I slowly turned my head and realized I was under an open window. Probably someone was coughing in their sleep.
Where was Junior? Had he worked up his nerve to say no to the plan? Or maybe Mr. Botts had locked him up someplace. That was a ridiculous idea and I knew it. For some reason it made me giggle. I was real nervous so the giggling turned to crying but I knew I couldn’t cry out loud or I might get caught. So I covered my mouth and huddled there on the ground, forcing back the sobs and telling myself to hang on just a little longer.
Then I heard a car and saw its lights coming on the road. I kept myself on the ground until I heard the low sound of the bobwhite call. Then I knew for sure it was Junior. I was too scared to whistle back, but I pulled myself up and stepped out of the darkness. Junior saw me and got out of the car.
“There’s my suitcase,” I whispered. “My canes and a pasteboard box are back there—under the second window.”
I was really scared now because Junior had to leave his car sitting in the road while he went after them. He ducked and ran. He helped me get in the back seat and then he put my canes on the floorboard. He set my suitcase and box in the front seat. “Stay low,” he said. Then he went around the car and slid behind the wheel. He shut the door as quiet as he could. “Keep your head down, Ann Fay.”
“Did you see the night watchman?”
“No. And that has me worried. I’d feel better if I knew he wasn’t around the next corner.”
I sat up.
“Get down!”
“How are you going to get out of here?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I took a walk around this place earlier. I know where this road goes. We’ll be on the highway in a minute.”
And we were, too. But it took me a long time to let go of Warm Springs. As bad as I wanted to sneak away, that’s how bad I wanted to get back. And as much as I’d wanted Junior to sneak me out, that’s how much I hated the sight of him. My feelings were so tangled up I didn’t know what I felt. Fear and relief and thankfulness and anger swapped places inside of me. I rolled the window down a few inches.
“Ann Fay, are you hot?” asked Junior.
“No,” I said. “I just want to smell Georgia, that’s all. And whatever you do, don’t start singing, Nothing could be finer.”
Junior kept quiet.
The truth was, the smell of pines put me in mind of Mr. Botts, and thinking about him made me ache inside. He was going to be so disappointed in me. What had I just done? I was pretty sure they’d never let me come back again. Even for a visit.
But it wasn’t like I had a choice about this. The thought of Mr. Botts telling the whole ugly story to my doctor was more shameful than me leaving Warm Springs without permission.
I thought about Gavin. He came from a real good family and was popular with everyone, but for some reason he liked little ol’ me! If Junior Bledsoe hadn’t come along with bad news, I could’ve had me a sweetheart. For the first time in my life I was interested in a boy. And then, just like that, it was over!
I hung on to my blue bottle with one hand and my wooden Comfort with the other. And I cried a puddle into the back seat of Junior’s car.
Somewhere along the way my crying turned to dreaming. It was a jumbled dream about me losing some little shiny thing—I don’t even know what it was. I would see it, but when I reached out it would be gone. I must’ve tried a dozen times to pick it up, and every time it disappeared. And I dreamed Junior was driving my daddy’s truck and I was in the back under a pile of hay. Ida and Ellie were there too, and a police car was chasing after us.
I was glad when I finally woke up. I didn’t tell Junior about my dream, but I did look to see if there was any red lights flashing behind us. What if Mr. Botts sent the police to chase us down?
Then I saw that we were in South Carolina and I breathed a little easier. I could tell because we passed a sign that said GAFFNEY 30 MILES.
“Gaffney’s just ahead,” said Junior. “Wanna stop?”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs,” I said. “And going to the bathroom. But nothing’s open at this time of night.”
“No, but…” Whatever he was fixing to say, he must’ve changed his mind.
“But what?”
Even from where I was sitting, I could see Junior’s nose was twitching. So I knew he was nervous. But why would he be nervous?
“I bet,” he said, sounding a little croaky, “if we went to see a JP, he’d let us use his bathroom.”
“A JP?”
“You know—a justice of the peace.”
“Junior, I know what a JP is, but I’m sure not going to wake one up in the middle of the night just to use his bathroom.”
“Of course not. But that’s not the main reason people go to see a JP, now is it?”
Well, I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The reason anybody from North Carolina went to see a justice of the peace in Gaffney was to get married. That’s because North Carolina has stricter marriage laws.
Junior Bledsoe knew good and well my daddy wasn’t about to let me get married. And what in the world was he talking to me about marriage for?
“Junior,” I said, “are you out of your ever-loving mind? You don’t want to marry me, and I sure don’t want to marry you!”
I thought he would agree with me. I thought he’d say, Ah, Ann Fay, you know I’m just teasing. But he didn’t. Instead his voice got kind of smallish and he said, “How do you know what I want, Ann Fay? When was the last time you asked me what I want?”
I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. “Well, okay then,” I said. “What do you want, Junior Bledsoe?”
“I’m old enough to get married. And I could make you a real good husband. It seems like you could use a good man in your family right now.”
I tell you what’s the truth. If I hadn’t been mad at Junior already, I for sure would’ve been angry by this time. For one thing, I didn’t like him bad-mouthing my daddy like that. And for another, the idea of me and him getting married was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of. And I told him so, too.
That’s when he said, “Ah, you know I was just teasing you, Ann Fay.” But something about the way he said it—the way he swallowed real hard first and how his voice came out real croaky this time—made me wonder. Was he teasing me? Or was Junior Bledsoe trying to tell me something?
He didn’t say a word to me after that. It was about two hours to home, but it felt longer than the rest of the trip and my train ride to Georgia put together. Every now and then I snuck a peek at Junior. His jaw was clamped tight and a muscle in his cheek was twitching.
I started feeling real bad. Why did I always have to go spouting off exactly what I was thinking? Especially with Junior. When I was at Warm Springs, I could be annoyed with Sam the Encyclopedia, but I would never come out and tell him what I thought, the way I did with Junior. It was like Warm Springs brought out a whole other side to me. A better side.
And right now, heading back home, I did not like what I felt coming out of me.
But I thought I had a right to be mad at Junior. Even though I was the one who decided to leave, it felt like he had come down there and jerked me up and dragged me off. And before I was even over the shock of it, he had to drop some crazy idea on me.
I thought how I’d known Junior for as long as I could remember. He was practically family, so I guessed I loved him. But good grief—did that mean I had to like him too?
Part of me wanted to tell him I was sorry. But another part wanted to jump out of the car. So I settled for something in the middle. I huddled in the back seat of the car and felt sorry for him and me both.
There was a faint glow in the sky ahead. I knew it would be almost light when we got home, and Daddy would be getting ready for work. Soon I would have to face him.
And it felt bad—worse than I ever imagined!