Free Eleven Hours by Paullina Simons Page B

start with a little kiss. Now give me the first clue.”
    She tried to swallow. Her throat was dry. She needed to swallow to ease her anxiety, but there was nothing to swallow with. The need, though, was great. She wiped her sweaty forehead and, panting, put her hand in her mouth. Unsatisfying, but better than the tightness that overwhelmed and paralyzed her. “Okay, first clue,” she said huskily. “I was a major female character in an old, very famous play.”
    Lyle’s brow furrowed. Suddenly he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself. He obviously realized it was going to be harder than he had thought. “Play?” he said grumpily. “I don’t know any plays. What do you mean?”
    â€œWell, that’s my first clue. If you want another clue, I’ll give it to you, but then it will be two clues.”
    â€œNo, wait. Let me guess.” He looked pensive. “An old play?”
    She was quiet, rubbing her sore right ear. “Yes, an old play.”
    There was an echo in her ear, and the ringing would pass through the canyon of her eardrum, bounce off, and ring in both ears. She was getting a terrific headache. Lowering her hands to the Belly, Didi felt the baby kick. In the first second it gave her comfort, in the second, anguish. The baby.
    â€œI’ve never seen a play in my life,” said Lyle.
    â€œWhat about in high school?”
    â€œYeah,” he drew out. “Maybe in high school. Guys and Dolls, maybe. Sound of Music. Yes! Your name is Maria.”
    â€œNo,” she said, and thought, idiot. Didn’t I say an old play?
    â€œNo?” He seemed disappointed. He had looked so proud of himself when he said Maria. The baby kicked again. She closed her eyes.
    â€œAnother clue,” he said.
    â€œI was very much loved by one man,” Didi said. “But another man hated him and wanted to do him and me harm.”
    â€œLoved by one man,” Lyle muttered. “Another man hated me, wanted to do me harm.” And then louder, “The clues aren’t very good. They’re too mysterious.”
    Didi watched the speedometer as the car slowed to forty. “Have a guess, and I’ll give you another one.” Didi was hoping he would continue to drive slowly and be stopped by traffic control for endangering public safety. Wouldn’t that be a joke.
    â€œOkay, lessee.” Lyle’s eyes brightened. Didi watched him carefully. “Maybe Charles Dickens, one man loved me, another—yes, yes, A Tale of Two Cities. Yes, but what was her name? What was the girl’s name who was married to one of the twins?”
    Didi wanted to say A Tale of Two Cities was not a play, but again she held her swollen tongue.
    â€œLucie!” Lyle shouted happily. “Lucie is your name!”
    Didi shook her head. “Nice guess, though.”
    He snapped his fingers and clucked. He seemed extremely disappointed. “But the clue you gave, that was right. She is loved by one man, and the other wants to do her and him harm.”
    â€œNo,” she said. “Sydney Carton didn’t want to do Lucie harm at all. He loved Lucie. He switched places with her husband so he could die instead of him. He died for her.”
    Lyle was frowning deeply. Now he was going over ninety.
    Oh, to have the window opened, Didi thought. Oh, to have the police pull us over.
    â€œI don’t remember that about A Tale of Two Cities. I just remember she was deeply loved by one man, Miss Smarty Pants,” Lyle added bitterly.
    They were both silent for a few moments. Didi was recalculating her options.
    He was still at ninety.
    Didi was praying.
    Dear God. Whatever I’ve done in my life, forgive me, good Lord, and in Your infinite mercy, send an officer my way. At the very least, some water.
    He said, “Let’s have the third clue.”
    Lord, please guide Your servant Lyle out of the darkness he is in, guide him out, help him find