Just Like Coming Home

Wisps of hair clung to the beads of sweat populating my forehead. Dust billowed up behind the car and the smell of earth caked my nostrils. For the millionth time, I pleaded with the busted AC to kick on. I released my back from the sweaty embrace with the vinyl seat.

I’d left the highway behind many miles ago. Fields of green and brown surrounded me. Here and there, a cow leaned against the barbed wire fence and stared at me with absent eyes. I felt like I had driven off the edge of the earth. Finally, a roof emerged from over the next hill. My car rattled violently over the washboard road.

Gravel crunched under my tires when I pulled into the dirt parking lot. An old man stared at me from a rocking chair. His lips gummed together and his eyes squinted against the sun. A sack of bones for a dog snoozed at his feet.

I leaned through the window.  “Excuse me, sir.” He remained silent. As I was about to call out again, the screen door on the dilapidated building opened up. A plump old woman wearing a blue housedress and a crisp apron stood in the doorway.

“I’m sorry. I was hoping for a store,” I said.

She laughed a deep belly laugh, as if what I said was genuinely funny. “This is Mom and Pop’s General Store, sugar. Come on in.”

The dog’s ears perked up when I opened the car door. Once upon a time, he’d probably made a fine watchdog, but time had worn him down. I slid from the car, feeling sticky and strange. The store, much like the dog, had probably once been a fine place. But now the paint flaked and curled, the front porch sagged, and the once colorful signs were faded and dull.

The door creaked open and slammed shut with a fierce slap that startled me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit store, but the soda cooler called to me like some heavenly beacon. I feared that I would melt into a puddle on the floor before I could make it across the bare-board floor. The ceiling fan hummed as it stirred humid air. I walked slowly down the separated aisles, glad to be able to stretch my legs a bit. Twenty years worth of dust covered the few cans and boxes that sat on the shelves. I decided against a snack.

I placed three icy bottles of soda on the counter. “You get many customers through here?” I asked casually.

The woman laughed again. I didn’t imagine they got many visitors through these parts, but I was trying to make small talk. I had been on the road for what felt like days with no one to talk to. Twangy country and gospel were the only sounds the radio had spit out. I could only take so much of that at one time.

“We never see anyone through here, ’cept the people who live in these parts. And that’s not often.” Up close, the woman was not as old as I had originally thought, and was actually somewhat pretty in that farm-lady kind of way. She was a buxom woman with a kind face and green eyes that wrinkled at the corners when she smiled. She smelled like flour.

She tallied up my items on her antique cash register that issued a loud clank when she slipped my wrinkled bills inside. I took a long swallow of the soda, allowing the fizzy coolness to melt away the knot of red dust that lodged in my throat.

“Can I get you anything else?” The woman asked, slipping my other sodas into a brown paper bag.

“Do you have a bathroom I can use before I get back out on the road?” I imagined she would say no altogether, or would direct me to some sick looking outhouse behind the store. Maybe she noticed my disgusted expression, because she laughed.

“Follow me.” She led me through a calico curtain that separated the storefront from what I realized was her house. “The bathroom is behind that curtain.” She pointed to a doorway covered by a long green shower curtain.

The room was dim and simple. An old claw-footed tub stood against one wall. The toilet and small vanity were on the other. The smell in the bathroom reminded me of a nursing home I had been in once, and it made me wonder what it was about old people that gave them that curious smell. I washed up with the cracked green bar of soap that lay behind the faucet. The feeling of cool water on my skin refreshed me beyond words, but splashing water on my face made me look worse. A thick, frameless mirror hung above the sink, reflecting an exhausted face and dull blue eyes. I made an attempt to finger-brush the entangled tresses that had fallen from the braid that lay across one shoulder. I quickly gave up and tucked the dark brown hair behind my ears.

I stepped through the bathroom curtain expecting to find the woman waiting on me, but she was gone. Pots bubbled as I passed the stove and followed the sound of voices back through the calico curtain into the store. Still seeing no one, I grabbed my bag of sodas from the counter. The door let open with an awful screech of rusted hinges and I shut it easily to avoid the mighty snap it had given earlier.
The woman and old man were sitting in rocking chairs looking out over the adjacent field at the ever-darkening sky. The sad dog still lay contentedly at the man’s feet. The woman glanced at me over her shoulder.

