A Place Called Freedom (1995)

The door flew open and Jay burst in, red faced and panting. With the ax in his hand he stepped toward Lizzie.

She stretched out her left arm and fired a shot over his head.

In the confined space the bang was like a cannon. Jay stopped and held up his hands in a defensive gesture, looking scared.

“You know how straight I can shoot,” she said to him. “But I’ve only got one shot left, so the next will go into your heart.” As she spoke she could hardly believe she was tough enough to say such violent words to the man whose body she had loved. She wanted to cry, but she gritted her teeth and stared unflinchingly at him.

“You cold bitch,” he said.

It was a clever barb. Coldness was what she accused herself of. Slowly she lowered the pistol. Of course she would not shoot him. “What do you want?” she said.

He dropped the ax. “To bed you one time before I leave,” he said.

She felt sick. The image of Mack came into her mind. No one but he could make love to her now. The thought of doing it with Jay was horrifying.

Jay grasped her pistols by the barrels and she let him take them away. He uncocked the one she had not fired then dropped both.

She stared at him in horror. She could not believe this was going to happen.

He came close and punched her in the stomach.

She let out a cry of shock and pain, and doubled up.

“Never point a gun at me again!” he yelled.

He punched her face and she fell to the floor.

He kicked her head and she passed out.

35

ALL THE NEXT MORNING LIZZIE LAY IN BED WITH A headache so severe she could barely speak.

Sarah came in with breakfast, looking frightened. Lizzie sipped some tea then closed her eyes again.

When the cook came to take the tray away Lizzie said: “Is Mr. Jamisson gone?”

“Yes, madam. He left for Williamsburg at first light. Mr. Lennox gone with him.”

Lizzie felt a little better.

A few minutes later Mack burst into the room. He stood beside her bed and stared at her, shaking with rage. He reached out and felt her face with trembling fingers. Although her bruises were tender, his touch was light, and he did not hurt her; in fact she found it comforting. She took his hand and kissed his palm. They sat together for a long time, not speaking. Lizzie’s pain began to ease. After a while she fell asleep. When she woke up he had gone.

In the afternoon Mildred came in and opened the blinds. Lizzie sat up while Mildred combed her hair. Then Mack came in with Dr. Finch.

“I didn’t send for you,” Lizzie said.

Mack said: “I fetched him.”

For some reason Lizzie felt ashamed of what had happened to her, and she wished Mack had not gone for the doctor. “What makes you think I’m sick?”

“You spent the morning in bed.”

“I might just be lazy.”

“And I might be the governor of Virginia.”

She relented and smiled. He cared for her, and that made her happy. “I’m grateful,” she said.

The doctor said: “I was told you had a headache.”

“I’m not ill, though,” she replied. What the hell, she thought, why not tell the truth? “My head hurts because my husband kicked it.”

“Hmm.” Finch looked embarrassed. “How’s your vision—blurred?”

“No.”

He put his hands on her temples and probed gently with his fingers. “Do you feel confused?”

“Love and marriage confuse me, but not because my head’s damaged. Ouch!”

“Is that where the blow landed?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“You’re lucky to have so much curly hair. It cushioned the impact. Any nausea?”

“Only when I think about my husband.” She realized she was sounding brittle. “But that’s no concern of yours, Doctor.”

“I’ll give you a drug to ease the pain. Don’t get too fond of it, it’s habit-forming. Send for me again if you have any trouble with your eyesight.”

When he had gone Mack sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand. After a while he said: “If you don’t want him to kick your head you should leave him.”

She tried to think of a reason why she should stay. Her husband did not love her. They had no children and it seemed they never would. Their home was almost certainly forfeit. There was nothing to keep her.

“I wouldn’t know where to go,” she said.

“I would.” His face showed profound emotion. “I’m going to run away.”

Her heart missed a beat. She could not bear the thought of losing him.

“Peg will go with me,” he added.

Lizzie stared at him, saying nothing.

“Come with us,” he said.

There—it was out. He had hinted at it before—“Run away with some ne’er-do-well,” he had said—but now he was not hinting. She wanted to say “Yes, yes, today, now!” But she held back. She felt frightened. “Where will you go?” she said.