Encounters with Mrs. Cochran Ch. 03

"You can change in the car. We gotta move."

Tim gathered the men's clothing from the floor and handed a shirt to Mrs. Cochran.

"I don't want to wear that filthy thing."

"Put it on, Mrs. Cochran. Your private parts are hanging out."

He took her by the arm and half- dragged, half-carried her to the Jaguar. On the way Tim threw the clothing of Mrs. Cochran's abusers in a dumpster in the parking lot. Over his shoulder he watched Rick and his friends shamble toward the back of the lounge, walking gingerly on the hard, stony surface of the parking lot in their bare feet. Rick was still crying, hobbling on one leg, leaving a thin trail of blood. Tim wanted to laugh with relief, but he knew he wouldn't feel safe until they were miles down the road. He eased Mrs. Cochran onto the back seat, shoved the Jaguar in reverse, turned onto the road and headed for the highway. He caught a glimpse of the three naked men coming around the corner of the Truck Stop Lounge and smiled. Hank the bartender had unwittingly locked them all out and he would soon learn his keys were somewhere at the bottom of the dumpster. Tim amused himself with that thought for the next mile or so while he listened to Mrs. Cochran weep in anguish on the back seat. Then the lights and siren of a state trooper's car sailed passed them going north, and Tim concentrated on putting distance between them and the town of Garland.

After a little while Mrs. Cochran stopped crying. He found a secluded dirt road off the highway and pulled under a large shade tree. When he opened the rear door and reached for her to help her out of the car, she waved him away.

"Please don't. Just go away for a while."

Tim ambled down the road a bit and did not look back. When he returned to the car Mrs. Cochran was dressed in her jeans and blouse. Her eyes were red and swollen and her mouth had become a hard thin line. Tim wanted to comfort her and tried to put his arms around her.

"Don't," she said pushing him away. "I don't want anyone touching me. Look what I've become."

Mrs. Cochran's voice was subdued and distant as if it no longer belonged to her. In a few miles Tim stopped at a rest area to allow her to freshen up. When she got back in the car she slipped on a pair of dark glasses and stared straight ahead, not saying another word all the way back to Ravensfield. Tim kept silent himself. He wanted to pull over somewhere and take her in his arms. But he somehow knew that Mrs. Cochran would reject any attempt on his part to comfort her. It seemed to take forever to get back to the shopping center.

"Stop here. I'll walk to the car," she told him with a voice of resignation as he pulled into the parking area.

The suggestive swing of her ass and hips she had used on the truck driver was gone. Mrs. Cochran marched to her Jaguar as if in a trance. She did not look back. Tim watched her drive away. He felt a deep regret which seemed to empty him. He sat in his truck for what seemed like hours. He felt utterly spent from his rescue of Mrs. Cochran. He closed his eyes and slumped in his seat, and was almost asleep when a thought startled him out of his semi-consciousness. Was this it? Was this the last encounter with Mrs. Cochran?