“Honey, I think you might need to check your car out. Looks like you’re not the only one who was thirsty.”

A plume of steamy smoke escaped from under the hood. I cursed under my breath and hurried toward my car, climbing in to pop the hood. Steam and white smoke boiled out from under the opened hood. That annoying tickling sensation gnawed at my eyes again. I closed my eyes and drew several long, deep breaths.

“Do you have a water hose?” I called.

“Don’t need to put water in it while it’s hot,” the old man called back, surprising me. I don’t know why I assumed he couldn’t talk.

I sighed. Great. I’m in the middle of nowhere with a busted car and it looks like the sky is about to cave in with rain. To confirm my thoughts, lightning flashed in the distance and a thunderous roll followed. I leaned against the car and wiped the sweat from my forehead. I gazed down the endless trail of dirt, first one way, and then the other.

“Do you have a phone?” I called again, even though I assumed the answer.

The woman got up from her chair, wiping sweat from her face with her apron. “No phone,” she paused, “but the mechanic usually stops by here. Maybe he can help you out.”

“Great. When should he be here?”

“Tomorrow,” the woman answered simply before stepping back into the store, letting the screen slap closed.

I glanced at the old man. “Did she just say tomorrow?” The man said nothing. The dog rolled his big, baggy eyes as he scratched relentlessly at an irritating flea. His hind leg thumped loudly against the porch. I sighed again and went back into the store.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Did you say tomorrow? I can’t wait that long,” I said as I watched her pull a can of beans from a shelf.

“What else you going to do? Walk in this storm?” She laughed her deep belly laugh and I realized I was stuck. There was no phone and the bottom was about to fall out. I certainly could not walk. Where would I walk to anyway?

“Is there someone who has a phone around here?” I asked.

“The mechanic.”

“Could you take me to the mechanic?”

“Truck’s broke down ‘til the part comes in.”

Of course. Fantastic.

Raindrops slapped the tin roof and I rushed outside to roll up my windows. When I went back into the store, the woman had disappeared and I stood at the counter contemplating whether I should laugh or cry. What good would that do, crying? It won’t fix a thing. Still, I could feel that dreaded tickle in the corners of my eyes. I will not cry.

“Come on back here,” the woman called from behind the curtain.

The delicious smell of apple pie mingled with an earthier smell, like beans or some other delicious country roughage. My empty stomach growled.

The woman handed me a big bowl of potatoes and a knife. “Peel these, dear. You can have supper with us and stay the night until you can get your car fixed. Brady should be by here tomorrow to get a few things. You’ll be fine until then.”

I sat in a straight-backed chair. Cartoon cats chased cartoon mice across the cushion. The sturdy oak table shined. Seeing no other option than to accept the extremely generous kindness, I placed the bowl of potatoes in my lap and began peeling back into the bowl.

“What’s your name?” The woman asked, busy over her stove.

“Kate. Kate Washington. And yours?”

“Aw, everybody calls me Mom,” she replied with a chuckle. “But my real name is Evie. Evie Keller.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Keller, and I appreciate your hospitality,” I said, placing the peeled potatoes on the table.

“It’s ok, sugar. And please, call me Mom or Evie. Mrs. Keller is way too formal for someone like me.” She chuckled again, and I had to smile. She seemed like a very nice woman.

“So, the man on the porch is Mr. Keller?” I asked.

Evie laughed. “He’s more like a porch ornament than anything, but yeah, that’s him. His name is James. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does say something, listen.” She laughed again. She pulled open the oven door and the room filled with warm scents. She collected the peeled potatoes from me and put them in a pot to boil. “Have you eaten anything?” she asked.

“Not since breakfast,” I admitted.

She pulled a block of red-rind cheese from the fridge and sliced off a few thin pieces. She layered the cheese on a fresh-from-the-oven biscuit, the steam rising in delicate wisps.

“It won’t hurt your appetite none, will it?” She winked at me.

I set aside the bowl of potato peels and wiped my hands on the dishtowel she passed to me before sinking my teeth into the delicious treat. “Thank you,” I said. “This is really good.”

“Where’re you heading?” she asked.

“To my grandma’s,” I replied. “She’s been feeling bad for a while and I wanted to go check on her. She lives in Wilma.”

“That’s a long way from here. Why not take the highway?” Evie asked. She picked up a stitching hoop and resumed working on some embroidery while we talked.

