I don’t stop running until I hear the sound of a car. I don’t think of my safety. I think only of getting away. I need to get away from my memories, from that woman who will sink her claws into Damian, and from the feelings I’m starting to feel for him.
I’m not ready for anything remotely related to sex, and Jean is. She’ll be able to give him what he needs. I’ll never be whole again. Damian deserves more than my broken, filthy soul.
I hear a car, and soon lights appear, breaking some of the darkness. I wave my arms but the car just keeps going. I’m stupid for leaving in the middle of the night. No sane person will stop for some random stranger.
I quicken my pace so I can put as much distance between me and the house, just in case Damian notices I’m gone.
I’ve been walking for a long while when I hear another car. I wave my arms as it gets closer, praying this one will stop.
It slows and bright lights flash over me. Anxiety eats at my insides until the car pulls up next to me. It’s not a car. It’s one of those homes-on-wheels things. I don’t know what they call them. RVs? Hell if I know. There is a middle-aged woman behind the wheel, and she’s smiling.
“Honey,” her heavy accent drags the word out, “what’s a little thing like you doing out alone in the middle of the night?”
“I need a ride, please.” My tone is tense but still hopeful. She’s a woman, a smiling one – that’s a good sign, right?
“Hop on in then,” the woman says with a concerned look on her face. I quickly open the door and get in before my fear makes me run back to Damian. Once she pulls back onto the road I sigh with relief.
“You running from someone?” she asks just like that, without wasting any time.
I stare wide-eyed at her, not sure what to tell her. I didn’t think the leaving thing through.
“Don’t need to tell me, but a little thing like you running around in the middle of the night, now that’s real dangerous. I’m figuring you’re running from someone more dangerous?”
“I’m … ahh … just traveling,” I blurt out the first excuse that comes to mind. I still have my South African accent so the excuse should work.
She gives me a once over and smirks. “With no bag? You’re backpacking through Chesnee with nothing but the clothes on your back? Why would someone wanna see this little old town?” She looks at me as if I’m some escaped lunatic.
I don’t even know where I am. How screwed up is that?
“I like quiet places.” It’s the only defense I can come up with.
“Annie Wilson. That’s my name. You can just call me Annie, like everyone else.” She starts to ramble. “I’m heading home. Came here for my sister’s funeral. Awful bout of lung infection took her in the end. Told her the weed was no good for her but she kept smoking that stuff faster than she could grow it.”
I stare. I tell myself to stop staring - it’s not polite to stare and who am I to judge?
“But no, she kept saying it was good for her ailments. Well, she ain’t got no ailments no more.” Annie sighs and I finally tear my eyes from her rosy cheeks and tearing eyes. “So yeah, I’m heading back home.” She glances at me and then says, “It’s in Lackawaxen, a small historic town in Pennsylvania. Moved up there when I got married. The old man used to work for the local lumber company, but then he went on to greener pastures. I have a few acres of land outside of town. It keeps me going. I work the ground, or hell, the ground works me.” She chuckles. “We have an understanding. What I put in it gives back.” She keeps quiet and I glance at her. She takes a deep breath and my stomach ties up in knots. “I sure don’t know where you’re heading, but that’s where the road is taking me. You’re welcome to tag along.”
“That’s it?” I blurt out. “You’re just going to let me go with you?” My mouth hangs open.
“I don’t sit in church and pretend to be what I’m not,” she says. “I believe that the Lord works in mysterious ways. It’s not what you give Him between those four walls that matters, it’s what you do to his children when they come asking for your help. I’m sure as hell not gonna be saying no to my Lord when He sends me one of his flock to take care of.”
Now I’m the one staring at her as if she has escaped from the nuthouse. Is this woman for real? Talking about God and flocks and stuff?
“I won’t be asking what you’re running from. You’re welcome to come my way. There’s work I can give you. You’ll feed yourself. Annie sees a lost one, and she sure ain’t gonna show you the door.” I look at the door and consider jumping, not sure if the woman is all there upstairs.
But I don’t jump. Of course I stay, because I’m a coward and this is the easy way out.