The River Widow

by Ann Howard Creel

  She had to escape as soon as possible and take Daisy with her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next time she saw him, Adah found Jack in his cornfield, standing tall in the growing stalks like a lighthouse overlooking a sea of green. His was a beautiful farm with towering trees in the distance, straight rows in the cornfield—not a weed in sight—and another field cultivated in meandering rows up a low slope. Around it all, fresh air sweetened of earth and oak and sun.

  “Why are you here?” he asked in a harsher tone than she had expected. His gaze was measured, too. Obviously Adah’s disappearing acts were not sitting well with Jack, and Adah looked down, disappointed in herself for what she had done. Jack suddenly looked as though he regretted his tone.

  She looked down at her feet, squarely set in the furrow where they stood. Then she took off her hat and squinted up at him. “I have to leave here. You were right.”

  She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a pained expression sprint across his face, even though it was shaded by a hat.

  “That so?” he asked. “What set you off?”

  Adah bit her bottom lip. “It’s too long a story, but . . . I have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  She lifted her hands and then let them fall. “I don’t know yet. You don’t know me well, but I lived on the streets on my own for a long time.”

  “Don’t you have some family somewhere?”

  Adah shook her head. “Only Daisy.” It took her a moment to gather the words that she had only ever spoken in her mind. Somehow putting the words out there would make it even more real. And now she was trusting Jack . . . perhaps with her life.

  “Go on. But you don’t have to ask. You know I’ll help you, even though it means I’ll lose you.”

  His words broke open her core. She’d never expected to receive such kindness, such caring. She made herself meet his gaze, which was soft and sincere. “That’s not it, Jack. I know you’ll help me. But . . . when I say I have to leave here, I don’t mean that I’ll leave alone. I’m going to disappear and take Daisy with me.”

  Looking rather taken aback, he studied her for a moment. “You mean you’re going to run away with the girl . . . ?”

  She held his gaze firmly now. “I can’t think of anything else.”

  He looked askance, removed his hat, and let the fresh air bathe his forehead, then slowly replaced the hat and stared her in the eyes again. “Do you realize that’s kidnapping?”

  “Yes.” Adah’s voice cracked, but she was determined to show Jack how serious she was about this. “I have to do something or get something on them that would make them hesitate to come after me or even report what I’d done.”

  He leaned back a notch as if some ghost or spirit had just given him a shove. “You think you can beat the Branches at what they do best? Intimidate people? They’re the masters. No one beats them at that game.”

  “I have to try.” She gulped. “I haven’t seen Manfred Drucker lately, but I know he’s out there working against me, working for Buck. And Jesse has been bringing a woman around, name of Esther Heiser. At first, I thought she’d make things better . . .”

  “And now . . . ?”

  “It’s baffling. She’s by all outward appearances a successful and independent woman, and yet she wants to marry into the Branch family. She’s almost desperate to get married.”

  “What scares you about her?”

  “Did I say I was scared?”

  “I can see it; it’s written all over you.”

  Adah lowered her voice, even though no other soul was in sight. “She doesn’t like Daisy, and if they ever decide to kick me out, Esther will become her mother. She’ll take over.”

  “So . . . what’s your plan?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have one yet.”

  He reached across the space between them and touched her cheek softly, like a kitten brushing by. Adah’s breath stalled. His voice changed yet again. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “Sure you do.”

  Jack turned and headed down the corn row until it ended where it almost met the woods. Then he headed down a nearly overgrown path into the trees, and Adah, unable to resist, followed on his heels. The woods were hot with pollen-filled air and no breeze.

  When they came to a barbed-wire fence, Jack spread the wires for Adah to slip through.

  She shot him an admonishing glare. “Private property, I presume?”

  He nodded. “I have no idea who owns it. But I’ve come out here for years. No one has ever bothered me.”

  Adah said, “There’s a first time for everything. If we start taking bullets from some outraged landowner, you’ll protect me?”

  He snickered. “With my life.”

  Adah gestured beyond the fence. “What’s over there?”

  “Patience, please.”

  Adah ducked through the fence, and Jack followed her through. He took the lead again, and in only a few minutes, the trees opened up to the broad and gleaming sight of a small lake more richly blue than the sky above and so still a breath could have sent it rippling.

  Jack said, “We have this all to ourselves.”

  Adah stared at the pristine sight before her. “How did you ever find it?”

  “Just by wandering.”

  Jack then started stripping down to his underclothes, totally unselfconscious, and Adah didn’t know what to do. She found a patch of willows, where she kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned herself out of her shirt, shimmied out of her skirt, and hung her clothes over reeds, then emerged self-consciously to see that Jack was already in the water. She hoped he wouldn’t notice that her body was as white as chicken skin and that her bra and underwear were old and tattered.

  “Over here,” he said, his voice ringing in the cloudless silence, and she saw the white dome of his head out in the center of the lake. She stood for a moment in silence, breathing deeply, mesmerized. There was nothing except him and the lake’s mossy smell, the sheen off the water, a line of black trees in the distance, and blinding light.

  She touched the water with her toe. It was colder than she’d expected. A shiver lifted the hair on her arms, but she hugged herself and took a few steps down into water that was clearer than she had expected, too. It must have been a spring-fed lake.

