Forbidden Garden

FORBIDDEN GARDEN Victoria Burks CHAPTER 1 Mackenzie Adams sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding against her ribcage. An icy sensation gripped the back of her neck and slithered down her spine. Trembling, she held her breath, blinking to rid the drowsiness from her eyes. Her body tense with anticipation, she balled her hands into fists and prepared to do battle. She quickly skimmed the perimeters of her room, the murky glow of the night light her only ally in the search for the intruder. A moment later, she tilted her head in confusion. Squinting, she again scrutinized each shadowy corner of the bedroom. But as before, she saw no sign that would indicate danger lurked nearby. She stacked her palms against her stomach. Then what accounted for the knot of fear clenching her insides like jaws of steel? A blast of air from the cooling system sliced across her clammy skin. Shivering, she reached to straighten the tangled bedclothes, but her intention drowned in the sudden realization that the cause of her fright was due to the dream she'd had just moments before she awoke, not a burglar. The memory of the nightmare skidded into her thoughts like a sudden avalanche, Mackenzie clamped her hand across her mouth to stifle the cry of alarm that leaped to her lips. Shrinking deep into the bed, Mackenzie dragged the covers to her chin, the scenario rolling across her mind like a frightful YouTube video. Mackenzie had stood near a large oak tree, its branches swaying back and forth against a strong wind, the gale so fierce she’d found it difficult to keep her feet on the ground. All of a sudden she’d spied a tornado whirling toward her, the raging tempest wrenching limbs from the tree and hurling them into space. She’d reached to hug the trunk of the tree for support, but had cowered in terror when it cracked and split apart before her eyes. Covering her head with her arms, she’d tried to run, but her legs had seemed frozen to the earth like stalagmites bound to the floor of a cave. Throwing back the blanket and sheet, Mackenzie stood to her feet, the implication of the vivid experience crystal-clear. She had to get away—had to flee the constant reminders that held her captive beneath the southwestern sun. Wisdom spoke it—her sanity required it. If she stayed, she would become like that oak tree—twisted, mangled, and torn apart, her life destroyed by the oppressive storm that besieged her night and day. She shuddered, the sense of urgency stripping away any thought of further slumber. With a glance at the bedside clock, she switched on her table lamp. Soon it would be daybreak. Thrusting her feet into a pair of slippers, she hurried to the entryway of her room. She cracked open the door and stole a peek toward the bedroom at the end of the hall. Relief zipped through her. All was quiet. Easing the door shut, she hurried to the shower. Dressed within a few minutes, she pulled suitcases from the closet, her clothes and a few personal belongings packed and loaded into her car less than an hour later. XXXXX Back inside the house, Mackenzie tiptoed down the hallway, breaking her stride when a sudden glow of light appeared beneath Steve and Reagan Adam's bedroom door. Her breath caught and held. Had she been longer in completing her task, her parents might have become aware of her plans much sooner than she desired. Slipping into her room, she leaned back against the door until her erratic heartbeat slowed to its normal pace. Moving toward the window a moment later, she opened the blind and gazed at the gorgeous sunrise glistening through the sheer curtains. Most people associated sunlight with hope. Did she dare believe a brighter future would be hers once she crossed over to the eastern slope of the continental divide? Mackenzie closed her eyes. She had to believe it. She just had to! XXXXX Pressing the back key on her I-phone, Mackenzie pocketed the device and then stepped into the hallway. She turned to take in the room that she had called her own for most of her life, her last two years of college the only exception. During that time she’d had her own apartment close to the campus. Glancing around the interior, nostalgia brushed a path across her thoughts. She and her friends had shared many happy moments in this room. Mackenzie’s shoulders slumped forward. But that was before… If only she had the power to go back in time. She sighed. Destiny moved forward, never backward. Again, she surveyed the blue and white room, the décor a high school graduation gift from her parents. She and her mother had planned and decorated the room together. It had been one of the few times she’d felt close to Reagan. Mackenzie’s mouth curved downward. Days like that had been few. Her mother’s job as an elementary teacher was understandable, but Mackenzie had yet to condone the excessive hours Reagan had devoted to community service, the various projects year after year taking its toll on her relationship with husband and child. Mackenzie’s lips tightened. A quest for answers now would be like searching for water in a dry well. She shut the door to the sanctuary, closing off thoughts of her childhood at the same time. Without a backward glance she walked toward the back of the house, grateful that she hadn't let this chance for freedom slip away. She took a deep breath. Her future beckoned. And she intended to make the best of it. About to enter the kitchen, she hesitated at the doorway taking a moment to observe her mother who stood at the counter measuring pancake mix into a bowl. Catching a glimpse of Mackenzie, Reagan pushed back a strand of her dark hair flecked with grey and smiled. "Well, you’re up early." "Yes. A—a dream woke me and I couldn’t go back to sleep." Mackenzie poured herself a cup of coffee, taking time to stir in a spoonful of sugar and a dollop of cream before she took her usual place at the table. She knew an offer to help with breakfast would be spurned. Reagan preferred to handle family meals in her own time and way. Mackenzie smiled inwardly. Her mother might not be the most nurturing of women, but the best chef in the world would have to work hard to compete with Reagan’s ability in the kitchen. Mackenzie aimed a cautious glance toward her father who sat at the other end of the breakfast nook sipping his coffee while he scanned the latest edition of the Arizona Republic. She took a drink of coffee to moisten her dry lips. How would she ever be able to get her announcement past the bale of cotton in her mouth? She picked up a section of the paper from the table to read but a glimpse outside the kitchen window at the scene in their backyard diverted her attention. The family cat crouched beneath the orange tree in their backyard, his gaze centered upon a robin splashing in the birdbath a few feet away. Just as the cat sprang to grasp its prey, the bird lifted its wings and flew to the top of the tree. A hint of a smile touched Mackenzie’s lips. Hooray for the robin, she thought. The cat’s tail moved back and forth as if daring the bird to budge from its lofty position. Although fond of the old fur ball, she was glad the pet had missed his anticipated feast. Sobering, she closed her eyes. Like the bird, could she escape the enemy that stalked her?