February 1978 in the Bible Belt

When Pauline was satisfied that no one had, she turned on the bedside lamp. "Let's make the bed," she whispered as they sat up.

"It'll send them a message if we don't," Florence pointed out.

"I just can't pour it on that thick," Pauline said. "They don't know any better than to hate us."

"I guess you're right," Florence agreed, and as quietly as they could, they smoothed out the sheets and tucked them in. Then Florence set about getting dressed in the change of clothes she'd brought with her while Pauline set the letter to their families on her pillow.

All business for the moment, they both nevertheless stole an appreciative glance or two at one another as they got their clothes on. Jeans and sweaters against the winter chill, and they both carried their shoes under their arms to avoid being heard on the stairs. Pauline had a moment of panic as Florence tiptoed down the stairs ahead of her -- had she reminded her of the creaky third step from the bottom?

She had, as it turned out, and Florence remembered to skip that step. Once she was safely on the second step, she turned and took over the suitcase from Pauline, who took her turn skipping the third step. Their socks were absolutely silent on the dining room carpet, and Florence made it to the sewing room with no sign of any detection. Pauline carefully found her coat in the front closet while Florence was retrieving hers. Florence's coat was the only one left in the sewing room, and she was well on her way to the back door by the time Pauline got her coat safely out.

Pauline paused a few steps away from the back door, where Florence was waiting. This was her one chance to peek into Father's study, she realized, and there the door was enticingly closed but not locked. She looked at it, then looked at Florence with her hand on the door to the back porch.

Florence knew what she was thinking, Pauline could see that, and she shook her head vigorously. She was right, Pauline accepted; time was precious and what if the door squeaked. Accepting that the mystery was to remain a mystery, she followed Florence's lead.

There had been no way to practice just how to time opening the door and getting outside, so once again they could only hope no one would hear. Holding onto one another for balance, they slipped their shoes on just inside the back door. Then Florence turned the knob slowly, silently, and Pauline picked up the suitcase.

The door swung open and let in both the winter cold and the random crackling sounds of the night. It wasn't loud at all, but for those agonizing moments it seemed like it. Florence tiptoed out onto the cement edge of the deck as they had planned, to avoid the noisier boards, and took the suitcase from Pauline as she drew the door shut behind her and finally let go of the knob.

It clicked just a bit -- once again a low noise that sounded much louder to them than it was -- but there was no time to wait and see if they'd been detected. Florence rushed off down the path -- the grass offered a shorter walk to the car, but the snow would have crunched under their feet -- and Pauline followed, daring a look up at the second floor to see if there were any lights on. To her immense relief, there weren't.

Florence was halfway across the street when Pauline got to the end of the path. Only then did it occur to Pauline that she hadn't reminded Florence to check her coat pocket for the keys. If she'd lost them, they'd be clean out of luck. Pauline could do nothing about that but hope as she hurried after her across the deserted street.

To Pauline's immense relief, Florence had the keys. She stumbled a bit with them, perhaps trying the ignition key in the door, but she got the passenger door open by the time Pauline arrived on the driver's side. Florence threw the suitcase into the backseat and leaned over and unlocked the driver's side door.

Pauline's heart leapt as she opened the door to her future. Once she'd settled herself and closed the door, Florence held up an envelope. "This was on the seat," she said.

Pauline took the envelope and read it. "To my loving sister, from Pete," she said. Then she sighed. "Oh, my."

"Look, we can read it later," Florence said. "I think we'd better get out of here now!"

"You're too right." Pauline looked out the window and was relieved to see the house was still dark. Her fingers fumbled a bit with the keys in the cold, and yet another moment of terror passed as she realized the car might not start.

She laughed with relief as the engine caught on the first try. Florence joined in, and neither one needed to explain why. Pauline fastened her seat belt and turned the headlights on, and put the car in gear.

Neither of them said a word. They didn't even turn the radio on until they made it to the interstate. The noise of the heater warming up the still-chilly interior was good enough for the moment. When Pauline finally pulled onto the four-lane road and felt the engine pick up enough for her to conclude it was a 350 after all, Florence turned the radio on.

It was set to a country and western station. "As if we need another reason to be getting out of here!" Florence quipped.

"No kidding." Pauline gunned the engine up just a touch above 55; no sense in risking a speeding ticket now. They both watched in silence as the last remnants of their hometown vanished in the rearview mirror and the wintry rural landscape took over.

Though both were wide awake, neither was in much of a mood for talking. So there was little but small talk and no talk at all of stopping anywhere until they passed the state line, just about the time the sun came up.

"Hungry?" Pauline asked as they passed the first blue sign with the numerous restaurant offerings at the next exit.

"Ravenous," Florence said. "But we haven't got much of a head start."

"I thought of that," Pauline said. "That's why I mentioned New York a lot in the past week or so. Even if they've found that letter, they'll be thinking we went north instead of west."

"Geez, Pauline, remind me never to try to put one over on you!" Florence said. "Now let's get some breakfast!"

The roadside diner had a Valentine's Day specialty: heart-shaped pancakes with strawberry sauce. Pauline ordered that while Florence got waffles as usual. "Coming right up, hon," said the waitress. "I'm just sorry y'all haven't got a man to share those heart pancakes with!"

Pauline sipped her coffee and waited for the seething resentment to pass, and Florence saved the day by pulling the letter from Pete out of her purse. "Want to read it now?" she asked.

"Oh, thanks!" Pauline took it. "Yes, definitely."

She wanted to read it out loud to Florence, but saw right away that she couldn't do that in public.

Dear Pauline,

First of all, please don't blame Amanda for telling me about you and Florence. I'd suspected the same since probably high school, and when she told me she needed to buy a car for 'a friend', I asked her point-blank if it was you.

I don't blame you for wanting to keep it from me. I know what Mother and Father are like, and I'm afraid the others agree with them. I don't. The grief I went through with them just for marrying a Catholic opened my eyes, and so did my own realization that I love Amanda too much to stick to Father's rules. If that's how you and Florence feel about one another, then I fully support you both going somewhere you won't have to hide it.

Please let us know you're all right when you can. I won't tell Mother and Father unless you tell me to. Until then, please know you have our love and our blessings!

Love, Pete

Florence was able to guess at the contents of the letter from the look on Pauline's face and the tears welling in her eyes as she read it. When she finished reading, she refolded the letter and slid it across the table. "You read it too," she ordered.

"Are you sure?"

"Florence, read the letter." Pauline took a tissue from the dispenser and dabbed at her eyes, then took another one and set it before Florence.

Florence didn't ask why, and halfway through the letter she knew just why. She grabbed up the tissue and wiped her own eyes. "What do you think he'll tell them?" she asked.

"Nothing," Pauline said. "He knows that would only make it worse for them all, and Father would probably disown him too."

"Imagine, we had a friend there all along," Florence said.

"Not all along," Pauline corrected. "Only since he brought Amanda home. But that's something, isn't it?"

"It's more than something," Florence said. "It's two friends in the last place we'd have expected."

"There's hope for everyone, then," Pauline reasoned.

"I wouldn't count on either of our fathers," Florence said.

"Or our mothers," Pauline added, recalling what she'd heard last night. "But maybe someday..."

"Let's not worry about someday," Florence said. "Let's get to California and worry about today."

The waitress arrived with their breakfast at that moment. Once they'd both thanked her and were alone again, Pauline raised her coffee cup and Florence clinked it. "Here's to today, then," Pauline said. A furtive look around revealed there were others in earshot, so she only mouthed the next three words: "I love you."

"I love you too!" Florence mouthed just as silently, and they turned their attention to their breakfast.