Leaving, Not Goodbye
Amanda
Waking into the beauty and serenity of the early fall morning, the birds singing, the wind softly rustling tree branches overhead, sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, it was hard to believe anything in her little peaceful world had changed.
Amanda slowly sat up. She put out a hand and even before her eyes focused fully, she knew Jason wasn’t there. His side of the bed was cold and empty. He could be up doing chores, chopping wood for the coming winter or feeding the chickens or seeing to the garden that was almost ready to be harvested.
He isn’t though, because everything has changed.
The events from the night before seemed like nothing more than a bad dream, but Amanda knew it was real. She was really going to have to leave, leave Jason to the mercy of men who didn’t know the meaning of the word.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and let her bare feet sweep the cool floorboards, maybe for the last time.
No. I refuse to think like that.
It wasn’t the last time. Jason would find a way. He would find a way to be with her and their child again, even if it wasn’t here. They could start over. Make a new life.
For how long? How long until Jason’s past catches up with us again?
It wasn’t fair to think like that, but she couldn’t help it. She stood slowly, stretching out the pains and kinks from her muscles. It was later than she normally slept, but she’d been up half the night. She was surprised she could sleep at all. She was sure Jason hadn’t. He’d probably sat by the door with the gun in his lap the entire night.
Amanda chose her clothes with care, since she knew they might have to last a couple days. She grabbed her backpack from its place beside the dresser and carefully folded extra jeans, shirts, sweaters, socks, and underwear into it.
She didn’t have any cash on hand. She hoped Jason did, stashed away somewhere. She didn’t want to go to the bank or use her credit card. She felt odd now, strangely like a fugitive though she’d done nothing wrong.
If she and Jason didn’t have a child, a son who she loved more than the entire world, she would never consider leaving. It was the only way he could get her to go.
A dull scrape of boots over hardwood floor sounded from the kitchen. A log clinked into the kitchen stove followed by small scraps of kindling. She didn’t hear it go in, she just knew the process all too well. She waited, heard the rasp of paper followed by a match and the fire roared to life. The scrape of metal over metal sounded as the burner was set back into place.
Hushed male voices drifted into the bedroom even though the door was closed. So their guest was up. It was a minor miracle considering the state he looked to be in last night. Maybe Jason was right. Maybe fighting did toughen a person up. Made them impenetrable.
She could only hope so. She always thought Jason would be her present. That she’d be with him until she died. She never thought there would be a day when he’d be her past.
Sorrow swept over her. She couldn’t wait in the bedroom any longer, couldn’t stall or delay. She’d already memorized every detail of that room. The room she treasured most in the house because it was just hers and Jason’s.
Her backpack was heavy, as heavy as her heart. She wrapped her fingers around one strap and hefted it, carried it along at her side as she left the bedroom, opened the door and crept down the hall to the kitchen.
The smell of bacon and eggs greeted her, the cheerful scent so at odds with what she knew she had to do.
“Jason,” she whispered as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “You’re cooking like it’s any other morning.”
He turned slowly, flipper in hand. He didn’t smile. His eyes didn’t glow with life and love. All her sadness was magnified in his face. His features almost caved in on themselves, but he controlled it, stopped it from happening.
Amanda moved her eyes slowly away from the man she loved more than her own self. She turned to face the man Jason called Andy. He was seated upright at the table, bruised hands folded across the scarred wood top. There was still dried blood clinging to his face, his hair, his clothing, but he looked better, if that word could be used. The swelling had gone down around his eyes, his lips, his cheekbones. He actually had real features, like a man, not a lump of battered flesh. She could tell he was young. Younger than she ever would have thought.
No wonder Jason trained him to survive. He doesn’t look much more than a kid now, let alone four years ago.
“Sit down,” Jason said gently. “You’re going to eat before you go.”
A dull thud brought her out of a trance she hadn’t realized she’d slipped into. She stared dumbly at the backpack that had slipped from her hand to land on the kitchen floor. She left it, since picking it up seemed like an admission of defeat.
The table was familiar. Old and worn and so very right.
Tomorrow I won’t be sitting here.
She carefully tuned out, tuned out to protect a heart that was suddenly so very fragile. She didn’t see the man to her left. She didn’t even see Jason until he set a plate of breakfast in front of her. Her stomach rolled, but she knew she’d eat it, just to please him. He had done this for her. This was his way of saying goodbye and she wouldn’t taint the memory she was going to leave.
