P. Parrish - South Of Hell

Isabel died and I went on to live. I lived to become a free man in Canada. I lived to marry again, father four sons and three daughters and many grandchildren, whose abundant love has overridden my old hatreds and taught me to love in kind. I have lived sixty-eight years as a free man, except for the chains around my heart, placed there that horrible night.

The chains will be cast off only when I forgive myself. So I write this journal as the final step toward my freedom. I can only hope that the good Lord will let me make my final amends in Heaven and not in Hell.

Louis closed the journal. He peeled off the thin white cotton gloves, took off his glasses, and leaned back in the booth. The room was dark. The three students had left; their computer screens were blank. He glanced at his watch. It was almost four. His flight back to Tampa left in two hours.

He rose slowly, picking up the journal. There was one light on toward the front, and he walked toward it.

Daphne was sitting at a desk, sorting through some papers, and she looked up as he approached.

He set the journal in front of her. “There’s a long list of names in the back,” he said. “I think they might be John LePelle’s descendants.”

She picked up the journal. “Good. We’ll try to track them down. I’m sure they’d want to know where they came from.”

Louis nodded. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Thank you again for your help.”

“Any time.”

He started toward the door.

“Mr. Kincaid?”

He turned back.

“You didn’t tell me. Did you find what you’re looking for?” she asked.

Louis hesitated, then nodded.

Back outside, he paused to turn up his collar and hurried back across campus to retrieve the rental car. He drove with the window down, the brisk April air still bringing the smell of phantom lilacs. The Burton Tower bell was striking four as he pulled up to the red light on State Street.

A left turn led him south toward the airport. A right turn would take him across the river and up north.

He looked at his watch. It was late, but there was still time.

The light turned green. The car behind him honked once, twice.

Louis swung the wheel to the right and headed north. She was four hours ahead of him, but if he drove fast, he’d be there before dark.