The next morning, Melinda found it impossible to open her eyes. It was if they were glued shut. She touched one eye. They have cold in them, she thought. The cold has matted them shut. She thought of the water basin on the dresser. If I can get to the water, I can wash them, soak them apart.
She sat up and pushed herself to the edge of the bed. She was sore from shoulders to toes. She mentally pushed the pain aside and stood slowly. With her hands, she felt the air around her. In her mind, she drew a picture of the room. The dresser should be over there. She shakily stepped in a straight line. She touched something cool with the tip of her finger. She took one more step and felt the object. It was the dresser. She ran both hands over the top of the wooden surface.
Pitcher, she thought. And basin. She lifted the pitcher and touched it to the bowl with a clatter. She could hear a stream of water pouring into the basin. That was easy enough. But now I need a cloth. She pulled open the top drawer and reached inside. Immediately she winced in pain, for she cracked her knuckle on the wooden frame. She sighed and felt once more for the bowl.
Soon the wet cloth moistened her eyes enough for her to open them. By this time, she was exhausted, but she wanted so much to be out of that bedroom, out of the house even. The weather outside had looked simply beautiful yesterday. So today, after she cleaned out the closets, she decided, she would go for a little walk.
Joey loves to go on walks, she thought. I'll make him a good breakfast, clean around the house, and then we'll head outside. She stepped slowly down the steps.
Bobby awoke to a noise. A scream perhaps? At first, he had to examine his surroundings to remember where he was. He sat up straight. "Melinda?"
He pulled on his shirt and hurried across the hallway. Melinda's bedroom door was open, and she was not in the bed. He walked to Joey's room. The boy was still asleep. He slowly turned toward the stairs.
No, Melinda, no. Surely you didn't…
He peered down the sloped entrance to the second floor. "Melinda?" He could see her lying near the bottom step. He galloped to her side.
"Melinda, are you alright?"
She did not respond.
He checked for a pulse. "Oh, thank God!"
He slipped his arms underneath her and lifted her to his chest. He brushed a kiss across her forehead and spoke to her quietly as he carried her upstairs. "I sure hope yer okay. Why'd you try ta go down there own yer own? I woulda helped ya. You gotta take care of yerself. I don't want ta lose you like I did LeAnna."
Don't talk like that, something inside him said. Melinda isn't yours to lose. Acknowledging this truth, he felt the weight of his heavy heart as he laid her gently on the bed.
I'm gonna have ta git outa here, he silently told himself. Iffen I don't want ta git in over my head, I need ta just stay away from her. If I get away, I wont fall any harder.
But I can't go just yet, he decided, especially if she hurt herself fallin' down them stairs. But just as soon as she gets her strength back, I'll leave, he promised himself.
Melinda's groan of pain woke him from his thoughts. He smoothed her hair away from her face. "You okay, Sweetie?" He gasped and closed his mouth quickly. He hoped she did not hear him call her 'Sweetie.'
"My head," she whispered. "My head hurts."
"Open yer eyes," Bobby said. "Can ya see alright?"
She nodded and then winced in pain.
"You hurt anywhere else?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "No, I don't think so."
"Good. No broken bones, I hope. We'll have the doc check you out next time he stops by."
Among the pillows and blankets, Melinda struggled to sit up. Without thinking, Bobby reached out with his strong arms and pulled her up.
Melinda blushed. "Uh, thank you."
Bobby then realized what he had done. "Oh, I'm… I'm sorry. I…"
She held up a hand to stop him. "It's okay."
He breathed in deeply. "I'll go, uh, go make breakfast."
"I can help," she suggested.
He shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to try those steps again 'til you get a little stronger."
"That was rather stupid, huh?" she asked.
"No, not stupid, just kinda premature. I know yer prob'ly bored silly up here all day long. I know I was when you wouldn't let me outa bed."
"Yeah, I was hoping maybe to spend some time outside," she said. "I guess it's too late to put a garden in this year, but I just didn't have time before now—and then all of this...." She sighed. "I bet Red hasn't had time to keep theirs up. It will be too bad if he hasn't. They always have the best tomatoes. But with Birdie sick and all…"
Bobby attempted to change the subject. "Whatcha want for breakfast? Heaven knows I ain't a great cook, but I'm willin' to try ta make anything. Waffles? Pancakes? Surely I can't mess them up."
"That's fine," she said. "Will you take me to Birdie's house today?"
He just looked at her. She knew the answer. Of course he wouldn't take her to Birdie's house today. Not until she got better.
