Sudden Independents (8 page)

Standing on solid ground, she bent over, knifed both hands into the mud and located one immediately. She pulled and strained and the shoe finally popped loose with a loud sucking slurp. She tossed it to safety. By now the hole had closed over her other shoe. She dug down, felt a mud-caked lace and followed it to the tongue. Her other hand met with the heel and she tugged. Nothing happened at first. She wrenched angrily, struggling harder, and felt a little give as the mud oozed away from the force she applied. Her fingers slipped, forcing her to regroup. She grunted with tremendous effort and the shoe broke the surface, flying out of her hands.

Molly lost her balance and twisted, landing on her back with a splat. She screamed and thrashed in frustration and pain until she was drained of rage and covered in mud. Tears arrived at last, washing away the final traces of anger and replacing it with a grief she never thought possible. She lay there for a long time wrapped in the cool mud and sorrow.

Eventually, she rolled out and wiped off as much mud as she could in the stiff grass that bordered the cabbage patch. She never felt more alone in all her sixteen years.

A tall shadow loomed over her, blocking the light from the stars. For a second, Molly thought she was dreaming. Her love, her savior had come to her rescue.

“Molly, are you all right?” Jimmy asked.

She choked and sobbed. He must have been looking for her.

Jimmy held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. His grip was firm and she experienced a warm thrill at his touch. Jimmy lifted her up beside him.

A smile curled the edges of his mouth. “What happened?”

“I got stuck and lost my shoes,” she said.

“You’d be surprised how often that happens to me.” When he laughed, Molly decided the sound was as nice as rain tapping on the roof when she lay curled up in bed.

He still held her hand. She tugged him closer.

Jimmy turned to lead her away. “Let’s get you back so you can clean up.”

Molly tugged again.

“Wait,” she said. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. This was it. This was the perfect moment.

“What…?”

Before he finished his question, Molly pulled herself close and kissed him, slipping her tongue in his mouth, discovering his and swirling them together. She gripped the back of his shirt so he couldn’t get away and held on tightly. She wanted Jimmy to love her.

She needed him to.

Jimmy squirmed in her embrace and Molly sensed his confusion. His lips were stiff and unresponsive, but she would not allow him to stop until she won. She would break Vanessa’s spell. Molly locked her arms around him, holding onto Jimmy and this moment with growing desperation.

Jimmy turned his head away and broke the kiss. “Molly!”

The urgency in his voice told Molly she was close. Jimmy pushed himself back and tripped, landing with a splat in the mud where she had fallen earlier. She pounced on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground. She pulled his hand, guiding it under her shirt and felt his warm touch on her skin.

“Molly, stop!” He shucked her off like a dirty blanket. “What are you doing?”

“Are you serious? I want to be with you.”

“We can’t do this.” He looked at her, and then dropped his gaze. “I mean I can’t do this.”

“Why can’t you, Jimmy? I really like you. I want you.”

Jimmy stood, and helped Molly to her feet again, releasing her immediately as though certain she was steady; only she didn’t feel steady.

“Molly, I…” A breeze followed his sigh.

Molly’s desire collapsed from the night air on her muddy skin, leaving her chilled and trembling. “What, Jimmy?”

His hazel eyes were touched with concern, but not love. Not for her.

He raised his shoulders in a simple shrug. “I like someone else.”

H
unter cracked open his eyes in the early morning light as a songbird twittered from somewhere above. His muddled brain cleared and he sat up, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. His arm wouldn’t bend. He remembered breaking his arm, the pain, Scout tugging the bones into place and extreme pain ending with the dark blanket of oblivion. Hunter thought it weird that he didn’t feel any pain now.

Next to him, Catherine slept under a sleeping bag. If there were ever a standard image of peacefulness, the little girl displayed it perfectly with her hands tucked beneath her head, the sounds of her breathing puffing through her tiny mouth. Scout was the opposite of peacefulness. He knelt by the fire, holding a burning stick into the flames, his bleary-eyed stare focused on nothing apparent. His normal tight Afro looked like a lumpy sponge.

Finally, Scout blinked. “How’s the arm?”

“It feels fine. You do good work.”

Scout grunted. “I tightened up your handle bars. Your bike started okay. You should be good to go. Throttle’s a little tight.”

“The throttle’s been jacked up for a while. It’s constantly sticking on me. But that doesn’t matter since I can’t ride, remember?” Hunter held up his splintered right arm as evidence.

Scout responded with a tired frown. He tossed his poking stick in the fire and stood. “I got some water if you’re thirsty. There’s also some food.”

“Thanks.” Hunter scurried to his feet and ran for privacy. He managed to pee using his left hand. He returned to camp, replenished his water intake, and eyed Scout who had found a new stick to fidget with the fire.

Hunter wiped his mouth with the back of his good arm. “So what’s up?”

Scout’s gaze traveled towards the sleeping Catherine. “She did something to you last night, didn’t she? I mean when you were hurting. She made the pain go away.”

“Not totally, but she helped a lot. I thought my arm was going to fall off. Then she placed her hand on my head and I was able to deal with it. But that’s impossible, so I don’t know what to think.”

“When I set your arm she passed out with you. At first I thought it was because of your screaming.”

Hunter stiffened. “It hurt like hell when you pulled.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. There’s more.” Scout stepped away from the fire and Hunter reluctantly followed him the short distance.

