quit asking him after a while because it always caused trouble between us, and I began to steal from him.”
“Steal?” I said. “How could you steal from you husband?”
“Stealing is what I mean,” she said. “You could call it anything you liked, but I prefer to call it that. When he was drunk, or asleep, I would take money out of his clothes. Not very much, because he never had much, but just a dime now and a quarter the next time so he wouldn’t miss it. One day he found it, where I had it hidden, in a baking-powder can, and knew I was planning to leave someday when he was down the lake. He led me down to the edge of the water and made me watch while he threw the coins out in the lake, one at a time, and then made me throw some, and when I refused at first—” She broke off. “Are you enjoying this?”
I felt sick. “I can stop that,” I said. “I’ll take the—I’ll take him in.”
“No,” she said. “Can’t you see that’s exactly what he’s accusing me of? Not in words, of course, but in his mind. I can’t do that. All I want to do is leave.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Four months. Maybe five. You lose track of time.”
Yes, I thought, I guess you would.
I sat up and got two cigarettes out of my pocket and lit them, passing one down to her. She lay back with her head on the leaves, smoking the cigarette and looking up at me. The shapeless old sack of a dress was pulled down demurely across her knees, giving her an odd aspect of completely defenseless innocence, like a little girl. The bare legs below the hem of the dress extended down past my side, smooth and faintly tanned, and I turned around a little so I could see the feet. Suddenly, for no reason at all, I slid down there and gathered them up in my lap.
They were slender feet, quite small and beautifully formed, but rough and calloused on the soles from going barefoot, and they were dusty from the trail. Very carefully, with my fingers I brushed all the dust from them, as if they were very old pieces of fabulously valuable and very fragile jewelry I had found gathering cobwebs in an attic. Then I turned them slightly inward, pressing the soles together up near the toes, and held them, thinking how small and breakable they looked, like the delicate feet of a china doll, in the big, dark hands. I looked up and she was watching me with a misty softness in her eyes.
“Why are you doing that, Jack?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said.
I looked up again and she was crying, quite silently and without any movement of her face.
* * *
Time came back for us without any warning. It was the sound of a motor.
We sat up. “Jack—” she said.
It was an outboard, a big one, and coming nearer. He must have had it throttled down for it to get that near before we heard it.
“Where is your boat?” she asked in an urgent whisper. “It’s all right,” I said. “It’s hidden. I’ll get off here after dark. But I’ve got to see you again. Tonight. I’ll be down there where I was camped. You’ve got to come.”
“I—I don’t know,” she said. Her eyes were scared. “But I’ve got to go.” We both stood up.
I kissed her. “It’s all right. There’s no hurry.” We heard the motor quit and knew he was drifting up to the landing. “But you have to come. Promise me you will.”
“I will if I can. There’s no way to know.” I had my face down against her cheek, holding her very tightly, not wanting to let her go. I knew what she meant. She would come if he got drunk and passed out. Isn’t that wonderful? I thought. “I—I ought to go, Jack.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I began.
“Oh—oh, God!” She pushed away from me and I could see the terror in her eyes. Then I remembered it too. It was that vine, in its box—sitting right there on the dresser in the front room. It would be the first thing he saw when he walked in the door.
She broke away from me, turning, and ran. I could see the color of the old dress flashing through the trees along the trail. I ran after her until I