Mary walked purposefully, although she wasn't aware of any specific destination. The Langston home was situated on a hill. Mary descended toward the town, sinking with each step. She walked past the department store, the post office and Hungry Jim's Cafe, then on down to the bottom, where the railroad cut made a red gash in the landscape.
The road led out of town. Mary followed. The gas station sat at a fork in the road. The right fork led up a ridge and beyond to Morrisville. The left dipped down toward the river. Mary pretended to be surprised to find herself on the bank of the muddy, swirling river.
She sat on a log for a long time, staring into the current. A leaf came downstream and got caught in a whirlpool. Round and round, round and round. "Just like me," Mary thought. "Round and round, nowhere to go."
More leaves, a stick, a large tree limb, assorted cans and debris; everything headed out to sea. Finally, Mary grew tired and stood up to go. Suddenly she froze; terrified, not knowing why. She felt a presence. She quickly turned to her left and saw the withered old black man she had seen that day on the hill. He was just standing by a bush on the river bank. He was looking straight ahead, not at Mary. "There are those who seek the child's life," he croaked.
"What child?" Mary asked.
The old man ignored her. "Sanctuary! Seek sanctuary!" he cried.
"What are you talking about, you crazy old man?" Mary was getting annoyed. The old man continued to ignore her. She turned to head back up the path to the road, when movement caught her eye; something blue flashed in the bushes farther up the bank. Mary went to investigate. "Who's tromping around?" a voice called. Polly stepped out of the bushes.
"How long have you been there?" Mary asked.
"Boy trouble; thought I'd throw myself in," Polly answered Mary's unasked question. "You too?"
"Boy trouble; yes," Mary said.
"Joe" Polly said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Long story," Mary said.
"I know the plot," Polly answered.
"Don't think you do."
"So what now? Where are you going?" Polly asked. Mary shrugged.
"Might as well go home -- the river looks kinda dirty, anyway, don'tcha think?"
Mary glanced over her shoulder at where the old man had been standing. He was gone.
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