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She was climbing out of the ditch, and her face was pale and streaked with dirt. “Are you okay?” I looked her over anxiously.She smiled at me, a hideous death head’s grin devoid of any humor. “I got him.” Her eyes were wild, and I nodded.“Yes, you did.” I’d had classes about handling reactions after a shooting, and she needed to have something else to focus on. The fire reached the spilled gas under the truck, and a wave of heat hit us as it woofed into a sheet of flame. “Come on!”“Where are we going?”“We need to get away from here. I doubt these yahoos were alone, and someone will have certainly heard the shots.” I held onto Sharon as we trotted up the road.“The airplane,” she gasped. “We can take it!”“Good idea!” I steered her across the ditch, and up onto the grass airstrip. The doors were still open, and I tossed my bag and rifle on the rear bench seat. “Help me turn it around!” We were at the west end of the strip, so we had to turn the plane around. I went to the tail, and. She demanded to know how and why he felt he had the right to meddle in her affairs. Duncan held himself to quiet apologetic comments. Never confronting her, always sympathetic… And that got her angry too. They walked for over an hour, Helen never letting up on Duncan and what he had done. But she never released his hand. Finally by mutually but tacit agreement they turned to retrace their steps. Now she was calmer, more reasonable, more understanding of what Duncan had done and why he had acted as he had. Not once had Duncan explained his motives for looking into Gerald’s activities, now Helen was explaining them to him and to herself. As they walked she grew less judgmental, more understanding, less outraged that he had done so. Back at the condo they took soft drinks out onto the patio to sit under the spring sky. Sitting on comfortable Adirondack chairs the two soaked up the brightness of the early spring day while continuing their conversation. It was there Helen tried.
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