Come a Little Closer

Come a Little Closer

Prologue

Carlson, Minnesota
August 1932

CHRISTINA TUCKER GASPED in fright as the jagged fork of lightning splintered across the darkening sky. Strong gusts of wind lashed the trees of the thick wood, bending boughs and violently rustling leaves. The fresh, strong scent of the storm enveloped her as if it were a blanket, overpowering. Heavy drops of rain suddenly began to fall, hammering against collapsed tree limbs and rocks, muddying the earth, and soaking her blouse to her skin. Thunder rolled toward her from close by, menacing. There was no chance to outrun the storm.

“Charlotte!” she shouted. “Charlotte! Where are you?” Shivering from both cold and fear, Christina looked frantically for a sign of her older sister. Only moments earlier, Charlotte and their dog, Jasper, had been beside her as they hurried from one clearing to the next, racing between the massive evergreens and elms that surrounded Lake Washington, desperately trying to get home before the storm struck. She had only stopped for an instant to fix her shoe . . .

Now, she was completely alone.

“Charlotte!” she cried again in growing worry, her voice swallowed by the squall; there was still no answer.

Christina struggled to hold back her fears. She had no real sense of where she was. No matter what direction she turned, she saw only darkness, lit for a flickering instant by each flash of lightning. Though it was only late afternoon,
the storm had brought heavy, dark clouds that shrouded the sky as black as night. Panicked, she could not remember what direction she had come from, or even where she had been headed. The lake might be in front of her or behind;
if she knew where it was, she could have skirted its shore until she found town. But blindly stumbling into the brush would only make her more lost. Who knew what could happen? She could catch cold in the downpouring rain, stumble into a deep hole, twist her ankle, wander so far out into the tall trees that she would never be found, or, even worse, encounter a wild animal.

If only I were older than eight, Christina thought. Then I might know what to do . . .

The rain began to fall harder; it pounded the forest so relentlessly that Christina couldn’t hear any other sound. Every inch of her was drenched; raising her hand to shield her face couldn’t keep the water from getting into her eyes or from soaking her dark hair.

She was scared, alone, and quickly growing cold; though the summer day had been  hot and humid, a typical August afternoon in Minnesota,  the rain had brought with it a chill that set her shivering. She needed to get home, quickly. Suddenly, the sound of rustling leaves behind her broke through the overwhelming din of the storm. Spinning on her heel, Christina searched for some sign of what had made the noise, but she could see nothing.

This is an excerpt from COME A LITTLE CLOSER by Dorothy Garlock. Copyright © 2011 by Dorothy Garlock. Reprinted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved.