Chapter 11

           IwasallrightuntilIgothome.Itwasdawnbythen,andbirdssinging.Iparkedmyflivver,Igotout,Iwalkedupthebacksteps,andthenthesecondgreatestgriefIhaveeverknownwashedoverme.Itwasthinkingofhowhe’dbeenafraidofthedarkthatdidit.Irememberedthefirsttimewe’dmet,howhe’daskedifweleftalightonatnight,andmylegsgaveoutonme.Isatonmystepsandhungmyheadovermykneesandcried.Itdidn’tfeellikethatweepingwasjustforJohn,either,butforallofus.

           Janicecameoutandsatdownbesideme.Sheputanarmovermyshoulders.

           "Youdidn’thurthimanymorethanyoucouldhelp,didyou?"

           Ishookmyheadno.

           "Andhewantedtogo."

           Inodded.

           "Comeinthehouse,"shesaid,helpingmeup.ItmademethinkofthewayJohnhadhelpedmeupafterwe’dprayedtogether."Comeinandhavecoffee."

           Idid.Thefirstmorningpassed,andthefirstafternoon,thenthefirstshiftbackatwork.Timetakesitall,whetheryouwantittoornot.Timetakesitall,timebearsitaway,andintheendthereisonlydarkness.Sometimeswefindothersinthatdarkness,andsometimeswelosethemthereagain.That’sallIknow,exceptthatthishappenedin1932,whenthestatepenitentiarywasstillatColdMountain.

           Andtheelectricchair,ofcourse.