Chapter Two

After paying for his food, Justin left a fair sized tip and made his way to the Topp Homes Reality. The business was in the front of a small two story brick building, and the big windows contained leaflets that advertised homes and land for sale. Most of the pictures were faded and the date’s months passed. Justin knew that to make a living at the business in this area, you had to be either persistent or starving. As he pushed open the door, the bell jingled over the threshold, announcing that he had arrived. Justin watched as the lady behind the desk peered at him over the top of her glasses. She took in his worn jeans and boots, the faded t-shirt and unkempt hair and instantly labeled him as lost or up to no good. Her tone was frosty and matched her hair.
“Can I help you?”
Justin put on a false smile to match hers. “My father said you would have the key waiting for me.”
“And you are?”
“Justin McClellan.”
She paused for the briefest of moments. “Do you have some ID?”
He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and freed the laminated driver’s license that was not for this state. She studied it longer than necessary before handing it back to him. “He called. He said you would be here. I have people interested, you’re not going to mess the place up are you? The last people he let stay there left beer cans in the yard and I had to clean them up.”
“Last people?”
“A month or so ago, friends of his wife I assumed.”
Justin mental sighed at the comment. His father either had been lying to him about the cabin, or the wife had let people use the place without his father’s knowledge. Either way, at least he knew it was still standing and able to be used. He wondered if the cabin had been damaged in some way and asked. The woman shook her head as she pulled the keys from a drawer.
“No, no damage to the cabin, but they left the cans everywhere and nearly wrecked that old truck. I guess they were trying to drive it through the field and it was sitting next to a tree when I went up to check on the place with my son.” She placed the keys on the desk near Justin, as if she were afraid she might touch him. “My son got it started and put it back under that lean-to shed. At least they got the battery charged and put some gas in it; if it hadn’t been gassed up, I would have left it next to the tree.”
“But the cabin and the truck are alright,” asked Justin, again.
“I told you they were fine. How long will you be staying?”
“As long as I need to, why?”
“It’s just so hard to show a place like that with people living in it.”
“When was the last time you showed it?” demanded Justin, tired of her whining.
“Well--,” her protest drifted off as he stared at her.
Picking up the keys, Justin gave her a plastic smile. “Yeah. When you decide to show it, I’ll be sure to have the place clean enough. Thank you for the keys.”
As he turned on his heel and walked out, she couldn’t resist having the last word. “Don’t’ loose those keys, they are the only spare set I have!”
The door bell jangled as he opened it, leaving her words to fade in his wake.
Taking a moment to get his bearings and shake off his irritation at the realtor, Justin assessed the information she had told him, and then realized that she had not even given him a name. He thought about going back in and asking, but he knew that he did not want to have to endure her attitude, which was enough to make Justin want to choke her. He absently wondered if her son were as bad. The cabin had been visited and the truck was running. The visit might mean that they had left food at the place and it would keep Justin flush for a little longer.
The news of the truck being able to run, according to the realtor, was a boon to Justin as well. It meant that he did not have to worry about a battery or putting at least enough gas in to it to make his first run into town. The extra thirty dollars might make the difference between three days of food or starving until he found a job, which might not be very easy from the look of the town. Since his mind was on food, he tried to remember which way the store was. Gauging the height of the sun, Justin picked his direction, heading to the store so that he could still have sun enough to start his hike up to the mountain hide-a-way.
The small town was mostly quiet but for a few vehicles driving by and the normal sounds of everyday life. Walking through gave Justin the impression that it was a town which was just keeping afloat; many of the store fronts were empty and those that were occupied had shortened hours that coincided with the patrons who worked further away form town’s schedules. He saw a doctor’s office, a small newspaper which must have just printed weekly and business flyers. There was a gas station with a real garage. They must have been doing some kind of business because there were several cars parked along the building waiting to be serviced. Justin remembered there being at least another gas station in town and a couple of bars, one of which he saw was on the main drag. The town hall stood over the rest of the buildings, complete with a dome and a clock. If he remembered correctly, the local police department was in the basement of the building and they were a part-time force. He absently wondered if there were even any officers left for the small village. Turning a corner with a guess backed by the memory of the town, Justin hefted his duffle and passed by several houses that had been something to see before the companies left the area. The old structures looked like the Victorians he had seen in larger towns and cities, but these were now sitting in their faded glory; paint peeling and colors muted under the spread of the but hardwoods that guarded the lawns.
