The Angel Series Collection - Books 1-3 E-Book

Jo Wilde

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The first three books in 'The Angel Series' of romantic fantasy novels by Jo Wilde, now available in one volume!
Dream Angel: Seeking solace, Stephanie Ray leaves her old life behind and starts anew in Louisiana. Little does she know that her life is about to take a drastic turn, when she encounters the enigmatic Aidan Bane. Drawn into a world of dark magic, Stephanie finds herself surrounded by malevolent forces. Aidan offers his protection, but Stephanie soon discovers that love comes with a steep price.
Dauntless Angel: Stephanie embraces her chance at a new beginning in the vibrant city of New Orleans. Her life is disrupted by an unexpected visitor: Helen, Aidan's sister, who's delivering a warning from the mysterious Family. Intrigued, Stephanie embarks sets on a quest for answers, aided by an unlikely ally. In her search, Stephanie uncovers a hidden truth - the existence of others like her - but finds herself met with hostility from the celestial clan. As new adversaries emerge, Stephanie must summon her courage to confront the challenges that lie ahead.
Dark Angel: Stephanie's celestial father, Mustafa, has ulterior motives involving someone dear to her. As a heavenly war erupts and Val's army leaves, Stephanie, Jeffery, and Dom find an unexpected ally. Determined to fight, Stephanie faces the challenge ahead, uncovering the identity of her kidnapper and striving to defeat the powerful Illuminati. But against the odds, can Stephanie emerge victorious?

Leseprobe

THE ANGEL SERIES COLLECTION

BOOKS 1-3

JO WILDE

Copyright (C) 2023 Jo Wilde

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

CONTENTS

Dream Angel

Heads Up!

Words to Know

Journey

Seriously

Gang Bangers

Thunderstruck

The Foreshadower

Dreams and Dreamy Boys

Eerie

A Message from the Dead

Buried Secrets

Third Encounter

A Change of Plans

Stalker

Fireflies

Confessions from the Dead

My Life Sucks

Lies

Aftermath

Forget Him

Otherworldly

Healing

Longing

Man-in-Black

Evidence

Friendenemy

I Didn’t Invite You

Wayward Woes

Castle Manière

Meet the Staff

Kiss My Eyes

La vie du Chateau

Flames of Magick

ForGet-Me-Nots

Secret Passages and Unexpected Allies

Untouchable

Mother’s Love

Only You

The Other Woman

The Knowing Eye

Treachery

Lilies of Decay

We Belong

Magick’s in the Air

The Rose

Duplicity

Dauntless Angel

1. Asylum

2. Home Sweet Home

3. Time Lost

4. Unwanted Guest

5. See No Evil

6. Trouble Knocks

7. Strange and Eerie

8. The Promise

9. The Devil’s Den

10. Defeat I Will Not

11. Allied

12. Surprised Guest

13. Elusive Dream

14. Miasma

15. Discovery

16. Hidden Treasure

17. Feathers Ruffled

18. Gifts from the Dead

19. Mardea

Dark Angel

Prelude

1. Blueprints to My Heart

2. The Tomb

3. Lost and Found

4. Regret Me Not

5. Jaloux

6. New World Order

7. The Bayou

8. What’s a Girl Gonna Do?

9. The Unpainted House

10. Babylon’s Fallen

Next in the Series

About the Author

DREAM ANGEL

THE ANGEL SERIES BOOK 1

HEADS UP!

Louisiana is renowned for its unique way of expressing themselves. In this chilling romance, I have captured Louisiana’s rich culture and its unique lingo. I purposely misspelled words to convey its one-of-a-kind dialect. Please keep in mind that the characters may or may not use perfect grammar. It is part of their unique way of life and sets them apart from the rest. I am a southerner through in and throughout. I have lived in Texas and on the border of Louisiana for most of my life. I love the south and our strange and different language. I especially love the diversity of many cultures blending together, making the south an exciting adventure and an intriguing way of life. Thank you for downloading my book. Enjoy!

JOURNEY

It began in midsummer. The smell of honeysuckle wafted through the air. I’d been hanging out with my two BFFs, Laurie and Becky. We had gone to the movies to watch a crappy film, an alien sci-fi. The only good thing about it was the lead actor, a cute boy. The three of us had a blast eating popcorn and laughing over the lame lines. Romances sucked.

Later, we went to grab a bite at Big Boy’s Bar-B-Que, messy but the best in Sweetwater, Texas.

We were sitting at a booth eating our sandwiches when Logan Hunter sauntered into the small diner. He carried the impressive title of the all-star linebacker for the last two years at Sweetwater High. He was a senior, a grade higher than I was. Logan had the cutest smile of any boy I’d ever met, and I, Stephanie Ray, had the biggest crush ever.

The door jangled, and I happened to look up. Fretfully, I twirled in my seat, about to have a cow. I jabbed Beck, who sat next to me, in the ribs. “Don’t look up!”

She snapped her blonde head up and asked, “Why?”

Of course, she did what I asked her not to do… shelooked!

“He’s here? Logan?” I whispered frantically.

Laurie had just come back from the restroom, sliding into her seat. “What’s wrong?” Her blue eyes bounced between Beck and me.

I leaned over the table, “Logan,” I whispered, shooting a hard stare at her to not repeat his name out loud.

She laughed, swatting her hand at me. “Pfff, pleaseeee! Stevie, chill out, for Christ’s sake. I invited him to your birthday party tomorrow night.”

Beck started jumping in her seat, ecstatic. “No, you didn’t.”

Laurie poked back, “Oh-yes-I-did.” She threw a fry at Beck, laughing.

I hunkered down in my seat. The gratitude for sitting next to the wall fluttered through me, easier to hide.

“Y’all need to get over yourselves.” Laurie’s voice carried through the restaurant.

“Shush! He’ll hear you!” I fretted, watching my life go down the crapper in only a matter of seconds. Logan stopping by our table and I’d spill food on myself or choke on my drink. I mean, the possibilities of me screwing this up were endless.

Laurie, parting words of wisdom. “I don’t know why you hide from him. He likes you, and you like him,” she laughed. “Besides, you owe it to all us girls.”

I snorted. “Owe you what?”

She rolled her eyes. “We can all live vicariously through you and your hot make-out sessions.”

