by ML Gardner
“We can sleep now,” I said quietly, pushing the stray hairs out of her face and tucking them back under the hat. “Are you hungry?” She shook her head with closed eyes.
“Are you?” she asked back.
“No,” I lied. “Just tired.”
She raised a limp hand and rested it on my cheek. “Then sleep,” she mumbled. I put an arm under her shoulders, and she rolled towards me, stretching an arm over my waist, her head under my chin. I only had the energy to kiss her head, and we were asleep within minutes.
My eyes popped open when the latch was thrown with a loud thump, and the barn door swung open. The hinges groaned and light flooded in, illuminating the depths of the loft. I heard the farmer mumbling to himself, scuffing his feet and the tinny clink of a milk pail. The cow let out a low noisy grunt, and my hand was over Elizabeth’s mouth just as her eyes flew open, wide and lost. She twisted her head up, looked at me and then relaxed under my hand. I pointed toward the edge of the loft and then put my finger to my lips. She nodded and I slowly removed my hand. We lay still, listening intently as he puttered around the barn with his evening chores. The hay tickled my nose and I pinched my nostrils, holding off a sneeze. I hoped he would hurry.
“Evenin’, Hubert,” a voice echoed from below. The cow made more noise and a pig squealed loudly. I heard what sounded like a stool being kicked back, then more shuffling.
“Sheriff. What brings you out our way?” I heard the light slap of two hands meeting in a shake.
“Well, I just got word that there’s been a couple people escaped from the hospital, up the way.”
“You don’t say. You mean the asylum?” he asked with morbid curiosity.
“I’m afraid so. Just brought by a couple drawings of ‘em, in case you’ve seen them. Man and a woman.”
My heart pounded in my ears, and I had to force slow quiet breaths through the panic. I could feel Elizabeth tense under my arm and pulled her tighter.
“Nope, can’t say that I’ve seen ‘em. But I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
“Appreciate that, Hubert.”
“Can you stay for coffee, Vincent?” An older woman’s voice now, I pictured her gray-haired, plump and smiling in an apron.
“No, ‘fraid not. I’m going house to house through the county, lookin’ for these two.”
“Are they dangerous?” the woman again.
“Well, I don’t know. The hospital said they weren’t there for bein’ the violent type, but they were in there for some reason, so I wouldn’t take any chances.”
“Well, thanks for stopping by. We’ll keep a look out.” I heard one set of footsteps leave. It was quiet for a few moments and then I heard the older woman again.
“Well, that’s scary, isn’t it, Hubert?”
“Sure is. We’ll lock up the house tonight and keep the shotguns close by. It’ll be all right.” I heard fabric rustling, maybe they had hugged. I heard him reposition the stool and then grunt, his knees making little popping noises. The rhythmic sound of thin streams of milk hitting the side of the tin pail went on for several minutes before the woman spoke again.
“I got another letter from Caleb,” she said quietly. The milking stopped briefly and he grunted an unintelligible reply. “Do you want to read it?” she asked timidly.
“Can’t. Got chores to do, Ethel.”
“Hubert, you have to get past this. He’s your son. He made a mistake, that’s all. He was young and stupid and–”
“And he sold my daddy’s farm without even speaking to me about it. That land was in my family for a hundred years.”
“I know, Hubert,” she sighed. “But it’s just land. He’s your only son.”
“And then he runs off with that wild woman, livin’ the high life in New York, her running around scandalous all over God’s earth and him just letting her. Did you know she’s been to jail, Ethel?”
“Yes, Hubert, I know. But she loves Caleb. And he’s happy with her, scandalous as she might be.”
“And he never wrote so much before. Just sent money and that truck, pictures from fancy places. But now, well, now, he’s got nothing, and they’re writing all the time.”
I felt like an intruder now, not just physically, listening in on this couple’s private quarrel over family.
“You don’t want to read it?” she asked again, disappointed this time.
“Leave it on the table. I’ll try to get to it later.” He grunted.
I heard soft footsteps leave and then a heavy sigh from below.
It took him another hour to finish his chores and button up the barn for the night.
My back was aching from staying in one position for so long, and I thought my bladder would burst at any moment. I crawled to the edge and peeked down to make sure it was empty, then crawled back to Elizabeth.
“You should eat something before we get going again.” I dug around in the bag and found a small box filled with sandwiches. “I have to run outside for a minute,” I said as I held out a sandwich to her.
“Why?” her eyes darted around, and I knew she didn’t want to be left alone.
“Nature calls,” I said with a grin and crawled my way to the ladder.
“Hurry,” she whispered as my head disappeared beneath the edge of the loft.
Outside the air was cold, and I stood behind the barn, looking up at all the stars shining bright in the blue gray sky of late evening. I tried to remember exactly where we were on the map and decide what direction to go when we left here. I found the North Star and, by picturing the map in my mind, decided which way to go. David’s map stopped at her family’s house, so we would be on our own from there. I assumed that after we put a big enough stretch of road behind us, we would be safe to stop and ask directions.
I tiptoed around the corner and slipped in the small side door of the barn. I found Elizabeth holding her knees to her chest with one arm, eating her sandwich. She looked relieved when my head popped up above the edge of the loft.
