by Ray Gorham
Jennifer’s mind raced back over the details Kyle had told her about his journey home. She thought she knew about most things, but Rose Duncan’s name was unfamiliar.
“Maybe he didn’t tell you about me. I’m sure there were a thousand other things that happened along the way. It’s nice to meet the woman a man would walk two thousand miles for. You’re just like Kyle described.”
Jennifer let out a puff of air. “I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve let you down. Do you have family in the area? You’ve come an awful long way. There must something else that brought you this direction.”
Rose shook her head. “No. Just Kyle.”
Jennifer’s mind was racing, trying to recall what Kyle had said about the storm. She thought back to the meeting where Kyle had spoken to the community and remembered someone asking about it. If she remembered correctly, Kyle had said that he’d been saved by an older woman, but…
“He showed up in my yard in the middle of that terrible blizzard. Would have frozen to death if my dog hadn’t alerted me…”
This woman wasn’t older, maybe a few years, but not what you think of when you say older. Why hadn’t Kyle said anything about Rose?
“He stayed for four days, so we really got to know each other. He told me all about your family. Then when my homestead was attacked and my dog killed, well, it sounds strange, but Kyle was the only person I could think of to go to, after what I had done for him and all the time we’d spent together. I know it sounds silly, but here I am.”
Jennifer felt herself go cold inside, like someone had pulled a plug in her heel and let all of the life in her just drain out. “So, you’re saying you spent four days with my husband, then decided to follow him halfway across the country?”
Rose nodded. “I guess so. It sounds kind of creepy when you say it that way, but I guess that’s what it boils down to.”
“Can you excuse me for a minute?”
Rose nodded, smiling politely. “Do you have a bathroom I can use? After so long on the road, it would be nice to use an actual bathroom again.”
Jennifer indicated down the hallway. “There’s a bucket of water in the bathtub; use that to flush.”
She hurried downstairs to where her kids were playing a game of Risk. “Emma, I’m going out for a minute; take care of the baby. David, you help her.”
“You okay, mom?” David asked as he rolled the dice. “You don’t look very good.”
“I’m fine.” Jennifer went back upstairs, grabbed her coat off of the arm of the couch, and let herself out. She walked, trancelike, down the street, her mind churning over her conversation with Rose. Why would a woman, she wondered, follow a man five hundred miles across two states, on horseback, under such trying circumstances? The question repeated itself over and over in her mind, and none of the answers she came up with were good.
She thought back to when she was a young girl, and her mother had learned about her father’s indiscretions and the things he did while he was on the road. At the time, she couldn’t understand why it was so devastating for her mom, why she cried alone in her bedroom at night, even weeks after the revelation.
At that age, when boys weren’t that important, she had just thought it was because her mother was too fragile to handle rejection or disappointment, and that her mother was too dependent on her father. But after she married Kyle, Jennifer knew what it meant to give yourself to someone else. It was more than just sharing a last name and an address. It was letting them into your heart. It was putting all your weaknesses and vulnerabilities on the table and trusting them to still love you. Marriage was not being able to see a future without your partner in it, knowing that someone loved you, in spite of your silly mess-ups or odd little personality quirks. It was being the only one that belonged in that particular place in their heart, forever, no matter what happened.
It wasn’t finding out that you were just there for when they needed something, at their convenience, to be used interchangeably with whoever else might come along. She had never fully understood what her mother had experienced, until now. The wound was bitter, and painful, and devastating.
Jennifer walked numbly along the top of riverbank, picking her way past the boulders that dotted the bank. The water was low this time of year, but it was cold and still deep enough to be dangerous. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. The day had left her feeling so hollow she wasn’t surprised there was nothing left.
She looked out across the water, swift, cold, and deadly, and she crawled down to the edge, dropping her head into her hands. “You’ve done it, God. I’ve wondered for the past five months where my breaking point would be. Thought maybe I was tough enough to deal with whatever you threw at me, but I was wrong. I’ve endured separation, indescribable fear, evil, more death than I ever hoped to see, losing my husband twice, nearly losing a son, and now you have to rip my heart out too?”
A sob escaped her lips, and she shuddered, losing her grip on the rock and sliding down to the ice at the water’s edge, her legs splashing in up to her knees. The water was icy cold, causing her to jerk involuntarily, but she left her legs in, the temperature rapidly making them more and more numb. “Do you even care about me? Do you even know I’m alive, or did you just wind up this world and step back to watch it all fall apart?”
The river was rocky near the shore, then the bottom fell away to a deeper section where David liked to come and fish, though he never caught many to speak of. She estimated the water to be at least five feet deep, maybe six, not necessarily deep enough to be deadly, but fully dressed and with the cold temperatures, it could be dangerous. She didn’t have her gun, it was still on the floor beside the couch, but at least this way, her death could look like an accident.
Ten, fifteen minutes tops, she thought, and she would have no more worries, no more disappointments, no more struggles, no more anything. It could all be over. How nice it would be to not go to bed with your stomach hurting from hunger, or have to worry about what tomorrow might bring. If there was a heaven, maybe she would still make it. God embodied love, and surely He would understand what she’d been through. If hell was where she ended up, how could that be any worse than this. In fact, maybe it would be better, since she wouldn’t be cold or hungry. And, if there was nothing at all, well then there would be no struggles, no heartbreak, none of the crap that life seemed so happy to jam down your throat every day.
