“She sounds a little stubborn,” Nora shook her head, “but I’m pretty sure she is a really good girl. She plays basketball, and, to hear her dad tell it, she is every bit as obsessed as Grant.”
“Does Jessica play basketball too?” Emily inquired.
“No,” Nora smiled. “She says she’s the black sheep of the family!”
“Wait until we tell Grant about Hailey!” Emily said eagerly.
Grant knocked on Nora’s window, and she rolled it down. “I’m gonna run in and get a drink; do you want anything?”
“Yeah, grab us some water,” Nora nodded, “but no snacks because we’re about to have lunch with Jack and the girls.”
As Grant walked toward the store, Nora began to reminisce. “You know,” she smiled as she pointed to a small, old diner across the street, “when I was your age, Emily, it was a big treat for Jack and I to get to hang out at that diner. It was always where we came when we made the road trip to the big city.”
“How long did you and Jack date?” Emily exclaimed.
“Our whole lives,” Nora laughed. “I mean we were close all our lives, but high school was really when things got serious between us.”
“Mom!” Emily exclaimed. “Why haven’t I ever heard about this?”
“Well, I met Randy,” Nora shrugged at Emily, who was, at this point, engrossed in the story of her mother’s past. “I met your dad, and I can’t say that I ever thought of Jack after that, not until recently. I couldn’t believe we even recognized each other after all those years. He brought me here to this old diner; I haven’t been back in so many years; I had no idea it was even still in business. I’ll tell you, Emily, I felt like I was seventeen all over again. Back then, Jack was the only boy I thought I would ever marry.”
“That is so romantic,” Emily smiled.
“You’re going to love, Jack,” Nora promised. “He’s a class act… a really special man.”
“You have stars in your eyes,” Emily accused.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Nora laughed.
In truth, Nora couldn’t believe she had forgotten how right she and Jack had always been together, how comfortable they were with each other. Most surprisingly, she couldn’t believe how they had fallen so easily back into each others lives, like they never left.
Grant ran to the car, startling the girls when he flung the door open. “Em, look!” he said excitedly. “They had this CD in there for a dollar!”
“No way!” Emily exclaimed as she stared at the cover.
“Look at the picture on the back,” Grant laughed.
“What is it?” Nora asked curiously.
“Here, stick it in,” Grant said as he tore into the CD.
“Grant, wait, please, I want to talk to you,” Nora called.
Emily grabbed the CD and popped it into the car’s CD player.
Grant began to head bang playfully.
“What is this?” Nora asked, curling her lip as a screeching ruckus blared from the speakers. “Grant, please don’t give yourself whiplash, Son!”
“It’s Wally’s illusive first album,” Emily laughed.
“You paid money for something Wally recorded?” Nora snickered.
“It’s his old stuff from his hard rock days,” Emily gushed. “Obviously, this is pretty bad, but I do kind of like his new stuff.”
“No you don’t,” Grant laughed. “You just tell him that you do because you’re too nice to tell him the truth like I do, remember?”
“Yeah, you might be right,” Emily nodded.
Grant began cackling in the backseat, and the contagious sound of his laughter filled Nora with a relieved sense of hope. Emily crawled into the back seat, and the two kids began head banging in their personal mosh pit, occasionally falling all over each other in fits of giggles.
“Well, I certainly can’t talk over this racket,” Nora sighed. She stared into her rearview mirror as she pulled back onto the highway, and the sight of the children made her smile. “Hope Hull, here we come,” she whispered.
Grant stared out the back window of the car at a white, wooden sign, staked in the ground and hospitably welcoming lost travelers with capital, kelly green letters that read: WELCOME TO HOPE HULL Y’ALL. Under the greeting, in a smaller print, was the shocking reality: Population 87.
“Wow,” Grant scoffed as they passed, “the three of us knock it up to an even 90; you’d think they’d be a little more grateful… where is our tickertape parade, y’all?”
“Technically 91,” Emily quipped, “if we count both of your personalities.”
“Ouch,” Grant winked.
“You’re the lucky one,” Emily sighed. “I had to leave all my friends behind, but you obviously brought your two best friends, Sarcasm and Cynicism, along for the ride.”
The dirt road seemed to stretch on for miles with nothing in sight except for cows kept behind rusted, barbed wire fences. There were white cows and black cows and brown cows and one white cow with black spots. Some of the cows stood at the fence staring down the car as it passed. Others moseyed about unhindered by their visitors. Some fed on large bales of hay, refusing to allow the traffic to interfere with lunch. All were partly responsible for the unbearable stench that seeped into the car. Grant ducked his nose under the collar of his shirt as he stared out the window, mesmerized to silence by his disbelief. Occasionally, the monotony of the cows was disrupted by the sight of a red barn, a small, white, wooden house surrounded by acres of pasture, or by horses, goats, pigs, and other animals.
Surrounding the creek, fall leaves of yellow, brown, orange and red decorated the trees, as the Spanish Moss hung down, framing the water.
