Escape From Purgatory

by Scarlet Darkwood - BooksGoSocial Historical Fiction

  Mitchell stood in the doorway, an angry scowl fixed on his face, eyes snapping with fury. On his face, the trace of fear showed loud and clear. He marched into the room and sat beside Claire. His eyes burned straight through her.

  “I need you to tell me the truth. Did you kill someone? Yes or no?”

  Claire, paralyzed with fear, stared at him, mouth slightly open in an effort to speak. But the words lodged in her throat and wouldn’t come out. Her eyes focused on the corner of the sheet she held in her hand.

  In frustration, Mitchell grabbed Claire’s shoulders, shaking them so hard her teeth rattled. “Tell me now,” he shouted, “yes or no? Did you kill someone, and why did you lie to me last night?”

  Silence. She bowed her head, shrinking back in fear.

  He moved his lips close to her ears and, in a low controlled voice, made the awful statement, “You’ll either tell me the truth, or I’ll drag you back to Hatchie River right now, and I’ll see to it you never get out of there again.”

  Trembling, Claire spoke, “No, Mitchell, I didn’t kill anyone. Grace stepped back and . . . it was an accident. It was just a bad accident, that’s all.” One by one, tears tumbled out of her eyes as loud ugly sobs crept out of her throat. This time she didn’t think she could stop crying. Mitchell sat and watched, holding Claire’s hand between his in a small act of consolation.

  In a quiet voice, he spoke again. “Then I need you to tell me the truth, because that’s the only way I’ll be able to help you. It’s the only way I will help you.” His eyes found hers, and the two stared at each other for a few seconds. “Adrian said he got the call that you were missing. On top of that, they told him a staff member was dead. They suspect you had something to do with it. So, I need every detail of what happened. I understand why you’ve shown up at my door, but why didn’t you tell me someone died?”

  For the next several minutes, Claire related everything that had happened the day before, while Mitchell listened, nodding or frowning at intervals.

  “And you didn’t think to call for help or tell someone what happened?” His face had hardened again. “This whole thing may have been truly an accident, but didn’t you think taking that woman’s clothes might be stretching your luck just a little bit too far?” He sat up straight, running his fingers through his hair. “It all makes you look guilty, that’s what.”

  “I was naked, for godsakes, Mitchell. What else could I do if I wanted to get out? I wasn’t about to go running around naked through Hatchie River, trying to find clothes or call for help. And let’s face it, this whole thing would be my word only, which nobody would believe, because I’m supposed to be crazy, you know.” Claire’s voice had risen several decibels.

  Mitchell sat thinking, his eyes fixed on Claire’s face. He let out a long sigh. “That’s a good point. It’s really your word against hers. And she’s dead.” He shook his head and looked back up into her face. “And you’re right. The most they would do is lock you back up again, declaring you now criminally insane.”

  “Mitchell, they would have thrown me in solitary, locked in chains, little food or water, and left me for the rats to gnaw on. I heard those horror stories from people who’d experienced it and managed to make it out. I saw those cells a few times when I helped Liza take food to those women. It was horrible. The smell, feces everywhere, puddles of urine on the floors, blood on the walls, the hollow look in their eyes.” She started crying again. “And that witch of a woman threatened to take me to the shed and let those nasty men do god only knows what . . . put their hands all over me—“

  “Stop it, Claire. I’ve heard enough.” He held out his hand, silencing her. “Enough. I know you’d never deliberately kill anybody, and though that woman’s death was a misfortune for her, it turned out to be your gain.” He scowled. “I still don’t like the fact that you took her clothes, but if she hauled you out of that tub room, dragging you naked down the hall, I guess you really had no other choice.”

  “What do we do now?” She gazed at him through the remnant of tears, wiping a stray drop here and there from her cheek.

  Glancing at his watch, he got up from the bed. “I played dumb with Adrian. Told him I hadn’t seen or heard from you. All I can say is time is of the essence. He’s at the factory now. It’s nearly ten o’clock. You need clothes, but I’ve got to come up with some story, in case someone tells Adrian they saw me making such an odd purchase.”

