Cruel Harvest (31 page)
That's when he jumped out of the car. He ran toward me, but I stayed one step away. I knew he wanted to grab me around the neck and drag me into the car. If he did that, I'd soon be in Arizona, his slave for life. I could not let that happen. The die had been cast. I could not go back. I'd either be dead or be free this night.
Daddy realized this simple fact. It must have radiated from me like sunlight. In his deranged mind, this was his last stand. Nellie had gotten away clean. She had shown him for what he was. I knew he would not let that happen again, not in front of Millie. I saw a flash of his old strength, his old venomous anger, when he lunged for me.
I jumped back. The courage I had felt turned to panic. Murder was in Daddy's eyes. I bolted around the other side of the car. He slipped a little on the snow, and I was able to get the vehicle between us. We circled once, twice, three times around the car. I could not let him get his hands on me, or it would be over. Each time he raced to the passenger side, I outran him and made it to the driver's side. I was terrified that he would outrun me!
The next time I passed the house, I made a run for it. Leaping up onto the porch, I threw the door open. As I spun around to slam it shut, I saw Mary Anne spring out of the car.
“Fances, come back!” she screamed.
My heart broke in two. In that instant, I could see her future. I knew the suffering she would endure. I had been through it already. I had survived, but I wondered if she could.
“Mary Anne, Iâ”
Daddy's face appeared out of the darkness. He was moving lightning quick, and his eyes were afire with hatred. He loomed so close that I screamed in utter terror and slammed the front door shut. My hand found the lock and slammed the bolt home just as the door handle rattled. The entire frame shook; his curses filtered through the solid wood door. He was no longer concerned about quiet.
For just a second, I thought I was safe. Then I remembered the kitchen door was unlocked!
My mind screaming, I raced through the dark rooms and into the kitchen, where I caught a glimpse of Daddy's face in the moonlight just outside the kitchen window. I knew it was too late! His mouth snarled savagely, spit landing on the window as he bellowed at me. “Open this door before I rip your head off!” His eyes were bulging pools of pure unbridled fury. The veins in his neck strained. I was going to be locked inside an empty house with this madman! “Jesus, help me!” I cried out loud. I heard the windowpane shatter and felt slivers of glass spray my face as his thick fist busted through the window. As he reached inside for the doorknob, I turned, racing to the front of the house. I jumped off the porch and fled to the safety of the woods with Daddy right on my heels and little Mary Anne standing in the snow screaming, a sound that sent shivers down my back.
I was running for my life, and he was so close I could hear him breathing. I felt his hand touch the back of my hair and knew if he caught me, he would bury me in a snowy grave in Michigan that very night.
I dove ahead of him and into the woods, losing him behind me. He stalked back and forth like a hungry lion. Slowly and as quietly as possible, I inched through the deep snow to what I hoped was the direction of the main road. Suddenly, my foot slipped and I fell facedown across a huge hollow log. The front of my dress ripped as I fell on my knees across the rotted wood. I lay on the frozen ground, terrified, afraid to move and praying for a miracle that would make him go away. Then, like an answer to my prayer, Millie called out. “Come on, Broadus! Leave her out there. We gotta get goin' before somebody hears us.” I shivered in the snow, watching and praying as tears slid down my face and turned to ice. The only thing between my body and the frozen ground was my tattered dress.
“Come on, Broadus,”
Millie called out. “Somebody's gonna call the law on you.”
Daddy had continued to pace like a caged animal for what felt like hours. Finally, his shoulders sagged. His belt dragged in the snow behind him as he turned and slowly walked to the car. I could breathe again, and I even adjusted to ease some of the pain in my legs.
The engine roared to life and the headlights panned over my head as the car turned onto the main road. I shrunk back down again, afraid to be seen, but he drove off into the night. I saw his brake lights flash once, and then he was out of sight.
I dared not leave the cover of the woods. I crouched in the snow behind my log and waited. I knew he'd be back. Finally, the cold got to be more than I could bear, and I stood up. I winced when I touched the cuts on my leg, and my entire body shook.
I took one step, and lights suddenly appeared on the road. I jumped and scurried back to my log just as Daddy's car turned back from the highway. His lights shined right on me as he headed back toward the house.
The car came to a stop next to the porch. The engine continued to run, and the lights pointed directly on the branches over my head. I put my face right up against the packed snow behind the log and held my breath.
Maybe a minute later, the engine revved. The snow below my face fell dark again, and I peeked up over the log. His car had turned and headed back the way it came. He didn't slow this time as he drove away.
I wasn't sure what to do or where to go, but I was certain if I continued to lie in the snow without a coat, I would die of exposure out in the woods. I didn't know anyone except Mr. Spencer and Jackie. Plus, I was only fourteen, and I knew Daddy could force me to go back with him if he found me. I hoped that since he'd stolen the butane tank, he would never drive over to the Spencers' looking for me.
I decided to take my chances and make my way to their farmhouse. It was more than half a mile down the snowy gravel road just to get to the road to their house. Once on the main road I would be in the open with no place to hide. I hoped I could remember the direction in the dark.
Having made up my mind to leave, I tried to raise my legs. It was so cold in one spot that my calf was stuck to the ice. I couldn't pull it free without tearing my skin. When I tried to yank it loose, it felt like a knife was cutting my flesh. I couldn't move! I was shivering, crying, and near freezing. I rubbed my hands back and forth, trying to warm the area on my calf that was stuck to the log.
The friction was finally enough to warm my calf to the point where I could move my leg, but the cold had caused it to go almost numb. I got up slowly, limping away toward what I hoped was the main road as fast as I could. The more I moved, the easier walking became. Soon I was able to run at a trot out of the woods.
