Towering

fine.”
    “Do not move, Rachel. Do not! I will borrow a car. Wyatt has taken mine. I will come to get you, but in the meantime, hide. Oh, please hide.”
    I had come so far. I did not want to hide. Yet, I knew nothing about towns or roads or directions, and my hair was now more than three times the length of my body. I remembered seeing a small house, shuttered for the winter, with no car in the driveway. Perhaps I could hide there.
    “Yes, Mama. I will wait for you. But come quickly, for I feel he is in grave danger.”
    “I will come. I will come soon.”
    “Thank you, Mama. We must save him.”
    A pause, and I could almost hear her shaking her head as she did, lately, when I expressed doubt at anything she said. The wind howled, and I gathered my still-longer hair around me. “I love him, Mama.”
    “I will come right away. Now, hide!”

Wyatt
    The room had no light. Even when my eyes should have adjusted to it, nothing. I reached out with my foot, feeling to see if there was anything in either direction. With my one good arm, I checked my pockets to see if there was something, anything that would help. Nothing but Mrs. G’s keys. I pulled them out and touched to see if any of them had a sharp edge, something to use as a weapon. Nothing.
    I felt a slight movement and saw the flash of a light. A flashlight. On the keychain. I pressed it again, and a tiny light shone. The floors, the walls, all made of gray concrete. The room was empty, the size of a closet. I walked to the door and spent several minutes trying first one key, then the next, in the old lock. I took the flashlight off the keychain, then tried to slide the big car key into the space between the door and the wall, to jimmy the lock. But since I couldn’t simultaneously see the lock and use both hands to try and open it, it was hard. I stuffed the keys back into my pocket.
    In the pitch-dark room, I could hear the waterfall, people moving around. Who were they? Henry and Carl’s employees? They seemed more like captives, prisoners. Should I try to get their attention? Would they help? Or would they turn on me?
    I didn’t know. I decided to think about it. I had time.
    Then, in the darkness, I heard the sweetest voice, the only voice I wanted to hear.
    “Wyatt!”
    “Rachel!” Was she here? I wanted but didn’t want her to be. What if she was hurt, in danger?
    “Where are you?” I asked.
    And, somehow, I knew she’d left her tower to come to me. In fact, I sensed her in the freezing cold, walking through the snow to find me. She was walking toward a road, a road where these guys might be looking for her.
    “Rachel.” I whispered it. “Be careful. God, be careful.”
    “Wyatt?”
    “Call Mama.” Could she hear me? I couldn’t tell. “Rachel, call Mama.”
    I sensed her shivering. Then, I heard her voice. “She is coming. But where are you?”
    Could she really hear me? “The Red Fox Inn. In Gatskill.” I began to shiver myself. It was like I was with her, inside her. “But Rachel, be careful. Don’t go with anyone but Mama.”
    I hoped she heard me.

Rachel
    Walking had, indeed, been keeping me warm. Now, in the still dusk, I was cold, colder than I have ever been. My hair had grown still longer, and I gathered it around me, realizing as I did that it would impede me, make it impossible for me to run from anyone who wished me ill. I brought the scissors with me when I left, in case of trouble. I could cut it. Yet, I suspected it had grown for a reason, as it had grown before to enable me to escape. I remembered, also, the biblical story of Samson, whose strength had come from his long hair. Could it be that my hair would empower me? That it grew when I needed it?
    I heard a sound, a car flying past. Was it Mama? Or someone else, looking for me? No, it was gone; it was nothing. But the car had created a wind, which bit into my arms, my shoulders. I gathered my hair around me. I hoped Mama would come soon!
    I remembered something else. When my hair first began to grow, that was when I first began to dream about Wyatt, had first sensed he was coming. That was why I had made the rope, to allow myself to escape. That was also when he had, he said, begun to hear me singing.
    Did my hair do that?
    Only one way to find out.
    I looked around, to make certain no one was there, that no one was coming, looking for me.
    Then, I opened my mouth and yelled with all my voice.
    “Wyatt!”
    “Rachel!” His voice. It was coming to me on