“I’m not going to share such with y’all,” I whispered at Laurie, appalled, mortified, but laughing inwardly.

Beck jabbed me with her elbow. “That’s because a boy has never kissed you.”

Laurie fell out of her seat, roaring with laughter, and Beck laid her head in my lap, giggling.

My lovely friends knew I’d never have the guts to speak to a boy I liked. I think they were hoping on my eighteenth birthday, Logan Hunter would do the honors. They were throwing me a party tomorrow night. That was why my girls invited Sweetwater High’s all-star football player, and, well... I think the fact that I liked him had a significant impact on their decision-making too.

Logan was different than any of the boys at school. There was intelligence behind his soulful browns. A kiss from him would be any girl’s dream. Bumping it up to the next level as a couple, I wasn’t ready. Oh, I was crushing big time on the all-star football player. I mean! Look at him. A handsome, compact boy who walked with a spring in his step, his shoulders, a yard wide and tall like a towering spruce, and his soft blond curls reminded me of golden honey. I exhaled starry-eyed, ogling Logan standing at the food counter. “He’s a he-man.” I let out a long sigh, and then I suddenly become mortified, covering my mouth, eyes wide. “Tell me I didn’t say that out loud?” Beck cackled, and Laurie followed.

* * *

Then my small window of happiness came to a screeching halt like a plane nose-diving into the Atlantic Ocean. Sara, my mother, decided it was time to pack our bags and vamoose to the next dive town. Another town, another school, another miserable life. I didn’t know why I thought Sweetwater would’ve been any different. Sara never stayed anywhere long. Since Dad’s death, we’d been living out of a suitcase.

I was eight years old when a hit-and-run driver had taken Dad’s life, and just like that, our world changed forever. To this day, his cold case sat, collecting dust on a shelf. The police had never found the driver. For ten years, the thought of Dad’s killer running amok grated against me worse than a spit-bath. I refused to let it go until the authorities caught the killer, and he was sitting behind bars, rotting.

At the time, I had no idea how much of an impact Sara’s machination would affect my life until it was too late. Secrets kill. I would remember her words like it was yesterday.

“Mom, this isn’t fair,” I snapped. I suspected Sara’s bipolar might be flaring up again. “I don’t want to move to Louisiana!”

“Get over it.” Her tone bulldozed me down.

“What about my birthday party this evening? My friends, Laurie and Becky, went through a lot of trouble. You haven’t even bothered buying me a cake.”

She cut her eyes at me. “Don’t get an attitude with me, young lady!” Then she inhaled a calm breath, though the ice on her tongue never melted. “I’m sure there’s a Wal-Mart somewhere between here and Louisiana. I’ll get you a cake then.” Sara turned back to her packing as if she were preparing for some tropical vacation. Bright-colored swimwear spread across the bed, along with shoes and other light dress wear.

As I stared at the luggage, a scowl crept across my face. That tattered suitcase had seen more towns than most people had seen in a lifetime. My stomach knotted every time I laid eyes on it too. It represented everything I hated… starting over. “What’s wrong with this town? I like Sweetwater. You have that great job at Fashion Boutique. It doesn’t make sense to move again. Can’t we stay in one place for more than a minute?”

“I. Hate. Texas!”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but this move appeared different than the other times. We were always rushing out of town for some cryptic reason. Either Sara got caught with her married boss, or we were getting evicted. Apart from the usual get-out-of-town-before-I-get-arrested list of reasons, this time seemed eerily aberrant. It was as if some compelling force had Sara by the hair like a breechcloth Neanderthal dragging her off to the land of yonder. “Can’t we leave in the morning?” I tried to reason. “We’ll both have a good night’s sleep, and I can go to my birthday party.”

Lines etched deep across Sara’s forehead like petrified wood as she turned to me. “I’ve made my mind up. We’re leaving today before nightfall.”

“Mom, moving’s wacko.”

Sara quickly pinned her combative eyes at me. “Are you saying I’m crazy?”

I stepped back out of range of her reach. I liked my teeth. “That’s not what I meant,” I backpedaled. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve about had it with you!” Sara often struggled with her adult role. From her miniskirts to her mimicking a spoiled teenager, the lines often blurred. And as a result, I was forced to be the designated adult. “Mom, I’m doing well here. The school is great. My grades are dope. Can’t you reconsider?”

“You’ll make new friends. You’re young. You’ll adapt. We’re moving, and that’s final!”

“Do you care at all how I feel?” I bit my lip from saying what I wanted to say: selfish, self-absorbed, self-serving, self-centered—something like that.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Every time we move, it eats at me.”

“Stop acting like a drama queen.”

I pointed to the suitcase. “Normal people don’t behave irrationally, moving from town to town, living in a suitcase… never knowing where their next meal is coming from.” Most of the time, I kept my mouth shut. This time was different. Sara needed to hear how her actions affected me. “No, Mom, only you prefer living like a gypsy.”

“As opposed to your stuffy self, I’m adventurous.” Sara picked up a mirror, checking her cherry-red lipstick. Then she tossed the mirror on the bed and attempted to reel the voice of reason into her insanity. “Try to look at this as a going-away birthday,” she forced a smile as fake as her hot pink fingernails.

“I hope you’re not planning another excursion, camping in the city? Or should I say homeless?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Whenever Sara spun lies, her southern accent seemed more conspicuous.

“If Dad were alive, we wouldn’t be bouncing from town to town, chasing rainbows and unicorns either.” I was fighting dirty. Watching Sara flinch over the mention of Dad gave me a spike of triumph. Memory lane for Sara was like sticking your hand over an open fire. The mention of Dad’s name bothered her as bad as a head full of lice. I think she’d placed Dad’s memories in a shoebox and stuffed them away in a dank basement to avoid the stab. She even went as far as forbidding me to speak his name. I reckoned Sara struggled with Dad’s death. Even so, at times, I didn’t mind twisting the proverbial knife.

“Well, your daddy’s not here. He’s dead!” her words were cold and unfeeling. “You can call your friends when we get on the road. Go pack! I want to be on the road by sundown.”

“I can’t do this again. This is your life. Not mine. I won’t go!”

“You don’t have a choice!” Sara shouted, hands to her side, flexing her white-knuckled fists. Then she paused, taking a deep breath, dousing an extra coat of honey on her lies. “Sweetie, you’re going to love this town. I promise no more moving. This is the last time.”