From the appearance of the grocery ahead, Justin knew he had guessed correctly, and was also glad that he did not have to walk too far with the hike that was still ahead of him. The grocery was an old concrete block structure, low and inefficient for anything but being used as what it was. It had big glass windows that gave a view of the interior and advertisements for the weekly specials. Pausing at the door, Justin made a quick mental list of the things he needed to just get by for the next two or three days. A small bottle of kerosene for the lamps he hoped were still up there, a small canister of propane for the stove and oven, and basic food stuffs. Hefting the duffle, he hoped that he could get all of that inside the bag so that he could pack it up instead of carry the food. His mind decided, Justin went into the grocery.
There was an older man at the counter and Justin asked him if he could leave his duffle while he shopped. The man made a noncommittal nod affirmative, so Justin left the bag there and began to haunt the isles.
What amazed him the most was the selections in the first few isles; there seemed to be a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables on the shelves. The grocery had a bakery section where fresh loaves were on display. Justin could not resist grabbing several fresh apples and plums, after only a moment’s hesitation, he picked up a loaf of hard bread for this evening and morning meals. The bread and the fruit with a little cheese would make a good light meal. He found a sharp cheddar cheese block before starting in on the serious food. He grabbed the three for five dollar boxes of dried scalloped potatoes and than a couple tuna helpers. The macaroni and cheese was next as they were inexpensive and did not require much in the way of preparation. The next isle had the tuna, and he picked up several of the tuna in the foil packets. It was a few cents extra, but it meant he did not have to tote the weight of the can. He also would not have as much trash to have to lug to the dump or burn which ever was the local preference. In addition he grabbed a couple cans of the SPAM-alike and corned beef hash, which was less expensive than he had thought; corned beef must have been a staple in these parts.
As he walked the short isles, he picked up three bags of dried beans; a red bean, a pinto and a mixed bean, these to go along with rice or soup. Rice was next, the bag at a heavy three pounds. Gauging the weight of his food so far, Justin knew it was time to start getting the final items. He picked up a can of parmesan cheese, a box of dried milk, a tub of butter flavored Crisco, some salt and pepper and since they were on sale, he grabbed six boxes of cornbread mix. He picked up cup of soup packets, soup mixes and noodles. A small bottle of olive oil, Justin laughed to himself that fifteen years ago, the people in the store might not have even carried something as international as olive oil. Next he got a pound of coffee and creamer than breakfast bars and granola cereal of different flavors.
Last were freezer bags and trash bags and cheap toilet paper. Taking all the items up to counter, he was greeted by the older man who nodded to him as he started to scan the items.
“You just hiking?” asked the man. “There’s a lot of land to hike.”
“I’m in town for a while,” said Justin.
“Yeah?”
Confirming what he had said, Justin tried a question of his own; “This place seems pretty modern for a small town.”
“New owners,” said the man gruffly, as if he did not approve. “Came here to get away from the big city and brought some of it with them. I guess fresh breads nice, but it don’t last as long as Wonder. They say they’re trying to be ‘Green’, whatever that means. Made some changes, at least they still get some of the old stuff in.”
Not knowing where to go with the conversation, Justin steered it away from the displeasure of the man. “Where’s the hardware store?”
“A couple streets over on Pine.”
“Which way is Pine?”
“Left on leaving the store,” supplied the old man as if he hoped that he would not have to answer any more questions. The man got to the last item and gave Justin his total.
Pulling out his wallet, Justin counted out an amount into the open hand and after receiving his change, picked up the groceries and headed out on to the street. Stopping at a nearby bench, he sat and began to field strip the boxes, taking the inner packaging out of the boxes, tearing off the instructions to keep. The things that he had multiple boxes of, he just kept one set of instructions for, and put all of them in freezer bags so if they spilled or split the contents would not be wasted. Carefully he packed them into the already full duffle and putting the fruit on top with the fresh bread, tossed the boxes in a trash can before making his way to the hardware store.
The store was a place with the basics; larger items would have to be bought at the next town over. He walked in and was asked by a friendly looking man in a red vest if he could help. Justin saw that his name tag read Pete. Pete had thinning hair and thick glasses; he looked as if he had worked in the store most of his life, which Justin guessed at about thirty-five years so far.
“I need some kerosene, a couple of small propane bottles and lantern wicks, please.”
