It was nearly two o’clock in the morning as we approached his driveway and saw a car sitting with its lights out just beyond it. “Must be someone broke down,” he said, but before we were even out of our car the one that had been sitting beyond the driveway put its lights on and started inching toward the entrance to his drive. I got out of my side of the truck and closed the door, turned with only mild curiosity.
“Who would be here this late?” I asked.
“Go inside OK? Just go in and let me take care of this.” My curiosity was no longer so mild.
“What do you mean?” I said. “Who is that?” I turned to look at the car as it started to pull into the driveway behind us and he asked me again to go inside. This time his voice was more urgent and it startled me. I looked at him and a surge of anxiety pulsed through my stomach, pushed me toward the house.
“I’ll be right there,” he said as I passed him and he reached out for me, brushed my arm with his hand. Then, as if he thought I might not keep walking he said quickly, “Go. Go OK?” That familiar surge showed up in my belly again, showed up in my heart. I moved more quickly toward the front door.
I moved more quickly toward the front door and had almost reached it when I heard her scream.