was near the wall of timber along the edge of the clearing and then stopped, knowing I could go no further. I could feel my heart pounding as I saw her, still running, coming up directly behind the house so he couldn’t see her from in front. He had come out of the trees by the boat landing, carrying a big paper bag in his arm. I saw her go in the back door while he was still a hundred yards away, and felt so weak in the knees I could hardly stand and wanted to sit down there and rest.
So this is the way it is, I thought. I walked through the trees to the upper end of the island, where the slough came back into the lake. It was nearly half a mile, through heavy timber, and I knew he wouldn’t find me up here, but hiding like that gave me an uneasy feeling.
As soon as it was dark I eased back down the slough to where the boat was. I didn’t dare go down past his boat landing, so I took the boat clear around, back up the slough and down the far side of the lake on the other side, pulling it very carefully with the oars and taking care not to bump the oarlocks.
I didn’t like it. But what am I going to do? I thought. To say I won’t come back up here any more to see her is silly. I know I will. There isn’t anything that could keep me from coming back, not the dirty feeling or the uneasiness, or even being actually scared. By the time I get back to town I’ll be counting the hours until I see her again.
Nine
With my back against the trunk of a big oak, I sat waiting in the darkness where I had camped before. A few mosquitoes buzzed, for there was no breeze, and night lay hot and sticky across the swamp. I smoked endless cigarettes, and once I remembered—and immediately forgot—that I hadn’t eaten anything for twenty-four hours. I hadn’t brought anything except an extra pack of cigarettes.
Would she come? For the twentieth time I struck a match to look at my watch. It was eleven-fifteen. It’s about the time she came before, I thought. She’ll come. I just haven’t given her time. She has to. I got up and walked down to the water’s edge and listened. There was nothing, no sound.
I began to imagine things. He had found the plant there. She hadn’t had time too hide it. He had beaten her. Maybe he had killed her. Who knew what he would do? I could see her against the wall in yellow lamplight, being held and struck, the helplessness and terror in her face, and for an instant it was so real I wondered if I were going to be sick. If she doesn’t come before long, I thought, I’m going up there. I won’t go back without knowing. I’ll go up there. And what? I thought. Walk into a man’s house and demand to know if his wife is all right, tell him I have to see her? I threw down the cigarette and ground savagely at the red coal with my heel. I heard her then. I wanted to run out into the water and meet her, but I stood there on the shelving bank and waited. She came up out of the water, wading, and I could see the pale gleam of her face and arms.
“Jack?” she whispered.
“Here,” I said. I picked her up in my arms, wet bathing suit and all, and carried her up the bank.
“I’ll get your clothes all wet.”
“Hush,” I said. “Hush.” I kissed her, not putting her down.
“We have to talk, Jack,” she whispered urgently.
“Yes,” I said. “In just a minute.”
I put her down, standing still holding her. “We’ve got to talk,” she said.
“I know. I know what you mean. But not right now. I can’t let you go or think of anything right now. I’ve been crazy, sitting here, imagining things. He was beating you.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Jack. I don’t mind.”
“It was terrible,” I said. I unfastened the chin strap of the cap and pulled it from her head, loosing the darker-than-night disordered riot of her hair. Everything began to go then, rushing outward in the night, and after a long time the swamp came back and became again the dark, familiar trees, the ground, and stars.