Chapter 11
When Jane walked out of the house, Don stayed on the bed. She was tempted to say good-bye, but felt that it would be wrong. She decided it was enough to just walk quietly out of the room and leave him with his thoughts. She hoped they would be pleasant enough and last long enough to sustain him.
Carrying the last bottle of champagne and her cup, she joined the others who sat outside in the yard. Because there was nothing to say, Jane said nothing. She poured her cup half full of the warm champagne and passed the bottle to George. Ma caught her eye and they exchanged looks which in the secret language of women told the story. It said that everything was under control and that Don was temporarily content and happy.
Walking over to the old woman, she spoke softly so that the others would not hear.
"I'm going to go now, Ma. You're not still afraid are you?"
"Some," the woman answered.
"You needn't be, you know. In the beginning, I suppose if I could have I would have killed you and George and Don if I could have. After that, I came to understand all of you. I know you're not mean or cruel or anything like that. You just did what you thought you had to do. We made a deal and I intend to keep my part of it."
"I guess maybe you will, Lady Jane." The old woman looked a little less apprehensive. "While you was in the house with Don, I still thought about not lettin' you go. I didn't say nothin' to George about it, but I thought a lot about it. We'd be safe that way."
"Sure Ma, you'd be safe, but I don't think you'd feel very good. You'd always remember that we made a bargain and I kept my part of it."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I ain't goin' to sleep too good tonight. I'm goin' to be waitin' for that knock on the door and seein' them cops walkin' in and takin' all that money from us."
"They won't, Ma.
Jane took the old woman's hand and held it between both of hers for a moment. Not even the knowledge that those hands had been ready to kill her could spoil the warmth of the moment. She turned away quickly then.
"George," she called, "will you walk me to my car?"
"Sure thing, Lady Jane." lie hurried to his feet and took her arm as he guided her through the darkened, junk littered yard. As they walked toward the dark shapes of the old barn, she looked for words, but could find none. Perhaps they had said enough words earlier that day in the clean, sun-filled woods. Perhaps there was nothing left to say without spoiling all the good things they had shared.
He pushed the big double doors open wide and Jane saw the long black car waiting to carry her out of this unreal world back to a world of familiarity and contentment. A chill spread through her as she realized that only seconds now stood between her and freedom, between death and burial under this floor and a life of ease and luxury in her big, comfortable home. She tired to mask her fears under a smile, but knew that her efforts had failed miserably.
"The keys are in the car." As she heard the words, she realized that he, too, had difficulty finding things to say.
Jane smiled at him then and hoped he would understand all the things the smile contained.
"I guess," he continued, "you know I don't like seein' you go away like this." As if realizing that he had said something that could be misconstrued, he hurried to amend it. "I ain't goin' to stop you though."
"I know you aren't, George. I understand what you mean too and it means a lot to me. Please don't be ashamed of the way you feel, George. Just try to remember the good things. I know I will."
It was obvious that he hadn't worked things out in his mind, but he was willing to accept her parting gesture of warmth and friendship. It indicated that the things that had happened up in the hill earlier had really meant something to her. That was enough.
With a show of courtliness that was not normally part of his nature, he held the door open and watched her slide into the seat.
Moving unhurriedly, she turned the key, flicked on the lights, moved the lever into drive and felt the big car react anxiously under her. The window was still rolled down. She turned to him and looked into his face.
"Good-bye George and thanks for everything."
"Good-bye Lady Jane. Thanks."
The heavy tires bit into the dirt floor and the car began to roll out into the dark night. The headlights cut a wide swatch through the black, the car responded easily to her touch. A feeling of well-being swept over her as she felt the security and freedom of motion within the Lincoln. As she made the turn into the drive, the headlights picked up the two women who still sat on the log holding their cups.
She tapped the horn ring lightly and felt the car absorb the ruts and bumps as the gate seemed to move toward her. Beyond it, stretched a whole world of freedom and clean clothes and familiar surroundings.
Her foot pressed harder on the pedal, the car seemed to share her anxiousness to return home.