Page 55 of These Immortal Truths
They add the snake meat to the gumbo that night. Jenny skins and prepares it while Anna peels the crawfish. They work together in silence, with only the dull sound of the knife cutting through onions and peppers pulled from the garden and the gentle simmer of the pot on the stove. By the time it’s ready, the little cabin is filled to the brim with the scent of supper.
She’s not sure whose idea it was to eat outside. Perhaps the cool night air called to them both. They take their bowls and settle into the creaking rockers on the front porch. Through the gaps in the trees, clouds cover what would be a small patch of stars. Anna wonders if she should expect summer rain; it feels humid enough for it.
“I’ve been here nearly two years and never once saw head or tailof a copperhead,” Anna murmurs, looking at the bits of snake meat in her bowl. “Strange kind of luck, that one would turn up on one of the few occasions I’m not alone up here. Thank you, again. Truly.”
Jenny picks at her food, moving the bits of meat around the bowl mindlessly. “Silas said you took care of me for five days before I woke up.”
Something in the way she says it makes Anna frown. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve to live,” she says, bringing her spoon to her lips. The snake meat is mild, almost like fish.
Jenny goes quiet, shaking her head. Her foot taps anxiously against the aging porch boards. “My baby ain’t dead,” Jenny whispers, so softly the confession is nearly swallowed by the shrill hum of cicadas.
Anna chews her bite slowly, spoon scraping the sides of her wooden bowl. “I understand.”
Jenny’s gaze is sharp, but brittle—prepared to cut and ready to break. “I left him. I left him with my mother and I ran.”
Anna thinks of Piers. Remembers his drawn cheeks and the way his tears would reveal slivers of clean skin beneath the grime. She had been numb to the reality of it at the time, but later—when she grew to love Piers like no one before or since—she would occasionally find herself hating the family who left him to starve, alone, in the woods.
She has witnessed so many horrors since then; has seen how a cruel world can harden hearts. Has seen the sacrifices women have been forced to make, again and again, just to survive the world men have built.
“The world—the people in it—can be cruel,” Anna says, pushing a crawfish around her bowl. “You were forced to make an impossible choice. Who am I to judge what I cannot understand?”
Jenny’s expression crumples, a hiccuped sob catching in her throat. “I didn’t want to. I swear. I just couldn’t do it no more. I couldn’t let him touch me again.” Her face falls into her hands, her thin frame heaving around every gasping breath. “Icouldn’t.”
Anna sets her bowl aside, moves Jenny’s wordlessly from her lap,before wrapping her arms around the girl’s shoulders. She feels her every keening sob, her every choked breath. Jenny’s hands reach for her, grasping her arm so tightly her nails bite Anna’s skin through her sleeve.
Anna doesn’t flinch away.
She holds her until her breathing evens and her tears stop.
Two days later, Silas returns. For the first time since Anna has known him, he comes alone.
She meets him on the bottom step, scanning him for injuries. “Are you alright? What happened?”
Silas shakes his head, mouth set in a grim line. “No runners. Words goin’ around that Mr. Abel’s been rounding up anyone he can find to man more search parties, and they’re making sure everyone knows it. Rumor is he’s suspecting they’re getting help.” He places a large hand on her shoulder, ducking his head to meet her eyes. “You need to be real careful, you hear? It’s only a matter of time before one of them come knocking.”
His dark eyes look over Anna’s shoulder. Jenny is standing in the doorway, the broom grasped so tightly her hands tremble. Silas frowns. “Time to go Miss Jenny.”
She fidgets, tongue darting out to wet her lip. “Right now?”
“Can’t risk waiting.”
Anna feels her heart stutter.
He has never left immediately after returning—Silas always stays at least a night so he and those in his care have the opportunity to regain their strength. That he won’t risk staying a few hours speaks to the level of his concern more than anything. “I’ll pack you some food. Something you can eat on the way without too much trouble.”
Silas nods. “I’d appreciate that.” He turns, looking over the bayou as if he can read its secrets. “We best be gone within the hour.”
Jenny has yet to move. Anna grasps her shoulder, demanding her attention. “There’s some extra coin in the top drawer of my nightstand—inside an old sewing tin. Fetch it for me, would you?”
Numbly, Jenny nods, but it isn’t until Anna nudges her forward that she heads back into the house. Anna packs dried meat and her last wedge of cheese. Wrapping it in a spare towel, she’s placing it in Silas’ grateful hands when Jenny exits her bedroom with the faded green tin in her hands. Anna takes it, prying the lid and searching its contents. Coins rattle noisily around her fingers. Too loud. Too risky. Anna grabs the small amount of bills instead.
She places it in the younger woman’s palm.
Jenny balks, trying to return it. “I can’t—you’ve already—”