“What’s so special about this waterhole? Is it even on the map?”

“I heard the town is real good, friendly folks, and cheap living too.”

I stood there eyeballing her, suspicion swirling in my mind. “What’s the real reason, Mom?”

She dropped her clothes and flopped down on the edge of the bed. She reminded me of someone giving confession. Shoulders slumped, eyes fixed to the floor. “Don’t get mad,” she sighed. “We ain’t got any rent money.”

“What did you do, Mom?” The air in my lungs suddenly collapsed.

“I used it on a psychic. Legend Red is famous.”

“Don’t you know psychics are cons?”

“Not Red,” Sara’s brown eyes gleamed as if she were defending her lover. “He’s real.”

“Mom, he’s no more a psychic than Miss Cleo on television,” I argued. “Remember her? She got canned for fraud. He ain’t no different!”

“Red foresaw us in this little town living on easy street.” She scrunched her shoulders together like a child.

“Homelessness isn’t easy street.”

“Don’t get sassy!” She leaped onto her feet, fists drawn, ready to Donnybrook me.

“Fine! I’m leaving.” I stormed out of Sara’s bedroom headed for the front door. I could hear Sara’s bellow.

“Stevie Ray! Don’t you walk…”

I couldn’t listen to her nonsense any longer. Flying by the seat of your pants half-cocked to these dead-end towns might be Sara’s idea of living. I sure didn’t share the same aspirations.

Since Dad’s death, dealing with Sara’s bipolar hadn’t been a cakewalk. Merely a child myself, I was ill-equipped to handle her manic episodes. I still struggled and dreaded every waking day.

Until I was old enough to work a secular job, I did odd jobs for the neighbors, from babysitting to dog walking. The cash came in handy for school lunches. I would’ve qualified for the free lunch program, but Sara felt it’d give folks the wrong impression. I reckoned she didn’t realize they already knew we were poor. My faded, worn clothes were a dead giveaway.

By the time I reached seventeen, I had worked just about every hamburger joint stretching as far as Montana to the Florida Keys. During the school year, I worked after school and full-time in the summer. It helped with the bills, but it hindered my social life. Between school, work, and then riding out the waves of Sara’s roller-coaster episodes, I had little time for friends. It sucked too.

As reality spun its bitter web, I discovered far worse things. No child should have to live in a cardboard box in the middle of winter. Attending school in the same dirty clothes day after day taught me the cruelties of life at a very early age. After a few bloody noses, I began to fight back. I got where I could hold my own.

Despite my chaotic life, what kept me hopeful were my studies. I was smart, and my scores reflected it too. I understood that if I ever wanted to get out of poverty, education was my meal ticket.

Looking back, I thought eighteen would be the magic number. Free from bondage, no longer burdened to worry over Sara. The problem that stuck like oatmeal was my consciousness. Sara’s incompetency kept me bound to this lifestyle I hated. If something happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. Despite everything, I loved her. She was the only family I had.

Knowing I was doing the right thing helped me get through the rough patches. When my dad was alive, he’d often say, “A family sticks together regardless.” If Dad were still living, he’d be proud of my endeavors. For that reason, I stayed.

Yet at night, whenever things were quiet, I’d lie in bed, wincing from an endless pain deep inside me, and with each new town, the agony magnified.

SERIOUSLY

We rolled into Tangi right before dawn. Judging by the old buildings

that lined the street, I knew this place was nothing more than a whistleblower. The morning air was sultry, and the mosquitoes were swarming in clusters. I already hated the place. I began ticking off all the diseases those bloodsuckers carried, such as Zika, Malaria, and the West Nile virus. A scowl tainted my face. I suspected that the pests outnumbered the locals.

Listening to Sara’s constant babble the whole way here made me want to barf. The way she told it, it was as if we were moving to the land of OZ. I think she meant the land of bugs. The first hotel we found, Sara pulled into its parking lot. We were nearly out of gas, and nothing was open. It was either this or sleeping in the car. Sara cleared her throat. “We can stay here tonight. It ain’t that bad.” She made a weak attempt at a smile.

I scowled in my side-view window, hiding my sullen face. “Whatever,” I mumbled darkly.

I couldn’t say much about the place other than it was rundown and on the outskirts of town. The neon light shined brightly above our heads, barely hanging on its hinges. One bulb sizzled, blinking off and on, as another had shattered, glass pooled around the post.

The sign read, “Welcome to Claude’s Inn.” Though the place wasn’t much to look at, anything with a bed sounded good to me. After riding scrunched up in an old 1975 Volkswagen all night, I would’ve slept on rocks.

Sara climbed out of the car and darted inside the manager’s office and paid for a room. I noticed iron bars divided the entrance. Alarm crept down my spine. “Crap! This must be where all the druggies hung out,” I choked out a bitter laugh. “Just perfect!” I slid down in my seat, arms folded across my chest.

Soon Sara returned with a key dangling from her hand. We pulled up to our room, number ninety-three. Sara killed the engine, and we piled out of the car. I paused, stretching my stiff limbs, and yawned. It felt good to stand erect. Stopping for a quick piss was a luxury with Sara. The last time we braked was in Waskom, Texas.

Like always, Sara ordered me to bring in our items, and like a good little slave, I obeyed. After dragging in the last suitcase, I’d no sooner dropped it on the floor than I collapsed on the bed. Though the bed was slightly lumpy, it didn’t matter. Eh! I’d slept on worse.

My mind started to drift. I thought about back home in Texas, Beck, Laurie, and even Logan. I swilled the aching brick in my throat. I missed home something fierce, the rumble of tumbleweeds, the flat plains, and horny toads. I blew out a sharp breath. Though missing my birthday felt like sharp teeth sinking into my skin, it was no comparison to leaving my friends behind. For the first time… I belonged.

Sara didn’t understand. I reckoned she had her own idealism, her own vision. The woman never worried about how others saw her. A free spirit, doing as she pleased, not a care in the world. I was different. Fitting in meant everything to me. A roof over my head and a stable home were important to me. Staying in one place for more than a few weeks would be a dream come true.

Texas was lost to me forever. I had to put it behind me and move on. Just like I’d left my birthday back in Texas, in the same sense, I abandoned my friends back there too. I decided no more friends and no more crying over the birthdays of yesteryear. I just wanted to stop thinking. Soon, sleep devoured my thoughts, and all forgotten.

