between a difficult conversation and a disaster. Honesty was imperative; the woman on the other end of this experience could have passed for a polygraph examiner—no lie would escape her sharp perception. Any falsehood would be exposed immediately, and that would only intensify the inevitable punishment awaiting her.
“I said that if you visit Katie’s after school,” her mother continued, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of exasperation, “there is something known as a telephone. You know that deceptively simple device you seem to have super-glued to your ear most of the time when you are at home. Your dad and I pay for it for reasons beyond simply letting you keep up with your friends 24/7. Like, where the heck are you when you are not where you’re supposed to be?”
Bernie felt a wave of guilt wash over her as her mother’s words echoed in her mind. “I know, I know. I know,” she pleaded, remorse evident on her youthful face. “I made a mistake. I’m so sorry. I truly apologize. I just met someone and lost track of the time.” A pang of anxiety shot through her as she imagined her mother's vehement response, hoping that perhaps the court of her mother would see the sincerity in her eyes and allow her to escape the looming consequences.
Facing the reality of her situation, the young girl hesitated, contemplating whether to reveal the identity of the person she had spent time with. Usually a forthright individual, she knew that honesty was her only defense in this moment. She needed to account fully for her time if she stood any chance of being forgiven.
Sarah McGee paused, clutching a saltshaker lightly in her right hand, the grains inside shaking slightly with her gentle movements. As she pondered the situation, she realized her daughter was reaching an age where young men and their burgeoning charms would soon occupy her thoughts. Maybe... perhaps...
“Is this someone you were with of the male persuasion, by any chance?” she inquired, a playful smirk forming at the corners of her mouth. In New Bern, many good boys were transitioning into young men around Bernie’s age, and despite her husband Jack’s somewhat alarming joke about having a gun, an alibi, and knowing where to hide the bodies, Sarah had always known that serious dating would inevitably begin.
To her surprise, Bernie erupted into laughter at the very notion. The truth couldn’t have been further from what her mother imagined as her thoughts turned to the woman she had met.
“No, Mom! This person is not of the male persuasion at all. She is a lady—the most wonderful and beautiful lady I have ever seen,” Bernie declared, her voice infused with a joyful enthusiasm that was foreign to her mother’s ears. Sarah McGee’s eyes widened in shock as she gazed at her daughter, trying to process the weight of her words.
When Sarah considered the idea of a boy Bernie’s age offering to carry her books, it seemed innocent enough to her—a sweet, harmless gesture in the grand scheme of teenage life. However, a new and unexpected variable had now entered the equation. With that thought, she set the saltshaker down and turned her full attention to Bernie, an unease settling in her stomach, triggered by what she had just heard.
“A lady?” she echoed, her voice tinged with curiosity and trepidation. “And who is she? Do I know her from church or town?” Alarm bells were sounding in Sarah McGee’s mind. She had always prided herself on being prepared and unsurprised, and this revelation felt entirely too unforeseen.
Bernie paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face as she searched her mind. If she had ever encountered this lady before, her striking presence would have been hard to forget. Moreover, she had never seen her in the familiar pews of the Lutheran church. While New Bern was a bustling summer tourist hub, swarming with visitors between Memorial Day and Labor Day, Bernie knew this lady was not among those seasonal guests. It was not tourist season; only a few adventurous Canadians seeking warmth from the harsh northern winters would be wandering around town.
“No, Mom, you never met her,” she finally replied, her gaze shifting from her mother to the pot simmering on the stove, the rich aroma wafting toward her like a siren’s call. “What’s for dinner?” Her eyes remained fixated on the pot, much like a feline in predatory focus, as if the bubbling contents held answers to all her current dilemmas.
Sarah McGee smiled with quiet pride as she watched her daughter navigate the conversation. It was clear that Bernie had absorbed all the life lessons she had aimed to instill in her, even if they were now leading her down unexpected paths.
“Nice try, Bernie, but let’s not change the subject,” her mother’s voice cut through the air, laced with a hint of parental authority. “You know how I feel about strangers in town, especially strange women. These days, one can never be too cautious. Just think back to that story about the woman who turned out to be a witch.” This cautionary tale had become a staple among local Christian parents in New Bern, serving as a warning to their children about the dangers that can lurk behind friendly faces. “You could never truly discern their real intentions,” she added, her brow furrowed with concern.
Bernie chuckled, a sound that held both amusement and disbelief. “Oh, for crying out loud, Mom,” she said, rolling her eyes theatrically. “That was three years ago! She was just a Wiccan here on vacation, celebrating nature and embracing the Earth as our mother. She was very kind-hearted, not some child-sacrificing, midnight-worshiping Satanist or anything ridiculous like that. When are you going to let this one go?” Her voice lifted in gentle mockery, making her mother’s admonition feel almost quaint.
“Well,” her mother conceded, softening slightly but still not entirely backing down. “I understand your viewpoint, but you have to recognize my point. You’ve had no real experience with strangers. While many may be harmless and genuinely good, others could pose a genuine threat. They’re not going to parade around wearing T-shirts that say, ‘I am a serial killer,’ you know.”
“Yes, Mom, I get that,” Bernie replied, her tone more serious now. “But that’s precisely why we call them strangers in the first place! New Bern sees thousands of visitors every year, and so far, we haven’t had any mass murders.” She made her case with a tone of self-assuredness, relying on statistics that she felt supported her argument.
In numerous towns across the Carolinas, it often took a decade or more for newcomers to become fully integrated into the local community—if they ever did. This reality fostered an environment in which visitors were often greeted with skepticism. These very visitors, however, played a crucial role in boosting the local economy through their spending, creating a love-hate relationship that underlined the town’s complex dynamic. Bernie recalled seeing a bumper sticker on a pickup truck last summer that read: “If this is tourist season, why can’t we shoot them?” Although meant as a joke, it captured the frustrations of some residents dealing with heavier traffic and lengthy waits at local diners.
Her mother shot her daughter a sharp look, a mixture of frustration and affection on her face. “Smart aleck! You know exactly what I mean,” she retorted, her voice heavy with an exasperated warmth.
“Come on, Mom! She wore this beautiful silver cross adorned with colorful beads. I highly doubt she was a devil worshipper,” Bernie argued, trying to defend the woman who had caught her interest.
“A cross, huh? That’s interesting. But tell me, did she sound like a Yankee, or was she someone from around the Carolinas?” Sarah leaned against the sink, with worry scrutinizing her daughter.
Bernie paused, trying to recall the details. “No, I don’t think she was even American,” she finally said. “Her hair was dark, her eyes deep and expressive, and her complexion suggested a sun that had tanned her skin for a lifetime. Now that I think about it, she also had a slight accent—maybe Greek? I really can’t say for sure.”
As Sarah McGee poured the steaming water from a pot of boiled potatoes into the sink, a cloud of potato-scented steam enveloped her, momentarily blurring her view. “Just be careful, okay?” she cautioned, the crease between her brows deepening with worry. “You never know about people these days; they can be quite dangerous. And I can guarantee you this: if your father catches wind of it, he will not be pleased. You know how he feels about out-of-towners, even the American ones.”
With that, Bernie helped her mother finish preparing supper, the comforting aromas of sautéed vegetables and freshly baked bread filling their kitchen. After dinner, she settled down to do her homework, the assignments barely registering in her mind as her thoughts drifted back to her intriguing new lady friend. It was a feeling akin to unwrapping a long-desired toy on Christmas morning—an excitement so tangible that it tugged at her attention, urging her to continue exploring this new connection. Time seemed to drag on interminably as she awaited the day she could see the woman again, each tick of the clock amplifying her anticipation.