Creighton's Hideaway by LoRee Peery Page A

compassion she harbored towards the downtrodden. Even if she wanted to cry, she’d face it head-on, and take some kind of action for their treatment.
    She repeated the grief steps out loud, tears streaming as she pictured those in group therapy who struggled so with the steps in an attempt to overcome their dysfunctional backgrounds. Why in the world could she feel the emotion so strongly herself? She quivered. Was a hard knock in life about to hit her personally? No way would she wait for it. She’d walk off the uneasiness and be ready for the unknown.
    She skipped down the deck steps. What was Creighton doing? She wouldn’t seek him out. She’d take up Valerie on her invitation to visit. In front of the now familiar cabin down the creek, Shana stretched her hand over a fist-sized piece of petrified wood.
    The door creaked, drawing Shana upright.
    “Hi, how did you know I really needed a break right now?” Valerie smiled her greeting, hugging her shoulders to remove her own kinks.
    “Can’t say I did, but I needed more company than my own thoughts,” Shana said with an answering grin.
    “You look like you have lots of mixed thoughts.” Valerie grabbed the bottom of her denim skirt and held the fabric so it wouldn’t swirl against Shana’s shoulder as she came up the steps. On the same level, she wrapped a companionable arm around Shana’s waist. “I do get lonely for another woman at times. Do you drink tea?”
    “Sure do.”
    “Come on in then. I have an herbal assortment.”
    Valerie’s personalized cabin greeted Shana with comfort and warmth. Sky blue, beige, and burgundy quilts in geometric and southwestern designs covered the couch and bed. A peaceful, quilted fabric scene graced each wall.
    “These are lovely!” Shana stood in the center of the room and rotated in a thorough attempt to absorb the various shades and textures. A rustic wooden rocker sat at the foot of the bed with a quilt in progress draped over the arm.
    “Did you make the quilted wall hanging in the cabin where I stay?” Shana asked.
    “Yes. I’ve made three for Creighton. He kept one and put one in each of the front two cabins.” Valerie handed Shana her tea bag in a mug of hot water on a saucer. “Milk or sugar?”
    Shana shook her head and glanced at the table. Scattered notes and books teetered in piles next to a closed laptop.
    Performing a balancing act, Valerie seated herself on the edge of the couch. She set her own tea, along with a heaping plate of gingersnap cookies, on a narrow antique bench with faded red paint that served as a coffee table.
    “As you can see, I don’t use the table for meals. This is my spot unless I’m outside.” Valerie patted the cushion next to her and swished her tea bag in the hot water.
    They steeped their tea in placid togetherness a few moments, watching the birds flit along the creek outside the glass wall.
    Valerie blew, took a tentative sip of her tea. Then she blurted, “Creighton means ‘from the estate near the creek.’”
    “Excuse me?” Shana frowned at her new friend.
    “I’m sorry. I often speak my thoughts out loud. Refuse to admit that I talk to myself.”
    Shana admired Valerie’s ability to laugh at herself.
    “‘From the estate by the creek’ is the literal meaning of Creighton’s name. I have a thing for word and name sources when it comes to my writing,” Valerie explained.
    “From the estate near the creek,” Shana repeated. She felt her smile grow as she pictured Creighton on the land he nurtured. “The name fits all right.”
    “I like Creighton. He’s a fine man. But at times he is his own worst enemy.” Valerie seemed to listen to her thoughts during a few sips of tea.
    “How do you mean?” Shana spouted the question before she thought about it, regretting the encouragement to take the conversation further. But she wanted to know the answer.
    “He’s too hard on himself. As much as I believe he loves the Lord, he hasn’t accepted total