* * *

Sunlight warmed my face as I opened my eyes. Sara’s perfume drifted in the room as I jolted to a start as my memory came rushing in like a tsunami. A frown seized my face. Remembering that Texas had long passed my rear-view mirror gave me no inspiration to get out of bed. I flopped on my back with an ireful huff and spotted Sara’s empty bed.

A couple of wet towels were in a heap on the floor in the corner. Sara’s suitcase looked as if a thief had pilfered through it. Clothes scattered about on the bed and the floor, and Sara was nowhere in sight. I reckoned she might be job hunting.

Kicking out from under the covers, I hauled myself out of bed and padded to the door, swinging it wide open. “Geez!” I jumped back, squinting from the bright sunlight. I whistled. “Damn!” I checked the clock. “Only eight in the morning, and it was already sweltering hot,” I grumbled as I wiped my sweat-beaded nose with the back of my hand. I stood there, taking in the surroundings. The only creatures stirring were the annoying bobwhites chirping in the brush of trees. A pungent smell wafted in the air. “Yuck!” I scrunched up my nose. “I hate fish!”

I stretched my eyes as far as I could see. I drew in a disparaging breath. I instantly disliked it here—such a contrast to Sweetwater. Here, I saw nothing but junkyards of rusted cars, an old fish-bait gas station at the corner of the parking lot.

What did Sara see in this Podunk town? No point in asking. She wouldn’t tell the truth. Might as well accept my fate. We never stayed anywhere for long was the one consistency in my life. Another dirty town on the horizon, merely a tap of the heels away.

I stared outside at the long stretch of moss-green hills and towering pines swaying to a light breeze. My stomach lurched. Soon summer would be over, and my last year of school would be at hand. I dreaded it. Only a couple of weeks away from the main event, a new school, new faces, new fights, and the vicious cycle of fitting in once again. Fitting in was like the flip of a coin. In some schools, I managed to stay under the radar, and in others, I fought. Sweetwater High was badass! I’d made a place for myself there with Laurie and Becky, the best friends ever! It had been a nice change to have the camaraderie of friends rather than being the target of everyone’s cruel jokes.

I exhaled a weary sigh and shut the door harder than intended. I preferred shoving my foot through it. Sara denying me a birthday party was one thing but moving me to the freaking sticks had me furious. I padded back to my bed and slipped under the covers, burrowing myself. I wanted to hide for the rest of my life under this stupid blanket.

* * *

The sky had grayed by the time Sara burst through the door. Her flushed face beamed with liquored-up mirth. The second she shut the door, I could smell the cheer on her breath. She stumbled over to my bed and pounced on the edge. I was playing possum. I’d seen headlights pulling up and her getting out of the car.

Sara leaned over my bunched-up body, shaking my shoulder and pulling my cover off my head. “Guess what?” She announced, too perky. Slowly my eyes drifted open as her soused grin came into focus.

“What?” I was still in a snit. “You found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?” My sarcasm felt liberating, even if it might spark a hard slap across the face.

“Why not show some support here?”

I faked a smile. “Yes, Mother Dear, I am quite happy we moved to the faraway land of bugs-gone-wild.” I snatched the blanket from her grasp and covered my head, putting my back to Sara and stewing in icy silence.

Not getting the hint, she yanked the cover back down. “I got a job,” she giggled into my ear. “I’m working at the Mudbug Café just around the corner, downtown. It doesn’t pay much, but I’ll make it up in tips.” I sensed Sara’s euphoria aiming at my back. She was trying to appease me, which made this whole move worse. I felt I’d earned the privilege to have at least one day to lie in bed and brood without Sara rubbing her bliss in my face.

I tossed the blanket to the side and rolled over facing her. I propped myself up on my elbow. “That’s gonna be hard, getting to your job.”

“Why do you say that?” Sara fiddled with a broken nail.

“The tires are low. If they go flat, you’ll have to walk. Did you stop and have someone take a look?”

Sara smirked, “Nope! I didn’t have to.”

“Why?” Oh lord, did she wreak the car?

“The tires are ripped to shreds.” She spoke with a devil-may-care tone as she tugged off her red bottom heels. “I drove the car anyway.”

My eyes nearly went cross-eyed, gawking at her feet. Suddenly my concern switched to shock as I bolted to a sitting position. “Where did you get those shoes?” I gaped. “Those are no Wal-Mart shoes! Especially since, oh, I don’t know since we’re penniless.”

Sara snatched the shoes up and tucked them in her suitcase. “Don’t worry about it. We have other things to trouble ourselves over.” It was crystal clear that Sara was lying. Apart from her southern accent kicking up, a twitch in her left eyebrow gave her away.

“Trouble ourselves,” I scoffed. “You’re ruining the only set of wheels we have.” I eyeballed her with little patience. “You do know driving the car will damage the wheels?”

“How much more damage can the tires possibly take? The tires are already ruined.”

“Mom, I’m not referring to the rubber. The wheel is the metal barrel that receives the tire.”

“Oh!” She acted as if I’d spoken a foreign language. “Then you can walk. I have a ride.” She swatted her hand in the air, dismissing the problem like every other hiccup we’d ever encountered. “Oh, all right. If you must, take the car to the gas station up at the corner. See if they can patch up the tires.” With that said, Sara disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. A minute later, I heard the shower. I turned my back to the bathroom door, fuming. I wondered where Sara expected me to get the coins. The tires were beyond repair. We needed new tires.

Moving past the car troubles, I suspected Sara had a date tonight. The tight dress laid out flat on her bed with the killer heels gave it away. I had to give her credit. We hadn’t been here twenty-four hours, and she’d already snagged a man. That had to be a record even for Sara. Of course, she never had a problem in that department. Finding a boyfriend was like plucking an apple from a tree. There was always an orchard of apple trees where Sara was concerned.

I stayed out of my mother’s affairs. Keeping in mind all of her short-lived romances, any person of the male persuasion should take out a life insurance policy before hooking up with her. Boyfriends of Sara’s either disappeared or turned up dead. Creepy, if you asked me.

GANG BANGERS

The following morning started as a typical blistering day. West Texas was hot, but this place had Texas beat by a long shot. Then there were the insects. Folks talked about Texas mosquitoes. Well, they ain’t been to Louisiana. These suckers here were gang bangers.

