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When we finished our hug, Kayla led me into the house. I dropped my backpack inside the front door and leaned my rifle against a bookcase. She reached for my hand and ushered me into the kitchen. The smell of the fresh pie hit me before I stepped into the room, and I got instantly transported to the before times when a person would step into a bakery and order whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. Add fresh baked goods to the list of things the human species took for granted.
“Baker, this is Mrs. Parsons.”
When Kayla mentioned a woman had caught her while sneaking into a barn, in my head I pictured someone about our age. Mrs. Parsons looked beyond our age by a good forty years. She was a wisp of a woman, thin, frail, with a shock of white hair on her head and a set of light brown eyes surrounded by crow’s feet.
“Ma’am,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of Kayla until I got here.”
Mrs. Parsons got to her feet, approached me, and gave me a hug. She came up to chest height on me, and I gave her a slight squeeze that I hoped implied my reciprocation without crushing her.
“Oh, it’s been no trouble at all. Kayla is a dear. A lovely dear, I tell you. She’s been a big help to me around the house while we’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
I glanced at Kayla, who was grinning at me and trying not to laugh. I let Mrs. Parsons escape from my grasp, and she returned to her spot at the table. As she got comfortable, I noticed she had a shotgun within reach that looked to be two-thirds her height.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked Kayla.
“Go? You can’t go,” Mrs. Parsons protested, rising from her chair. “I’ve got a pie in the oven. Kayla said you love pies. It’s apple, and I even put the fancy lattice work on top.”
My eyes returned to Kayla, who gave me a shrug.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess we can wait for the pie. It sounds delicious.”
Kayla nodded. “I know he doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it. He really does love pie. Baker, can you come and take a look at my bike in the barn? I’ve been having problems with it.”
I wanted to protest since I had little experience with bikes, but Mrs. Parsons shooed me from the kitchen before I could.
Kayla grabbed my arm and led me out the front door and around the side of the house. Although she’d mentioned a barn, the building was more like a large shed that someone would house an RV in. The building had a large garage-type door, but she guided me to a regular door on the building’s side. We stepped in and Kayla flipped on the lights. I half expected to spot an RV, but the shed served mainly as a storage unit for unwanted furniture and stacks and stacks of plastic bins, which probably contained the collected treasures of an entire lifetime.
“It’s over here,” Kayla said.
I turned, assuming Kayla had a ten-speed, but instead I spotted a bright orange scooter. It looked scuffed up and was missing a mirror, but other than that, it seemed reliable.
“Did you ride this thing all the way from Texas?” I asked.
“No. I had to walk the first few miles. I found this in the first town I came to.”
“Why walk? Why not take a car?”
“I didn’t want to be seen. There were lots of people coming in and staying. I left at night and walked through people’s yards and fields until I got farther north, where there was no one around.”
I nodded. “Start it up. Let’s see what’s wrong with it.”
Kayla sat on the machine and pushed the button to get it going. The engine started but emitted a high-pitched sound.
“Okay, shut it off,” I said.
She did.
“How long has it made that sound?” I asked.
Kayla shrugged. “The last twenty miles or so. Can you fix it?”
I looked around for a rag, found one, and removed the scooter’s oil dipstick. Since it was bone dry, there was no need to wipe it off. After I returned it to the slot, I shook my head. “I think the engine’s seizing up. I can’t fix it here, but if you’re partial to a scooter, I’m sure I can find you one when we get back to Virginia.”
Kayla frowned.
“We would have had problems getting it on the boat, anyway.”
Kayla turned off the light, and we walked back to the house. Rather than go in, she sat down on the front stoop, and I joined her. For the longest time, we sat in silence, staring out at the yard.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She sighed deeply. “I think so. I’m tired, though. Baker, I’m not kidding when I say I want to sleep for a year. It’s been hard not being able to feel safe enough to sleep, you know?”
I understood. Being away from home, especially on this particular trip meant catnaps whenever I might steal them, and even settling in for the night meant sleeping with one eye open. I couldn’t wait to get back to my bed, where I knew I was safe and secure.
“As least it’s been an easy trip for me,” she said. “Biggest problem I had was getting gas for the scooter. Sounds like you ran into some trouble, though.”
I paused. “Yep.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
She let it drop. That was one thing I always loved about Kayla. If I didn’t want to talk about something, she never pushed and would wait until I wanted or needed the discussion. Of course, I gave her the same consideration as well when there were things on her mind that she didn’t want to share. We sat, neither one of us speaking for another long minute.