Pete nodded. “Got that right over here. We’ve got the cans of kerosene and the plastic bottles with citronella for the bugs; you might want those since it looks like your camping.”
“Going up to the family cabin on Black Thorn.”
“The McClellan place?” Justin nodded. Pete returned the nod. “Not that I’m prying, just this town is so small you could spit tomorrow and folks would be talking about it at dinner tonight. You know there was a group of city folks up there a month or so ago.”
“I heard that.”
“Glad they left town. Came and were just rude.” He stopped at a shelf. “They took a couple of 20 pound propane tanks from us and never brought them back. You might be in luck there.”
“Good to know,” Justin said. “I better take a small canister just in case, though. I’ll take two of those plastic bottles of kerosene, too.”
Pete picked up the items and they wandered over to the counter where the register sat. “Anything else?’
“I think that will do it,” said Justin. Since Pete seemed willing to talk, Justin asked away. “Tell me about the grocery store; I was just in there and it seems that they’ve done pretty well updating it.”
Giving a laugh, Pete answered with wide grin while pushing up his glasses. “That’s a bone of contention around here. The new people came in from Chicago or something and bought it and one of the big houses in town. They updated the store, not that it didn’t need it, and added a bakery and changed some of the stuff they stocked. Made a lot of people mad when they did that, but I say it’s for the better. I really like the bread they have. The husband was a baker where they came from and he makes it up fresh everyday but Sunday and Monday. They’re closed on Sunday and only open half a day on Monday. It’s kind of hard to get folks to break some habits, like having a day of rest.”
“I got a loaf of bread, I hope it makes it to the cabin.”
“You walking up there?”
“I don’t have a car,” grinned Justin.
“You need a ride? I can give you a ride.” Pete looked embarrassed. “I mean, I have to go right by Black Thorn on the way home and I get off here soon. If you don’t mind waiting, I can at least take you to the road. It’s no problem. I’m going that way.”
Justin was taken aback for a second, but than decided it wasn’t any different from hitchhiking. He shrugged and agreed that a ride to even the road would be a good thing. Pete looked relieved. “It’ll be nice to talk to someone about something other than the closed mill and the mine.”
“I’ll wait. Where do you want to meet me?”
“Soon as I ring you up, I can get going. I’ll just let Mary know I’m leaving.” They transacted the business and Justin hefted the bag. He was glad for the offer of a ride. Pete nodded to the door. “I’ll meet you there; I’m in a Jeep Cherokee. Its beat, but it goes where I need it to.”
Justin thanked him and walked out the door to wait on Pete. He didn’t have to wait long, true to his word, Pete was pulling in front of the store in a few minutes. The Cherokee was as Pete had advertised; a beat up Sport with over sized tires and a rack on the top. Through the dust and dirt, Justin could see that it was green in color with rust over the fender wells. He opened the back door revealing that Pete was somewhat of a slob and tossed his bag and duffle on the seat. Climbing into the passenger’s seat, they headed out of town.
As they left the village limits, Pete began to talk while Justin listened. “You here for a while? I grew up here, when I moved back into town I didn’t intend to stay. I was in college for a few years and never got my degree. My dad got sick and so I came back to help out a little than never went back.”
“That’s too bad—“ tried Justin.
“Naw, I sucked at school. I was probably going to flunk out anyway.” Pete motioned to the hills and mountains around them. “This stuff gets in you and you can’t get away, not really. I mean, we’ve got kids that move out and never come back, but there’s a percentage of us that come back at some point, it’s just in the blood. I was in school in a small town anyway, so it’s not like I was leaving the opportunities of a big city. I miss seeing the shows that come out at the movies right away, but at home I can drink my beer and sit in my underwear, you know?”
Justin agreed with Pete and looked out at the scenery as they drove. Pete was correct in that the mountains could get to you. Some of the old memories were the reason he had come back to the cabin in the first place. The sound of the wind in the trees and the crystal clear nights, or even cloudy nights when you could hear the thunder rolling off the sides of the mountains and echo in the valleys; those were the things that drew him to the cabin.
“So you just slumming it up here?” asked Pete.
“No,” corrected Justin. “I am just getting away from things. I thought that coming up here would give me a chance to rethink my life a little and decide just what I wanted to accomplish next.”
“Hey, you could be me, thirty-two and working in a small town hardware store for nine bucks an hour.”
“Since I have no job at all, that might be a step up,” Justin pointed out to Pete with some humor.
