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“YOU DIDN’T REALLY THINK I would let you drive?” Jim laughed when Mary offered to take the wheel. “After you plowed over a dozen cases of green beans and corn?”
“That could have happened to anybody.” Mary grumbled as she adjusted the safety belt in the passenger seat, “We’ve been on the road for more than twelve hours, aren’t you tired?”
“Not really.” He lied, glancing at his sleeping wife in the rearview mirror. “I will sleep when we pull over for the night.”
“Ahh,” Mary grinned “you don’t trust me with your precious cargo.”
Jim chuckled without responding and stared at the reflectors in the center of the highway.
“I am not offended.” Mary said, patting his beefy arm, “It makes me happy to know you are so protective of her and those little ones.”
“There is a rest stop a few miles up the road according to the sign we just passed. Let’s pull over and get some sleep.”
“Great! I would be happy just to get this blasted harness off of me. I think I have a friction burn.” Mary teased, rubbing her right shoulder and breast.
The van slowed to a crawl as they entered the roadside park. Jim rested his chin on the steering wheel and scanned the isolated space. When he spotted a mass of trees away from the halogen streetlamps he killed the headlights and put the van in reverse; the heavy truck rolled like a ghost through the blackness until it disappeared beneath a cluster of low hanging limbs and vines.
“This will do.” He turned off the ignition, yawned and arched his back. In the darkness he could sense Mary’s unease. “What’s wrong Mary?”
“I... the woods make me nervous at night.”
“We will be locked in the vehicle – nothing is going to creep under the covers and bite you.” He sighed, “Haven’t you ever been camping?”
“Not really.” she answered, nibbling at the dry cuticles of her fingernails. “The closest I have ever come to camping was...” Mary’s thoughts drifted back to her early childhood and the bayous of Louisiana when she was at peace with nature; when she watched the sun rise and set on the green swamps of Houma and ate wild berries at will. She recalled the day trips to the beach, feeding the seagulls and her mother’s voice asking what are you afraid of Maggie? No one had called her Maggie since.
“We’ll be fine.” Jim’s voice interrupted her wandering reminiscence as he reached for the door handle. “The Mary I know is not afraid of anything. You’re just tired, that’s all.”
“No!” Mary gasped, “Don’t open the door – you will wake Clara and the babies. You can crawl to the back and I’ll recline my seat and sleep right here.”
“Are you sure? I could sleep up here.”
“You’re a big man – you need to stretch out. Go on now.”
Jim’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he smiled as Mary impatiently flipped her hand toward the rear of the van.
She watched as he folded and twisted his large frame in a graceful fashion until he reached his sleeping bag. She listened until his snore was in sync with every petit puff of Clara’ exhalations.
Mary leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the contrasting tunes of the crickets and tree frogs dull her mind. A pair of mated owls hooted; calling back and forth across the branches somewhere overhead and she felt the tension leave her neck. A lonesome whippoorwill whistled in the distance and her shoulders relaxed. The scent of dew and decaying timber ascended, mixing with the human must and worn leather as it settled in Mary’s nostrils. She imagined Levi’s warm hand resting on her buttocks as she heaved a deep sigh and fell asleep.
“Where are we?” Clara grumbled, rubbing her eyes as the morning sun crept through the brush. She could see Mary curled up in the seat in front of her; the rays creating an illusion of stripes on her pale blouse. She turned herself toward the rear of the van and spotted an empty sleeping bag. “Jim?” she cranked the window down and whispered, “Jim, are you out there?” There was no reply other than the faint snapping of twigs and rustling of dry leaves. “Mary!” Clara shook the sleeping woman’s shoulder, “Wake up! There is something out there and Jim is missing.”
“I don’t sense any danger.” Mary straightened her body and groaned, “It’s probably just Jim stretching his legs and taking a leak. I could use a little of both myself.”
“Me too. My bladder is about to bust but I don’t think I can pee in the woods.”
“You shouldn’t have to. There is a bathroom right over there.” Mary pointed in the direction of the lighted building she had spotted when they arrived. “Let’s go relieve ourselves and freshen up. Did you bring a toothbrush?”
“I think so.” Clara rummaged through her backpack retrieving a small case containing toiletries; “I have a bag of wipes too – just in case.”
“Well, come on. We’ll probably pass Jim along the way.”
The women scuttled out of the van, limping and waddling toward the Saint Louis Welcome Center.
“We are in Missouri!” Clara gazed about at the idling semi-trucks and scratched her head. “Did I sleep that long?”
“Apparently, you did.” Mary studied Clara’s frazzled appearance. “Don’t fret, you didn’t miss much – a few hay fields, a lot of dried corn stalks and—”
“Jim!” Clara called out, hurrying toward him. “I was afraid a grizzly bear might have eaten you.”
“Fat chance.” He smiled, “If there were any grizzlies around here I think I would have one for breakfast. I am famished.”
“Give us a few minutes to freshen up and we’ll find a place to get you fed.”
“You’d better hurry, that squirrel is looking pretty darn good right about now.” He chuckled pointing to the small creature scampering about and frantically gathering a traveler’s spilled popcorn.
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“HOW MUCH LONGER?” CLARA asked, wrestling with an oversized pillow as she shifted her bloated frame in the rear seat of the van.
“About four hours – no more than five.” Jim answered, unwrapping a third sausage and biscuit with his left hand as he steadied the steering wheel with his right. “Put your feet up and take a nap.”
“I slept sixteen hours; I don’t need a nap.”
“No, she needs to move around.” Mary said, pushing a paper cup into Jim’s hand. “And you need to wash some of that biscuit down before you choke.”
“Heimlich!” Clara cackled. She did not need to rehash the story behind her odd outburst; Mary could picture the ordeal and laughed with her.
“Hardy-har-har.” Jim mumbled before taking a long drink. “Thanks Mary.” He hiccupped when the lump of food landed in his stomach with a plop.
“How many of those are you going to eat?” Clara asked, inspecting her husband as he reached inside the McDonald’s bag.
“I could eat a few more.” He replied, his fingers blindly searching for the familiar package.
“I only got six – that would be two apiece.”
“I don’t need another one,” Mary spoke between sips of blistering coffee, “he can have mine.”
“That’s nice,” Clara joked, “considering he has already eaten it.”
“Sorry.” Jim blushed, still rummaging through the sack. “How about this hashbrown – does anyone want it?”
“I don’t” the women answered simultaneously.
“Thanks.” He smiled before breaking the deep-fried potato patty and pressing it into his mouth.
“You’re welcome.” The feminine voices harmonized as they stared at the road ahead.
Can you see him? Clara inaudibly questioned Mary; do you see any sign of Gustav?
He is hiding behind a curtain. Mary answered; He keeps the shades drawn... but he knows we are coming.
Does he know who we are?
I can’t tell.