Scout lowered his voice and relayed everything that happened while Hunter slept.

Hunter barked out a laugh. “You did have some liquor, stingy.”

“I’m serious. You were both covered in a yellow light and then she took it all inside her and the light shot from her eyes into the sky. She passed out again and hasn’t moved since.”

Hunter considered the girl, lying in the prairie grass. Scout never lied to him. Never.

He swung his splintered arm up for a closer inspection. Scout wrapped it with Hunter’s favorite shirt. Something about the shirt didn’t appear right, but Hunter was more concerned with the arm itself.

“So what do you think?” Hunter asked.

“How does your arm feel?”

Gently, Hunter touched the broken arm. He rubbed it and then poked it. The arm didn’t hurt, causing him to up the notch on his bravery. He flexed the fingers of the broken arm—fanning them out—making a fist. Finally, he shook the whole thing like the arm was gift-wrapped and shoved into a stocking.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Let me take off that splint and have a look.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“You just shook the heck out of it.”

Hunter held his arm out. Scout untied the shirt.

“Scout!”

Scout jerked his hands away. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”

“No, it didn’t hurt. You cut up my favorite shirt.”

“I needed to make strips to tie the sticks in place.”

“Yeah, but that was my favorite shirt!”

“I could break your other arm.” Scout untied the rest of the strips and the sticks clattered on the ground. He gave a low whistle.

Hunter had closed his eyes, afraid of seeing where the bone had popped through the skin. “What is it?”

“Open your eyes, you big baby.”

Hunter peeked out his right eye. A drop of dried blood was tangled in a patch of arm hair. Otherwise, his arm was healed with just a tiny white scar where the hole was last night. With wide eyes, he poked at his arm again. He gave it another shake.

“What are you two silly boys doing?”

Hunter and Scout jumped as if someone caught them stealing food from the pantry in Brittany’s kitchen. Catherine stood in their midst with Scout’s sleeping bag caped over her shoulders. The sun shining behind her formed a golden nimbus around the little girl.

“Uh…” Hunter stammered.

“He and I…” Scout began.

Catherine bounced up and down, and pointed at Hunter. “Oh looky, your arm’s all better.” The sleeping bag dropped and she did a little dance, her feet kicking up high and her hands clapping a rapid beat. “Hurray! Now we can go home!” She repeated the word “home” as she danced around, singing. “Home, home, home.”

The boys glanced at each other for support. Scout urged Hunter on with a nod. Hunter frowned.

“Catherine,” he said, striving hard to regain her attention by waving his healed arm. She took that as an invitation and twirled underneath his hand until Hunter grew light-headed.

“Catherine, please…” Scout tried, but that only brought him into the fray. Catherine whirled from Hunter and hooked her arm into Scout’s, working them into a circle, singing, “We did it. We did it!”

“Catherine!” the boys yelled.

The dance stopped. Catherine puckered her bottom lip as her eyes watered with tears. She picked up Scout’s sleeping bag and blew her nose.

Hunter knelt in front of her. “Catherine, Scout said you did something to heal my arm. Is that what happened?”

She dropped the sleeping bag again. Scout quickly rescued it from the ground, giving a disgusted look at the snot smeared on the edge; he stuffed the bag away in its sack. Catherine smiled at him.

“Catherine,” Hunter said again.

“What?”

“My arm…you fixed it…how?”

“Oh that was easy, silly. Scout did the hard part. I just helped it along.” She brought her tiny hand up and brushed a strand of Hunter’s hair back. Her expression turned serious for once, giving Hunter the impression that he spoke with someone much older than six. “I didn’t like seeing you hurting. So I made your arm all better.”

Hunter glanced at Scout, who shrugged and stalked off, shaking his head and muttering something about no sleep.

“Okay, I guess the real question we would like to understand is
how
you healed my arm?”

She stared at Hunter for a couple seconds. “Don’t you believe in miracles?” she said finally, and laughed. “When do we go home?”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes and stood up. The sun had pushed from the eastern horizon and now filled the morning sky like a flaming bowling ball. A v-shaped formation of sandhill cranes flew across the sky. He sighed and answered, “In a little bit.”

“Hurray!” Catherine started dancing again.

Hunter watched Scout make a breakfast of bread, cheese, and a peach for Catherine. For ten days Hunter traveled the Big Bad, from gas station to gas station, living off the land. He explored further than he ever dared before—even running out of gas once. He loved being on his own. Now he looked forward to eating scrambled eggs at Brittany’s.

Scout poured water on the smoldering coals, which hissed and sent up billows of gray smoke. He dug a hole and buried the ashes using a small shovel from his backpack.

“Are you able to drive?” Scout asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’ll let Catherine ride with me until we know for sure.”

“Whatever.”

“Take it easy this time.”

“Yes sir, Scout Master.” Hunter saluted.

“I’m just saying. Next time you might break your neck. I’d like to see her miracle you back from that.”

Scout stretched his leg over his bike and gave it a kick-start. Hunter did the same. Catherine pranced up to Hunter, who pointed at Scout and gave her a shooing motion to hurry her along. She hopped on the back of Scout’s bike and wrapped her arms around his waist. She squeezed and Scout’s eyes popped open with the realization of the long ride ahead. Hunter laughed and pushed his Ray-Bans down. He rolled his throttle hard and rode a wheelie out of the crash site toward home.