"Tomorrow?" she attempted.
"Tell ya what," he said, "Doc Stokely will prob'ly come by tomorrow I'm guessin'. An' if he says you're well enough to go to yer sister's, we'll go. But not without his approval. Okay?"
"Okay. Pancakes."
"I'm sorry?"
"Pancakes," she said again. "For breakfast. Joey likes pancakes better than waffles."
Bobby smiled. "Well, then pancakes it is."
Despite Bobby's lack of cooking ability, breakfast turned out fine. He had only made pancakes on one other occasion, he remembered, and they had been awful. But these were decent. In fact, little Joey ate three, much more, Melinda said, than usual.
She decided to put off her cleaning until the afternoon. She would first take a quick nap. She was tired and sore and most uncomfortable. She would ask Bobby to bring her some butter for her irritated skin. She scratched the back of her hand and drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, she had to repeat the ritual of soaking her eyes, for they once again were matted shut. She pulled the wet cloth from her face one last time and opened her eyes. She gasped, and fear gripped her heart. She could not see anything. She closed her eyes hard and then opened them again. Darkness. She swallowed.
"Bobby?" She stepped in the direction of the door. "Bobby," she called again.
Bobby came running. "What is it?"
"I can't see," she whispered. "Everything is dark."
"Should I go get the doc? Your may have really hurt yourself when you fell."
"No, just give me a minute," she said. "I think I can sense some light over there." She pointed toward the window. "Will you stay with me until I can see again?"
"Of course," Bobby replied. "What should I do? Do you need somethin'?"
She closed her eyes hard again and reopened them slowly. "It's coming back. No, I don't think I need anything right now. I can see images now, but everything is blurry." She blinked several more times. "There we go. I'm fine now." Streams of tears poured down her cheeks. "Fine, that is, if my eyes will stop watering."
Bobby handed her a kerchief.
The doctor did not come for two days, but when he did, he said that Melinda was well enough to travel. Her fall down the stairs yielded little more than a knot on her head and a bruised cheekbone. The temporary blindness was due to the fever settling in her eyes. It was possible she may have to deal with the problem for a few more days. In addition, she was still quite weak. But she was ready and willing to get away from the house.
Bobby hitched the team to the wagon while Melinda got ready. Joey was in his room playing. Bobby then stepped inside the house and looked around. He glanced up the staircase to be sure that no one was there. He carried a wooden crate from the kitchen to the wagon and covered it with a blanket. Then he returned to the house.
Melinda and Joey were now in the living room. She was tucking in his shirttail.
"But I like it out, Mommy," Joey told her. "It's more comforble."
"How old are you?" she asked him.
He held up three fingers.
"Three?" she asked. "That pretty much makes you a man. Don't you think?"
He nodded.
Melinda pointed to Bobby. "Now look at Bobby. He's a man too. Does he have his shirt hanging out?"
"No," Joey answered. "It's tucked."
"Then don't you think you should tuck yours too?"
"Okay," Joey finally agreed. "But jus' 'cause Bobby does." He allowed her to tuck in the shirt.
Bobby chuckled to himself.
Bobby brought the wagon to a stop at the top of the driveway. He nodded toward the sky. "Look, Joey. There's another hawk." He clucked to the team and directed them westward.
Melinda looked at him questioningly. "I may have been unconscious for awhile, but I still know that this isn't the way to town."
He grinned slightly. "We're goin' the long way."
"The long way?" she repeated. "I've lived here for more than five years, and I didn't know there was a long way."
"There is… sort of."
"Where we goin', Bobby?" Joey asked from behind them. He had insisted on riding in the back of the wagon.
"You'll see when we get there."
"Get where?" Melinda added. "There is nothing this way for miles."
"C'mon," Joey squealed. "Please tell us."
"Nope. You'll both have ta wait an' see," Bobby said.
Melinda wiggled uncomfortably on the wagon bench. Where is he taking us? she wondered. This worries me. I haven't really known him that long. And he is wanted for murder.
But he nursed you back to health, she reminded herself. If he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it before now. He's been nothing but nice to you.
She sighed and tried to relax. Yes, she trusted him. How could I be in love with someone that I don't trust? she asked herself. When she realized what she had just thought, she mentally corrected herself. I'm not in love with him. But despite her statement, her heart fluttered at the idea.
She wiggled again, this time to clear her thoughts and to hide her feelings from the man next to her. She lifted her head to examine her surroundings. It seemed like forever since she had been outside. The tall pine trees looked greener, the grass cooler, the sun brighter, and the Spanish moss on the oak trees even more beautiful.
