Page 86 of The Hitchhikers
She heard Simon in the kitchen and looked over her shoulder. He was resting the shotgun and the boxes of ammunition by their gear, then he walked toward her with the rifle and one box of ammunition. He set the bullets on the side table and held the rifle out.
“It’s loaded.”
She carefully took it from him.
He checked the view from each window, then closed the curtains again. “You can’t see much of the driveway leading up to the house. You’ll have to sit out on the porch.”
“You really think a neighbor might show up?”
“Maybe. Or someone else she didn’t tell us about.”
Jenny hadn’t thought about that. Ruth could be lying just the same as them. They could have a son or friend, or a farmhand, maybe. Someone she knew would check on them.
“How long are you going to be?”
“Not sure. Might be a while.” He rubbed his hand through his hair, made a frustrated face. “I screwed up, so I have to take the rear end apart again.”
She wanted to reach for his hand. She wanted to feel his arms around her. She felt calmer when he was holding her, but it was too late. He was already walking toward the fridge, where he grabbed a couple of beers, gripping the bottle necks between his fingers. He glanced at her.
“I just like the taste. I’m not going to get drunk.”
“Last night…”
“I know. I’m sorry. It was stupid.”
She nodded, because she didn’t know what to say. She was overwhelmed with a swell of relief and love. He’d made a mistake and apologized. He didn’t try to twist things and blame her.
She followed him to the kitchen, waited while he opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch. At the last moment, he turned and met her eyes.
“Hang in there, babe. It’s almost over.”
Jenny thought about those words all morning and into the afternoon as she sat outside. She knew Simon had meant that their time at the farm was almost over, but she couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that pushed down on her shoulders, her chest. Her calves ached with it. She tried to lose herself in a romance novel that she’d found in the house. Her hair was wilted around her face, her neck and brow damp with sweat. She needed the bathroom. Water. Food. Simon hadn’t come back for lunch. She got to her feet and scanned the field toward the road. She couldn’t see or hear any cars.
She picked up the rifle and hurried inside. She used the bathroom, then mixed a pitcher of iced tea and fetched a sleeve of saltine crackers and an apple from the bags she’d packed earlier.
She took everything outside. Once she’d settled into the rocking chair, she leaned the rifle against the porch railing. She sipped her tea and dozed in the warmth, watching the chickens through her lashes. She wondered if there were farm cats in the barn. She liked cats. Her gaze drifted from the barn, down through the pasture to where the horses and cows grazed.
Something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. She turned to look down the driveway, where it dipped out of sight. Some sort of haze. Smoke?
She narrowed her eyes and focused on the spot until it became clearer.
Not smoke. A cloud of dust.
She grabbed up everything and rushed into the house. When she passed through the kitchen, she set the book and glass on the table. The rifle in her hands, she ran out the back, down theporch steps, nearly tripping in her sandals, and ran the short distance to the garage.
She flung the door open.
The garage was narrow and crowded, with barely any light coming in through a dirty side window. A blue truck had its rear end jacked up and its tires off, while an extension cord light hung over the tailgate. A thudding metallic sound was coming from underneath the truck.
“Simon!”
He popped up from the other side. “What’s wrong?”
She gulped at the air, chest heaving. “Someone’s coming.”
CHAPTER 31JENNY
Simon pushed past her, grabbing her free hand, and pulling her along with him. She struggled to hold on to the rifle and keep up with Simon, who was taking the steps two at a time.
