Five Miles to Paradise

37

Early could have bitten a ten-penny nail in two. When she thought of the nerve of that boy, her blood boiled. How could he have done something like that?

Her thoughts were racing. Something funny lodged in her brain. She snickered, in spite of herself. She really never thought that blonde-headed little cur would have had the balls! But still! According to Sumter, the boy was defending her honor.

Her honor! What in god's name did honor have to do with anything? Honor died when the South lost the Civil War!

And Sumter said he'd shipped Erling off without asking her first! The nerve of that guy! 

Erling was still a child. A boy. Of course, his body had matured, but his mind was that of a child! How could he survive? Sumter always assumed he knew what was best for everyone!

What was she?

Shouldn't her word carry weight when any decision concerning her son was put on the table? Sumter walked around like he was lord of the realm. She was Erling's mother for chrissake! She'd die an old lady, and never see her only son again! She could kill Sumter for what he had done to her! To Erling!

The thoughts were bombarding her brain faster than she could process them. She had to do something to relieve the tension that was building up behind her eyeballs. It felt like a flooded lake cascading over its banks, a levee about to burst!

Early pressed harder on the accelerator of her Auburn Speedster. It responded instantly. She was really flying down the road now. It felt exhilarating. No one could stop her. No one could tell her what and what not to do. She was free! She was free!

For an instant, she forgot her anger and watched the scenery blow by her in a blinding blur of color.

Sumter would piss blood if he saw her madly careening down the dirt road at that instant. He was such an old soul. Such a very old soul. A stick-in-the-mud if there ever was one. He would croak in that musty mausoleum without ever having lived, Early thought. Really lived.

As she rounded the corner, she slammed on the brakes.

"You . . ."

The flurry of expletives did not have a chance to form in her brain. The wagon load of hay filled the one-lane dirt road. It was barely crawling forward. Trees liked both sides. She wrestled the steering wheel, trying to veer clear, but she lost control.

The car went skidding, flying into the air, and flipping over on its side. Breaking glass and crashing metal, splintering wood, and Early's scream blended into deafening chorus of chaotic destruction.

Her car smashed into a tree. Early was pinned between it and a large pine. It was a miracle, but she had managed to miss the wagon and its occupants. Even the horse escaped without a scratch, though it tugged furiously at its harness trying to escape the horrendous scene.

Her body was crushed like a piece of paper crumpled in a fist. The poor wagon driver almost had a heart attack. Early had that effect on people, Sumter would later comment.