My name is Solomon Trend. I am a claims adjuster for Universal Beneficial Amalgamated Insurance. I am sure that you have never heard of us. We are a clearing house for hundreds of very small independent insurance companies. I have worked for the same company for 22 years and have never considered changing jobs. The job is boring and is a perfect fit for my personality.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy or despondent. I am just not very motivated.

My personal life is much like my career. I have been married for twenty-three years and have twin daughters, Rose and Iris, who are seniors at Albright College. I also have a four-bedroom home with a humongous mortgage that paid for that college. My wife, Marcie, has never worked or had a desire to. Our income has been adequate, but that is about it. Even though, I have been able to save about forty thousand dollars over the years.

My marriage is and always has been lukewarm. I was expecting and hoping for more. I tried all the usual tricks to liven things up, but nothing seemed to work. Today, I found out why.

It was a normal day at UBAI, boring as hell. It was just after lunch when I got the call. It was my wife’s phone. She very seldom calls me at work, so I was interested.

“Hello!”

“Solomon, old buddy! How are you? I haven’t heard from you in years.”

“Yeah! Who is this and why are you using my wife’s phone?”

“It’s Brad, Solomon. Brad Mercer. You remember me, don’t you? I am the guy that you stole Marcie from. What was it, about twenty-five years ago?”

Sure I remembered. I didn’t steal her. He left town and I picked her up after he was gone. I would never steal another guy’s girl. As far as I was concerned she was fair game.

“Yeah! I remember. I would still like to know what you are doing with her phone?”

“Well Solomon, it is like this. I was in town on business and gave her a call. We got together for lunch and one thing lead to another and we ended up in my hotel room. Right now she is taking a shower so I decided to chat you up.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She said that she wanted to clean up before heading home so that you wouldn’t be upset. You want to hear something funny, Solomon. Listen to this.”

There was a slight pause and then I could hear the sound of a motor of some type running. I couldn’t make out what it was.

“Did you hear that, Solomon? That was a hair dryer. Would you believe that? I asked her to meet me for lunch and she brings a mini hair drier along with her. What does that tell you, Solomon?”

“What do you want, Brad? Why the call?”

“I just want to thank you for stealing my girl. How does it feel to know that I am still the better man? You may be married to her, but her heart is still mine. Why else would she be here?”

I disconnected the call and blocked the number. I didn’t need to know anymore. That call answered a lot of questions that I had over the last couple of years.

It took less than an hour to terminate my employment and have my salary and vacation pay forwarded to my brother in Huntsville. I stopped by the bank and cleaned out all the accounts. I didn’t pay off the credit cards or the mortgage. I had the first class mail forwarded to my brother also. I had just finished loading all of my stuff in the car when Marcie arrived.

“Solomon, what is going on? Why is your car filled up with stuff?”

I was sitting at the kitchen table finishing a cup of coffee, as she set a few grocery bags on the counter. “Oh, you noticed.”

There was a moment of silence as she started to empty the bags. She stopped halfway and turned. “Are you going to tell me what is going on?” She waited, arms akimbo.

I placed my cup on the table and walked to the counter. Reaching into her purse, I pulled out a bright red metallic mini hair dryer. I simply held it up and waited for a reaction or an explanation. She stood frozen for a moment, and then deeply sighed and quietly left the room. Five minutes later, I was on the road heading for Huntsville.

My brother Bob and his wife, Barbara were happy to see me. It had been several years since we had gotten together. Bob and I chatted for a bit, while Barbara put supper together. I was able to explain the whole situation without having any great emotional lapses. He seemed impressed that I was taking it so calmly. I was pretty beat after the long drive, so I turned in right after supper.

Bob was up and gone when I got out of bed. He worked at the Toyota plant just North of Huntsville. Barbara volunteered to chauffeur me around and help me get settled in. It didn’t involve much. I got a new driver’s license and made arrangements to have mail delivery at Bob’s house. Barbara followed me over to Carmax, and twenty minutes later I had a check for the Honda CRV. As soon as Bob got off work we were headed for the Rocket City RV center. Barbara and I had lunch at Olive Garden.

I wasn’t too fussy, and after several hours, I finally settled on a small Rialta. They had it ready for me the next day. The sales rep spent a few hours going over everything that I needed to know about the operation and maintenance of my new home. I took it as is, except I had four new tires installed. Barbara was all excited about helping me set up all of my housekeeping necessities, and Bob had put together a small tool kit, gleaned from his overflowing garage.

The next morning I was gone. There was no plan. There was no destination. Whatever happened; happened. Where ever I ended up was the place that I was destined to be. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t prepare for eventualities. I was easygoing, but I was not careless or stupid. I avoided congestion. I avoided large cities during rush hours. I avoid bad weather. I didn’t look for trouble, and I did try and stay away from it.

The first two weeks I spent just driving. I was an avid follower of the “fifteen free parking locations for nomads”, and figured that by the end of the year, I would have tried all of them. The problem was that at the rate I was going I would soon use up most of my readies on gas. Although I wasn’t planning on anything, I decided to look for some type of opportunity.

It was the middle of July and I was in South Dakota. I didn’t plan it, it just happened. I have always heard about Sturgis, but since I had no interest whatsoever in motorcycles, I never thought about going there. The third place that I stopped at offered me free parking, free meals, and some under-the-table cash if I stayed the full month. I had no bartending experience, so I spent the next five weeks working in the kitchen. Running the clipper was no problem, and I even got a chance to do a little kitchen work. It was a bit hectic but exhilarating. I paid attention and learned something in that short time. The rally only lasted for ten days, however, things were active before it started and after it was over. I was busy every day, all day. It was exhilarating, to say the least. By the end of the month, I felt qualified to do most of the fast-food cooking, but I was not a chef.