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I work odd jobs, mostly factory stuff lately. I like to drive, but the last job I had was a short order cook.”
“No shit? You cook pretty good?”
“I can hold my own on the line.”
“The diner is going to be hiring.”
“The diner in town?” confirmed Justin.
Pete nodded. “The one with the pretty brunette with the glasses, yeah. The cook is going off to try his hand at cooking school. He’s been watching the food channels and thinks he can make a go of it out in the world. I heard he’s going to be leaving in a week or so.”
“Maybe I’ll check it out,” mentioned Justin.
“If you need a job, there’s one there. It probably doesn’t pay much, but if you don’t need much--.’
“I don’t,” assured Justin.
They were coming up on Black Thorn. Justin was getting ready to get out and Pete waved him off. “I’ll drop you off at the lane in, sit back.”
“Thanks.”
Pete turned on the gravel road and they rode in silence as the tires crunched under the canopy of trees to the two posts that marked the beginning of the lane back to the cabin. As they drove, Justin could see that there were a couple of new dwellings back in the trees and a few trailers as well. All looked worn by the weather though, as if the owners had put them up, but the money for upkeep had suddenly run out. Justin imagined that the mine and the mill leaving had a lot to do with the condition of the houses and trailers. Pete pulled into the lane and stopped.
“I’d go back, but I’ve got to get home.”
“No problem,” assured Justin. “You’ve already done more than I expected. Thanks again for the ride.”
“Sure, maybe if you stay a while we could get together for a beer or something.”
“Why not?”
They bid each other goodbye and Justin stepped out of the jeep and toward his new home.

Chapter One

As he waited for the operator to connect his call, he wondered if he should have even bothered to make the effort. It had been a while since he had called, or asked for anything and he hoped that the time had lessened the rift between them. He wasn’t looking for anything other than a place to stay; surely the old man couldn’t deny him that. It wasn’t like he was going to be in the same house, or even the same state. He gazed out at the small town he was standing in, a town so small that the phone he was using was still in a booth. He hadn’t seen a real phone booth since he was a kid; actually since the last time he had been in this town. Like that time before, all of his worldly possessions were in a duffle bag at his feet. The phone buzzed in his ear as the connection rang on the other end. The phone was picked up and for the first time in a year or more he heard his father’s voice.
“I have a collect call from Justin, will you accept the charges?” The operator asked. Justin crossed his fingers that his father would accept the charges on the collect call. For a moment there was only silence. The empty line seemed to stretch the distance even more than it currently was.
“I accept,” came the gruff response. The operator told them to go ahead.
There was another moment of silence as both men tried to decide where to start the conversation. Justin finally did so. “Hello, Dad.”
“Justin.” The return was flat and even through the line, Justin could feel the coolness. “What can I do for you?”
Justin couldn’t help but laugh. To the point, straight to the point, thought Justin. “I need a favor.”
“I don’t have any money,” said his father quickly.
“I don’t need any money,” assured Justin. He did need the cash, but the effort of asking for any was more than he wanted to expend. He was almost hurt that the old man had even denied him the chance to ask, if he hadn’t been going to. Regardless, Justin knew that even if his father had a million dollars in spare change, Justin was going to get none of it. His chance at getting much out of the man was limited.
“Than to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Did you call to give me more grief, or perhaps say you were sorry for all those things that happened?”
Justin sighed, but not loud enough for his father to hear. “Would it help if I said those things?”
“Would you mean them?” demanded his father.
“Probably not, Dad,” admitted Justin. Those words would be just that, empty phrases between to combatants that had spent most of a life time falling out of a friendship that had never been much of a family connection.
His father did sigh over the distance. “All I wanted was for you to accept--.”
“Dad, not right now, okay? We’re just not going to agree and I don’t want to talk about it. Listen this was a mistake, I’m going to go--.”
“What did you call for?”
Justin paused with the receiver inches away from his ear. He put it back up to his head and fought for a second with his own pride. “The cabin, Dad, can I stay in the cabin for a bit, until I get back on my feet?”
“That old hunting cabin?”
“Yeah, the old hunting cabin,” agreed Justin.
“No one’s been up there in a couple of years--,” provided his father. Not saying yes, but not out and out denying him the opportunity either. “Are you running from someone?”
“No, I just need to get on my feet.”
“What kind of trouble are you in?”
