The Road to Testament by Eva Marie Everson

Author:Eva Marie Everson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

By ten-thirty the backseat of my car looked like Christmas, and Lorelei—my salesclerk and hiking boot expert—was practically financially set for college. She made certain to let me know that she worked three evenings a week—Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday—and always on Saturday mornings. “Should you ever need anything else that I can help you with.”

“Thank you, Lorelei,” I said. She and I stood outside the store, loading the Jag. “I’m sure I’ll be back after the weather turns cooler.”

“Until then, I think we have you good and covered should the first dip in temperature be sooner than later.” Her eyes widened. “And you never know around here. It just might.”

I thanked her again, got in the car, pulled out, and headed back to Testament. I had passed through Green Hill when my cell rang. I reached my hand into the purse sitting on the passenger’s seat, dug around until my hand found it, and pulled it out, careful in my reading of the caller ID.

Will Decker.

“Hello?”

“Hey there,” he said, his voice low and sleepy. “Wanted to touch base with you about the party this afternoon for Miss Helen.” He cleared his throat as though to scare the frogs, as my grandfather used to say.

“All right.”

“Uh . . . if you’d like, we can meet at the paper around one-thirty. I’m happy to drive us both out there since you don’t know the way to the family’s homestead.”

I felt too good to argue, but threw an idea in for good measure. “How about we meet at the paper around one-thirty and I’ll drive us out there.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t? Why not?”

“Because the house is way out in the piney woods, that’s why.”

My mind conjured up some of the farms and shacks from The Andy Griffith Show. Deeply rutted dirt roads leading to unpainted wooden structures, with rickety steps and dark porches boasting unstable rockers and butter churns. “So what are you saying? My car won’t make it down a dirt road?”

“Not these dirt roads.”

“What if I said I was willing to take that chance?”

He cleared his throat again, but didn’t answer.

“Did you just get up or something?” I asked.

He chuckled. “It’s Saturday, remember? Don’t tell me you’re an early riser, even on Saturday . . .”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I glanced at the sky. A bright blue canvas dotted by cotton-balls of white seemed to be threatened by larger dark-gray monsters. Occasional trees in wide pastures shimmied in a growing breeze.

“Because then I’d have to change one of my opinions about you,” he said.

“Which is?”

“That you languish in bed on Saturday mornings until the maid or some other house servant brings you your coffee.”

He’d gotten part of that right. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought. First of all, I prefer tea to coffee; secondly, I don’t have a full-time maid; and thirdly, I’m already on my way back from Chimney Rock.”

“What’d you do there?”

“I don’t really see where that’s any of your business, but if you must know, I went clothes shopping.

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