We chewed for a good half minute or so, our chomps the only sounds in the woods, aside from the pleading calls of a robin and Gil snickering under his breath.
“All right, that should do it,” said Robbie. “Spit them out and kiss. I want to be good and certain I’m not sending our sweet little girl into the world with a pervert who’ll try sticking his—”
Joe lunged toward Robbie, but before he could take a swing, I grabbed Joe’s left arm.
“Come on—let’s just show them,” I said with a tremor in my voice.
I cupped a hand around the back of Joe’s sweating neck and adjusted my footing on the dirt until we faced each other directly. We just stood there for a moment, breathing peppermint on each other, our lips wavering a few mere inches apart, not quite able to touch.
“What do you think, Gil?” asked Robbie. “Does that look like a fellow about to elope with a woman? Or does it look like someone who needs a stern lesson in masculinity?”
At that, I kissed Joe full on the mouth. Our lips just sort of smashed together at first, but then I felt his mouth moving a bit, kissing me back, and he even slid the tip of his tongue against my tongue, which the Wittens must have witnessed, for Gil whispered, “Oh, sweet Jesus.” My hand gripped the back of Joe’s neck so hard, I must have hurt him; he clung to my waist as though we were withstanding a hurricane. Without realizing what was coming over me, I started to cry, right there, mid-kiss.
Joe pulled his lips away. I dug my forehead into his shoulder and took deep sips of air to try to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I smelled the pond by the Paulissens’ shed again and wished us away to anywhere else on earth besides that cold spot of land in front of the Wittens.
“Why is she crying?” asked Gil.
Joe wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against his side. “Because you’re threatening us with knives and turning what we have into something dirty. How do you expect her to react?”
Gil scratched his head beneath his cap with the hand that held his knife. Robbie looked the two of us up and down, and my skin chilled in the places touched by his gaze.
“Well, don’t just keep gawking at us.” Joe brought us both a step backward. “You’re not going to see anything else, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
“I thought I heard a cat yelping outside last night,” said Gil, his face reddening again, “but maybe that was just Hanalee, screaming in the throes of passion.”
“Shut up, Gil,” snapped Robbie. “This whole thing makes me sick to my stomach, to be honest.” He tossed his cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with the toe of his right shoe. “I might have to go tell your mama and stepdaddy about this, Hanalee.”
“I don’t need the two of you tattling on me, Robbie,” I said while coughing up the last of my tears, “so just—”
“Don’t worry about it, Hanalee.” Joe slid his arm off me but grabbed hold of my left hand. “Come on. Let’s get going.”
“Well, if God sees fit, then”—Robbie turned around, away from us, yet he peeked over his shoulder and kept his blade exposed by his side—“you two will make it safely across the river to Washington. Let’s see how long that marriage lasts until you both wake up and realize how much you repulse each other.”
“Go to hell, Robbie,” said Joe.
“Oh, I’m not the one who’ll be burning for all eternity, Joseph Adder.” Robbie pushed his way through the trees.
Gil followed his brother, and their checkered hats disappeared amid leaves and cobwebs shining with dew.
Joe and I stayed still and listened to the sounds of their retreat. Chuckles and derogatory words—words clearly meant for the two of us to hear—traveled past the location of the small log cabin and then off to the west. I flinched at each sickening term directed toward me, while Joe kept his breath held tightly at the insults meant for him. The words pelted my gut like fireballs, and I wished I could think of a phrase dirty and demeaning enough to hurl back at them.
Joe let go of my hand and grabbed up his belongings at our campsite. “Let’s pack up and get out of here.”
I strapped the holster around my leg and fetched the basket and blanket.
We took off at a brisk pace, toward the east.
A half mile or so later, after hopping over tree roots and skedaddling down deer paths, Joe took hold of my wrist and pulled us both behind the thick trunk of a fir. I panted to catch my breath, and he put his fingers to his lips and said, “Shh. I want to hear if they’re following.”
I closed my mouth and attempted to breathe without making a sound, but the air rustling through my nostrils came out as a windstorm. Some sort of animal with brown fur shook through a bush beside us and made us both gasp.
Joe loosened his grip on my wrist and cursed under his breath.
“I don’t hear them,” I whispered. “Do you?”
He shook his head.
“Joe,” I said in a voice so strained and quiet it hurt my throat. “I’m sorry I started crying.”