Dry Summer

she might be safer if she opened the door and let him come in. He knocked at the door, no different from the deliveryman coming with an order of groceries, and she knew then-or she was almost positive -that it was Jack. Just then the wind blew through her kitchen window and a galvanized dishpan fell from the cook table. She stood stone still waiting for other sounds, but the silence weighed heavier than the crashing dishpan. This time He was at the house, moving into the house, and she couldn't run over to Mrs. Pruitt's. He had moved to her bedroom window. The telephone was there on a bedside table. If she called the Police he would hear her. She waited. There was intense silence, but she thought she could hear him breathing outside her window. Then he pushed at the window, which was double-locked and didn't give an inch. Then he moved around the house to the front door. On either side of the walkway she had planted marigolds and zinnias, and they were coming up. How she could think of flowers at that moment she never knew, but she flew to the bedroom and dialed the Police. "Right there!" a strong voice answered her. ^HoId on, Miss Sara!" He was pushing at the door, kicking it with big stout shoes, landing heavily at the panels, a door like Mrs. Pruitt's, not so strong it wouldn't give. Then the door crashed, splintering and falling halfway down, so that He was in the room, crushing her to him, laughing at her, not caring that she knew him. She started to call his name but he clutched at her throat, and she wished with all her heart that He had been Mrs. Pruitt's Red Devil. At that moment the police officers rushed in and ordered "Hands up!" That was the last she knew for awhile. When she came to herself, all the officers had gone except Officer Tidwell, who spoke to her. He said she would have to remember all she could for evidence . "There's folks in this town won't believe it," he said. "I don't reckon you'll be forgetting how he looked?" He meant that she should fix his head and body and hands in her mind so she could describe him. How could she ever forget? She stared at Officer Tidwell in mute appeal. How could she tell him who Mrs. Pruitt's "Red Devil" really was? She couldn't for the life of her tell the officer that "He" was Ina' s husband. Jim. Dry Summer Low thunder rumbles on the edge of town. We watch the lightning flash across the sky, hoping to get some rain to wet things down. The valley rolls and sways as bending trees turn silver leaves, confetti in the wind, as eerie darkness settles on the land. We make it to the house to watch the storm, carrying in the pillows from the porch as blackened clouds shut out the midday sun. Blue lightning scribbles wildly, cloud to ground . . . wind hurries up the lane in dusty swirls . . . a sudden rush of air shrieks through the wires . . . we slam the windows, fasten every door as thunder smacks with flashes all around . . . and pounding rain, at last, will wet things down. -Miriam L. Woolfolk 58 ...