Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“She saw a rabbit.”
“Ahhh,” Amon groans, then turns and looks at Mercy. “We’ve had this discussion ten times already, Mercy girl. You went clean and now you gave in to the temptation. You’re gonna be in a world of hurt tryin’ to kick this habit again.”
I just shake my head. And when I look back at Mercy, she’s practically rolling her eyes because she knows damn well she’s covering for me.
“In all seriousness,” Amon says, “she probably needs a few more weeks of training at the kennel. I’ll take her back with me tonight.”
“Nah, that’s OK. She’s fine, Amon. She’s good just the way she is.”
“Ah-ha!” He points at me. “You love her, don’t you? I knew it. I knew you’d keep a dog if I just gave you a little push.”
I smile and look out the window. “Whatever.” But he’s right. I do like Mercy. She’s not a pet, she’s more like a partner. She’s so well trained too. I can practically ignore her and she just knows what to do.
Amon talks about Sassy Lorraine’s dognapping caper as we drive down the winding road into Revenant. The three towns are all located on a loop that cuts off the main highway right at Revenant, then takes you up into the hills to Disciple, curves around over the river, and goes back down to Bishop where the loop ends at the same highway where it began, but about twenty miles down the road.
So Revenant is actually pretty busy because of this fact. If the town wasn’t owned—like one hundred percent owned—by the Revenant Corporation, there would be apartments and townhouses all over the damn place. But that corp owns about a thousand acres to the west and Bishop owns all the acres to the east. So try as they might, the developers will never take over Revenant because this land is in a perpetual contract with the Trinity that has no termination.
Disciple and Bishop are the same way. There will be no ‘progress’ as far as the Trinity is concerned.
And it’s nice, I think. Because even though I have not been in Revenant for over a decade—we came in on the Bishop side of things when we were buying the compound outside Disciple—it still looks the same. Other than new paint on the buildings and a newly blacktopped road through downtown, it’s exactly how I remember it.
Of course, if you’re gone twelve years then the people change. Lucas is my example A. Since the last time I saw him, he was ten and now he’s some big-ass blond biker.
If Disciple is old-timey, and Bishop is historical, then I would describe Revenant as quaint. Which is not a word one typically uses to describe a biker town. But it’s right on the river. Not only that, it’s a wide part of the river so there’s actually a little cove with a tiny fishin’ marina. So the whole thing brings out a bit of character that one mostly finds in New England, and not West Virginia.
It’s charming, I think. With the brightly painted Cape Cod buildings. Some are big, some are very small, and some are even stately. And when you mix all that in with the line of bikes parked diagonal and crowding every street in downtown, it’s an appealing contradiction.
Every other bike parked down here doesn’t even run. They are just props so the aesthetic of downtown maintains its biker roots at all times. Only every other bike, though. So bikers can come in from the city and get a nice space in front of a bar, or a hotel, or a restaurant.
Which means we have to park blocks away. But it’s fine. Amon does that and then we head into the downtown area on foot, Mercy heelin’ right at my left knee.
Ester is type-type-typin’ away when I enter the little stone building where Jim Bob does his town business. “Go on in.” She doesn’t even look up. “He’s expectin’ ya.”
“Thanks,” I say, passing her desk and approaching Jim Bob’s massive door. It’s always been intimidating, this door. I was a little girl of only nine the very first time I was called down here. Ester, who was a lot younger back then but, in my memory, looked exactly the same as she does now, was waitin’ for me when I got off the bus from school. She said, “Come with me, little Lowyn. Jim Bob needs to speak to you.”
This was not unusual. Everyone has been called into Jim Bob’s office at one time or another. But lookin’ back, nine was a little young. There was a good reason, though. I was going to sing a solo at the Christmas Eve Revival and Jim Bob wanted to give me some direction. I don’t remember much about the meeting, but I do remember that I sang my little heart out for that show.