A honeysuckle bush grew on a nearby fence post, and a bumblebee buzzed at the flowers. She smiled. She remembered how John once showed Joey how to make a bumblebee "rattle." He caught a bee in a hollyhock and closed the petals around it. When he shook the balled flower, the insect buzzed and rattled. She laughed to herself, for she recalled that the bumblebee was as mad as a wet hornet when John let it go. It chased him all around the yard, she thought. She wiped at her cheeks with her hankie. Her eyes watered and protested to the bright sunlight.
She did not notice Bobby looking her way. He knew he shouldn't nurse his feelings for her. He knew he couldn't fall in love with her. But he couldn't help watching her. She was so pretty. Her brown hair was smooth and shiny—like silk, he decided. He recalled her hair's softness. And her skin is even softer, he thought. He tingled with the remembrance of her touch. Her eyes were deep green—the same color as LeAnna's, he realized. He checked the road and then glanced back to Melinda. His eyes stopped at her lips. His heartbeat quickened. He had a strong desire to kiss those luscious red lips.
He jerked his head back in the direction of the road. He had to stop this. He couldn't do this to himself. He spit on the ground near the moving wagon. He turned and checked on Joey who was playing with a rope and apparently talking to himself. Bobby fixed his eyes on the trees in front of him and set his jaw, determined not to look at Melinda again. He simply couldn't.
Joey moved up on his knees and leaned against the seat. "Mommy, where's that big ol' house we see when we go to that one town?"
"The manor house?" she asked him. He nodded. "It's the south of here," she said. "On the road to Cold Spring."
"Yeah," Joey agreed. "It's on the way to Cold Spring."
After a few more moments, Bobby announced, "Here we are."
Melinda brushed tears from her eyes and looked around. "Here we are… where?" There was nothing but the grass fields and a small grove of trees.
"See those oak trees?" he asked.
She nodded.
"There's a pond in over there—a perfect spot for a picnic." He bounded from the wagon. He swung an eager Joey down with one arm and then held out his hand to help Melinda.
Joey ran around the wagon laughing. "Watch, Momma, I'm an Indian." He patted his mouth with one hand and whooped as he ran across the field.
"Don't go too far," she called after him.
She was still weak and having some difficulty stepping from the high platform. Bobby picked her up at the waist and placed her firmly on the ground. She ran a hand across her face to hide her blushing cheeks. Bobby did not notice.
"Hurry! Hurry!" Joey shouted. "Let's hurry!"
Bobby took the box and blanket from the back of the wagon. "We're comin'."
Melinda regained her composure and fell into step next to Bobby. Joey skipped on ahead.
"I hope you don't mind me doin' this," Bobby told Melinda as they entered the covering of trees. "I just thought we all could use some fun after the past few weeks we've been through."
"It's fine," she said. "This is a very pretty grove. How did you learn of it?"
"I camped here a few days when I first came to the area. Figured nobody'd look for me out here in the middle of nowhere."
Once again remembering that Bobby was a fugitive, Melinda frowned. "If you don't mind my asking, what do you plan to do with yourself in the days to come? Have you considered turning yourself in?"
He returned her unhappy expression. "We don't need our day of fun interrupted by talk of my problems. How 'bout we talk about that later—tomorrow maybe. I'll tell ya anything ya want ta know. But right now, let's just have a good time." With that, he hurried his steps and caught up with Joey who was chasing a butterfly near the edge of the pond.
Melinda sighed. He was right. There wasn't any need to talk of it today. It could wait. And it was so nice of him to plan the picnic for them. She would enjoy the beautiful day of food and friendship.
She surveyed her surroundings. How great it was to be outdoors! How great it was just to be alive. It was a wonderful day. She continued walking toward the pond.
She looked upward to the sky. Another hawk flew in a circle. They are beautiful b… She stumbled and fell to the ground. She winced in pain and tried to dislodge her foot from the tangled grasses beneath her. She had stepped in a hole and twisted her ankle. She looked Bobby's way. He and Joey were still busy chasing the butterfly. She rubbed at her foot and leg and tried to stand, but the pain was too great, so she sank back to the ground.
I've just turned into a total klutz since I was sick, she thought. She stood on her good leg and slowly placed her wounded foot solidly on the grass. Pain shot up her side once more. She raised up her foot again. The twisted ankle only hurt a little bit if she did not put any pressure on it.
