I stopped in the living room, plopped on the couch for two minutes of rest, and pulled out my phone. “Hey, can we walk by the Forrest Gump bench on the way there?”
The famous movie destination was only a little out of the way. Like no more than two blocks, but since everything in this part of Savannah was walkable, it didn’t seem too far away.
He walked out of his room, putting on a light spring jacket before grabbing mine from the kitchen table where I’d thrown it over the back of a chair. “Sure.”
I took the coat from him, and we started on our way with me giving the directions this time. “We’re close. The bench is right up here.”
“The bench,” he said, putting heavy emphasis on the. “You’re really into Forrest Gump, huh? Is it a Tom Hanks thing?”
“More so the movie,” I said, looking up from the map so I didn’t trip over an uneven piece of sidewalk. “My grandpa and I used to watch it every time I went to his house, so at least once a month. He said it reminded him of his youth.”
“Did he fight in the war?” Reed asked, giving me his attention rather than focusing on the uneven pavement.
I laughed. “No. It always made me wonder what part of that movie he shared a connection. Maybe the hippie part. He makes us eat at Bubba Gump Shrimp in Florida every time I visit him in Florida, so…”
“Now we definitely need to see this bench so you can send him a picture.”
We reached the square, and I stood by the tall bronze statue in the middle looking for the bench, but there weren’t any. “It should be right there.”
Reed’s gaze followed the pointing of my hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, we’re in Chippewa Square. It even has the bench labeled on the map.” I walked in that direction until I was right over the dot on my phone map.
An older woman, carrying a bag made from granny squares, approached us. “They moved the bench.”
“They did?” I asked with as much outrage as the question required. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Tourists probably.”
Reed and I watched her walk away. He slipped his arm around me in that signature move, which caused all those butterflies in my stomach to take flight. “We’ll get ice cream on our cobbler as a consolation prize.”
We turned back toward the cobbler shop and crossed the road into a median filled with large oak trees covered in Spanish moss. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”
“That’s not the only thing,” Reed said and grinned at me when I turned toward him. “You don’t know you’re amazing. Do you?”
“Um… no.” Was there a right answer to that?
He chuckled. “What are you even doing here, Elenore?”
My heart clenched. Oh, no. Was this not a nice thing, after all?
“I’m… putting together a viability report for my best friend Delaney.” There, that sounded extra official. It’s also what I told my mother.
He shook his head. “Yeah, but you want to solve it. Don’t you? Put the clues together and figure out who murdered Lisa. I see it in your eyes.”
“Well… maybe.” I wasn’t here to solve the case, but for some reason, we felt so close. I had no clues and no additional leads, but the story had a weird heavy feel to it. The city’s brightness tried to push in, but the curtain around the house kept everything out. But I wasn’t a cop, detective, or even a reporter.
Reed stopped halfway down the street and walked between the moss-covered trees. “You know, I didn’t want to come to Savannah to watch some woman run around and ask questions about a dead body.”
“You didn’t? But it’s a free vacation.” And I’d desperately needed the vacation when I first signed up.
He lifted his left shoulder a smidge higher than the other. “I thought it was beneath me. Just a few months ago, I was out saving lives until my shoulder gave out.” He rubbed at the familiar spot. “Now I see God put me here with you.”
“He did?” My breath came quicker. It seemed like we were veering toward niceness again.
“He did.” Reed said it with such finality. Like he’d had a phone call with the big guy that morning and had firsthand knowledge. “I have enjoyed my time here. There’s something about your smile when you’re deep in thought. It’s…concentrated. I love watching you think.”
That had to be the weirdest compliment I’d ever received, but it was a compliment, so I kept it.