  Claire looked up. “Or you could sneak into our house and simply grab some clothes from my closet, maybe my travel bag too? I can tell you where a spare key is.”

  “Wonderful,” he answered back. “Let’s see, risk being seen at a shop, or some nosy neighbor catching me at your house.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’ll be in trouble. You’ll be in bigger trouble.”

  “There’s no way I can wear Grace’s clothes again.” She shuddered.

  “No! Those clothes didn’t smell good, either. Pack them with you, and when we get to Knoxville, we’ll have a bonfire out back of the house.” Mitchell’s face relaxed a little. “I think I’ll take you up on getting your own clothes. If anyone asks, I’ll simply say I needed to borrow a suitcase or something.”

  She smiled at him. “With Adrian’s sketchy memory, he probably won’t remember what you’ve told him, or if he gave you a spare key to get in.”

  “And that’s if anyone even sees me.” Mitchell smiled back. “Just sit tight here. And for heaven’s sake, don’t answer the door or the phone. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “You’ll find a key under the flower pot next to the last post on the right as you face the back door.”

  Mitchell nodded, got up and turned out of the room. Claire sat still, her mind in a whirl. Everything still held a dream-like quality, Grace’s death, Mitchell willing to help her. Even seeing Adrian for a brief few seconds reminded her this last vision could easily have been one of her dreams during a hateful night at Hatchie River. Her thoughts abruptly turned to the graveyard where her baby son slept, one who’d never hear his mother’s voice singing or see his father’s smile when he rode a bike by himself the first time or graduate from school.

  By this time, she’d shed every tear her body possibly held. If she continued obsessing about this, she’d surely scream. Going back to the grave for one visit would be foolhardy, and after all Mitchell had done, she wouldn’t dream of asking him for such a favor. Like it or not, Adrian had warned her about not moving on, that life wasn’t fair. This time, her circumstances commanded she get on with life. Start over, completely over.

  Do it now, or die a slow, agonizing death at Hatchie River. The asylum had graves, deep, dark, and waiting for people like her. When the end came, only death granted a person true asylum. She headed to the bathroom and straighten up her hair and face. Today was a new birthday, one just as real as the day she’d been born, the birth of her new-found freedom, a new life.

  Within thirty minutes, Mitchell returned carrying a woman’s tapestry print travel bag in his hand. He dropped the bag beside the bed and grinned. “I did it, and I don’t think anyone saw me.”

  Claire opened it and rummaged inside to find clothes, nightgown, undergarments, stockings, and shoes. He’d even secured her cosmetic bag in a drawer of her dressing table. “Nice job. And thanks for finding my make-up.” She smiled up at him.”

  “Personally, I think you’d be fine without it. I’ve never cared much for all that goop you women wear.” Chuckling, Mitchell waved her off. “Once you’re settled in George’s place, you can get some more new clothes or whatever you need.”

  A flash of realization crossed her mind, and she sat on the bed, thinking a few seconds.

  “What’s wrong? You look worried.” He sat down beside her. “Look, I know all of this is so fast, something you’d never planned on happening. I mean, who would, for crying out loud?”

  “I don’t have any money, no job. How am I supposed to even live?” New fear crept all over her, and she searched her brot
her-in-law’s face for guidance.

  He took her hand between his. “Don’t worry about all that. I have money. I’ll simply help you get on your feet, and we’ll figure out what to do once we’re in Knoxville. Right now, my biggest worry is getting you out of Ash Grove before Adrian gets a wild hair and starts looking for you.”

  “I’ll repay you, Mitchell, really I will. That’s an awful lot to ask someone.” She gazed outside the window. “He still looked so handsome, like his old self. You’d never suspect anything could possibly be wrong with him. If things were different, I would have run out there.”

  Mitchell countered her thoughts. “Handsome is as handsome does. Isn’t that the old saying? He may still have his looks, but I’m telling you, his mind isn’t all that pretty, and definitely not like his old self. At some point, I’m going to have to do something. I just simply haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  She focused her eyes back on him again. “Don’t you wish this were some kind of bad dream, where we could all wake up and have a good laugh, that the whole thing was simply fake, a figment of our imagination? Or maybe we’re really in a movie some skit with a horror theme and we just don’t know it.”

