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Chapter 13<br />
THAT FRIDAY AFTERNOON Mikell knew that he needed to leave.<br />
Everything was so beautiful.<br />
And so perfect.<br />
He could go on like this forever.<br />
That’s why he knew.<br />
He looked at Toni, just ahead of him, bent over a tangle of twisting vines, plucking large pimply<br />
blackberries and placing them in a red pail dangling from her wrist. Hers was nearly full. He looked<br />
down at the few berries in his own plastic pail. She glanced up at him and smiled. Her cotton white<br />
shorts and white, oversized mans shirt, rolled up at the sleeves accented her rich dark skin. A broad<br />
straw sun hat accented with a bright blue satin ribbon shaded her eyes. The late Friday afternoon sun,<br />
streaming through the tall pine trees, caused her dark skin, smoothed with almond oil, to glow. She<br />
was an impressionist painting come to life. No, thought Mikell, she is even more beautiful than the<br />
paintings.<br />
He had to leave.<br />
Or else, he never would.<br />
“Mikell! What are you doing?” she chastised playfully. “I’m beating you. Those blackberries<br />
aren’t going to hop into your bucket. Look over there. There’s a huge patch right next to you. But make<br />
sure they’re ripe. Don’t pick the green ones, or the half black, half red ones. They’re not good for<br />
making blackberry dumplings.”<br />
He was too weak to meet her eyes. He wouldn’t have been able to resist them. That would<br />
complicate things.<br />
Toni rested her pail in the tangle of vines and approached him slowly. She poked him on the arm.<br />
“Hey you!” Toni’s voice was playful.<br />
Mikell gazed up at a lone crow circling the tree tops.<br />
He had been here a whole week!<br />
This Friday, they hadn’t gone far. The blackberry patch was located next to an old unused city<br />
airstrip a few hundred yards in the back of Evangelist Pat’s trailer. The salty smell of the ocean<br />
drifted over a swath of pine trees that stretched the entire length of the debris-strewn runway.<br />
The blackberry vines thrived in large patches at the edge of the cratered runway. He marveled at<br />
the sweet taste of the pimply black berries. Both of his hands were stained a deep blood red. The<br />
thick tangled vines bearing thousands of berries stretched for hundreds of yards.<br />
There were no other people. No sounds. Just the salt air mixed with the fresh aroma of pine
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