“My mom and I used to come through here when I was a little girl. I guess I wanted to take the scenic route.” I laughed.

“Well, honey, that must have been a long time ago. This road hasn’t led to Wilma in years. The highway came in and re-routed so much stuff. It might be better to head back out and take the faster way once you get your car fixed.”

I smiled slightly. To be honest, I was not positive that the road had ever led to Wilma. My grandmother did live in Wilma, true, but she had been dead for years. In fact, she had been my only family until she died. My parents divorced before I could even remember who my dad was, and I had never seen him again. When I was eight years old, my mom dropped me off at my grandmother’s house one sunny afternoon, promising to return in the morning. She didn’t come back. When I asked about my mother, my grandmother told me that she was gone and when she got ready to come back, she would. The answer was little consolation for an eight year old and the older I grew, the more I despised my mother. When she finally returned to my grandmother’s house four years later, I had grown to hate her. She had shown up on the doorstep barefoot, with no bags, and no intention to stay. I remembered peering around her through the doorway of my grandmother’s modest home, realizing that the car was still running and the driver was seconds away from honking the horn. She asked me to come with her and I refused. That was the very last time I saw her. I grew up feeling like an outcast, an orphan. I still did.

Evie, so absorbed in her stitching, stabbed the needle in the end of her finger when I got up to move around a bit. A tiny drop of blood welled there and she immediately brought the wound to her mouth.

“Will you stir those pots, dear? I think supper is almost ready.”

I crossed over to the stove and gave each one a deep stir. “I think you’re right,” I said. The delicious home-cooked scents reminded me of my grandmother. I really did miss her. It would be wonderful to sit at the table with my grandmother and revisit old memories. Instead, I was sitting with someone else’s grandmother.

“Do you have any children?” I asked, bringing the conversation back up to help keep me out of my own thoughts for a while.
Evie’s entire face lit up at the question. “Oh, yes,” she replied. “We have four; three girls and one boy. All of our girls are married and gone, with children we see on holidays. Our son still lives here in town. He hasn’t married and spends most of his time alone or in his garage fixing everyone’s car troubles.” She laughed. “I always said that if he had gone away to college, he would have made a great therapist. He likes helping people with their problems.”

I laughed. “Should I call Mr. James in?”

“Please do, dear.”

I headed through the calico curtain to fetch the silent old man from the front porch. The rain had been falling at a steady rate, but James and the old dog still held their ground. I found them in the exact spot, rocking away the world.

“Mrs. Evie says dinner is ready,” I announced. The rocker rolled and creaked across loosened boards. Raindrops dripped from the edge of the tin roof, some falling to the ground while others splattered against the deteriorating porch.

“Thunder and lightning are such wondrous things,” James said. “When I was a boy, I used to sit on the porch for hours and listen to the roll of thunder and watch the lightning play across the sky. I still love it.” His awestruck expression coaxed a smile from me.

James showed no sign of moving from the old rocking chair, so I decided to sit down beside him. I enjoyed feeling the cool breeze stir the damp tendrils of hair that whispered across the back of my neck. A flock of birds circled over the field across the road, gliding on the breeze without a care in the world. The rain slacked off to a sparse drizzle and the air smelled fresh and clean. Everything around seemed to perk up from the brief evening shower. The heavy clouds promised more rain to come.

Without a word, James disappeared into the store with his four-legged companion close on his heels. I followed, feeling like an intruder. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine Evie and James were my grandparents, and that the old dog was one  I had grown up with. I had not felt like I belonged anywhere in such a long time that it was nice to imagine fitting myself into their life.


Small talk at dinner consisted of conversations between Evie and me about her grandchildren and their parents, where they all lived, and how often they came to visit.

“We went to visit one time,” James spoke up in between shoveling spoonfuls of the hearty fare into his nearly toothless mouth. He snorted. “Big city ain’t for me.”

Evie and I laughed and I felt like a part of something greater than what I was running away from. It was nice, to say the least, and I was suddenly glad that my car had fallen apart when it did.

When dinner was over, James tottered over to his favorite rocking chair by the fireplace. While we straightened the kitchen, Evie informed me that James would rock in his chair until he fell asleep every evening after dinner.

“Tell me about your grandmother,” Evie said, picking up her stitching after we had settled back at the table.

