Yes, the old marriage game. Theyd both suffered through it. And after their divorces, theyd both carried on, albeit with battle scars.
Brave Sarah, thought Cathy. At least she has the courage to go through with this on her own.
The old anger washed through her, still potent enough to make her mouth tighten. She could forgive her ex-husband Jack for a lot of things. For his selfishness. His demands. His infidelity. But she could never forgive him for denying her the chance to have a child. Oh, she could have gone against his wishes and had a baby anyway, but shed wanted him to want one as well. So shed waited for the time to be right. But during their ten years of marriage, hed never been ready, never felt it was the right time.
What he should have told her was the truth: that he was too self-centered to be bothered with a baby.
Im thirty-seven years old, she thought. I no longer have a husband. I dont even have a steady boyfriend. But I could be content, if only I could hold my own child in my arms.
At least Sarah would soon be blessed.
Four months to go and then the baby was due. Sarahs baby. Cathy had to smile at that thought, despite the rain now pouring over her windshield. It was coming down harder now; even with the wipers thrashing at full speed, she could barely make out the road. She glanced at her watch and saw it was already eleven-thirty; there were no other cars in sight. If she had engine trouble out here, shed probably have to spend the night huddled in the backseat, waiting for help to arrive.
Peering ahead, she tried to make out the roads dividing line and saw nothing but a solid wall of rain. This was ridiculous. She really should have stopped at that motel in Willits, but she hated the thought of being only fifty miles from her goal, especially when shed already driven so far.
She spotted a sign ahead: Garberville, 10 Miles. So she was closer than shed thought. Twenty-five miles more, then thered be a turnoff and a five-mile drive through dense woods to Sarahs cedar house. The thought of being so close fueled her impatience. She fed the old Datsun some gas and sped up to forty-five miles an hour. It was a reckless thing to do, especially in these conditions, but the thought of a warm house and hot chocolate was just too tempting.
The road curved unexpectedly; startled, she jerked the wheel to the right and the car slid sideways, tobogganing wildly across the rain-slicked pavement. She knew enough not to slam on the brakes. Instead, she clutched the wheel, fighting to regain control. The tires skidded a few feet, a heart-stopping ride that took her to the very edge of the road. Just as she thought shed clip the trees, the tires gripped the pavement. The car was still moving twenty miles an hour, but at least it was headed in a straight line. With clammy hands, she managed to negotiate the rest of the curve.
What happened next caught her completely by surprise. One instant she was congratulating herself for averting disaster, the next, she was staring ahead in disbelief.
The man had appeared out of nowhere. He was crouched in the road, captured like a wild animal in the glare of her headlights. Reflexes took over. She slammed on the brakes, but it was already too late. The screech of her tires was punctuated by the thud of the mans body against the hood of her car.
For what seemed like eternity, she sat frozen and unable to do anything but clutch the steering wheel and stare at the windshield wipers skating back and forth. Then, as the reality of what shed just done sank in, she shoved the door open and dashed out into the rain.
At first she could see nothing through the downpour, only a glistening strip of blacktop lit by the dim glow of her taillights. Where is he? she thought frantically. With water streaming past her eyes, she traced the road backward, struggling to see in the darkness. Then, through the pounding rain, she heard a low moan. It came from somewhere off to the side, near the trees.
Shifting direction, she plunged into the shadows and sank ankle-deep in mud and pine needles. Again she heard the moan, closer now, almost within reach.
Where are you? she screamed. Help me find you!
Here The answer was so weak she barely heard it, but it was all she needed. Turning, she took a few steps and practically stumbled over his crumpled body in the darkness. At first, he seemed to be only a confusing jumble of soaked clothes, then she managed to locate his hand and feel for his pulse. It was fast but steady, probably steadier than her own pulse, which was skipping wildly. His fingers suddenly closed over hers in a desperate grip. He rolled against her and struggled to sit up.
Please! Dont move! she said.
Cant-cant stay here-
Where are you hurt?
No time. Help me. Hurry-
Not till you tell me where youre hurt!
He reached out and grabbed her shoulder in a clumsy attempt to rise to his feet. To her amazement, he managed to pull himself halfway up. For an instant they wobbled against each other, then his strength seemed to collapse and they both slid to their knees in the mud. His breathing had turned harsh and irregular and she wondered about his injuries. If he was bleeding internally he could die within minutes. She had to get him to a hospital now, even if it meant dragging him back to the car.