Sara left early for work. The missing uniform that once hung over the chair gave me a good indication she’d left for work. I didn’t hear the car’s engine roar over the hum of bugsville this morning. I presumed she hitched a ride with her new beau since our car was inoperable. I, the insignificant child, had to walk.

I didn’t want to leave my security blanket, but I had to face my pathetic life. I felt like I’d joined the dead. Still, I huffed out an infuriating sigh, I had to find a job.

I dragged my feet to the shower and then dressed for the day. I picked out something light, a white cotton top and a pair of navy blue cocktail shorts, and to go with the ensemble, I snatched up a pair of strappy wedges out of Sara’s luggage. Most of her shoes were spiked. Since I was flat-footed, I figured strappy wedges would be a better choice.

The main drag was literally around the block. The town was exactly what I’d expected, run down and empty. I never got why Sara preferred the dreary, small towns, only a short stick from a ghost town, precisely like this one. I liked the hustle and bustle of city life. Bus lines to travel, art museums to visit, and people to meet. A wave of sadness brushed over me. I knew my hopes of having a real-life might be a dream jammed in a pipe. Still, I hung on tight to my hope.

Just as Sara said, the gas station was right around the corner. I passed it by heading to the main circle. The sign read Claude’s Stop and Go in bold colors. “Huh!” The same name as the hotel. My eyes brushed over the station as I snarled my nose. The gas stop was like everything else in this town… rickety and dirty.

I nodded in passing at a clump of grizzly dark skin men huddled around a card table under a large oak off to the side of the gas station. I got the impression that the pit stop didn’t get much business other than selling fish bait, drinking soda pop, and a challenging game of dominoes.

Once I reached the downtown circle, I lingered a moment peering in the different store windows, dithering. A little pep talk was in order before I entered the land of rejection. I noted a post office on the south side of the circle, a beauty shop next to it and a couple of craft shops and a diner. Not a lot of activity. Tangi reminded me of one of those ghost towns where the only signs of life were the dust flying. My hope of snagging a job looked bleak.

Walking down the sidewalk, I accidentally bumped into an elderly woman heading in the opposite direction. Without uttering a word, I caught the ireful glint she’d flashed. My face blushed as I ducked my chin, picking up my pace. I quickly summed up that friendly locals in small towns were a myth.

One glance at the old woman’s glare, and I was inclined to believe that Sara and I had become the towns’ gossip. I reckoned this whistle-stop didn’t see many newcomers like us. We sorta stuck out. Miniskirt-wearing, Sara, and plain-Jane me.

It didn’t take long to cover the small cluster of stores. I think I filled out maybe two applications. Most folks just turned me away. Despite my spiel, convincing these fine hicks of my skills only got me shooed out the door. I reckoned southern hospitality had gone fishin’. Unable to look at another bitter-tasting rejection, I decided to take a break. I sighed, feeling thirsty and crabby.

I knocked the agitated dust off my feet and pressed my way down the sidewalk, wondering where to head next. When my eyes landed on a sign a couple of doors down that read, Mudbug Café, I froze. Crap! That was Sara’s new job. I wanted to avoid Sara at all costs. With my luck, she’d put me on dish duty. I might be a lot of things, but one thing I wasn’t was free!

I glanced across the street and spotted a bookstore. My hope heightened. Quickly, I made a beeline across the street. I didn’t bother looking for cars. The traffic was nonexistent. I spotted a few busted-up whoop-de-dos on threadbare tires. My car should fit in nicely here. That was a big if. Saving money for new tires was an impossible feat. Which meant we were stuck here in the middle of bugsville until otherwise.

When I made it across the street, I stopped, checking out the window’s display. The sign read, Otherworldly. I read out loud. “Astrology, Magic Spells, and Baubles.” How odd, finding a store like this in the middle of nowhere.

I pushed past the door. A bell jingled, announcing my entrance. A rush of incense swirled up my nose, a woodsy smell but a little heavy with the smoke. I coughed, waving at the gray cloud.

I ventured down aisle after aisle, thrumming over the various books. The smell of new books sent waves of excitement through me. I loved curling up in bed on a rainy day with a good book. Gosh, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bought a new book. My eyes widened with wonder over the vast selection. I noted titles on witchcraft, voodoo, astrology, and new age. There were odd trinkets of all sorts, charms, and other strange emblems. One mysterious item spiked my curiosity, a doll made of simple burlap, ill-matched buttons for eyes, and a black patch in the shape of a heart sown to its chest with zigzag stitches. What possible use would such an ugly doll be for? Usually, I avoided this kind of shop like the bubonic plague. Chills spread over my arms. Strange how the lure of eerie sparked such a deep interest in me, and yet, it frightened me more.

Regretting my egress, I tore myself away from the little corner and headed on my way. I needed a job more than reading books. Just to make myself feel a little better for wasting time, I asked for an application and promised to drop it off first thing in the morning. The clerk informed me that they weren’t hiring, but she’d be glad to keep my application on file. Great! Another rejection. I kindly thanked the lady and headed on my way.

With a ragged sigh, I headed off in the direction of the local newspaper, Tangi News Journal, the last of the great white buffalo, and my last hope. Like most newspapers, I expected they’d have an opening. I was aiming for an inside job. With no transportation, delivering papers was off the table. I pushed past the doubled glass doors as the smell of ink hit my face. My lips pressed into a flat line. This was it. It was do-or-die. Fingers crossed.

* * *

“That went swell!” I mumbled to myself as I left the Journal. Oh, I got the job all right! Just a minor complication. No transportation! I kicked an empty can, heading back to the hotel. I wanted to kick Sara for forcing me to come here! No, I didn’t want to do that either. I wanted to go home back to Texas, back to my old job at the Dairy Queen and my friends. One thing f’sure, I wasn’t in Oz clicking my ruby heels. I slouched my shoulders. I thought about hitchhiking back a million and one times. Between Becky and Laurie, I’d have a place to stay. Their families liked me. I could get a job, save money and by next year, attend college. Become an attorney like Dad. I could get student loans. Hopefully, a scholarship. It was doable.

Then I thought about Sara, and all my dreams burst like a balloon. I couldn’t leave. I had to stay. Anger swooped in as I kicked a rock this time.