She picked up her fork, aware that even that action would now be ingrained in both their minds, for the rest of their lives.
If only I knew what that meant.
Jason put a plate in front of Andy, who, marvelously enough, began to shovel it down like he was starved. She’d never seen a man go from a virtual deathbed to functioning almost normally in the span of a few hours. It made her realize just how tough Jason himself must be to have survived so many years like he had. He’d survived his own father, survived on the street, survived in a fighting cage. He deserved peace.
That angered her more than anything; the loss of freedom that Jason so very much deserved. He’d spent three decades fighting just to survive. The world was never just or fair, though. Never.
“Don’t think about it.” Jason set down his fork. Amanda slowly looked up. “Don’t think about anything, but the fact that we’ll be together again when this is over.”
“I’ll look after him. When Ricci comes, he’ll get a run for his money.” Andy spoke with a quiet certainty that acted like a balm to Amanda’s wounded soul.
“I… Jason, remember. We can never be together again if you go to prison for life.”
“Ricci’s murdered men before and he’s never ended up in prison. He’s never been held accountable for what he’s done. There isn’t going to be any court. No trial. I am the judge and jury.”
Amanda shivered. She didn’t know what kind of man Andy was or what kind of life he’d led. She realized he might be young physically, but his soul was ages old and filled with a black violence she couldn’t even begin to understand.
It’s why he’s made it this far. Made it here to warn us. Whatever darkness is in there, it’s kept him almost indestructible.
“You can’t kill him, Jason,” Amanda whispered. “Please. Promise me.”
Jason’s eyes slowly tracked to Andy, but Amanda shook her head subtly. “No. Neither of you.”
“What I have on my conscience is my own business.” Andy shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth. He chewed like a machine, swallowed, repeated.
Amanda didn’t know if it was better or worse that Andy was there. He made no bones about life or death. He acted like those boundaries didn’t even apply to him. It scared her, the callous way he talked about death, but she hadn’t lived through what he’d lived through. Having Andy there was a good thing, she made up her mind. It meant that Jason’s chances of making it out of this were magnified. She was afraid of what he’d do in a rage. She remembered the horrible look in his eyes when he talked about Janine, the woman he’d loved who Ricci had murdered.
“You have to go now, Amanda. Take the truck. Phone me when you get to the farm. I’ll have another vehicle arranged for you by then. I’ll be able to tell you where to go to get a new set of ID’s for the three of you. After that, all you have to do is get over the border. Get over and keep going. Keep driving until you feel like you’re safe. Don’t stop. Don’t stop for the night. Only for gas. Take shifts with your mom. Do you understand?”
Amanda swallowed hard. She knew there wasn’t time for her to argue. They’d already made up their minds last night that she had to do this. There was no use in trying to change his mind. She knew what she had to do. She knew what he had to do.
I just hope he doesn’t lose his soul in the process.
She rose slowly, pushing away from the table and her half empty plate. Jason didn’t stand. She understood that he wasn’t going to touch her. He wasn’t going to kiss her or hug her goodbye. She wasn’t allowed to even say or think the word.
This wasn’t it for them. He was trying to tell her that. This wasn’t it at all. It was just a span of time apart, a duty she had to fulfill. He’d come for her. Even if she never saw this place again, he’d come for her. This was not the end for them.
She walked slowly over to her backpack, bent and picked it up. She reached for her purse, which she always kept on the corner of the kitchen counter. The truck keys were already sitting on top, her cell phone and the charger underneath. Below that, tucked in the corner of her black tote, was a thick roll of bills. The cash she needed.
Before she left for good, walked out of her life, a life that was perfect and good and right at this time the day before, she had to look at Jason one more time.
Her eyes flicked over his beautiful rugged face, his hard features, his sea blue eyes, the faded plaid shirts and washed out jeans he preferred.
“I’ll come for you, Amanda. I’ve sworn it. I’m always good for my word.”
“I know,” she whispered. Quiet. Too quiet. There wasn’t any use in trying to mouth the words again.
There was nothing more to say. She couldn’t tell him to be careful. To be well. He already knew she wished those things. He’d already promised he’d find her, that they would be together again one day. She had to cling to that hope. Without hope, she had nothing. Nothing at all. No heart, no soul.
She didn’t look back as she walked through the cabin, onto the porch, down the steps and across the yard to the truck. She started it, turned it around slowly and headed down the driveway, out to the gravel road and eventually onto the highway.
It wasn’t until she’d been driving for an hour, that she let her tears spill over.