I stayed on for a week after it was over and then moved on west.

Two weeks later, I had a job cooking at a camping resort near Cody, Wyoming. Free parking, free food, and under-the-table money. How could I complain? After three months, the weather was starting to get a bit nippy, so I left, with a promise to come back the next Spring. They were happy, and I had gotten a lot more experience, and some more traveling money.

The last sign that I saw, said something about the Shoshone National Forest, but I had no idea where the hell I was. It was a nice day, so I pulled over onto what appeared to be a designated parking spot of some sort. It was a nice area, away from the traffic noise. Since I was in no hurry, I decided to stay a few days, or until somebody chased me off.

That was when I met Micah. He wandered up to the camper while I was enjoying the sunset. He was a bit rough looking for an old man, but he didn’t look like a bum or a derelict.

“The coffee smells good. Do you have an extra cup to spare?”

I poured him a cup and pulled a folding chair out from under the Rialta.

“My name is Solomon, like the king. What’s yours?”

“My name is Micah, not like any king that I know.” He smiled at his own wit.

e sat and chatted about the weather, the view, and other insignificant stuff for a few minutes. “Where is your car, Micah?”

“Don’t have one. I was walking.”

“From where?”

“From home.” His short answers were getting a bit annoying and frustrating.

“Is it close?”

“No. Not really. I have been walking for two days now.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah! I could eat. Do you have anything handy? I don’t want to put you out.”

One thing led to another, and I ended up feeding Micah and then he spent the night in the RV. The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast and chatted some more.

“Micah, does anyone know that you are here?”

“Oh yeah! My granddaughter Ottilie. She knows where I am.”

“Isn’t she worried?”

“Why would she be? I always come home.” I was at a loss for words.

“You know, Solomon. Maybe I should go home. I need a change of underwear and some new socks.”

“Hey! A bath and a shave wouldn’t be bad either, old man.”

Thirty minutes later, Micah and I were on our way. The only city sign that I saw, said Lander, but I still didn’t know where I was. I should have gotten a GPS for the RV before I left. Maybe I’ll get myself one for Christmas. After an endless series of driving directions, we finally ended up in front of a cabin-type home that appeared to be half stone and half logs. It was very picturesque so to speak.

She was standing on the front porch waiting for us. It was as if she knew we were coming, and I found out that she did.

“Thank you for bringing Sabba home. I was afraid that I was going to have to go get him.” She was tall, with bronze skin and black hair. I couldn’t tell much else because she was dressed in loose jeans and flannel. The term ‘sabba’ was interesting.

“You knew where he was?”

“Of course. I always know where he is. I have a tracker sewn into his jacket. The battery will last for a week, but I usually get him back after three days or so.”

“Does he have dementia? Is that why he wanders?”

“No! He is fine. We had him checked several times. He just likes to walk around in the woods. He has been doing it for two years now and we haven’t had a problem. I do have to go get him occasionally, however. If I tried to restrict him in any way, then we would have a problem.”

I held out my hand. “I am Solomon by the way. I guess that I saved you a trip.”

“Ottilie. Micah is my Grandfather. I appreciate you bringing him home, or did I say that already? Anyway, come on in. I got hot coffee and cold beer. Your choice.” Micah had disappeared somewhere. I assumed he was taking a shower and changing clothes.

We talked a while and then Micah reappeared, freshly showered and shaved. Ottilie made lunch. It was the first time that I had had a sit-down meal at a table in several months. It was nice. After lunch, Micah disappeared to someplace, and Ottilie gave me a tour of the property. They owned six hundred and forty acres, but most of it was wooded and mountainous. Not much good for ranching or farming. It was beautiful, however.

Ottilie and I seemed to hit it off. Before I knew what happened, I was committed to supper and promised a hot shower and a regular bed for the night.

A month later I was still there.

The winter was harsh and Micah did not like the snow. He spent the winter wood carving. He liked to carve canes with unique designs and handles. Of course, all of the wood that he used came from the property. I spend hours walking with him, weather permitting, searching for just the right pieces that he wanted. What caught my eye as we were scavenging, was the large numbers of cottonwood trees throughout the property. I happened to know that cottonwood bark carving had become very popular, but all Micah was interested in carving was his canes.

Ottilie kept herself occupied writing romance novels. It appears that she had a knack for it. She had over thirty-five bodice ripper e-books listed on Amazon and a few other sites. She had developed a good following and the new novels sold as soon as she posted them. They were cheap, but she sold a lot of them.

I earned my keep by doing all of the past-due maintenance that the house and outbuildings sorely needed. It appeared to be an ongoing project with no end in sight.

The previous owners of the property had kept horses so there was a full-sized barn at the rear of the house. Micah and Ottilie were not into horses so the barn was empty. I put the Rialta in the barn alongside a utility vehicle that had appeared to never have been used. It only took half a day to get the ATV serviced and in good operating condition. I had a plan but wanted to talk to Ottilie first.

“Ottelie, we have to talk!” She was working on her computer.

“Oh no!” She leaned back in her chair, put the back of her hand on her forehead, and started to moan. Naturally, I stood there with a confused look on my face.

“Lighten up, Solomon, it’s a joke.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Let me explain it to you. In all the romance and erotic novels, when a couple has a problem of a sexual nature between them, they always have a conversation that starts with those four words. Usually one of them is going to tell the other one of a dastardly deed that he or she has done or is about to do. This great reveal always has the effect of creating a rift between them. One of them is critically hurt and the other is usually indifferent or vengeful. Or something like that. It can go many, many ways.”