  Mitchell let out a light laugh. “Sorry to burst your bubble, my dear, but we don’t have fancy script writers telling us what to say, or ambitious directors telling us what to do or how to act.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “And this most certainly isn’t a dream or a figment of over-active imaginations on our part. This is real, it’s ugly, and it could get dangerous if we aren’t careful.”

  “Well, I bathed last night, I have clothes. What’s next on the agenda?”

  He stood up and headed to the door. “I’ll fix breakfast. You get ready. After we eat, I’ll make a quick call to Adrian and give some excuse—tell him I’m going out of town to check on clients. Then we get the hell out of here. I’d rather hang around in Memphis for a while than wait here pacing like nervous cats.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Claire scooped up the travel bag and placed it on the bed. She pulled out a comfortable pair of white wide-legged trousers, a pale-yellow cotton top, and a white dress with orange-print butterflies and matching belt. Great choices! Gazing at the cheerful styles and colors brought a smile to her face. Finally, some clothes she’d be proud to wear. She selected an outfit and joined Mitchell in the kitchen.

  The drive to Memphis ignited a new sense of adventure, and every mile between her and Ash Grove increased the sense of bittersweet victory, with its promise of an optimistic future coupled with a sorrowful past.

  Once she set up house in Knoxville, she’d start over, find new friends and hobbies. How she’d handle new romantic relationships remained a mystery. After all, she still had a husband. On second thought, she could emulate Mitchell, remain single without all the trappings or hassles of a mate.

  However, she knew spending the rest of her life alone didn’t sit well in her mind. Starting a family may have eluded her by this time, but she enjoyed having someone in her life, someone outside herself, someone to touch, someone to love. With any luck, Hatchie River hadn’t killed everything inside her, but it had come close.

  Soon the rural countryside of small towns gave way to the bigger buildings and hustle of Memphis. The traffic had increased, more people milled about, and the plethora of shops and diners made Ash Grove pale in comparison. As they arrived at the train station, Mitchell found the appropriate parking lot, and after collecting their bags from the trunk, they headed to the ticket counter.

  “I’ll purchase the tickets. You just stay back and mind the bags.” Mitchell scouted the area before leaving.

  Claire shaded her eyes from the evening sun, scouring Memphis Union Station. There she saw it, the beauty Mitchell had talked about like a moony-eyed lover. The Tennessean. In the late evening sun, the Number 46 passenger train glistened, its stout frame dressed in magnificent green and white as it waited patiently. Behind it streamed a line of rail cars where passengers could eat, sleep, and watch the scenery passing by.

  Deliverance sat before her, a massive steel queen resting quietly on the rails. Reality set in. Once the whistle sounded and those doors closed, her former life would be sealed chapters, quietly tucked away forever in shadows of the past. She thought again of the lonely grave holding her baby, a grave forgotten and desolate, with no flowers illuminating the memory of a tiny life that graced this earth if only for a moment.

  Claire turned her eyes away from the train, struggling with tears as they stung her eyes. As ugly as the ending of her life in Ash Grove had been, would Knoxville herald an equally happy beginning? Thinking back on all she’d endured, the truth became clear. She’d handle anything in her path, no matter how great or small. Take it all one day at a time, just as she’d done at Hatchie River.

  “Here’s our tickets.” Mitchell tapped her on the shoulder. “We can go ahead and board.”

  “When does the train leave?” Claire took the ticket and picked up her bag.

  “At seven-fifteen. We’ll reach Knoxville about six-forty-five tomorrow morning, so this will be a rather long trip. For now, we can settle in, find some seats, and enjoy the ride.” He took her bag away after picking up his own, and motioned for her to follow him. They stepped up to the entrance of the train, where they handed their tickets to a black gentleman dressed in a sleek uniform.