“She was a wonderful woman,” I began. “When I was a little girl, we used to sit around the table like this in the evenings after dinner and play cards. I would tell her all about my day at school, and she would share memories of her childhood with me. She could tell a story that would make you feel like you were really there. And of course, I was always mesmerized by how little things cost back then, and the fact that they used horses and mules as major transportation.” I paused and Evie looked up at me.

“You miss her,” she said.

I hung my head. I realized she had caught on to my lie. I was thankful that she didn’t press it. Maybe she had sensed I was lying all along. Grandmothers tend to have that extra sense. My own grandmother certainly had a knack for it. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

Evie reached over and patted my hand. She didn’t have to say a word. I could feel the warmth trailing from her soft fingers into mine. We sat for a few more minutes before she got up from her chair to wake James. He made groggy steps to the bathroom and then retraced those steps back to his chair shortly thereafter.

“Sleeping in that chair helps him breathe better, so he sleeps better,” Evie explained. “He’s done it for years.”

I followed Evie through another curtained doorway into a room that held two small beds on opposite sides of the room. Fresh sheets rested on the foot of the bed and she helped me put them on.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” she said.

“I will. I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. You didn’t have to open your home to me, a complete stranger.”

“Nonsense. Think nothing of it,” she replied. “You’re welcome to a bath.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” I exclaimed.

I went out to fetch my bag from the car while the tub filled with water. When I entered the room after the relaxing bath, she was snug beneath her quilt, asleep. I turned off the lamp and crawled between the sheets of the unfamiliar bed as if I had slept in it a thousand times.


I awoke the next morning in a strange bed, in a strange house, but it only took a second to remember where I was. My stomach growled in response to the smell of bacon and coffee. I rubbed my eyes and looked around before slipping out of the warm bed. I dressed quickly and stepped into the kitchen. The cool floor felt good on my bare feet. I thought of how Evie had lifted the windows to let in the breeze before she went to sleep and of how I had drifted to sleep amidst the insects’ symphony to the moon.

“Good morning,” Evie greeted from her post at the stove. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did. Thank you.  Have you been up long?” I asked as I slipped my shoes on.

Evie chuckled softly. “I never sleep for long,” she replied, scooping bacon from the skillet and putting it on a plate. “Help yourself to some coffee.” She motioned toward the half-empty pot on the counter beside her.

I poured myself a cup of the steaming liquid, a fuel for me in the mornings. I stirred in the milk and sugar until it was the perfect caramel color before taking a sip. “Thank you,” I said.

“Hungry?” she asked, gesturing toward the pile of bacon.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she replied while stirring some honey and butter together. She reached into the oven and pulled out a pan of biscuits. Using a tiny paintbrush, she brushed the tops of the piping hot biscuits with the mixture. They glistened and my stomach growled again.
“Where is Mr. James?” I asked, scanning the corner of the room.

“At his post,” she laughed. “He’s waiting for Brady. He should be here any minute. As a matter of fact…” She shucked the oven mitt and headed through the calico curtain. “Brady!” I heard her call from behind the curtain. I sat down at the table, cradling the steaming mug in my hands. Voices drifted into the kitchen. Evie’s excitement over the mechanic’s arrival led me to believe he was the only person who visited them.

I sipped at my coffee as I waited for them. I expected a man in his mid-forties, balding and grease covered, to enter following Evie. Instead, a man in his early thirties, tall and dark headed, wearing khakis and a baseball shirt, walked in. Evie was smiling from ear to ear. I smiled in spite of the tremble in my stomach.

“Brady, this is Kate Washington. Her car is the one parked out front that needs to be looked at.” Evie eyed Brady and then smiled at me. “Kate, this is Brady, the resident mechanic and our son.”

I smiled at him. I hadn’t realized that the mechanic was their son. Evie stood behind her son with her hand propped on his shoulder.
“Nice to meet you, Kate,” Brady said. He had a baritone voice.

“Nice to meet you too, Brady,” I replied. His golden brown eyes reminded me of cat’s eyes.

“Let’s eat,” Evie said happily, clapping her hands together and ushering Brady to a seat directly across from me.  He smiled meekly at me over his plate of biscuits and bacon.

Evie sat a plate in front of me before I could get my chair pushed back far enough to get up. “Just sit down, dear.” She winked.
“So, tell me about your car,” Brady started.

