'What else could I do, Will? I had to prove to you that it wasn’t true what you saw on my face the day you were arrested. I never meant it, Will… I…' She began crying. He caught her tears with his lips, moving across her face as if taking sustenance.
'You didn’t have to prove anything to me. I was scared and stubborn and I acted like a fool, just like Miss Beasley said. When you came to visit me the first time I was hurt, and I-I wanted to hurt you back. But I didn’t mean what I said, Elly, honest I didn’t.' He kissed her eyes, murmuring softly, 'I didn’t mean it, Elly, I’m sorry.'
'I know, Will, I know.'
Again he held her face, searching her pale eyes. 'And when you came the second time, I kept telling myself to apologize but Hess was there listening, so I talked about stupid things instead. Men can be such fools.'
'It doesn’t matter now, Will, it doesn’t-'
'I love you.' He held her possessively.
'I love you, too.'
When they’d held each other a while he said, 'Let’s go home.'
Home. They pictured it, felt it beckon.
He took a lock of her short brown hair between his fingers, rubbing it. 'To the kids, and our own house, and our own bed. I’ve missed it.'
She touched his throat and said, 'Let’s go.'
They drove on home through the purple twilight, through the brown Georgia hills, past cataracts and piney woods and through a quiet town with a library and a magnolia tree and a square where an empty bench awaited two old men and the sunshine. Past a house whose picket fence and morning glories and green shades were gone, replaced by a mowed yard, scraped siding and gleaming windows reflecting a newly risen moon. As they passed it, Elly snuggled close to Will, an arm around his shoulders, her free hand on his thigh.
He turned his head to watch her eyes follow the place as the car pulled abreast of it, then past.
She felt his gaze and lifted her smile to him.
You all right? his eyes asked.
I’m all right, hers answered.
He kissed her nose and linked his fingers with those hanging over his left shoulder.
Content, they continued through the night, to a steep, rocky road that led them past a sourwood tree, into a clearing where blue flowers would soon tap against a skewed white house. Where three children slept-soon to be four. Where a bed waited… and forever waited… and the bees would soon make the honey run again.
LAVYRLE SPENCER