God led me to the main road leading to the Spencers' farm. Once I was out in the open, I expected to see Daddy's car lights appear out of the darkness at any second. My breath came out in raspy gasps, and my eyelashes were frozen stiff. I frantically prayed for someone, anyone, to drive by and stop for me before Daddy could find me on this deserted highway.
I had never hitchhiked, but when I saw headlights coming up behind me, the cold and pain overcame my fear, and I walked out into the middle of the road. It didn't occur to me at the time these headlights could be the ones I was running away from! I was standing in the middle of the road when it hit me that I did not know if this approaching car was Daddy's. Still, I stood there waiting, knowing it was too late to run. As the lights got closer, I realized it was not a car at all but a semitruck. The truck driver pulled his rig up beside me and rolled down the window.
“Hey there, do you need help, young lady?”
It was a man's voice, deep and strong. He opened the passenger door and let me climb into the warm cab.
“Can you take me home?” I asked, my teeth chattering.
The truck driver looked at me, his eyes narrow. I was a fourteen-year-old girl, alone and bleeding in the middle of the night on the side of the road.
“My boyfriend tried to hurt me. I just want to get home,” I said.
“Sure, I'll take you home. I have a daughter about your age. You get on home where it's warm and safe.”
The driver turned his heater up full-blast. It quickly warmed my frozen feet and hands. I have always believed that God sent that truck driver to me in the middle of the night.
“Thank you,” I said as we pulled up in front of the Spencers' house.
“No problem.” He smiled warmly at me. “You just be more careful from now on.”
I don't think he had any idea that he had just saved my life!
Outside the Spencers' house, the chill returned worse than it had before. This was exactly where Daddy might come looking for me. I could not worry about that though. I just had to hope that the Spencers would take me in from the cold.
The house was dark. I knew they were all asleep, but I had no choice. I banged on the door as loudly as I could, yelling hysterically.
“Jackie! Mr. Spencer!” The strength seeped from me, and I reached out for the doorjamb to keep from falling over.
“Help!” I screamed.
Suddenly, the porch light came on. The door opened, and there stood Mr. Spencer. He barely seemed shocked when he ushered me inside and closed the door behind us. The warmth of the house embraced me, and I thought I would faint. My teeth were chattering as I tried to talk.
“I ran off and left my da . . . daddy,” I said. “He's going to Arizona, but I can't go with him.”
“It's okay, Frances. Jackie thought you might come for help. You're safe now. Come here and sit down at the table.”
Jackie, awakened by the noise, joined us in the kitchen. She fixed me hot chocolate and wrapped a large flannel shirt around me. It was as if a dam broke inside me. My entire story, my entire life, poured out of me. For the first time, I told someone about our life, and Mr. and Mrs. Spencer listened to every word. I told them about everything except the sexual abuse; I could
never
tell anyone that. I told them how we were beaten and how Daddy kidnapped me and Nellie from the orphanage. I explained he had stolen their butane tank and it was in his car. I was so embarrassed about that, but I promised I would pay them back for it.
Mr. Spencer looked sad. “I'm not worried about the butane tank, Frances. You don't have to pay for the wrong someone else does.” I had never been told that before. Up to this point I felt everything my daddy did was my fault.
My hands shook as I tried to drink my hot chocolate, and I could not stop stuttering. I felt I had to make them understand how mean and evil he was as quickly as I could before he came back for me. At that point I was pretty certain he would return, and I was terrified they would make me go back with him. The words, once free, had a life of their own.
“Please, can I stay here with you? I can't go back to him.”
“You are not going back to him,” Jackie said.
“Absolutely not,” Mr. Spencer agreed.
“You don't know him though. Not like I do. If he comes hereâ”
Mr. Spencer interrupted me. “If he comes around here, we will deal with that then. For now, we need to care for you. You're bleeâ”
The sound of a car coming up the driveway interrupted him. I froze, panic rising inside me. An engine revved and then stopped. A door slammed and heavy footsteps came crunching over gravel. My heart felt as if it would surely jump out of my chest. Daddy had come to get me!
I must have
appeared hysterical to the Spencers. When I heard that car stop outside, I jumped up like a startled rabbit. I stumbled, knocking over the chair as I rushed to get to the front door. I had to lock it and keep him out. There was no telling what Daddy might do. Barring the heavy wooden door with my body, I screamed, “No, no! He's not coming in here!” I tried to reach my hands across the door and tried to block their access to the door handle.
“It's okay, Frances.”
Mr. Spencer's soft voice was calm. He approached the front door, and I looked up at him, not knowing what to do. I moved out of his way, praying silently that this kind, gentle, simple farmer would not be murdered while trying to help me. A psychotic, evil maniac was storming up their front walk, and I knew it was my fault they were in this situation. Mr. Spencer remained calm. I took a step to the side and hid behind the door, crouching by the crack between the door and the wall.
“Please don't open the door,” I whispered.
Mr. Spencer turned on the porch light and reached for the knob.
“Tell him I'm not here. Please, please, tell him I'm not here!”
Mr. Spencer opened the door and stepped outside. Daddy stood on the gravel drive a few feet away from his car. I heard Mr. Spencer trying to calm him.
“Broadus, it's late now. You need to come back in the morning,” he said.
Daddy ignored him.
“Where is she?” he yelled.
“You're going to wake my children,” Mr. Spencer said. “Quiet down.”
“Get out of my way! Send Frances out here now.”
In his peaceful way, Mr. Spencer stood his ground. Through the crack between the door and the frame, I saw Daddy. His feet stomped, and he looked ready to lunge at Mr. Spencer. I had seen it many times in the past. He was sizing him up and ready, almost eager, for war.