“There’s not much to tell.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I stopped here to get something to drink, and when I started to leave, smoke was boiling from under the hood. The rest is history.” I laughed softly.

“Could be a busted radiator or gasket,” Brady told his dad, who nodded in agreement. “I’ll check it out as soon as we finish Mom’s famous biscuits.” He smiled at his mother as he took a healthy bite.

The biscuits really were delicious. I ate two stuffed with bacon and didn’t think I would be able to move. Brady announced he was going out to look at the car.

“Go on with him, Kate, so you can see what he does in case it happens to you again.” Evie smiled as she ushered me out the door behind her son.

Once outside, my eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the brightness. It was already hot, and I could feel sweat beads forming on my skin.
Brady popped the hood on my car and dove right in trying to find the problem. “If I can’t see the problem right off, I may need to tow it back to my shop where all my equipment is,” I heard him say from behind the hood.

I leaned against the car in the glaring sun. I didn’t pretend to know a thing about cars, because I didn’t. All I knew how to do was gas up and go.

Brady leaned out around the car and motioned for me to come around. I peered into the dry well he indicated. “I don’t see anything,” I said.
Brady smiled. “Exactly.” He wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm, but still managed to smudge it with grime from my dirty engine. “That’s where your water goes.”

I felt my face flush. “Is it a busted radiator like you said inside, or am I just a forgetful female?” I hated to hear the answer.
Brady laughed a very masculine sound, and like his mother, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m not sure if it’s busted or not, but I doubt it would be this dry without having a crack somewhere, unless you have never put water in it before.”

I blushed. I took it to the service place to have the oil changed as often as I could remember to, but that was about it. I never thought about it until something was wrong with it.

“Did any lights come on inside? A check engine light maybe?” he asked.

I answered him with a blank stare and a shrug of my shoulders. I had been so preoccupied with driving and thinking about my life and the changes I needed to make that I had not even checked my speedometer, much less any lights that may have been on.

I handed Brady the keys and he climbed inside. “Well, there is a light on inside. I’ll put water in it and we’ll see how the temperature runs once she’s full.” He shut the door and headed for the water hose around the side of the building.

“So, where are you heading?” he asked while he was filling my car with water.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

He nodded his head as if he understood exactly what I meant. “I’ve been there. It’s no fun.” He smiled at me, and his teeth were pearly white in the bright sunshine. His tanned face told me he worked outside a good bit.

“I know,” I smiled back. “I’ve been there for too long.”

He lowered his head to the car just a bit and kinked the hose so the water flow would stop. He let the water settle a minute before adding a little more. “OK. Now when I cap this back off, start the car and we’ll let it run for a little while to see what happens.” He strolled over to the water spigot and turned off the hose.

I started the car up, closed the door, and let it run. Brady disappeared into the store and returned carrying two sodas. He handed one to me and I thanked him before taking a long drink. The fizziness was just what I needed. The dry lump was beginning to form again. Brady headed to the porch where his dad usually sat.

“So, care to tell me about this place you’re not sure you’re going to?” Brady quirked his brow at me and I laughed.

I stared down at my soda and the smile faded. “I had this job back home and I was fired a few days ago. I’m not even sure why. I was there on time every day, but the boss had it out for me for some reason. One of the other co-workers told me about overhearing a conversation about me. From what she said, it wasn’t good.” I looked over at Brady to find him watching me, listening closely to every word I said. I faltered for a second, then resumed. “Anyway, I was fired. It was a whole line of, ‘I’m not sure we need you right now, but as soon as we do, I’ll let you know’ kind of thing. I was furious to say the least. I had been working there for several months and she hadn’t had any problems out of me.” I took a sip of my soda. “So, I decided I would pack a bag and take a mini vacation to wherever I ended up. I think I was heading to my grandmother’s old place in Wilma, but she’s not there anymore. I think it was more a habit to run to her than anything. I have no idea what I’m doing out here.”

Brady looked thoughtful. “What about other family?”

I shook my head and scratched at the soda bottle with my thumbnail. “I don’t have anyone else. My parents are dead or gone or both. I’m not sure which.”

“Do you have friends back home?”

