48
Rachel
Walking had, indeed, been keeping me warm. Now, in the still dusk, I was cold, colder than I have ever been. My hair had grown still longer, and I gathered it around me, realizing as I did that it would impede me, make it impossible for me to run from anyone who wished me ill. I brought the scissors with me when I left, in case of trouble. I could cut it. Yet, I suspected it had grown for a reason, as it had grown before to enable me to escape. I remembered, also, the biblical story of Samson, whose strength had come from his long hair. Could it be that my hair would empower me? That it grew when I needed it?
I heard a sound, a car flying past. Was it Mama? Or someone else, looking for me? No, it was gone; it was nothing. But the car had created a wind, which bit into my arms, my shoulders. I gathered my hair around me. I hoped Mama would come soon!
I remembered something else. When my hair first began to grow, that was when I first began to dream about Wyatt, had first sensed he was coming. That was why I had made the rope, to allow myself to escape. That was also when he had, he said, begun to hear me singing.
Did my hair do that?
Only one way to find out.
I looked around, to make certain no one was there, that no one was coming, looking for me.
Then, I opened my mouth and yelled with all my voice.
“Wyatt!”
“Rachel!” His voice. It was coming to me on the wind.
“Wyatt?” Still, I could not believe it was him.
“Call Mama,” his voice said.
I answered him. “She is coming. But where are you?”
“The Red Fox Inn. In Gatskill.”
The Red Fox Inn! I remembered him mentioning that. I was shivering so hard, but through my chattering teeth, I heard him say, “Rachel.”
It was so soft I could barely hear it. But I whispered back, “Yes, love?”
“You have to get the key.”
The key? Had he said the key? What key? “I don’t understand.”
But suddenly, the wind was frantic, furious, blowing snow up around me, whipping it into my face. And then, another car, a red one, big. What I thought might be called a truck. Yes, truck. It was huge, and it was slowing, stopping near me. Oh, no. Was it someone, someone come to take me? I tried to crouch as low as I could, hide behind the snow-banked bushes, but I knew that if someone were looking for me, he would find me.