Morgan merely smiled before opening her eyes and staring into my own.
“Oh, Colby,” she said, reaching up to touch my mouth. “I love you, too.”
The man in the truck had returned.
She tried to slow her breathing as she ducked behind the barn. What would have happened had he arrived ten minutes earlier, while she was in the house? Would he have seen her through the windows? Would he have opened her door? And what if she’d actually entered the barn and been discovered in the place she shouldn’t have been?
The burst of adrenaline made her stomach flip. She leaned against the plank siding and closed her eyes, thanking God she hadn’t been that stupid, that she’d decided to avoid the barn before it was too late.
I need to calm down so I can think, she told herself, closing her eyes. She hoped he hadn’t seen her, hoped he would believe she wasn’t home, so he would leave like he had the last time. She hoped he would leave before the school bus arrived…
Oh God…
Tommie…
Peering around the corner again, she saw the man standing on the porch, looking first one way and then the other. A moment later, he descended the steps and started toward the barn. Beverly flattened herself against the planking, staying perfectly still. She fought the urge to watch his approach.
She heard the barn doors squeak open. In her mind’s eye, she imagined him scanning the interior, making sure that nothing had been disturbed. She wondered if he’d done the same thing the day before, when she and Tommie were down at the creek, or whether he was in communication with the farmworkers, monitoring her routines.
Tommie…
Please let the bus be late today. She clenched her fists, waiting, until she heard the barn door squeak again, followed by the sound of it banging shut. She remained in place, hoping he wouldn’t circle the barn, wondering what he would do if he found her. She considered making a dash for the creek, but just as she psyched herself up to do so, she heard the truck door slam, followed by the engine cranking to life. Finally, she heard the crunch of the gravel as the truck backed out and vanished down the road.
Beverly stood there for what felt like eons, her breaths eventually beginning to slow, before gathering the courage to peek around the barn again. The truck was gone, and as far as she could tell, no one was lying in wait. There was no movement, but she lingered, just to be sure, and then she started running toward the house. She burst through the door, leaving it open, then tore up the stairs.
In Tommie’s room, the guns were right where she’d left them. It wasn’t possible to carry both the guns and the boxes of ammunition in just her hands, so, thinking quickly, she reached for Tommie’s pillow. Removing the pillowcase, she shoved the boxes of ammunition inside, then carefully lifted both guns from the floor by their stocks, keeping the barrels pointed toward the ground as she scooped up the pillowcase.
Now wasn’t the time to rush, even if the bus was right out front. She left the room, walking slowly. She gingerly descended the steps, thankful that she hadn’t bothered to shut the front door on her way in. Careful not to stumble, she backtracked to the creek, to the hole that she’d already dug.
She put one gun in, then the other, then dumped the ammunition from the pillowcase. Using her hands to speed things up, she refilled the hole. Once that was done, she patted it down, then stomped on it, but there was only so much she could do. It would be obvious to anyone who came this way that something had been buried, but she realized she didn’t care.
She was going to get the hell out of here before anyone found out.
Back inside, Beverly scrubbed her hands at the sink until her skin felt raw, but the soil had left a brownish tint on her palms, like wood stain. Eyeing the chaos on the main floor, she figured she’d have to clean it all before they escaped, not because she cared about the owner but because the man in the truck could come back, and an orderly house might make it appear that they were still living there, which would buy them some time…
And for now? She’d have to thaw and cook the hamburger and chicken and rice, and she’d have to soak the beans and cook them, too, but without a cooler she doubted the food would last more than a day on the road. After that, it would be sandwiches and apples and carrot slices for God knew how long. She had to pack clothes, too, before sneaking away at night. No one would see them, but that also meant there might be no one to give them a ride, and the realization of all she had to do made something collapse inside, fear giving way to another flood of tears.
How was it possible for something like this to happen? To leave one dangerous situation only to end up in another equally dangerous situation? If she lived a hundred lifetimes—a thousand—the odds were almost inconceivable.