  Up to her thighs in water, she plunged in headfirst, immediately engulfed by the sweet water. Sounds were muffled as she pushed back up and broke the surface.

  After swimming in his direction, she began treading in the blue-green water, whose surface under the sunlight appeared as if strewn with rhinestones. Adah had never been a strong swimmer, but Jack seemed completely at ease. In fact, he’d never looked more luminous. His wet hair was like dark whiskey now, and the squinting about his eyes lifted his cheeks and beamed back the brightness.

  He was treading water, sweeping his arms through it, and he had droplets in his eyelashes and on his face like pearls she wanted to take into her mouth. He drifted closer and she could hear each breath. He took her wrist in his hand and drew her nearer. Her body charged with something unreasonable and joyous, but fear fell into her chest, too. Once they had done this, there could be no turning it back. Did love always come joined with a certain amount of trepidation? Along with the good feelings, was there always dread that something wouldn’t go right or that love could be lost? Love and fear seemed twined like stalks of a grapevine—so close they couldn’t be separated.

  Aware of her helplessness, she glided onward. She was in his arms before she knew it, his body like oiled velvet against hers.

  He ran his hands all over her goose-pimpled flesh, across her back, and down her bottom. And then his mouth—silky, tobacco rich, open, and luring. It was everything. Nothing sealed away, nothing suppressed. A line of poetry came to her so strongly she almost said it aloud. Come live with me and be my love.

  From the sensible chambers of her mind, a calming voice
told her to stop this, don’t do it, you’ll regret it. But another voice, one that came from a more primal place, said, I want him, he wants me, this is so right. She might have done anything he asked, but he surprised her by stopping at kissing and stroking her body. She could feel him swallowing back desire. Then he simply held her entwined while keeping them both afloat with one strong arm and his legs.

  They swam side by side back to the shore, and when Adah emerged, the fresh air on her chilled skin felt as if an icebox door had been left open. She wrapped her arms around herself and aimed for her clothes.

  Jack said, “You’re cold. Wait until you dry off.”

  She became aware of his near nakedness, his chest of sculpted ivory with a scattering of brown hair that shimmered in the sunlight, his arms hefty, his body as big and warm looking as a cabin. He led her to a clear spot at the edge of the water, out in the open sun, and they sat.

  Jack stretched out his legs in front of him and leaned back on his elbows. His thighs were like urns, but they tapered beautifully to almost-slender ankles. “Lie back and get some sun on you,” he said and then whispered seriously, “I promise not to touch.”

  Adah did as he said; all the while her mind scuttled. She wanted him to touch her. She was ready for something like this, for a moment of reprieve. She wanted to live, really live, as she hadn’t before. Just make love to me, just love me, her mind pleaded.

  But he was the one who had resisted. She searched the sky above for answers to the spiderweb of mysteries surrounding Jack. He did crazy things, such as taking her here, but then behaved cautiously. He was enamored of her, but he was a gentleman. On the grass and under the late-afternoon sky, the moon was visible and she could’ve sworn the ground was trembling. She had to place her hands flat at her sides. But it wasn’t the earth, only the hammering of her heart that shook the world around her. Desire clustered around Jack and her much too readily, and the longer they didn’t act on it, the stronger it became. Like an adrenaline surge when suffering a fright, it struck Adah at the mere sight of him now.

  She said, barely above a whisper, “You must have a strong willpower.”

  He rolled toward her and tenderly moved the wet strands of hair away from her forehead, his eyes melting over her. He let out a breath that sounded different than before—huskier, deeper, but soft as a petal. His gaze trained on her; it was brimming with something that looked like love. “Only because I have to. You just told me you’re leaving these parts. I’ve waited my entire life for you, but you’re telling me that it doesn’t matter. I can’t have you.”

  An endless beat in time held her still.

  Then he whispered, “Your lips are a drink of red wine.”

  She’d never heard such things before, had never read them in a novel or listened to them on a radio program. And she’d never imagined being the recipient of such ardor. It was unknotting all of her tangles.

  Later she would not even remember how it happened, but then they were kissing again, kissing deeply, exploring each other’s mouths as if exploring their minds. He moved down to her neck and breathed into it. “And do you remember when I said your neck was a slice of white cake?”

  By then it was too difficult to gather words.

  But after moments of passion, Jack pulled back. Again. She should’ve taken it as the ultimate sign of respect, but instead rejection landed in the pit of her stomach.

  Jack seemed tormented, looking away into nothing. “What you’re thinking of doing, taking Daisy away. It’s dangerous.”

  She had to work to find her voice, and she was surprised how weak she sounded. “Life is dangerous.”

  Jack looked as if the gears in his brain were working overtime. He jerked his stare back to her face. “I’m going to get you a gun.”

  The mood shifted as quickly as a gray cloud can block out the sun. An appalled snort exploded out of her. “Surely not.”

  “It’s obvious you’re going to do battle with the Branches. They’ll stop at nothing to stop you. They’ve killed before and covered it up. And they’ve got Drucker on your back, too. A bad cop is more dangerous than anything. I want you to have a means of protecting yourself—”

  “I don’t know anything about guns. I wouldn’t even know how to fire one. And I doubt I could ever shoot a person with a gun.”