“I’m not in trouble, Dad, okay? Can I stay there or not, this is your dime you’re using up.”
The thought of money ticking away made the old man give a grunt over the line. “I suppose so. If I don’t you’ll just break into the place anyway and I’ll have to explain to the sheriff why I won’t press charges.”
“I wouldn’t break in, Dad; that was uncalled for.”
“Didn’t stop you from kicking in my door—“
“Jesus, I was seventeen—“
“And on drugs.”
“I was high, Dad, I had lost my key. You weren’t home.”
“The alarm company, the police…” the age old argument petered out. “I’ll call the reality company and tell them to give you a key.”
“Reality company?”
“I haven’t seen the sense in keeping the place if no one is going to use it. It doesn’t even have a proper bathroom or plumbing, so it’s been hard to sell. The property is on the wrong side of the mountain for builders… I’ll call. When are you going to get there?”
“Today. Later I guess. When are you going to call?”
“When we hang up. The key will be at Topp Homes Reality. Can you remember that?”
Justin looked up from the phone and down the street to where the red and white Topp Homes Reality sign hung over the sidewalk. He gave a small smile. “Yeah, I can remember that. Dad, is the truck still up there?”
“It’s all still up there.” There was a moment of silence that was at the same time comforting and accusing. Everything was still there because his father had not seen a need to come back and get it. Not in the years since his wife’s death, not since he and Justin had had their falling out, not since the new wife didn’t like the rural setting and the wood stove. “Well, I’ll call. I’ll tell them to expect you. Do you have any kind of ID? They might want that.”
“I do, Dad.”
“Than I’ll call.” There was a moment more of almost companionable quiet and just as suddenly, the call was disconnected.
Justin softly hung up his own end and with a small shake of his head, stepped out of the booth into the warm air. The small town was still small, still mostly quiet with the mountains to keep a careful watch over the thousand souls that lived there. Not much had changed in the years since his last visit; there was still the one stop light, the main drag was broken and dotted with patching which never lasted the summer. He spied the diner and decided that he should get something to eat before he picked up the key. How he was going to get to the cabin was still in question. In addition to getting there, Justin knew he was going to have to get food as well. He wondered if the local grocery was still in operation of if everyone drove the half hour to the nearest Kroger.
He knew that he must have looked like an anomaly to the local people, dressed as he was in old jeans and boots, a faded t-shirt and carrying the military style duffle bag. The style that the boots were, they might assume that he was one of the former military of the present war who was bumming across the nation. His beard was two days too long, and his hair looked as forgotten. He had thumbed his way to the small town for no reason other than he knew he could have at least spent the night before having to decide on a plan B.
As he walked, carrying his duffle, Justin took inventory of the money in his pocket. He had about three hundred dollars left. That would quickly be spent and Justin pondered the job situation here on the mountain. The logging companies were gone; most of the hardwood had been harvested years ago, the mining company had a “who you know’ hiring policy. He wondered if the mill needed any labor help or if he was also going to have to make the half hour trek to the next town for work. A battery for the truck, a couple gallons of gas; that was going to clear him of at least fifty of his dollars. Food for a couple of weeks, even eating on the cheap, that would be another hundred or so. Kerosene for the lamps, a propane tank for the stove, soap, cleaning supplies, essentials that he wasn’t even thinking about at the moment, all those things to just set up house keeping in the cabin were going to take him down to nearly zero dollars in a hurry. He wondered just what his father had meant when he said that it was “all still up there” and what that meant to his planning. With out going to the cabin first, he would not know.
Justin ducked into the diner and saw that the same old men, who had been younger once, younger but still old men to Justin, were in the diner talking what they talked and sipping coffee. They looked at Justin as he slid onto a stool with his duffle at his feet. The waitress, a pretty woman about Justin’s own age, came up to him from behind the counter. She was dressed in jeans and a green tee shirt. Her dark hair was held back in a pony tail and her green eyes were framed by dark rimmed glasses. She smiled at him as she slid the laminated menu in front of him.
“Hello, can I get you something to drink?”
The question made Justin realize that he was very thirsty. “Yeah, your biggest glass of water with lemon and a coke.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
Justin glanced around and saw that the old men had returned to their conversation, largely ignoring him as he glanced at the menu, easily deciding on the patty melt and fries.