My head had been so far up in the dark clouds that I was right up on the gas station when I finally lifted my gaze. The men had gone, and the station appeared empty. I made my way to one of the chairs under a tree, flopping down and making myself at home. Beads of sweat had collected across my forehead. I’d used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat away. I was a mess. My feet were throbbing as I slipped the shoes off. With open blisters on my heels, the wedges no longer seemed so cute. In a tizzy, I hurled the shoes into an oil puddle. I stared at them for a minute, knowing Sara would blow a cap for ruining her shoes. “Eh!” I shrugged. I didn’t care.

The heat was smothering, like a sauna. My throat was as parched as the dry soil under my feet. I didn’t want to drink the water at the hotel. It was murky and smelled like fish. I dove into my pockets for my change. I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, though my thirst overrode my hunger. An ice-cold Coke would settle my nerves.

I withdrew my hand from my pocket and looked at the contents, only seventy-five cents. “Crap!” Could my day get any worse? I slammed the coins onto the ground. They bounced with a ding, landing in a pool of oil, along with the shoes. I’d reached my limit. I laid my face into my palms, letting the tears rip.

Unaware how long I’d been sitting there when someone tapped my shoulder, I sat up, startled. I blinked back the blur of tears as my eyes encountered the evil-eyed woman who’d bumped into me earlier. What did she want? I stared back at her in silence.

“How ya are, chile?” The elderly lady whistled through what I assumed were dentures. “Eww wee! You sure do look mighty thirsty.” She handed me a bottle of Coke. Droplets glided down the glass bottle. A good indication it was cold. My eyes rounded.

“Thank you, but I can’t pay you back,” I sniffled. “All I have is a few coins.” I pointed to the quarters in the oil puddle.

The elderly woman waved her hand. “No worry, poupée,” she smiled.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Thanks.” I hid my gaze under my lashes.

The older woman sat down next to me and unsnapped her faded black purse. She drew out a white-bleached handkerchief. She reached out and handed it to me without a word. My mouth dropped open, unsure if I should take it or decline. My eyes dropped to the monogram initials, F.N. It must be vintage. Only old folks carried cloth handkerchiefs. I wrinkled my nose, hesitating. “Thanks,” I mumbled, accepting her offer. I patted the streaks of tears and wiped my nose delicately. I crumbled the cloth in my fist, unsure of proper etiquette. Did I hand it back to her or return it after I washed it? Getting worked up over a stupid handkerchief, I did what any respectable teenager would do. I tucked it under my leg—outta sight, outta mind, or at least, outta mine. I silently took a drink, feeling uneasy.

I snuck a sideways glance at the elderly lady. Apart from her weird cadence, it was kind of her to buy me a cold drink, but I wasn’t in the mood for company. I wanted to excuse myself, but I didn’t want to be impolite. I decided to chill and play it cool. I shyly smiled up at her through my lashes and took another sip of my drink.

“Where y’at? Ya and ya mama stay at Claude’s hotel?” she smiled warmly.

Her voice carried a twang, making it difficult for me to understand. I just nodded, answering, “Yes, ma’am.” I quickly took a sip of my Coke.

“Ya been job huntin’?”

I scoffed, “Yes, ma’am! Been trying.” I rolled the cold bottle between my palms. The moisture made me think of a refreshing dive in the swimming pool.

“Did ya get hired anywhere?”

“Yes.” I took a third sip.

“That’s good!” She flashed her white dentures.

I detected a little French in her timbre. “Not really,” I cringed. “I can’t take the job.”

“What ya say?” Her white brows knitted.

“The job requires transportation. I don’t have the money to fix our car.” This time, I swigged my drink down in a rush. My lips pinched.

“Bless your heart, chile.”

I shrugged, not making a reply.

A bright smile stretched across the elderly woman’s golden skin. “I think I can help ya. I have customers I gotta look after, but later I’ll be home. Come by after ya rested. Have ya eaten anything today?”

My face flushed, too embarrassed to say. I had to admit that my stomach was starting to gnaw at my insides.

“Ya gotta keep your strength up.” She unsnapped her box-shaped purse. Its black leather was faded, and the edges were well worn. A good indication she wasn’t flushed with cash. When she pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to me, my eyes widened with surprise.

“I can’t take this!” I gasped, lifting my gaze back at her. “Thank you, but I can’t pay the money back.” Taking an old woman’s coins was beyond freeloading. It was downright deplorable.

“If ya insist on makin’ it up to me, I have a small garden ya can help me with.” Her pale blues glistened against her deep caramel skin.

“Uh…” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know how to garden.”

“No worry, honeychile. It’s like beans and cornbread,” she laughed as her barrel-shaped body jiggled.

“Do you live around here?” Why was I entertaining the thought? I knew I wasn’t going.

“See down the road? Saint Anne Street,” she pointed down the road.

Blocking the glare from the sun’s blear, I cuffed my hand over my brows. “Oh, I see,” I nodded, catching sight of the green street sign.

“My little house is right down there. It's the fourth house on the left. Right next ta the vacant house at the end of the street.”

“Okay, thanks! What time?” I made myself smile. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the woman’s generosity. I was taken aback by her genuine interest in me—a rare act in my life.

She patted me on the back as she gathered to her feet. “Come by my house this evenin’ at six.”

“Okay,” I smiled.

“By the way, I’m Florence Noel. All my friends call me Ms. Noel. Ya can call me that too!” Her smile reached her faint blue eyes.

“I’m Stephanie…” She stopped me in midsentence.

“I know who ya is.” She flashed a mysterious smile. “There ain’t much I miss in these parts. I’ll see ya at six, Stevie. If I were ya, I’d change ‘em shoes.” Her gaze dropped to my feet. “Those buggers are da worst for walkin’.”

“Yes, ma’am, indeed.”

“Oh, I almost forgot! I’ll call down at the newspaper and speak ta Frank, my cousin. I’ll see ya this evening.” A suspicious smile crept across her face.

“Oh, okay.” I didn’t know what to say. I watched as Ms. Noel moseyed along toward downtown. She fit the description of anyone’s grandmother. A plump body, clothed in a loose-fitting blue dress, buttoned up in the front and white nursing shoes, hose rolled up to her knees. She seemed nice enough. I drew in a restless breath. I sure hope this ain’t anything like Hansel and Gretel where the sweet old woman turned into a wicked witch and tried to eat me.

