“But I know, despite what the world wants me to believe, that we’re going to make it. And I know that when we do, when we walk through the glittering gates of Shreveport, that everything will change, that our lives will…truly begin.”
I smiled, and I stroked her hand with my pinky finger, and my heart filled up with love for her, for her patience and her optimism and her unimaginable strength and her hopes and dreams I myself could never hold onto for as long as she had. I wanted to kiss her, deeply, softly, I didn’t care and wouldn’t be picky if I had a choice, but my face was too swollen for kissing. And I wanted to make love to her, but my body was too battered for love-making.
I settled with words, pushed through my swollen lips, and willed my mind to make sure my mouth said them perfectly. “I love you with all my heart, Thais Fenwick.”
THAIS
My eyes found his in an instant, and for a moment they did not blink. My chest filled with up air, my heart with emotion that threatened to choke me. But I did not choke; I swallowed the emotion down, and I pushed my body toward him and kissed his broken lips with the gentleness of a feather. “And I love you…Atticus, I’ve loved you since the day you carried me in your arms away from my sister. And in my heart I know I’ll love you long after the sun dies and takes the world with it.”
~~~
ATTICUS
We talked of many things: about the people of Paducah and their strange beliefs that were neither right nor entirely wrong.
“I can understand their ways,” Thais had said. “And a part of me feels that because of how they are, more people have found their strength.”
“And more have died because they couldn’t,” I had added.
Thais told me all about her unexpected friendship with a girl named Drusilla.
“She saved my life,” Thais had said. “And yours. We might still be in that place if it wasn’t for her.”
“Did he hurt you?” I had asked about Kade.
Thais shook her head. “He tried,” she answered. “He would have if Drusilla hadn’t come back for me.” And she looked at me, and in her eyes was something unfamiliar, dark, and she said, “I was relieved to see him die. Just like that man you killed in Lexington City. I was relieved…” It was a confession of guilt.
“They deserved it, Thais. Remember that. Don’t let your heart lie to your conscience. They deserved it.”
After a moment, Thais said, “I know.”
I told Thais about my time in the cage, and with a heavy heart, about Peter Whitman.
“Oh no…I remember now,” Thais had said. “The first fight. I thought I’d seen that man before, but I couldn’t place his face. Were you good friends?”
“I guess you could say that,” I had answered. “I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did, but then again, he didn’t know me, either.”
I told Thais about the dangerous secret Peter had been hiding, and about his wife and daughters.
“No one should ever have to hide who they are or who they love,” Thais had said, her head hung in dismay.
After a moment, I, thinking about my friend, said, “I know.”
I told her the news about William Wolf heading to the South soon.
“Do you think they’ll go to Shreveport?” Thais had asked.
“Eventually,” I had said, and I explained what Peter had told me about Texas.
And then I told her about Edgar.
“He was telling the truth.”
“So, then Shreveport is real?” Thais paced the floor. “So, we really do have a chance.”
After a moment, I, finally believing it, said, “We do.”
We left the beauty salon the next day. Fortunately, the raft was there, but unfortunately, so was the rain. It had rained for two days, would stop for an hour, and start all over again for three. But Thais and I could stay no longer. We didn’t even have to discuss it; we just packed up the following morning and set out.
Thais carried the scissors—broken in half to make two separate blades—in the folds of her skirt, secured by ripped fabric; and the toy bucket with the electrical tape and dried-up baby wipes and precious penicillin. We both wore black beautician’s smocks: Thais’ over her white, ruffled blouse—she ditched the suffocating corset—and I wore mine over my bare chest and makeshift sling. I was without shoes, but the bottom of my feet moving over rocks and debris was nothing compared to my many injuries, and travel of any kind was painful and arduous.
THAIS
And Atticus, being Atticus, had a difficult time passing the reins over to me. It was I helping Atticus walk the distance to find the raft, I who uncovered it from the brush—he tried to help, but I ordered him to sit down—it was I who went in search of an improvised oar—a broken water ski—and it was I who rowed us down the Mississippi River, underneath a dreary, cloud-filled sky and the constant rain that fell from it. The only relief we took from the weather was that it still had yet to be accompanied by dangerous lightning or stormy winds. Just rain. A lot of miserable rain. So much rain that by Day Five on the river, its banks were swelling.
“We have to get on land,” Atticus said. “And we need to move inland as far as we can or else this river is going to swallow us.” His swollen mouth still had trouble forming words correctly, but I was already used to it, so in my mind I no longer heard his difficulty speaking.
Together we dragged the raft on the bank—Atticus ignored me telling him to let me do it, this time—and we left it there, not anticipating ever having to use it again. We would be traveling on foot from here on out, getting as far away from the rising waters as we could.
But by late afternoon, hours after we’d left the water for land, the power of The Mississippi proved greater than our efforts to hide from it. The water had broken its banks and flowed far and deep into the land that once contained it. We heard trees snapping in the distance, and the rush of violent water consuming everything in its path as though it were coming straight for us with the whip of retribution ready to strike our backs.
“We have to get to higher ground!” Atticus shouted.
I grabbed Atticus’ arm and he pulled me alongside him, through the pain of his injuries he could not hide from me no matter how hard he tried, and toward a water tower.
I could hear the water coming, like a train barreling over tracks. Glancing back, in the distance I saw the tops of trees swaying, some trees toppling, and I gripped Atticus’ arm tighter, saw a flash in my mind of the water reaching us and tearing us away from each other.
“Where’s the ladder?” I shouted when we made it to the immense water tower.
We found the ladder, but it had been raised and padlocked, and neither of us could reach it.
“Let’s go!” Atticus grabbed my hand and we ran past the tower and went toward an old grocery store.