He placed the menu on the counter in front of him and looked around at the diner again. It wasn’t very different from the last time he had been to the small town; there might have been a new coat of paint on the walls, but for the most part the seats were the same red plastic, a few years more worn, but basically the same. He had remember that the place had been a breakfast joint in those days, with most of the towns residence stopping on the way to the lumber mill or the mine, either on the way to first shift jobs or coming from the third shift diggings. Justin and his father and friends had stopped in on the way to the cabin many times, trips when they had gone hunting or times when they were escaping for no reason other than to get away. Than he had been young, still impressionable and the little town had seem idyllic in its ruralness and attitude. The last time he had really been to the town with his father was at the age of sixteen; he had come up grudgingly, knowing that his father was trying to make some kind of effort to be a friend and a father after having been absent in his life for the last two or three years. Justin remembered the discomfort of the ride into town the silent meal in this same eatery, and the strained ride up to the cabin. They had stayed one night before leaving. His father had drank himself through a six pack of beer and Justin had smoked two joints that night, all efforts at conversation stilted and failing on both parts. They left the next morning without another meal served.
Justin had been to the cabin a couple times since, with friends on his graduation night from high school, with a “hippy” girlfriend and again with a couple of friends to party. He had not been to the retreat for a few years and wondered just how it looked now after the passage of time had taken its toll.
The arrival of his drinks broke his reverie. He smiled as the water was placed in front of him.
“You ready to order?”
Justin gave her his choice and she nodded, turning to the window to place the ticket on the wheel. Justin had worked at a couple of greasy spoons in his day and knew that if the cook was worth his salt, he would already have been listening to the diners and known what they were going to order as slow as they were. The waitress picked up the coffee pot and made her rounds of the old men, talking with them briefly before returning to Justin, who had drained more than half his water glass. She nodded to the glass.
“Need a refill?”
“Please.”
Topping the glass, she set it in front of Justin. “You passing through?”
Shaking his head, Justin sipped at the water. “I’m going to be staying up on the mountain; my folks have a cabin up there.”
“Oh.” She began to turn away.
“Oh?” repeated Justin, trying to get her to stay a moment longer. “What does ‘oh’ mean?”
“Nothing, really—“
“Yeah it does,” pushed Justin. “It means something like; oh, a rich kid slumming—right?”
She debated on weather or not to answer since her tip could depend on it. With a sigh that Justin barely heard, she finally shrugged. “I guess.”
“No, no rich kid here,” assured Justin. “This cabin’s been in the family since I was a kid, but it’s nothing to shake a stick at. Just a little two room hunting cabin with an outhouse. I think my father said that it was on the wrong side of the mountain to sell.”
As if the assurance meant something to her, she smiled. “You’ve got a place on Black Thorn than?”
Nodding, Justin gave her the road. “Our lane is off there and about four hundred feet too long for the power to run to it. My dad never wanted to put up the pole or stretch the wire to meet the power company half way.”
“Yeah, and now he can’t sell because of the heavy metal in the water--.”
“Heavy metal?” queried Justin. That was a bad thing since all the water came from either the creek or the 500 gallon water barrel they had lugged up there to catch rain water. If the creek water was contaminated, his options for drinking and cleaning were halved to bottled water and sponge baths.
“Depends on the well,” she told him. “They say the creek is still good.”
The cook called for order up. She turned and grabbed up his plate and returned with it in hand. Justin liked the way she moved and the frank way she spoke. “So if I get my water from the creek I should be good?”
“Just how rustic is this place?”
“I told you it was two rooms and an outhouse,” he reminded her.
She stared at him for a second. “Are you talking about the McClellan place?”
“The one and only.”
“Wow, I didn’t think that was still standing.”
“I hope it is, I’m planning on sleeping there tonight.”
She looked past him and out at the street beyond the diner. “What did you drive?”
Justin picked up a fry. “I walked and hitch hiked.”
“How are you going to get up there?”
“Same way.”
“Good luck with that,” she told him. “That road is pretty much a dirt path now since the mine shut down and the lumber mill moved on.”
Justin shrugged as he picked up his patty melt. The onions were hanging off the grilled bread in long ropes and the grease was already running on his hand. It was going to be a good sandwich. “I’ve got the rest of the day to get there. Is the grocery still open?”
“Just.”
He thanked her and bit into the sandwich, tasting the thousand island dressing they used as it mixed pleasantly with the onion, fried beef patty and cheese. She moved to take one of the old men’s money, leaving Justin to his meal.