Rumor mill says both.
I wonder how many people in town know that Davis is staying in a trailer up here.
Gonna guess not many. If they did, I would’ve heard about it today at the very least, sooner with the company I keep.
Not only is Tillie Jean, who knows everything, one of my best friends, but I’ve also made friends with other people who know everything about everyone in Shipwreck and the surrounding areas. After my last breakup, I dove headfirst into volunteering with the historical society, and there were two things I quickly learned about my fellow volunteers.
One, if something happened in a five-mile radius of Shipwreck, they’d hear about it. And two, the townspeople here have alotof historical data about Shipwreck.
Including maps.
Apparently I’m more fascinated by historical artifacts than I ever knew before. Participating with the historical society in getting the Thorny Rock Historical Museum opened just off the square in town has felt like finding my purpose, even more than helping patients every day as a nurse.
And I’ve stared at this lot on the map more than I’m comfortable with now that I know Davis is here. At least for tonight.
For our clandestine meeting where I’ll fulfill my half of our bargain so that he does his half.
Cheating and divorce are both bad, so having a fake husband really will get my grandmother and Nigel off my back.
I park my car on a leaf-littered gravel parking pad next to the trailer, consciously aware of the fact that there’s not another car here. No motorcycle either.
So where did Davis park?
Do I get cell signal here?
I check, and—yep.
There’s signal.
I climb out of my car and approach the trailer door. Knock once. Then twice.
Wait a bit.
Knock a third time.
When he doesn’t answer, I back down the steps. Maybe there’s another entrance? I start circling the trailer, leaves crunching beneath my feet, suddenly unsure if I’m in the right place.
I’m reaching for my phone when I feel it.
I’m not alone.
I am so serious when I say my heart cannot take much more. It’s hammering like I’m doing one of Tillie Jean’s senior aerobics classes.
Don’t knock how hard she makes us work.
There’s a reason all of our senior citizens are in tip-top shape.
I wish one of them were here with me now.
Nana Rock has some biceps.
She could help with whatever I’m about to find as I turn around, expecting a bear or a grizzled mountain hermit, and instead?—
“You’re early,” Davis says.
Didhemake noise when he was stepping on the leaves?
No, he did not.
