Chapter 5

Twenty minutes later, we came to a crossroads that featured a restaurant housed in a mobile home on one corner. There were a half-dozen pickups and a Honda Accord parked around the place, but no nondescript SUVs or sedans. The neatly lettered sign said “Kim’s Place”, and the establishment looked reasonably clean.

“What do you think?” I asked Sharon as I pulled up to the four-way stop.

“Let’s try it.”

I eased the truck onto the gravel parking area, and parked in such a way that we could drive straight out, if needed. I took my holstered carry pistol out of my console and tucked it into my belt. “I only have one concealed carry holster” I said.

“I don’t have a license, anyway,” Sharon said as she opened her door and stepped to the ground. “Don’t forget to lock it; we haven’t put up the rifles.”

I pulled my shirttail out to conceal my pistol, and then got out of the truck. I locked it with the remote, and then we both walked into the restaurant.

“Hello, folks! Sit where you’d like, and I’ll be right there.” The speaker was a young woman about Sharon’s age, but shorter and with a medium complexion and an accent I couldn’t quite place. There were ten tables in the small dining area, and three of them were occupied. Two or three people looked our way, but no one paid us much mind. We picked a table where we could see outside, and sat down.

The young woman who’d spoken to us showed up a minute later with menus, and we gave her our order – pancakes, bacon and eggs over easy for us both, with coffee. She returned a moment later with the coffee, and we settled in to wait for our plates.

“Do you think our friends will show up?” Sharon spoke in a normal tone, but her face betrayed her worry.

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “We will just have to watch for them.”

She took a sip of her coffee, set the cup back on the table, holding it with both hands. I reached out and gently took her right hand in my left. She looked down at our joined hands, and then back up at me with mingled apprehension and pleasure.

“Is this okay?” I asked gently.

Sharon’s lips quirked in a smile. “This is all new to me.”

“Which, being In West Texas, or eating breakfast in a converted mobile home?”

Her smile widened into a grin for a moment. “This” she squeezed my hand gently. “Thomas, we hardly know each other, and yet...”

I waited for her to continue; I was willing to give her all the time she needed – no matter how badly I wanted to jump in with my take on the last day.

“I don’t know if it’s love that I feel,” Sharon said quietly. Her eyes met mine, and her earnestness tugged at my heart. “I’ve had crushes, and I’ve met guys that I really liked, and we hung out together. But,” she took a breath, “I’ve never had a real love, or a real lover.”

Her lips quirked as I stared at her in surprise. “My parents taught me that I should be careful about who I let in, both physically and emotionally. Does that surprise you?”

“A little, yes,” I said. “My wife and I were both virgins on our wedding night, but we were very young. Megan had just graduated from high school when we married, so we were chaperoned just about every time we saw each other.”

She nodded. “My parents hit on a different strategy. Move around a lot.” Her smile was tinged with sadness.

“That must have been hard.”

“It was, in some ways. I’ve had the life that most people only dream of, Thomas. I’ve been to ninety countries, I’ve lived for a year each in four of those. I’ve been outside the United States for as much time as I’ve been in it. My family wants for nothing; we live the way we want to live. We’ve never been in debt, and we work only because we want to do something useful.”

“So, what was hard about it?” I was serious, and she smiled crookedly.

“You are the first man I’ve ever known that didn’t contrive to meet me because of my family.”

“Well, you did just drop out of the clear blue sky on me.”

Sharon laughed softly, and then tilted her head slightly as she looked straight at me. “Why do you think you’re in love with me?”

I considered my answer carefully for a long moment. “Megan and I went to the same schools together from first grade up. I was three years older, so she was just a kid I knew. And then, one day, when I was a junior, we crossed paths in the school hallway, and everything changed in that moment.” I looked down at the table to compose myself.

“Thomas?”

I looked back up at Sharon. “We saw each other, Sharon. She told me later that she knew, and I knew at that same moment. And now,” I squeezed her hand gently, “I see you. I can’t explain it, but I don’t think it’s some spooky nonsense, either. It was real then, and it’s real now, for me.”

“What if we’re wrong?”

“People make wrong choices. Your pal Reggie made a bad choice.”

She snorted. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

“But here we are,” I said quietly, leaning toward her slightly for emphasis.

“If you’re a shyster, Thomas Jackson, I will make sure you regret it.”

“Shyster or not,” I said with a grin, “I’m not going to leave you,” my grin vanished, “unless you ask me to leave. I won’t force myself on you in any way. Not physically, not emotionally, and not financially. And, I will do my level best to get you where you need to go.”

Sharon sat quietly for a moment. “I hear you, Thomas, and I believe you. I don’t know if I see you. I’m scared; of what, I can’t say.”

I opened my fingers to release her hand, and she gently grasped my hand, holding it in place on the table. “Stay with me, please? I just need some time, okay?”

“Okay, you’ve got all the time you need.” My voice was husky with emotion as my heart tried to sink and fly at the same time.

We sat like that, holding hands and glancing at each other across the table, until our food arrived.

After breakfast, we got back on the road, and pointed the truck northward. I outlined my planned route for Sharon; we would stay on the smaller, less traveled roads, and make our way north until we found Interstate 40.

The Texas prairie stretched out in all directions as we drove. The road only curved to conform to property lines. Otherwise, they were almost perfectly straight and flat. We passed through communities, and the occasional small town, as the sun climbed into the pale blue sky. We stopped once to refuel the truck, and we continued onward.

Sharon and I mostly rode in silence. One of us would point out something interesting, and we would laugh about it if it were humorous. I tried to stamp out my anxiety, confining my attempts to salve my discomfort to furtive glances when she wasn’t looking my way.

At around noon, the interstate came into sight. Four or so miles ahead, I picked out an overpass with a pair of heavy trucks crossing it in opposite directions. We soon arrived at the intersection, and I turned right onto the frontage road, and then I entered the onramp and merged onto the interstate. I brought the truck up to the speed limit, and set the cruise control.

“Well, we’re here,” I said at length. “We can make a lot better time, and we’re headed in the right direction for New Orleans.”

“That’s good,” Sharon sighed. “The last few days have been pretty stressful. It won’t be over until we can talk to the FBI.”

“If these people are some sort of organized crime group, it may not be over then,” I said. “If you’re a threat, they can be persistent.”

“Thanks for cheering me up.” She sounded irritated.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.” I tried to keep my voice neutral.

“I know, okay? I saw them, too. And how can you be so calm about it?” She shook her head. “That’s easy. They aren’t chasing you; they’re after me and probably this stupid computer thing.”