besides I grew up drinking wine like water - - everyone did in that time frame – and don’t see the attraction of it. Luke doesn’t take a glass either, but keeps one hand on his plate of appetizers and one on my elbow. I’m not sure if he’s afraid of losing me in the crowd or if he’s simply being chivalrous. He leans over and whispers something in my ear. I am distracted by the noise around me and also by having him so close to me and have to ask him to repeat what he said.
“There’s something I want to show you after this,” he says. “Something I thought of when I was going through my photos this morning.”
“What?”
“I’ll show you later. Just have some fun. Here, have some of whatever the world this is,” he offers me his plate.
We do have fun. The people are loud and friendly and it isn’t difficult to make small talk. I recognize some as regulars from the coffee shop. We wander through the room, looking at all the paintings and drawings and photography. I tell Luke that his skills with a camera are better, and mean it. He holds onto my elbow the whole time and I feel secure and grown up and wanted. Two hours go by and it feels like half that time. Finally, we’ve seen every painting, every piece of artwork and photo, talked to everyone who looks approachable or familiar, and eaten several plates of appetizers. There is nothing to do but end our night and cross the first thing off my bucket list. I feel very accomplished indeed.
“So, what did you want to show me?” I ask, after climbing back in the truck. I kick off my heels and breathe a sigh of relief, wiggling my toes.
Luke starts the truck and pulls out of the parking space. “I was looking at some photos I took this summer: still-lives and landscapes and stuff. I spent some time out on the edge of town, photographing these old dilapidated buildings and farm houses. There’s quite a few out there that are just falling apart, roofs caving in and windows boarded up, things like that. Abandoned. They make great shots. You’d be surprised at how many people want shots of that – old Americana and stuff. The most expensive shot I ever sold was one of this field that used to have a house; now there’s nothing left but the chimney in the middle of a field of wildflowers. Anyway, I remembered being there and this one house in particular; there was some garbage around and I thought maybe tramps were living there. So I got a couple shots and got out. It got me thinking that if Rose is staying somewhere, it could be she’s playing house somewhere like that.”
“That’s a possibility,” I agree. “It’s not unheard of for the Lost to do that if we can find a place. I think that’s a great idea, Luke.” I’m getting excited. “Can you take me there?”
“Sure. Aren’t you working tomorrow?”
“I mean tonight! Please?”
“Gray, it’s late!” Luke laughs. “And it is REALLY dark out there. No streetlights, no electricity. Nothing. You don’t want to go out there tonight.”
“But it’s on my bucket list!”
“Breaking and entering is on your bucket list? You really are a little criminal, aren’t you?”
“Please?” I say again.
“In those shoes?” He glances down at my feet. “This isn’t town living, Gray. The places I’m thinking of are way out there and you’ll break an ankle in the dark.”
“No I won’t, Emme made me practice until I could walk in these things on a tightrope!” I boast. Of course, I am completely lying. I almost turned my ankle twice in the art shop and had to grab at Luke to steady myself. I’m certainly not fooling him; he probably has bruises the exact shape of my fingers on both his arms.
He contemplates in silence as he drives. But I have already noticed we are not turning towards my house; I’ve already won.
Thanks to the miracle of automobiles, we have left the paved streets behind us for country gravel roads in less than the time it takes for me to rummage through his glove compartment for a flashlight and develop a plan.
Chapter Thirteen
Our first trek out of the truck and into the darkness is fruitless. We explore a rundown shack of a house that has no recent inhabitants other than bats and mice and raccoons. Walking in darkness in heels