THUNDERSTRUCK

Straight up six o’clock, I was on Ms. Noel’s front porch, knocking. Finding her house wasn’t hard, the fourth house next to the vacant house on the left. The house was small and appeared to need some repair. White paint chipped, and the porch sagged a touch. Black shutters that could use a coat of paint like the rest of the house. Judging by the home’s condition, I’d bet she’d lived here a good many years.

As I waited for her to answer the door, I questioned why she bothered calling her cousin, Frank? It wouldn’t help the fact that I didn’t have transportation.

All of a sudden, the screen squeaked, and there stood Ms. Noel, smiling. “Ah, you’re on time!” Her bright voice was as pleasant as I remembered from earlier today. She stepped outside onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. “Follow me, babee.” She waddled down the steps, waving for me to follow.

I followed her as she led me toward the back of the house. A faint breeze brushed my heated face as the cicadas amidst the pine trees buzzed in harmony. Oddly enough, I enjoyed their hum. Every evening about this time, the bugs would break out into a chorus.

We entered through the side gate, making our way to the back of the house. I noticed a patch of tilted soil that looked like the makings of a garden. I also spotted an old tin-shed in the far back of the yard. A sudden thought gave me chills. An old shed, no neighbors, and a stranger made me think of Hansel and Gretel. Shoving the ridiculous paranoia in my back pocket, I slapped a smile on my face as I combed the yard for an escape just in case.

She pulled a key from her apron pocket and unlocked the shed. The door squeaked open as I stood back. I hated dark, creepy places where bugs lurked. Ms. Noel disappeared inside the shed while I waited outside, peeking through the dimness at a faint shadow of junk collecting cobwebs. Only seconds later, I heard a click, and light showered the inside, revealing what I’d suspecteda lotta beat-up junk, like an old refrigerator with its door half off its hinges, a moth-eaten mattress, gardening tools, and other stuff that were in desperate need of hauling off.

With my feet planted to the grass, I waited outside. The shed was already leaning like the Tower of Pisa. The slightest breeze could cause it to collapse. I held my breath, fretting over Ms. Noel. Geez! Why did she have to go in there? I tapped my foot, chewing my nails, waiting for her return.

Moments later, Ms. Noel emerged from the shed, rolling a bike. I gaped in surprise. She stopped in front of me, grinning. “This is yours. It just needs a little cleaning and a tire fixed.” She handed the bike to me. “When you leave here, go ta the gas station at the corner. My brother, Claude, will patch up the flat tire and check the other one too. It’ll be as good as new then,” she promised, wiping her hands on her apron.

“You’re giving me this bike?”

“It ain’t doin’ me no good rustin’ away in that old shed. I used ta ride it until I broke my hip. It’s been sittin’ collectin’ dirt since.” She waved at the bike. “Go on! Take it. You wouldn’t want ta miss your first day of work, would you?”

I stood there with a blank face, stumped over what to say. “Uh, thanks!”

“Don’t mention it, chile. I made you a couple of sandwiches for dinner and tomorrow too. Let me get those for you.”

“Ms. Noel, you’re too kind,” I smiled, pleasantly surprised. This stranger didn’t know me from Adam, and yet, she was more than generous. Not even my mother would’ve been this kind.

“It’s no problem. C’mon.” Ms. Noel waddled off to the gate. I trailed behind her with the bike. Ms. Noel disappeared into the house as I waited by the bike.

Moments later, I heard the plank board squeaking, and Ms. Noel reappearing at the door with a brown sack in her hand and a mason jar full of ice cubes and sweet tea. She opened the screen with a broad smile. “Here you go.” I met her at the top of the steps as she handed me a brown sack and a mason jar with a lid screwed onto it. “When you get off tomorrow, come by, and I’ll have a bowl of gumbo and cornbread fixed for you.”

“You don’t have to do this.” I placed the sack and jar in the bike’s basket.

“Stop your worry! I got you, babee.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“If you lookin’ for a place to settle, the house next door is for rent. It’s a cute little place. From what I hear, the landlord ain’t askin’ much.”

“I’ll tell Mom. I’m sure she’ll be interested,” I paused. “Thanks for everything,” I genuinely smiled. For the first time since we’d arrived, I felt a slight spark of happiness.

“Don’t mention it, but you best git on down ta da station, so Claude can fix that tire,” she urged. Ms. Noel reminded me of what a grandmother would be like. I never had much experience with family. Apart from my mom and dad, that was all the family I knew. Sara and Dad were orphans. And now that Dad was dead, it was just Sara and me.

* * *

Precisely as Ms. Noel had promised, Claude fixed the bike. He checked the breaks, oiled, and tightened the chain, getting it in top shape. After he had finished, he let me take the bike to the back and hose it off.

The bike had some mileage. The red paint had faded, and rust had taken its place, but I didn’t care. To me, it was a priceless treasure. Now I had transportation and a job.

The first day on the job wasn’t so bad. I had to get up before daybreak. Heck, I was up before the roosters. Five in the morning was ridiculous, but I was happy to have a job. I went in early to sort out my newspapers. Everything seemed to fall in place. The route was in the downtown area, a perfect location for me. I’d get my route done and have plenty of time to make it to school on time. For now, it was convenient, and the cash would keep me afloat until the next move. For all I knew, Sara could decide to leave tomorrow.

Then I thought about the vacant house next to Ms. Noel. It sounded great, but we couldn’t afford it. We were rubbing pennies together after Sara blew our money on that stupid fortuneteller. We were barely getting by paying for the cheap hotel. I suspected by the end of the week we’d be living in the streets.

After I’d finished my last paper, I was excited to relax and goof off the rest of the day. Then my stomach started to protest. I’d eaten the extra sandwich last night that Ms. Noel had made for today. Texas had its signature hamburgers, but this sandwich beat the burgers hands-down. Crusty French bread, crispy shredded lettuce, sliced tomatoes, Creole mayonnaise paired with sausage. The sandwiches were so tasty that I couldn’t stop eating them until I’d finished the last bite, leaving me lunch-less today.