Perhaps I can hop over there, she decided. Then by the time we leave to go to town, it will have stopped hurting. She took a deep breath and jumped on her good foot. Yes, that will work. But it did not. A few more hops, and she was on the ground again. She wasn't yet strong enough to exert that kind of energy.
"Melinda?" she heard Bobby call. And then he came running.
She struggled to get to her feet—or foot anyway.
"Here, let me help you," he said. He pulled her up. "What's the matter? Did you fall?"
She closed her eyes against the pain. Now both legs ached. "Yes, I hurt my ankle. And then when I tried to walk, or hop rather, I fell again."
"Can you walk on it now?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so." She didn't want to tell him that she had actually hurt both ankles.
"I'll help you then. Put your arm around me."
She did as instructed.
"Let's take a step," he said.
She pushed herself forward but could not walk without pain. "It's no use," she coughed. "Somehow I've twisted them both. I can't believe this has happened." She removed her arm from his waist and kneeled beside him.
He bent down next to her. "Should I get ya to the doctor?"
Tears filled her eyes, but not from the pain. The pain wasn't that bad. Why was she crying? "I don't want to mess up your picnic plans," she whispered.
"You're more important than any picnic," he told her.
She brushed a teardrop from her cheek and shook her head. "No, I don't need to go to the doctor. I'll be fine. I'm sure they are just twisted a little, nothing major. I'd like to stay here. If I just could somehow get over to the blanket."
"How 'bout I bring the blanket to you?" he asked.
Joey walked up then. "What's takin' so long? Mommy, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Joey."
Bobby stood up. "Joe, you wanna help me bring the picnic stuff over here? This looks like a better place."
"In the sun?" the boy asked. "We don't wanna have the picnic in the hot sun."
Bobby looked upward momentarily. "You're absolutely right." He bent down and slipped one hand under Melinda's legs and the other around her torso. He lifted her high off the ground. "Instead of bringing the blanket to you, I'll just have to bring you to the blanket."
Joey giggled. "Yer gonna carry my momma? Why can't she just walk?"
"She hurt her foot," Bobby explained. "C'mon. Let's go."
Melinda did not know what to say. She couldn't object. She couldn't walk to the cover of the shade trees. And Joey was right—a picnic in the sun would be no fun. So she said nothing at all. She held on and rested her head against Bobby's strong shoulder.
When he lowered her to the blanket, she surprised herself by not wanting to leave his embrace. She silently reprimanded herself and sat up straight on the soft pallet.
"Can we eat now?" Joey asked.
Bobby began unpacking the box. "Yes, sir, Mr. Joseph. Roast beef san'wiches, fresh strawberries from Miss Parker's garden, and lemonade. I hope it tastes alright. I had never made it before, so I just kept adding sugar and water 'til I thought it tasted okay."
Joey plopped down in the middle of the blanket. "Lemonade and roast beef san'wiches are the bestest."
"Well, I guess I did a good job, then," Bobby grinned.
Melinda smiled also. It was amazing how well Bobby fit into their little family. She had never seen Joey take so well to anyone but his father and Uncle Red. And somehow Bobby seemed to guess their favorites. Probably just coincidence, but nevertheless amazing. She absentmindedly watched a honey bee buzz about her. She bit her lip as she thought about the happenings of the past month. Bobby seemed so perfect for her. If only he wasn't on the run, wasn't wanted by the law. Even though he's innocent, he'll never be able to live a normal life, she concluded.
"Melinda?"
She jerked her head up. "Huh?"
"Lemonade," Bobby said. "Do you want more lemonade?"
"Oh. No. No, thank you."
"You haven't eaten much. Are you sick again?"
"No." She shook her head. "I'm just not hungry."
"Well, yer never gonna regain yer strength iffen ya don't eat."
"Okay. I promise to do better. But I'm really not hungry right now."
Joey stuffed the crust of the bread of his sandwich in his mouth. "I done," he mumbled. "Ca we go Aun' Bir'ie's now?"
"Joseph Dean!" Melinda gasped. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Mama. You, too, Bobby. But can we? Can we go to Aunt Birdie's now?"
"Are you done?" Bobby asked Melinda.
She nodded.
He returned all the leftover food to the crate. "You think you can walk now?"
"I'll sure try," she said.
"Here, I'll help ya up." He lifted her to her feet. "Does it hurt?"
She nodded again. It did—a little.
"Then I'll carry you."
Melinda opened her mouth to object but shut it quickly.
Bobby turned to the little boy. "Joe, iffen I carry the blanket and yer momma, you think you can carry the box of food?"
"No problem." Joey jumped to his feet and grabbed for the crate.