A Place To Call Home. Sharon Sala
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Judd exited the body shop, satisfied that his vehicle was in good hands. Now all he had to do was exhibit some patience. It would take a week, maybe longer, for the parts to come in, and then time after that for Harold to repair the damage. Ordinarily, such a delay would have been frustrating, but for some reason, he felt as if he’d been given a reprieve. At least he had a valid excuse for staying on in Call City, instead of passing through as he’d planned.
He glanced up at the sky, gauging the building cloud bank against a possible threat of rain, and then looked around for Charlie’s car. When he’d seen her last, she’d been going into the doctor’s office with Rachel. Sure enough, the car was still in the parking lot. He paused, debating with himself about checking in on her first or going on to the police station. Truth be told, his curiosity over the missing banker was starting to grow. But he thought of Charlie, trying to cope with a wiggly baby and a sore ankle, and opted for the doctor’s office first.
The street was nearly deserted. A couple of cars were parked two blocks down on his left and there was another in the parking lot beside Charlie’s car. An old red hound ambled out of an alley and started across the street, sniffing along the pavement as it went. Several blocks away, a hulking figure of a man was coming up the street toward him, pulling a child’s red wagon as he went. Every now and then he would stop and dig through the trash cans at the edge of the curbs, obviously searching for recyclable cans.
Judd grinned to himself. This was a far cry from the big-city atmosphere of Tulsa. He stood for a while, watching the fervor with which the man searched. It was only after he’d come a bit closer that Judd realized the man was quite young, and obviously slow, both in mind and body. The childlike expressions that crossed the man’s face were quite touching, and his heart went out to the man-child who would never grow up.
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