Читать книгу The In-Between Hour - Barbara White Claypole - Страница 18

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.