Confession of an Indifferent Witness

Funny how their environment held no threat to themselves. It was their own inner obsessions that had irrevocably altered their lives. She looked over at Susan and smiled as her eyes started to tear. Yes, even Susan’s obsessions had contributed to this unforseen chain of events.

She reached across Susan with her hand that was nearest the window and half-comforting, half-clutching gave Susan an ever-so-light hug. Susan, the one who managed well under normal circumstances had adapted to their new lifestyle and was fast asleep. Jane, although repeatedly proving her strength during stressful and unpredictable occurrences, was much less suited for this tedious and precarious existence they had created for themselves. She found herself falling behind in life’s daily necessities such as sleep and recreation. Her appetite hadn’t disappeared but the pleasures associated with eating had faded to merely a dull pang for food at the habitual meal times.

She looked around her in the cabin that they had occupied for several days and Jane noticed that maybe she might adjust. At least, once they had made their breakfast stop, some of the urgency of their mission might recede from her immediate concerns. The bench they were seated on, had cushions which were competently crafted to this style of movement. The benches were either modelled after the more luxurious stagecoaches and horse-drawn city carriages that could have carried them on this journey or perhaps they were a branching out for furniture makers normally commissioned by several large churches in some of the bigger cities along the way.

Regardless, they served their purpose quite handsomely, as Susan could surely testify for she had barely tossed or turned since falling asleep some while after nightfall. She had slowly skewed over in Jane’s direction and would no doubt be asleep on her shoulder before morning at her present rate of decline. The cushions, one for the seat and one for the backboard were not bunched up noticeably. Jane had observed that her bed back home would have left traces of Susan’s drift if she had shifted her position as much, not to mention the considerable effect of continually rocking the bed, on the general distributions of the mattress. Jane noticed also that thewindows were of a different cut, although the panes were just as clear as any glass she had ever seen. They looked like something she imagined might be on a ship which had to withstand gale winds and buffeting seas. They fitted their frames with hardly a seam showing but by midmorning those same windows would be raised wide open to let in the bright, spring air. The floor was simple enough. The pine or perhaps oak, she wasn’t sure which, for carpentry had never held a strong interest for her, reflected a dull sheen from the one kerosene lamp suspended from the center of the cabin. Except for a very tall man, it was completely out of anyone’s way, over the aisle that ran from the front to the back door.

In the quiet of these morning hours Jane couldn’t recall how many benches were lined up on both sides of the aisle but in the dim light she discerned 3 rows in front of her. Raising up slightly and looking past Susan into the aisle behind them there appeared to be 3 more rows. Of course, she could verify her summation after daybreak but needless to say the total auto be seven rows of evenly placed benches and an equal number of windows.