“So, what’s the plan?” Kayla asked, snapping back from wherever she’d gone in her mind.
“Take the boat across the river. I have my truck waiting on the other side. We take a nice, leisurely ride back to Virginia.” I stretched my legs out and folded one ankle over the other, trying to make it sound simpler and more casual than it had been. Hopefully, I’d used up all my bad luck on the way down, and the way back would be much easier.
“When are we leaving?” she asked. “Are you in any hurry to get back?”
“Why? Did you want to stop off and see the sights along the way? Check out a couple of tourist traps? See Graceland?”
She playfully hit my leg. “No. I’m simply tired. Until I got here, I haven’t been sleeping all that great. It’s been hard trying to get comfortable and manage plenty of rest when I’m hiding out in some random barn or shed.”
I nodded to show I empathized. At least I had my truck I got to stretch out in the back of when I needed a rest.
“I’d like to get back to the farm, but we can take it at an easy pace,” I said. “I left Pops in charge, and although I’m sure he has things covered, it’s a lot of work for him.”
“Pops?” Kayla asked.
“He’s my neighbor who lives up the mountain. We’ve been working together since I came to the farm.”
I caught the screech of the screen door behind us and looked over my shoulder to where Mrs. Parsons was gesturing for us to come in. We did and settled around the kitchen table. Mrs. Parsons put the pie on the table and made a show of slicing off three generous portions and placing them on real china plates with a decorative border of light pink roses.
“This set has been in my family for over a hundred years. Can you believe it?” Mrs. Parsons said.
“No,” I said. “It’s in great condition.”
Her face transformed into a scowl. “That’s because they never used it. I remember my grandmother would bring it out for special occasions only, like Christmas dinner or Thanksgiving. But once the dinner was done, it went right back into the cabinet to wait for the next special occasion. When it got passed down to my mama, she did the same thing. Never used it but once or twice a year. When I was a child, I thought it was magical dinnerware, like it had some secret power, so they would only bring it out occasionally. Now, I think it’s stupid. I can’t imagine all the china sitting around, unused, because it’s supposed to be special. It’s only a plate.”
I didn’t know how to respond, but inside, I guessed she was right. My mom had a set almost like it. I took a moment to wonder what happened to that old dinnerware set, complete with a turkey platter and a gravy boat.
“You’re not eating,” Mrs. Parsons said, pointing her fork at me.
“Sorry. Lost in thought for a moment. This smells delicious.”
It did. The combination of fresh apples and cinnamon, and something else I couldn’t quite identify. I positioned my fork and sliced off the corner tip, jabbed the pie with the fork, and brought it to my lips. I hesitated for just a moment, savoring the scent before I dropped it into my mouth and began chewing.
My eyes grew wide, and I nodded, and I made an extended audible noise to exclaim how much I enjoyed the baked delight. Across the table, Mrs. Parsons put her fork down, clapped twice, and laughed.
“Oh, I knew you’d love it. Everyone around here says I’ve always made the best pies!”
As my outward appearance showed how much I liked the pie, internally, I stayed focused on not spitting it out. The apples were underdone and crunchy, and the bottom crust had a consistency of plumber’s putty. No matter how much I chewed, I couldn’t swallow it down. I felt a piece get stuck in my upper esophagus, and my eyes started to water when I realized I was mere moments away from coughing and expelling the pie all over the nice plastic tablecloth.
The tickling sensation grew worse, and I was about to lose it when I heard a knocking.
“I think there’s someone at the front door, Mrs. Parsons,” Kayla said.
“Who could that be?” Mrs. Parsons said. She put her napkin on the table and rose.
The second Mrs. Parsons left the kitchen, Kayla jumped to her feet, and grabbed my plate and hers.
“Spit,” she ordered.
I did.
“Get rid of this while I distract her. Ditch mine, too.”
As Kayla left the room, I grabbed my plate, then hers, and looked around for a place to toss them. I spotted a trash can and realized that would be too obvious. A breeze blew in through the kitchen window, and I looked to my left and spotted the curtain. I rushed to the window, opened the screen, scraped the contents of both plates onto the lawn below. When they were clean, I set the dishes on the counter and closed the screen. I listened to the footsteps on the wood floor and realized I’d get caught in a second. In the sink was a plastic basin filled with water and the few items Mrs. Parsons had dirtied making the pies. I took a breath, then just as natural as could be, I picked up the plates and forks and gently set them into the basin.
