A Path Made Plain Read Free Page B

so.
    “You’re going to have a wonderful bakery, Betsy,” Emma said. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.”
    Betsy nodded. “Thank you. Daed , please thank my oncles , and daadi too.” They were investing a tremendous amount of money in her business venture.
    But Aenti Sarah? Yes, her pies and desserts had made many a mouth water for decades. She was daadi’s only sibling left and owned a home in Pinecraft smelling like liniment and antiseptic cleaner inside. Betsy had only been there a few times in her life, but had left with a raging headache each visit. The woman was prone to giving advice for no less than fifteen minutes at a time without taking a breath—even when said advice wasn’t asked for.
    Lord, this is an answer to my prayers, but I’m going to need strength with Aenti Sarah around.
    * * *
    Thad yawned and rotated his head from side to side, feeling like a bobblehead under his helmet. With the change in landscape, thunderclouds had rolled in as he passed through the Blue Ridge Mountains, the highway carrying him ever closer to Florida. He’d been delayed two days in Kentucky, getting a replacement part for his bike, and he gladly let the Harley Sportster eat up the miles to make up for lost time.
    At dusk, with flashes of lightning and claps of thunder, the heavens opened. The rain and spray of passing vehicles doused Thad until his clothes clung to him. Thad decelerated, spotting a sign for a covered rest stop off the highway.
    He found a parking spot close to a covered picnic pavilion and took shelter underneath its roof, all the while watching the rain pour down and vehicles pass on the highway nearby. A dark sedan had also exited the highway behind him. It now sat parked in the last space, closest to the highway.
    Nah, he wasn’t being followed. This was a highway and people took shelter at rest stops all the time. Often, if he ever took to the road on a rare day off to himself, he’d encounter the same folks mile after mile. Still, he shivered inside his wet leathers. He sank onto the stone picnic table bench. He tugged his helmet off and set it on the table.
    But just in case, he’d wait until the downpour let up, then keep moving on. He needed to find a place to get a cup of coffee and a room for the night. Part of him knew it had been foolish to start out and expect to make it all the way to Florida nonstop. The weather caught up with him after all.
    His cell phone buzzed. A miracle, with the way his bag was soaked. But inside, sandwiched between a few changes of clothing, maybe not. He pulled it out of the bag and looked at the number.
    Stacie. He’d ended things almost a month ago, for reasons not quite clear to even him. He almost pushed the button to stop the buzzing, then thought better of it.
    “Thad here.”
    “Thank goodness you answered. Finally.”
    Hello to you, too. But her tone made him pause. This wasn’t the I’m-about-to-tell-you-what’s-good-for-you tone. This tone had a different quality.
    “Finally? Look, now’s not a good time for me to talk.”
    “I can’t talk long. In fact, I’m probably getting a new number.”
    “Well, good.” A truck’s horn blared, the sound trailing off as the vehicle disappeared into the night.
    “I think you should, too.”
    “Why?”
    “Someone came by my office today, asking about you.”
    “Who?”
    “I don’t know. I was home sick.”
    His pulse roared in his ears. He’d already given his statement to the police, and none of them had said anything about him not leaving town. But it didn’t mean things would be safer for him if he stayed in Ohio. He couldn’t call the shots. This way was better. He’d been raised to respect the authorities, yet still feared them. Power wielded by the wrong people, even for the right reasons, well, he knew what it could do to even the most well-intentioned.
    “Did they leave a name or a number, or something?” If it was a cop, they’d leave a card. Or so it went on TV.