  “Have a wonderful trip.” He nodded graciously and extended an arm, showing them the way in.

  Mitchell paused a second. “This is it Claire, are you ready?”

  “Ready.” She smiled and they both entered the car.

  Chapter Ten

  Claire and Mitchell selected two seats together on the opposite side of the car. Decorated in muted blues and greens, the interior reflected a soothing appearance, easy on the eyes, yet bright for the soul. She took a deep breath and inhaled the lingering scent of diesel fuel and a spicy cologne fragrance from another female passenger who’d taken the seat directly in front of hers. Mitchell offered Claire the window seat before settling down.

  Five minutes before departure time, all seats held occupants, gaily dressed as she and Mitchell. From snatches of conversation, some were going on to Washington, DC, and had reserved spots in the sleeper cars. At least her trip would end early the next day. Claire decided she’d had enough of adventures, and longed for a space of her own, to settle down again and put out new roots. Knoxville, at this moment, held as much excitement for her as if it had been DC.

  “Once we get moving, I’ll get us some drinks.” Mitchell winked at her. “Bet you didn’t have a nice cocktail where you were.”

  She waved him off. “No, we weren’t that lucky. We surely could have used them, though.”

  “Sorry, Claire, bad humor on my part. I just want better things for you from here on out.” He smiled over at Claire, patting her on the hand.

  “No, you’re right. I missed the nice things, like a good drink every now and then. It’s odd how we take our luxuries in life for granted.” She smiled back at her brother-in-law, who briefly acknowledged another passenger with a light nod of the head. Gazing out the window, she spied others scrambling fast toward other trains, loved ones gathering up bags from those who’d just arrived in Memphis. What lives did their stories tell? What brought them here, and for those leaving, were they running away too?

  The whistle blasted at seven-fifteen sharp, and the doors slid shut. With a loud hiss, the train bucked for a second before moving into a lumbersome roll. Several passengers inside waved to their friends and family on the platform. Soon the train rambled onward at a comfortable thirty-five miles-per-hour down the tracks. Claire watched as Memphis Union Station faded out of site. It was done. Life in Ash Grove and her marriage to Adrian would soon fade too. The horrors of Hatchie River might take longer. Mental insults didn’t go scurrying into the dark, but held onto one’s psyche with more tenacious fingers.

  Mitchell stood up. “I’m going to the cocktail car. Still want
to go for that drink?”

  “Absolutely. Besides, I probably won’t see a cocktail lounge on a train again.”

  The two headed out and passed through a couple of cars before reaching the designated car. At the back stood a pristine bar, outfitted with a handy assortment of liquors and glasses. Several others had found their way here and had already sat down, engrossed in intimate conversation and a heady drink or two. Mitchell led the way to the bartender who greeted them with a broad smile.

  “What’ll it be for you lovely people? Ladies first.”

  “Two Side Cars, please.” Mitchell placed his money on the counter.

  A few pours and shakes later, the pair carried their drinks to a vacant table and sat down. Claire took a sip of the soft golden liquid, and closed her eyes as the hit of alcohol slipped down her throat. She threw her head back, savoring the flavor.

  “Best drink I’ve had in a long time. I was way overdue.”

  He grinned. “Thought you’d like this one. It’s a favorite of mine.” He lifted his glass to his lips.

  “Tell me more about your buddy George and this house I’ll be using.”

  “Don’t know a lot about the house, actually, but I think I remember him saying he didn’t live too far away from it. He lives out a bit from downtown Knoxville. His business is, of course, on Gay Street where all the action is, shops, restaurants, you name it. Knoxville’s definitely not as big as Memphis, but it’s a hell of a lot bigger than Ash Grove.” He glanced over his glass at her. “I think you’ll like it much better there, Claire. There’s more people, more to do.”

  “I always liked the city. At least in Ash Grove we lived close to town, but the smallness of it all offset the hectic pace of a big city.”

  Mitchell nodded. “I think you’ll get a taste of both in Knoxville, all kinds of choices when you’re in town, but you have the privacy of the country when you return home. A nice combination, if you ask me.”