“Oh, you don’t have to clean up,” Mrs. Parsons said as she took her seat and picked up her fork.
“It was no trouble, ma’am, and the least I could do, considering you passed through all the trouble to make that pie.”
“Would you like more?” Mrs. Parsons asked.
Kayla jumped in. “No, thank you, Mrs. Parsons. Baker says we need to leave so we can get back across the river before dark.”
I smiled and nodded, then made my way to the living room. I grabbed my backpack, slipped out the door and waited on the porch for Kayla. She appeared a few minutes later, and without speaking, we headed toward the boat. When we got there, we put our backpacks into the craft, and Kayla helped me push it into the river. While she got settled, I held onto the line, and then boarded and made my way to the stern.
The engine fired up right away, and I backed us away from the bank and headed into the channel leading to the river.
“How long will it take to get across?” Kayla asked.
“Not long. Fifteen minutes.” I answered.
The wind picked up, and Kayla put her hand over her head to keep her long blond locks from drifting into her face. I pointed the boat so we traveled downstream at an angle, letting the current help us along. When we reached the halfway point, Kayla raised an arm and pointed across the river.
“What’s that?” she shouted to be picked up over the wind and drone of the outboard.
I looked in the direction she pointed and a terrible reaction bubbled into my stomach, and it wasn’t from the pie. “Not sure.”
I knew exactly what it was, but I steered the boat in that direction anyway, knowing exactly where the column of lazy black smoke originated. As we got closer to shore, the smoke grew blacker, and when we were a couple of hundred yards out, my worry got confirmed when I saw my beloved mail truck being consumed by fire.
“What’s that?” Kayla asked.
“Our ride.”
Before anything else could happen, my eyes caught movement as two men laying prone on the dock shifted and I saw they both had rifles.
“Kayla, get down!” I screamed as the first shot put a hole in the gunwale not more than an inch from Kayla’s knee.
“Hold on!”
I swung the boat around, pointed it downstream, and opened the throttle. Another shot impacted the boat, but I knew at least Kayla was safe as long as it was my body between her and the gunmen. Another shot hit, and I looked back to see how much farther I needed to go to get out of range.
“Baker! Watch out!” Kayla screamed.
I swung my head back around just in time to spot the floating telephone pole I was about to hit. Unable to react in time, the boat hit the debris and went skyward. I expected us to tip over, but we hit the river flat on the other side, jarring me enough that I let go of the tiller. The tiller turned hard to port, and the boat swung again, threatening to capsize us. I turned and grabbed for the tiller, banging my knee on the outboard in the process. I wanted to ease it back around, but the river fought me for it, causing me to give it a jerk. The tiller turned and the boat over-corrected. I heard a scream and turned around just in time to see Kayla in the river, moving downstream with the current.
“Aw, shit! Kayla, I’m coming!” I screamed, knowing she’d never hear me. I watched her the best I could, but now and then she’d drop under the water completely and my heart would stop until she surfaced again. In an attempt to catch her, I pointed the boat downstream and at a slight angle, and opened the throttle as far as it would go.
I steered closer, then overtook her. I swung the boat around until I was sideways to the river and killed the engine. Unsteadily, I kneeled in the center of the boat, then leaned over the edge. I watched as Kayla drifted closer, her eyes wide with terror. Against common sense, I leaned over farther, my entire upper body almost in the water. I intended to grab her so she wouldn’t slam into the side of the boat. A foot before she got to me, Kayla disappeared under the water again.
I stretched out farther. The river water touched the top of my head, and I fully expected to drop into the river myself. My arms flailed, then contacted something. At first, I suspected it was a branch, but then I felt Kayla’s hand close around my arm. I reached with my other hand, found her arm, then backed from the water. Her arm appeared, and then her head. I pulled her to me and draped her arms over the gunwale.
“Hey, I’m going to boost you out of there, okay?” I asked.
Kayla spit out a mouthful of river water and nodded.
I reached over and grabbed her belt, counted to three, and hauled her in. I fell backward, hitting my head on the opposite gunwale, and Kayla landed on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs. My head ached, and I closed my eyes. I saw stars for a moment, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Kayla’s green eyes staring into mine.
“Hi,” I said.
“Can we get off of his damn river now, Huckleberry?” Kayla asked. She smiled, then pushed away from me. Once she took her seat, I got myself back together and took my seat at the outboard.
“Excellent idea,” I said.