“Yeah, I do have a few friends back home. They don’t even know where I am. They are probably worried.” I had not thought of my friends, Jill and Suzanne. I had not told them where I was going partly because I was unsure, and partly because I knew they would talk me out of it.
“Once we see about the car, you can follow me to the house and use my phone if you need to. Mom and Dad don’t have one here. They say there’s no use.” He laughed.

I smiled. “Thanks.” I was beginning to feel a little bummed out. I didn’t know where I was going when I left. Would I keep following the old dirt road or would I turn around and go home? I honestly didn’t know for sure, but being around friends I knew sounded a lot better than traipsing off to some unknown place. I had to get a job soon. I knew that for sure. My measly bank account wouldn’t get me far.
“You don’t have to look so down in the dumps, Kate. Things will get better for you. I’m sure you can find another job with no problem. What kind of work do you do?”

“I was a book keeper at the last place I worked, but I have done all sorts of things. I’ve waited tables, scrubbed floors, cooked. I was even going to work at a nursing home once, but I couldn’t stand the smell.” I laughed softly and looked up at Brady. His warm smile soothed my jittery nerves.

Brady’s long fingers brushed an errant lock from his forehead. My hands clenched the bottle so tightly that my knuckles were white against the pressure.

“I’ve been working on cars ever since I can remember. It’s not a job as much as a hobby. I’m actually taking some night classes at the community college in the next town up. I’m not sure what I want to do, but those classes and the small mechanic and handy man jobs I do keep me busy and keep my lights turned on.”

“Do you live very far?” I asked, steering the conversation toward him. I was much more comfortable that way.

“No, not at all. I only live about two miles from here. I usually ride my horse down here.” He gestured toward the side yard and I noticed the sleek animal tethered to a big oak.

“Wow.” I loved horses, though I had never owned one and had only ridden once. “Do you mind if I go over?”

Brady smiled. “No. Come on.” He jumped over the short railing that separated us from the horse. I stepped over it gingerly.

“This is Fletcher.” Brady rubbed the horse’s cocoa-colored neck. I could tell he sincerely cared for the animal.

Fletcher did not shy away when I reached up to pet him and excitement bubbled inside. The mane was bristling and stiff, but somehow soft all at once. I could feel his warm breath across my arm and I leaned in just a little closer.

“I think we’d better check on the car,” Brady announced and I followed him over. I didn’t see any smoke, so I knew that was a good thing. Brady climbed inside and rolled the windows down. “It’s like an inferno in here,” he said.

“No air.” I shrugged.

“The temp is running a little warm, but it’s been running for a while so I think it should be ok. Leave it sitting for a while to make sure it’s not leaking a whole lot. But, I think you should be good to go.” He thumped the roof of the car with the palm of his hand and smiled.
“Thanks. I really appreciate your help,” I said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He laughed.

We stood there peering at each other over the hood of my car for a few minutes, neither of us sure what to do next. Maybe he felt the connection I was feeling. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I was too afraid to ask. A part of me wistfully hoped he would ask me to stay. You don’t even know this guy, my rationality screamed.

“You want to go for a ride?” Brady asked, tilting his head toward his horse.

I smiled as big as any little girl who got a pony ride, only I was twenty-eight. “I would love to!” I said, a little more enthusiastically than I really meant to.

“Great. Just let me pop in and tell Mom.” He went into the house. I sat down in the rocking chair and gazed out across the field where the sun baked tall grasses.

Gentle laughter and snatches of conversation floated out from inside the house. A smile spread across my face as I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the country air. I felt as if I had traveled back to a simpler time during my childhood when a front porch swing and an old dirt road had soothed the troubles away. That childhood was long gone, but I still carried that same sad little girl around inside me. Another deep lungful of air, and I felt that childish delight well again, replacing that old sadness, bit by bit.

Brady stepped through the squeaking screen door. “Ready?”

I jumped out of my seat, smiling. It seemed unfathomable to feel so at ease around complete strangers, but the truth was, they weren’t strangers. Not really. Somehow, from the moment I’d stepped through that calico curtain, the strangers became family, and I felt as if I belonged.

My car was waiting for me to drive away from this place, but the urge to run had settled down. All I wanted to do was get on that horse and ride away over the hills, laughing as the wind whipped my hair around my face. I did not know where I would be tomorrow or the next day, or even the day after that. All I knew was that I wanted to continue to walk through the calico curtain into a place that felt like coming home.