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)
This makes her chuckle. “You and your words. Fine. You can stay. But only if you stay out of my stuff. Don’t go peeking around.”
“Why? You hiding something?”
“None of your business. But if you don’t promise, you can’t stay.”
“My promise means that much? You’ll just trust me if I say I won’t?”
“Did you already forget about how you ruined me?”
I let out a breath. “I will not look through your stuff. But I’m allowed to check the fridge and make a cup of coffee?”
I can hear her smile on the other end of the line. I’m sure she’s thinking this is a very bad idea, but we were much more than a couple in high school. We were best friends. And it’s always nice to be around your best friend. Even if you are mad at him for ghosting you a dozen years back.
“You can help yourself to the kitchen, living room, and your old bedroom.”
“That’s very gracious of you. What time will you be home tomorrow?”
“Oh, probably around four. But I’ll have to unload the trailer at McBooms.”
“Call me when you’re close to home. I’ll meet you over there and unload that trailer for you.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve been unloading this trailer all by myself for long time now.”
“Call me when you’re close and I’ll unload your trailer for you. Oh, and Amon had everything boxed up at the compound. It’s all in the church waiting for you to pick through it.”
She smiles again, I can hear it. “That was nice of him. What are you gonna do now? Just hang out at my place?”
“Well…” I sigh, already tired of thinking about what comes next. “I guess I have to go talk to Jim Bob because Amon signed us up for security and I had actually forgotten that the Revival starts this weekend. I did try to get a hotel, you know. They’re all booked.”
“Yep. This weekend. I think my booth tent is going up tonight, so I guess, if you’re gonna be at McBooms to unload my trailer tomorrow, you can help me load it back up and take it over to the grounds.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will do that.”
“OK.”
We’re both silent for a moment.
“OK,” I finally say back. “See ya tomorrow.”
She says bye and I end the call, then find the key in the shed, sitting on the top of the same window trim where I left it when I was a kid, and put my stuff inside.
After that’s done, I get back in my truck and make my way over to City Hall. I have to pass the Revival grounds and since it’s really the first time I’ve gotten a good look at it since I got home, I stop the Jeep and stare at it for a minute.
It’s the same, but different. Most notable is some kind of scaffolding that pops up from the telephone-looking poles that line all the makeshift ‘streets’ around the main tent. Teams of people are stringing lights from them. But there are more poles like that too. Not in the center of the streets—which are not streets, but really wide gravel walkways—but attached to the other tents that are all around the property in aisles. Like an outdoor flea market. This is where things are sold. Food, and souvenirs, and even clothes. Each corner tent is elevated on a platform about six steps high. And these same telephone-looking poles are shootin’ out from the roofs.
It takes a me a moment to understand what it all is. A scaffolding. For what, I don’t know. This wasn’t here when I left. But it all looks really nice. Very nice, actually.
The tent grounds are a madhouse. I think everyone in town is over here, trying to get things straight for this weekend. When I start moving again people look my way. Lots of them wave—word travels fast around here—and I park down the street in front of the tiny stone building where Jim Bob Baptist does his government business.
Everything about this place is the same. Even Ester, the town clerk. She’s typing on a keyboard when I enter, but she looks over the glasses perched on her nose to check me out without slowing her pace. “Collin Creed. What can I do for you?”
“Is Jim Bob around?”
“He is. Do you have an appointment?”
“Ester, you know I don’t have an appointment.”
She pauses her typing to sigh. “Is this Revival business? Because he’s neck-deep in Revival business right now and you know how he hates to change the subject once he gets started on a task.”
“I do, and it is.”
She nods her head at the thick, maple double doors that Jim Bob Baptist has been working behind since before I was born. “Then go right in.”
Even before I open the door, I can hear Jim Bob havin’ a fit with someone on the phone. I look over my shoulder at Ester, wondering if I should wait, or knock, or something, but she is ignoring me on purpose.