The River Widow(68)

Frustration stirring in her chest, Adah audibly exhaled. “We’ve been down this road before.” She avoided his gaze.

Jack stood still, awash in worry, but the helpful part of him won over the worried part. “You don’t know enough about a still to make it explode while it’s operating. I’d say you need to use a stick of dynamite and simply blow it up.”

Adah flinched. “Dynamite? How would I get that? And how would I get away before it blew me up?”

“I’m thinking,” Jack said. Then sighed. “There has to be a woodpile at the still. You could light a fire on one side of it and place the stick on the other side. The fire will grow and eventually meet the dynamite. But you’d have to hope the dynamite doesn’t go off before you’ve had a chance to get back to the house. How far away is the still?”

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t found it?”

“I haven’t had a reason to.”

“Well,” Jack said, “you do now. Find it and hope it’s far enough away to stay cut off if a fire gets out of hand, and definitely light the fire after a rain. Let’s also hope the still is close enough so you can get back to the house before it blows.”

“I’ll do that. The only other thing I haven’t figured out is how I’ll get Daisy and me out of town. I’ll have to clear out fast. I’ll leave my bargaining chip on the table in the kitchen—a note telling them about Betsy’s letters—and then we have to . . . vanish.”

Jack’s eyes were hazy with sadness when he said, “You can go to the docks. I’ll meet you somewhere near the farm and drive you there. Then bribe your way onto a riverboat, any boat. There’s always some boat put in there for the night. They’ll hide you away even if they’re not leaving until morning. You still have that money, right?”

Adah nodded. She and Daisy would assume new lives on the other side of the river. They would put the cold cage of the Branch family home and the snake of the Ohio behind them.

“For a price, they’ll take you and drop you anywhere along their course.”

Adah almost smiled but couldn’t. Jack was giving her what she wanted even though it was the opposite of what he wanted. A form of illness was coming over her. This was not supposed to happen. She wanted to gaze upon him like this forever. How beautiful he was when his mind looked as open as it did now. What did he dream of? What ideas and memories lived in his mind?

“That’s brilliant, Jack. I knew you would come up with something.”

They sat in a silence that drew out.

He reached over, rubbed her arm, and looked at her with eyes as warm as a fawn’s, his face as bright as moonbeams, and he spoke deeply from the back of his throat. “If the Branches catch you trying to destroy that still, they’ll kill you. You’re really playing with fire now. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you shouldn’t try to beat the Branches at their own evil games.”

Adah remained silent and let his warning sink in. She knew the stakes were high. More than anything at this very moment, she wanted to go into his arms.

“What if you don’t hear an explosion, and you go back to start all over only to find out that the fire has finally reached the dynamite, and it’s about to blow?”

“I have to take my chances.”

Jack’s gaze was firm and yet easy on her face. She closed her eyes, and it was just the two of them alone in the universe. No farms, no land, no other people, no kidnapping, no arson. If only they’d met under different circumstances. If only she’d met Jack instead of Lester. If only . . .

He tugged in a big breath. And then his voice, languid and lovely. “Your skin is vanilla.”

Dazed by the beauty of his words, even so, she didn’t turn to him. She couldn’t give him false hope. Instead she whispered, “You have to stop this, Jack. Either I’m going to leave here, I’m going to jail, or I’m going to die.”

“I know,” Jack said. “You don’t do anything halfway. That’s why I love you.” Jack spoke as if each word were his last dying wish. Slowly, ever so slowly, convincingly. Sure but sad. And then he said something that ripped away what little she had recovered of her composure. “You’re the bravest woman—no—the bravest of anyone I’ve ever known.”

But she’d never seen herself as brave. True she was a fighter, but not all fighters were brave. Brave people didn’t end up in such a mess, layered in sheets of deceit.

“Where will I get the dynamite?”

“I’ll get it for you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Wait here.”

Jack vanished inside and returned shortly, holding a small bowl of peaches and a knife. He sat beside her. “Found me some beautiful ones down at the market the other day.” He picked up a plump peach and carved out a slice. He lifted it to his mouth as a line of juice ran down his hand.

An urge to lick it off rose like a deep hunger in Adah. She looked away, and then his hand was before her, holding out a slice.

“Here,” he said softly.

Helplessly Adah opened her mouth and tasted the sweet fruit as he slipped it onto her tongue. She also tasted the slightly salty flavor of his skin. She slowly chewed and then swallowed. It was so sweet, juicy, earthy. “What about the dynamite?”