Page 50 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
He cleared his throat. “About the kiss earlier, if things were different ...”
“No need to say anything more about it,” she said softly, still staring back at him. “Please, let’s focus on getting through the next week without creating regrets.”
Her words were welcome, even as he acknowledged a hint of disappointment too. But since he was already living with a bellyful of regrets, he couldn’t agree with her more.
1979
I’d learned more from Annette in the past twelve months than I’d learned in all of finishing school. Of course, I yearned for this education far more than I’d ever wanted to master the skill of table setting for an eight-course meal. Who really needed to know about a pickle fork when I was literally changing lives?
Every time I drove my Dodge Dart out to her cabin, I knew I was about to take that education to the next level. Of the dozen or so operations in a year, my role had increased over the months, with Annette supervising me. Details were usually coordinated at the library.
However, Annette reserved her home for more time-intensive elements or bigger secrets. And I wanted to be a part of those things. Saving the day felt good. Knowing why, though, left a hole in your heart that always felt empty.
Like the mother-daughter duo who’d needed to start over. At first, I’d assumed the mother escaped a bad marriage, but I quickly realized the thirteen-year-old was running from her soon-to-be husband.
Then, the eighteen-year-old who took her five-year-old sister away in the middle of the night after she figured out her mother was going to sell the child to settle a drug debt.
And so on, and so on. Each situation reminded me all the more how outright lucky I’d been to land on my feet with a job, home, and wonderfully reliable, albeit ugly, green car.
I parked Olive under a sprawling oak beside Annette’s wood-planked cabin, where she’d brought up her son, then Russell too after his parents died. Annette and I hadn’t openly addressed the “relationship” subject since her time in the hospital, but I also hadn’t stopped seeing her grandson. Annette and I tiptoed around the subject without either of us giving ground.
Russell and I had started openly dating, more than just picnics by the river and dinner at the local barbecue joint, instead adding town hall meetings and high school plays. We became close—in every way. For those intimate moments, we met at my boardinghouse rather than his barn apartment at his grandmother’s farm. I worried about alienating Annette. But the prospect of losing Russell saddened me more. I didn’t take any of my happiness for granted, as I’d done before coming to Bent Oak.
Reaching into the back seat, I hefted out an overburdened canvas bag and hitched it onto my shoulder. The muggy air outside wrapped around me like a still-damp blanket warm from the dryer. Inside wouldn’t be much better with just window AC units that went on the fritz more often than not.
Today, Annette sat on the front porch with a box fan plugged in. A tabby cat napped with his belly exposed to the gust. Instead of one of her smart work suits, she wore a paisley housedress with her hair in a wrap. “Come on up so we can talk. I have an extra glass of lemonade.”
I slung the bag of supplies onto the end table between the rockers. An oversize canvas bag was far less conspicuous than a suitcase. “I found everything you requested. Change of clothes, size eleven. Shoes, size nine. Toiletries. I added a nightgown and a novel, something lighthearted. Plus a honeybun and a pack of crackers.”
“Well done,” Annette said as she inspected the contents of the sack, then slid a small wallet inside, “and just in time. I need you to ride along with her to the next handoff.”
Me?
She wantedmeto make the road trip? Panic splashed through me like an icy shower in the boardinghouse I shared with far too many people. I vowed the place had the world’s smallest water heater, but it was home. The thought of leaving Bent Oak terrified me. “Are you sure I’m ready for that? Maybe Thea would be better suited.”
Thea had nerves of steel. Nothing ever rattled her. Other than the time she’d lost her favorite gloves.
Annette leaned back in her rocker, gripping the armrests. “Winnie, Thea’s not ready, and Libby is, well, she’s fragile. That may sound harsh, but this isn’t the time for polite niceties. We try to have a woman ride along anytime the driver is male. It puts everyone’s mind at ease.”
I absolutely understood the need for a woman’s presence. Except how could I explain my sheer panic at the idea of being the one to travel beyond the town where I’d grown a new life? “I have to disagree with you about Libby being fragile. The way she’s held on for her son surpasses anything I’ve had to do. If we’re being brutally honest, I can’t ...”
My voice trailed off, trembling as the anxiety gripped me at leaving my safe cocoon.
“You’re unable to leave the county limits,” Annette said simply, gently. “I know. And I understand. That doesn’t mean you can’t play a vital role today.”
She knew about my phobia? But then nothing got past Annette. “What am I doing?”
“Riding along with Russell, just to the county line to pick up the young woman.”
With Russell?
My panic shifted to shock. I couldn’t have heard her correctly. And if I had, then that brought a shock that far surpassed the other. “WithRussell?Russellis the driver for this transfer?”
I’d long wondered how much he knew about the operation, never suspecting he might know ... everything?
“Oh, so now you want to pretend like you don’t know him?” Annette asked, closing the bag and tying the hemp strings. “The two of you will drive her across the county for the next leg to pick her up. Anyone who sees you will assume you’re out on a date. It’s the perfect cover.”
The truth sank in.MyRussell was a part of Annette’s organization. He’d never given me the slightest hint that he knew anything about it, much less played an active role. I struggled for what to say. To her now. To him later. “Is this a different part of why you warned me away from your grandson?”
