He laughed, and teared up a little.
“Whole letters,” he promised. “Explaining everything. Telling all.”
“Yes,” she said, and it was all she could manage.
They broke their embrace and now his father was at his side, his back to him, hands joined behind his backside, staring out the window toward where Stage Road ran.
“I suppose I will take Ridley if I must,” he said, as if a favor had been asked of him and this was the concession Caleb would have to accept.
“What?” Caleb asked, perplexed.
“There’s not a place on earth I would deign to go without him.”
“What are you saying, George?” his mother asked.
“I’ve traveled the woods of this county since I was a boy. I know them better than anyone. Your best chance at freedom is with me at your side.”
“You despise travel,” Caleb said. “You treat a trip to town as though you’ve journeyed to the gates of hell. You can’t actually want to join us.”
“Want is a strong word,” his father said. “I’m needed, is all.” He put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and walked by him.
Caleb thought to protest but knew it would be futile. His father was emboldened by his own stubbornness. There was a maddening insouciance to the way his eyebrows raised in moments like this, how the wrinkles of his face unwove themselves in total commitment to the finality of his conviction. There would be no changing his mind. Caleb wasn’t sure his father could change his own mind once he’d come to a decision.
“I’ll go only as far as the county line. Once I know you’re off safely, I’ll return home.”
“To charges of assisting criminals,” Caleb said.
His father waved him off as he began to head upstairs.
“Please. I’ll tell them I was on a jaunt in the woods. I’d love to see them prove otherwise.”
Caleb looked at his mother for assistance, but she had little to offer.
“I gave up some time ago with him,” she said, laughing as she wiped her cheeks.
The sun had risen in full now, and the farm sparkled under its canopy of soft yellows, the barn no longer red but burnt orange, the fields brushed with gold. The effect would wear off as the day progressed, but it was a sight to behold when the morning light poured in. He would miss it dearly.
Just then, Prentiss reappeared. He turned to Caleb’s mother—unsure, it seemed, whether it was polite to speak to her in such a condition. “Ma’am,” he said.
She gave him another hug, then pulled away quickly. “Your socks,” she said, heading for the stairs.
The muffled voices of his parents came from behind their bedroom door.
“We’ll have a third on our journey,” Caleb told Prentiss.
“George?” Prentiss nodded knowingly. “He looks out for his own. Best he can, at least.”
His parents descended the stairs, his father dressed no different than he might be for any other day: ragged suspenders over a denim shirt, a sunhat for shade. His father instructed them to meet him out front after he’d fetched the donkey, then split off from his mother without a second look and went out the back door.
His mother approached them. The socks were blue and fine, just as Landry’s had been. The white trim wavered a bit, but this only added to their charm.
“They’re durable,” she said. “Keep them clean, though. Don’t go about in dirty socks, Prentiss.”
“To commit an act so ugly against a pair of socks so nice—I would never, ma’am.” He put a hand to her shoulder in the way a man might to another man, and she responded by placing her own hand on his. Then he pulled away and put the socks in his back pocket. “You take care, ma’am.”
“You as well, Prentiss.”
Caleb tipped his head toward the door. It was time.
Ridley slunk around the side of the house just as Caleb and Prentiss saddled the mare. His father appeared as calm as ever, yet Caleb couldn’t deny the pang of fright in his chest, imagining what was to come. His mother was on the porch, the hem of her gown puddled about her feet. He collected the image and stored it away for moments just like these: when the fear overwhelmed him, and only she would do for relief.
CHAPTER 22
Isabelle napped on George’s armchair, enveloped in his scent. When he’d left with Caleb and Prentiss only hours earlier, she was sure she would remain awake, that nothing could bring her back to sleep, yet the minute she curled her legs beneath her she was lost to a dream. She didn’t recall the particulars, but it was not set in the cabin, and so it seemed a pleasant retreat from her splintered life. She was disappointed to awaken.