“I wish we could stay one more night,” she said as I crawled over to her. “It’s warm here.”
“I know.” I wasn’t looking forward to putting her through another freezing night on the run, but this whole town would have word of us by the next morning. “We have to keep going. I’m sorry,” I said.
I didn’t expect her to crawl to the edge and peek down. She couldn’t see much, but what she could see didn’t frighten her.
“This barn isn’t scary, like ours,” she said. “It smells how a barn should smell.”
“Stinky?” I laughed with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Sort of.” She grinned back at me. “It should have that musty smell from the animals, like wet dog, the slightly sweet smell of their feed, the sour smell of their mess and a deep earthy smell, all combined together.”
“Yours didn’t smell like this?” I asked.
Her face fell quickly. “No.”
“What did–” I stopped myself from asking. I assumed it wasn’t something she wanted to relive. “If you’re still hungry at all, you should eat now. We’ll leave when it’s fully dark,” I said instead.
“I’m fine.” She crawled back and sat close beside me.
“Do you want to have a barn, you know, when we have our own place?” I asked as I picked out a few pieces of hay sticking out of her hair and tossed them away.
“Yes. And it will smell sweet and musky like this one,” she said with a smile.
“It’ll smell however you want it to,” I said. I kissed her and took my time about it. It was the first time we weren’t rushed or scared of being caught, and that made it all the sweeter. I tangled my hands in her hair and traced her lips with my tongue. Then she bit my lower lip playfully and pulled me down into the hay.
Several moments later, our coats open as we tried to get to as much of each other as we could, she broke the kiss. Holding my head with both hands, she didn’t let me more than an inch away from her.
“Let’s stay o
ne more night,” she whispered. I had thought about that, even told myself we would, while my hands found their way under layers of clothing, gripped her waist and then ran down over her hip and back up over the smooth skin of her stomach. My fingers felt her ribs expand with every hard breath and then above her ribs…
“We can’t,” I breathed. I put my forehead to hers and ground my teeth in frustration. She kissed me twice quickly, trailing one hand lightly over my back. “Please. Elizabeth, you’re killing me,” I whispered with a smile. I pulled myself up to a sitting position and ran my hands through my hair, trying to tame it. Almost every trace of light was gone from the cracks in the wallboards of the barn. I looked back at her, still lying in the hay, hands folded over her stomach.
“We have to go,” I said, none too happy about the fact. She sighed and sat up, pulled her shirt down and brushed bits of hay off the arms of her coat before buttoning it up. “We can relax soon, I promise.” I gathered our bag and buttoned up my own coat.
I went down the ladder first and waited for her at the bottom. We snuck out the side door and tiptoed to the back where the people in the house wouldn’t see us. I looked up and found the North Star again, and we started walking through the frozen field.
“How’s your knee?” I asked.
“Sore. It’s all right.”
“I’ll look at it again when the sun comes up.” I should have thought to change the bandage one more time before we set out, but I was highly distracted. I tried not to torture myself by reliving it, but with little else to do, I couldn’t help it. She caught me grinning and squeezed my hand.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked. I glanced at her, eyes slightly narrowed and devilish. I assumed she blushed, though I couldn’t see it in the dark. She looked away and let out an awkward giggle.
I couldn’t walk fast enough to get to the cabin.
The moon was high and gleaming white when we stopped to eat. We stayed just west of the town and dipped back into the woods to make a small fire. She sat close, holding her hands over it. I found a rock with a flat top, put it in the middle of the flame, and placed a can of beans David had packed on top of it.
“Shouldn’t take that long,” I said as I fed the small flames around the rock. She watched the flames dance around the can, catch onto the paper label and then go up in a quick flash. I could see her face clearly in the few seconds of bright light, and she looked deep in thought. “You did really well back there.” She smiled without looking up. “In the barn,” I clarified and the red in her cheeks wasn’t from the firelight. “With the cow,” I further clarified.
“Ah. That,” she said and the teasing smile disappeared. “It wasn’t so bad. Those animals were happy. They were taken care of, you know. What’s Canada like?” she asked suddenly.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“I wonder if it’ll be like a whole other world?” She tucked her now warm hands into the sleeves of her coat.
“Well, it can’t be that different, I wouldn’t think.” We were quiet, listening to the small sizzling noises coming from the fire. It was cold, and the world was quiet around us as if we were the only ones in it. I wished for a moment that it was true. I used the sleeve of my coat to lift the can out of the fire and put my can in.
“David even remembered spoons,” I said, smiling and holding one out to her. After we ate, I pushed one leg of her pants up to look at her knee. It was red and starting to swell. I tried to rub the grimace off my face.
“What?” she asked, looking from her knee to me and back.
“I think it’s getting infected,” I said. “We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as we’re in Canada.” I sighed, frustrated and stood up. “Let’s go,” I said and pulled her up.
Halfway through the night with warm food in our stomachs, we set out again. I did my best to hide evidence of the fire and stuffed the empty cans into a hollow log. The memories that caused my heart to beat fast and thready and the fluttering sensation deep in my stomach were harder to enjoy with the new worry of a possible infection; adding that to being on the run with little food, little money and no concrete destination, my nerves were raw by dawn. We reached the edge of her family’s property with the first light.