She stood up and reached out to swirl her hand in the water. It gave her goose bumps up and down her arms and across her back. She looked out to the deeper water, wondering how cold it would feel and how long it would hurt and if drowning or hypothermia would take her first. She took a step forward. The water was deeper and came up to her thigh. She gasped as the cold gripped her legs and the current tugged at her. She paused and looked around, knowing someone from the militia might come by and see her at any moment. She began to cry, wanting so much for all the pain to go away, but scared to take another step forward.
Jennifer heard laughter off in the distance that reminded her of Spencer, her pure, loving, little ray of sunshine whose enthusiastic hugs at bedtime melted all the troubles of the world away. Then she thought of Emma, and how much Emma mimicked her mother in wanting to be grown up and in charge, but how much she still craved her mother’s love and approval. David flashed before her, with his broad shoulders, his courage, and the emotional rock he had been for her through so many challenges. How can I do this to them? She shook her head, trying to clear it, to think straight. What am I doing, she asked herself.
“I’m not done yet,” she gasped, her jaw tight from the cold. She moved back towards the bank, her legs numb and unsteady. She stepped in a hole in the rocks, sinking up to her waist in the water. Shrieking from the cold, she grabbed at the ice ledge lining the side of the river to steady herself, but her fingers slipped off, causing her to lose her balance. The current nudged her, and she teetered back and forth as she fought to regain some stability. As she felt her foot slipp
ing deeper into the water, she lunged forward and grabbed ahold of a large, exposed root on the bank of the river, clasping it tightly with both hands.
The root was thick, dry, and secure, and she clung to it while she caught her breath and regained her footing, then slowly pulled herself out of the water, her legs weakly pushing her body forward. Slowly climbing up the bank, Jennifer flopped over the top edge with a gasp of relief. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, letting out a breath and shaking her head slowly from side to side. In the distance she heard a horse approaching at a gallop, its hooves beating hard on the dirt path. Jennifer sat up to get out of the way, shielding the sun from her eyes to see who was approaching.
“Jennifer!”
Still numb and out of breath, she watched the horse come to a stop. Rose dismounted and rushed towards her. Jennifer wondered briefly if Rose had a gun and had come to eliminate the competition permanently.
“Jennifer, are you okay?”
Jennifer nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Kyle isn’t here, you know. The community…”
“Jennifer, stop, please. You weren’t there when I came out of the bathroom, so I waited for you. When you didn’t come back, I began to think and realized what this must seem like. I was so tired from traveling and too excited to have made it that I didn’t explain things the way I should have. And, I forgot to tell you the most important thing.”
“Are you pregnant?”
Rose laughed. “No, I’m not pregnant. I haven’t had sex in almost a year, though heaven knows I tried with your husband. I’m embarrassed by what I did, but Kyle loves you. You need to know that. He refused to cheat on you even though I gave him the opportunity. That’s why I came here, because he’s one person I know I can trust. I just knew he was a decent man and thought he might help me.”
“You had nowhere else to go?”
Rose shook her head. “It’s pitiful, but true. My kids are too far away, my parents are dead, and my husband is gone, plus it was over with him anyway. I needed somewhere to go where I could be safe, or at least where I could trust the people around me.”
“So you’re saying you came here because Kyle wouldn’t sleep with you?” Jennifer blinked, fighting back tears that were a little freer in coming than they had been earlier.
Rose wavered a little. “I guess so, though that sounds bizarre. I came here because I wanted to be somewhere I felt safe. With what I knew of Kyle and what he told me of the community, I thought I’d find that here. I’m so sorry. I should have explained that first thing.”
Jennifer closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “Thank you for clearing that up. I’ve been teetering near the edge emotionally for a while, and this nearly pushed me over. It feels good to be pulled a few feet back away from the brink.”
Rose reached out and grabbed Jennifer’s hands. “I truly am sorry. I wish there was something I could do for you.”
A thought came to Jennifer and she looked at Rose. “Would you be a character witness for Kyle?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Come with me.”
They returned to the house, where Jennifer put on dry clothes. Then the two women hurried across town, with Jennifer explaining to Rose what had happened to Kyle. When they reached their destination, Jennifer knocked sharply on the door. A young boy of about twelve answered. “Is Sean here?” Jennifer asked.
The boy nodded and turned. “Uncle Sean,” he called out. “There’s someone here for you.”
Jennifer waited for Sean to appear, bouncing with nervous energy. It was only a few seconds before she heard his voice.
“Hi, Jennifer. What brings you by?”
Jennifer smiled more fully than she had since the day Kyle had first arrived home. “Sean, I have someone here you have to talk to. Someone who will swear that Kyle would never do what he was convicted of. I want you to meet Rose Duncan.”