With the wind running through my hair as I glided down the steep hill, I tossed the idea back and forth whether I should visit Sara at the diner. I decided to go for it. She’d promised to feed me if I stopped by. It was about one in the afternoon. I figured folks would be clearing out, and I wouldn’t be imposing too much. My mouth began watering thinking about an ice-cold chocolate shake and crispy fries, the universal food for champions, in my opinion. I put the pedal to the metal, and off I went, soaring. A catchy tune was running through my head. Mindlessly, I hummed to it. One of Charlie Puth’s songs, The Way I am. The crisp air felt invigorating, a nice change from the heat. I closed my eyes, letting the cool breeze rest across my flushed face.

Then something alerted me. My eyes flew open, and panic slammed into first gear. A black Corvette and I were about to collide in less than half a second. I suddenly recalled the film Men in Black and the splattered bug across the windshield. With no time to veer, I shut my eyes tight. I began confessing the hundred and one sins I’d committed in the last week as I embraced my imminent death.

Holding my breath, clenching my teeth, I braced myself, but nothing happened. I opened one eye. Nothing! The black car had vanished. Then I opened the other eye, staring at an empty road in front of me. Hastily, I twisted in my seat as my eyes latched onto the license plate. How the heck did the car miss me? I stared in shock.

Unmindful of where I was going, my bike’s tire slammed into the curb, sending both the bike and me sailing. With a hard thud, I landed on my derriere. “Ow!” I winced from the sudden impact.

Thunderstruck, I rose on my elbows, spotting the expensive car speeding off into the glorious sunset. Soon it’d disappeared. Only the sound of its gears shifting echoed in my ears.

After the sound had vanished, I collapsed on my back, feeling the pain shooting down my spine. Then my eyes landed on my bike…

THE FORESHADOWER

After what felt like an eternity, I finally peeled myself off the pavement. My whole backside was rocking with agony. I picked my bike up, moaning as I bent over. As my eyes brushed over the bike, I eased a breath of relief. No damages. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky.

My body screamed in agony. The throb of my scraped-up elbows and the sharp pain shooting up my spine sent me spinning. I supposed his rich, pampered ass thought it was okay to flatten the peasant. He had to have seen me coming unless the tinted windows hindered his vision. Boy, I’d love to get my hands on the driver. Just swell! I had work early tomorrow morning too. Throwing papers was going to be a challenge, I flinched. Crap! My body hurt.

I didn’t get to make it to the diner or make it over to Ms. Noel’s for dinner that evening, either. When I got back to the hotel, I tried using my cell phone to call Sara. No such luck. Mommy dearest didn’t pay the bill. She lied, obviously. Geez! I wanted to have a temper tantrum, but my body ached too much. So, I did the next best thing, climbed under the covers, and sobbed. I hated my life, and I hated this town even more.

It was dark, around ten, when Sara came bursting through the door three sheets to the wind. The noise jolted me from a deep sleep. I jerked up to a sitting position, eyes droopy from sleep. “What’s wrong?” I rubbed my eyes, feeling a panic attack coming on.

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled. Everything is just peachy,” Sara cooed, furthering her boasting. “I rented a house just around the corner. Cute as a button and fully furnished.” Sara sashayed around the room, happy as a pig in mud.

“Say what?” My brows puckered, confused.

“I said I rented a house. Tomorrow we’ll be moving.” She flashed the keys in my face.

I sat there a minute, mulling over her announcement. “How did you get the money? We ain’t gotta pot to piss in!”

“I declare! Stop your grumbling. We’re fixin’ to move to a house. Get to packin’. We’re outta here first thing in the morning.”

I crossed my arms, fit to be tied. “Hold your horses, Mother! I can’t move us. Apart from my aches and scrapes from a bike accident today, I’m working in the morning.”

“Well then, start on it tonight. How much can it be? We only brought four suitcases.”

Like water off a duck’s back, nothing I said registered with Sara. I narrowed my eyes. “Why can’t you pack your suitcases?”

“Well, smarty-pants.” She rested her hands on her hips. “I have a date tonight, and I’m not sure if I’ll be back in time.”

“Fine! Shall I draw your bath too, your highness?”

“Watch your mouth!” Sara threatened. “I just might kick you out.” Sara’s dark eyes were on me like a lioness inching closer to its prey. Nothing was new about Sara’s threats, though the peculiar glint in her eyes felt foreign. Everything seemed off. How the blazes did she manage to lease a house blew my mind. We didn’t have any money. I wondered who she’d knocked in the head for this rental.

“Fine! I’ll pack. All the same to you, I’m not losing my job. I’ll move us after I finish my route.” I held my gaze to hers, but I didn’t go any further. By the seedy glare on Sara’s face, she’d crossed to the dark side, and that was one side I didn’t dare go.

“Have it your way, then.”

“What’s the address?” I asked.

“805 Saint Anne Street. It’s literally down the road. It’s the last house on a dead-end street.”

“You’re kidding?” My eyes followed Sara as she applied makeup to her already caked face. “How did you find the house?”

“A customer told me.” Before she said another word, a car’s headlights penetrated the curtains. Sara’s gaze lifted to the lights and then at me. “That’s my ride.” She nearly sprinted to the door. “Gotta run! See you tomorrow at the house.”

With nothing else said, she was out the door in a flash, and minutes later, the bright light dropped from the window. Loneliness soon spread over me. The sting of tears welled, but I refused to relent. The last thing I wanted to do was harp on my mom and her relentless absence.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, chewing my lip, wishing I had a book to read. My mind drifted back to Sweetwater, and instantly, I stopped. Reminiscing over Texas wasn’t going to help my state of mind. I had to bury it in my all-too-well-forgotten past. A cesspool of many faces and places locked away in the back of my brain, crammed so far down that it surely would never return.

Then I thought about my near accident with the mysterious black Corvette. I rewound that moment in my head like a bad rerun. I kept smashing into a brick wall. How the driver managed to dodge me blew my brain. He was right up in my grill, far too close to have veered. I practically was the deer in the headlights. I sighed, racked with unease. I reckoned that mystery might remain unsolved, though one I’d forever remained baffled.

* * *

After I finished my route, pushing past the misery of the scorching sun all morning, I did as Sara ordered. I managed to cram all our stuff into the Volkswagen. Luckily, the house was only a street over. I felt ridiculous, driving with a flat and my rusty bike duct-taped to the top. At least it matched. My car was as rusty as my bike. I reckoned the neighbors might go bug-eyed when they saw us moving in.