  “I’m talking about a small gun, a .32 caliber, small enough to fit in your purse or an apron pocket. You should be prepared for anything and everything. Drucker’s always got a gun on him, and you best be aware the Branches probably have plenty of guns.”

  “There’s a rifle cabinet.”

  “And they probably also have a pistol or two. They have a lot to guard over at that place.”

  Each new argument Jack presented added a new fear and drained a few more drops of life from her body. “I can’t see myself going around carrying a gun.”

  “It’s always a good idea to carry a gun.”

  She glanced around, checking that she was really here, having this conversation. How could this be happening? “You’ve been listening to too much Green Hornet .”

  “No. I don’t need to listen to fiction. Real dangers exist in the real world. You just said so yourself.”

  She closed her eyes against the sun. “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Then give up on your idea.”

  Jack was paying a price for this situation, too. She was going to hurt him, and she couldn’t put him at even more risk by involving him too much in her escape. Whether she got away or not, the Branches would seek revenge on anyone who had helped her. She had to end this, for Jack’s sake. “I think we’ve said enough.” Adah turned her face away.

  He lightly took her in his arms again, his eyes now aglow, his gaze penetrating, his voice near desperate. He pulled her closer, his words an urgent plea. “Marry me. Stay here and marry me. You’ll be near the girl, and as she gets older . . . she’ll be able to seek you out on her own.”

  His proposal rang in her ears like the echo from a shotgun. T hen finally landing in her heart, ripping a hole wide open. “That’s years away” was all she managed to say.

  He whispered, “If something happened to you . . .” He blinked. “I’d never forgive myself.”

  A thunderstorm was rolling in rapidly; the sky was hazy and low, like smudged glass. “You honor me, Jack. I wish it were simple and I could stay here and perhaps marry you. But I have to finish this. I have to get Daisy away from them . . . now.”

  “You don’t.”

  How could he not see how vital this was? How could he not understand? “I do. I’m sorry.” As if the sky had read her mind, it thundered a protest and then let loose a spray of rain pellets. She and Jack jumped up, grabbed their clothing, and took shelter under the canopy of a large spreading sycamore while they watched it pour. They stood side by side in silence.

  The rain started to let up, the clouds burning off, the sky always in motion, never stagnant. Hopelessly and desperately she had let another month pass by, and absolutely nothing good had happened.

  Through a long sigh she said, “Jack, rest assured, the next time I see you, I’ll have a plan.”

  Chapter Twenty

  As she toiled in the heat of July, days filled with backbreaking work, Adah’s mind was muddled with ideas and plans that had yet to come to fruition. There were many days of warm sunshine and afternoon thunderstorms that approached as a curtain of gray mists and slant rain, and often there were rainbows. Adah leaned against the doorjamb and watched the wind push the rain in whatever direction it willed. Kentucky farmlands were lovely, but Adah’s dream of keeping part of Lester’s farm or selling it for needed money was slipping away just as surely as summer would slide into fall. She had to give it up. And no matter how tired she was, she had to stay alert and attentive. She had to come up with an escape plan.

  On a steaming afternoon, when heat rose like wavering spirits out of the fields and roads, the roar of a car engine made Adah freeze. The crunching of tires
on the gravelly road and the heat of a motor assaulted her senses as dust enveloped her from behind. Adah had been going to deliver a basket of clean laundry to the redheaded family, and now the dirt from the road was settling on the top of the stack. She spun around. The front bumper of a sheriff’s department patrol car was only a foot or so away, and Manfred Drucker sat at the wheel.

  He could’ve so easily mowed her down, and the devilish smile on his face, which she could see through the windshield, made it clear that was the exact message he meant to deliver.

  He stepped out. “Get in,” he ordered. His face was red and his forehead greasy. Big half-moon-shaped sweat spots festered on his shirt underneath his armpits. Even on the still air, Adah could smell his skunklike body odor.

  She set down the basket, rubbed dirt from her eyes, and fixed her gaze on him. “Am I being arrested?”

  “In good time, sweetheart. In good time,” he said as he hoisted up his belted slacks, pistol in the holster. “For now, I just need a moment with you.” He swaggered over to the passenger door and opened it.

  Adah held her ground. “Don’t you need a warrant?”

  He grinned. “I’m not arresting you, doll face, not yet.” He pointed at her. “And let me give you a piece of advice: if you don’t cooperate, then I will arrest you. Disrespecting a sheriff’s officer is not taken lightly in this county.”

  She did as Drucker said.

  Inside the car, the smell was overwhelming. C old fear falling into the pit of her stomach, Adah sat still and faced forward.

  “So,” he said after he slid in behind the wheel and turned his body in her direction, his right arm draped over the top of her seat. “I’ve been doing me some investigating on you, sweetheart, and you sure do have what people ’round here call a checkered past. I know all about it, about how you was orphaned and no one wanted you, how you was turned out on the streets of New York City. And I know you hopped trains for a while and set up camp with gypsies and hobos, tricking people into paying you for fortune-telling.”