you drunk?”
“Yup.”
There was definitely movement by the tree line. Man-size movement. Poppy sashayed her hips as she followed Hannah and the dogs back inside. The trap was set and sprung. Now all she had to do was reel in that hunk of an author. Game on.
* * *
Branches snapped all around him, and Will glanced over his shoulder, half expecting a pack of saber-toothed tigers to leap from behind the oaks and shred him with six-inch razor fangs. Reduce him to gristle and bone.
Less than two days in Orange County, and he was back in the forest. It was nothing more than a Pandora’s box of the past, and unlike his dad, Will wanted that part of his life to remain in storage.
The memory assaulted him, anyway: his mother grabbing him by the hand after his first day of kindergarten, shrieking, “Let’s celebrate with an adventure! Slay the beast of Occoneechee Mountain!”
There had been a time when her grandiose schemes had sucked him in. Even after they’d imploded in a flurry of excess or fizzled as her attention darted to something else, he’d allowed himself to believe that next time, next time, things would be different. But by then he’d learned better. Five years old and already he was skeptical. As she pulled him deeper into the woods that day, he had cried to go home, and he never cried as a kid. Will rubbed his arms. The memory crawled under his skin, wormed into his cells, returned in stereo surround sound.
All morning in school, he’d been anxious, waiting for the other kids to tease him for being a runt, for not having a lunch box, for wearing secondhand clothes. His fears were realized at recess, until the little girl in a hot-pink tutu knocked down the bully who’d stolen his swing. Ally got in trouble for that, but she didn’t care. And he was smitten. No one had ever stood up for him before. No one had ever put him first. He jumped off the bus, eager to invite his new friend over to share his stash of library books. But his mom had other plans, and she wouldn’t let go. She held tighter and tighter until she dragged him over the rusty animal trap that sliced open his knee. It was the first time—maybe the only time—his dad got angry with his mom; it was the first time Will fantasized about escape.
He touched the scar through his jeans. The itchiness from earlier had gone. Once again, it was numb.
Waiting until the outside lights on the main house switched off, Will crept back to the cottage and picked up the plastic bag Hannah had left on the porch swing. What did she say? It should help you sleep.
Better pilfer one of those orange capsules from his dad—add a temazepam chaser on the off-chance dried feverfew wasn’t strong enough for total blackout.
Ten
Jacob smoothed out Freddie’s map on the table. Been another rough night. All them nightmares about Freddie. His grandson were on the trip of a lifetime. And his granddaddy’s no-good-for-nothin’ brain weren’t gonna say otherwise. ’Bout time he crafted a dream catcher, hung it above his bed and then took it outside so all them bad dreams could perish in the sunlight. Plenty of sunlight this morning. And warm in the front room. Shouldn’t be this warm when the dogwoods were firin’ up. Wouldn’t be much color this fall, not with the heat and the drought. Drought were a real serious business. Weakened trees fell, wells ran dry and that phantom of forest fires didn’t never go away. October could be a real dry month, too. Mighty fine month for travelin’, though. One time he took Angeline to Asheville—special trip for their weddin’ anniversary. They even stayed over! Spent a night in a motel! And they drove up and down the Blue Ridge Parkway drinkin’ in the wonder of fall in the mountains.
Where was Freddie and his mama travelin’ today?
He wanted to stick the map on the wall, but Willie said no. And he could argue the heck out of it, but seemed like a protest not worth makin’. Besides, with this sturdy cardboard casin’, he could take the map out whenever and wherever he chose.
It were real nice in the main room of this house. Big house, too. Had two bathrooms! And a separate toilet downstairs! Never lived in a house with more than one toilet.
Mornin’ sun hit them front windows just right. Whoever built this place sure knew what he was doin’. And all that glass at the back framed the forest real nice, like a paintin’. This weren’t his shack, and it weren’t Occoneechee Mountain. Didn’t rightfully know where he’d woken up this mornin’, but he reckoned he’d got it good this time. Real good. Bless Willie for bringin’ him here.
Now—Jacob rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt—where was Freddie and his mama today? He squinted at the map.
“I’d offer to lend you my reading glasses,” a pretty gal with blazing blue eyes said. “But I have no idea where they are. Sorry to just walk in. I did knock but you didn’t hear me.”
He scratched his head. Had they met before?
“I’m Hannah. Or Hey You.”
Hannah, a name to keep, a name to treasure.
“How are you doing today?”
“Fair ta middlin’, I reckon.”
She held out her hand—delicate like china, but calloused. A little lady who grabbed life and held on. He smiled. Been a while since he met anyone who made him want to smile. Other than that firecracker of an art teacher. He wanted to smile—little enough to smile about since his Angeline crossed over. People told him death got easier, but he knew otherwise.
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