CHAPTER 43
Thursday, February 23rd
Moyie Springs, ID
The wooden door was old, with its green paint faded and peeling in long, thin strips. It rattled on its hinges and seemed like it might fall into the house when Kyle knocked on it. He took a step back, cleared his throat, waited, and listened. Thanks to bad directions, a slow horse, and the remote location, it had taken him three days to find this house, which could have been longer if not for Garfield’s patient service. The resilience of his loyal steed, even though Garfield had seen better days, was a blessing.
Kyle couldn’t hear anything from inside the house, so he stepped forward and knocked firmly on the door again. Having spent so much energy locating it, he refused to give up and go away.
The last few days in Moyie Springs had been most interesting. Collin had finally begun talking and, once Gene had gained the boy’s trust, had opened up about everything.
Collin’s story had come out in drips and drabs over the course of a few days, to a point where Kyle and Gene had been able to put together enough pieces to make sense of it. Though there were still lots of holes to be filled in, they had learned, firstly, that Collin was from Seattle, where he had lived with his mother.
Collin related how the lights in their apartment building went out one day and never come on again. They stayed in their apartment for a week, never going outside, just living on what little food they had, until the stench from the toilets forced them out, at which point they walked across the city to where his sister, Stacy, lived.
While staying with his sister, increasing local violence forced the three of them to abandon her duplex and travel out of the city and seek out Christopher, an old boyfriend of Stacy’s. After they had been there for a while, Collin’s mother disappeared and Christopher became more violent towards Collin, hitting the boy if he asked for food or water, and forcing Stacy to protect him.
The three of them, Stacy, Collin, and Christopher, eventually moved further out of town, to where Andre, a friend of Christopher, lived. There they had hunted and fished and eaten things they could scavenge. At some point, Andre acquired a working vehicle, and they had driven further away from the city, ending up at the cabin where Kyle had found them, surviving on deer meat, tree bark, and food taken from strangers. Collin recalled that Stacy hated how mean Christopher had become, and that she spent more and more time with Andre, who seemed to like her a lot.
Collin didn’t know how long they had been at the cabin when Kyle found him. He had just said they were there a long time, that they were hungry a lot, and that Andre and Chris fought about him and Stacy, and sometimes Christopher would hit them both, at least until Kyle had shown up.
What the complete story was, Kyle didn’t know, but he was glad Collin was out of the situation. The last few days, Collin had spent a lot of time with Gene, even calling him grandpa, and smiling and laughing. Today they were going fishing and pheasant hunting, building a relationship that Kyle recognized was good for both of them.
There was still no answer at the green door. Kyle had stepped forward to knock on it one more time when it was thrown open with a slam. A man stood beyond the door, a shotgun leveled at Kyle. “What do you want?” the man demanded.
Kyle pulled his hands back, raising them helplessly over his head. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Roman Bakowski. I was told he lived here.”
“I’m Roman Bakowski. What do you want?” The man had an accent like a Russian gangster’s from the movies, a low, guttural growl of a voice that was heavy on the letter w and rolled around in his mouth like he was chewing marbles.
“My name is Kyle Tait. I was told that you have a HAM radio, unless there is another Roman Bakowski around.”
“I the only Roman Bakowski in the area. Who told you I do the HAM radio?” He still held the shotgun leveled at Kyle, but his demeanor eased up a little, and the scowl on his face was softening.
“My friend, Frank, said there were people in the area with radios. The sheriff told me about you
and where you lived, but it was hard to find. Frank does HAM radios. Said I should look someone up so I could talk to him.”
“I don’t know a Frank. I talk to lot of people on my radio. Why would he tell you come here?”
Kyle gave an edited version of how he’d come to the area and explained that Frank was the closest one to his family who could communicate out of the area.
“So why I should help you? What have you done for me?”
“I have silver,” Kyle said, holding out a silver quarter.
Roman looked at it and scoffed. “Why do I need silver? You have gold?”
Kyle felt his wedding ring on his finger, spinning it around a couple of times. “Just my wedding ring, but I…”
Roman cut him off. “You married?”
Kyle nodded.
“Keep ring. Your wife kill you if you give it to me. I take the silver.”
Kyle handed him the coin, an old 1962 quarter.
Roman held it out in front of him in the light, squinting. “You giving me twenty-five cents?”
“But it’s silver, an old one; it’s worth more.”
“I know it’s silver, but it still say twenty-five cent. This all you have?”
Kyle stuck his hand in his pocket, fished out another one, and handed it to Roman. “Here. Can you help me?”
Roman sighed. He’d lowered his gun and now looked at Kyle more closely, his bushy, silver -flecked eyebrows dancing on his forehead as he tried to focus. “I need my glasses. Pretty blind without them. Was sleeping when you got here. You lucky I’m not so cranky.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
Roman shrugged and led Kyle into the house, groped around on the kitchen table until he found his glasses, then led Kyle out the back door to an old barn behind the house. “You like rats?” he asked as he forced the barn door open.
“Not especially.”
“Then we are good, because I only have mice here.” He let out a hearty laugh and propped the door open. “Come. Sit down here,” he said, pointing to a bale of hay positioned in front of an old desk. “I go start generator. What is friend’s address, where he talks?”