“The cabin is that way.” She pointed to the right. Staying west of the town eight miles behind us, we had run smack in the middle of her father’s sprawling property.
“This must be a hundred acres,” I said. We had reverted to whispering.
“Two hundred and fifty,” she said and set out ahead of me, leading the way. We cut through the trees down a steep hill, and I could see the glimmer of water in the distance. We walked for a half-hour and then I stopped dead in my tracks, holding out my arm. She came to an abrupt stop behind me, grabbing my shirt to keep her balance.
“I heard something,” I whispered back to her. We crept, ducking along the short shrubbery near the lake for about thirty feet and stopped when we saw the corner of the cabin. She gasped and I put my finger to my lips with a scowl.
We dropped down flat on a small hill of dirt at the lake’s edge that hid us from sight. I poked my head up above the edge to see what was happening. There were several people at the cabin. The sheriff stood on the porch, holding his hat, talking to a short woman with dark brown hair sprinkled with white. I could see, even from that distance, the resemblance and knew it was Elizabeth’s mother. Two orderlies walked out of the cabin.
“Well, they’re not here,” Vincent’s voice echoed down the terrain. “And there’s no sign that they have been. Place hasn’t been touched in months by the look of it.”
“We only come here in the summer,” her mother explained.
The doctor stepped into view, and my heart pounded so hard that I could hear the blood coursing through my ears. Elizabeth put her head down, covered her ears, and closed her eyes tightly.
“Well, thank you for your cooperation, ma’am,” he said. “If you see or hear anything, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
She nodded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest with a worried frown. The doctor turned his attention to the sheriff. “I think it’s safe to expand our search to the south.”
“I’ll alert every agency between here and Mexico.”
“I do believe now that is where they would be headed,” he said. The doctor nodded thoughtfully.
I closed my eyes and put my head down. I listened to the sound of footsteps on the wooden porch of the cabin, car doors slamming, sputtering engines roaring to life, and then silence.
We lay hidden by the brush for two hours. We shivered from cold and fear. We nodded off at some point. I had closed my eyes, just for a moment, and then opened them suddenly. A duck made loud splashing noises near us in the water, and Elizabeth lay half on me, sleeping.
I knew it was midday as the sun was directly above us, and my stomach growled loudly. I nudged her and she woke, breathing in deeply through her nose. She rolled off me, rubbing her eyes and I flipped to my stomach, poking up my head slowly. The cabin sat in the distance, quiet and alone. I slid back down next to Elizabeth.
“I think it’s safe now.” She nodded as I gathered the bag, which I had dropped ten feet away in a panic to get to the ground. “Are you sure the cabin can’t be seen from your parents’ house?” I asked again, adjusting the pack on my back.
“Positive. The house is quite a bit down the way. It’s a twenty minute walk at the least.”
“Okay.” I was still apprehensive. We walked hand in hand toward the cabin. She seemed very relaxed, but I was on edge, looking all around, jumping at every noise. I was grateful when she pushed the door open, and we slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind us.
“Here it is,” she said and walked over to the hearth of the fireplace. It was small, only two rooms. The fireplace was deep and wide. I imagined it would heat the place up nicely, if we dared risk the smoke of a fire. In the corner was a table and small cabinets, the most primitive of
kitchens and a sofa with end tables faced the front window next to the door. I walked past her through the only other door and saw it was a bedroom with one bed, an antique dresser, and a wash table with a pitcher and basin. I walked back out, and she was picking small kindling out of a box near the hearth.
“It’s cold in here,” she said without looking up.
“Should we risk a fire in the daytime?” I asked. She stopped and thought about it, then dropped the kindling back in the box. I was extremely tired, but still far too on edge to sleep.
I sat on the couch, and the coat bunched up around my neck. The view out the front window was beautiful. It encompassed the entire lake and the gentle rolling hills beyond it. The thin woods we had emerged from was on the left and flat bare land was on the right as far as the eye could see. I watched as birds swooped in and made graceful landings on the water, and the tall dead lake grass moved with the breeze. I felt like we could finally relax. A little. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and my joints ached. Elizabeth curled up next to me and quickly fell asleep on my shoulder. I moved my arm, putting it around her, and then put my head back and dozed. I woke up several hours later to the dim orange-red glow of sunset. After moving Elizabeth without waking her, I stood, stretched, and yawned.
A gust of wind rattled the small cabin, and I looked out the window, up to the churning and dark clouds.
Tall ominous thunderheads pushed the sunset deeper into the horizon. A storm was good. We could have a fire undetected, and they would hold off the search if it were powerful enough. I slipped outside quietly. It was cold, and I could feel the electricity in the air of an impending storm. Firewood set stacked all along one side of the cabin, and I took an armload back inside. Elizabeth slept as I started a fire as quietly as I could. A few moments after, she sat up suddenly with a gasp.
“Simon!”
“Right here,” I said, dropping the log and going to her. “I’m right here.”
