It’s not even in the ghost-towns-of-Texas listings. There’s just an old map hanging in the living room that dates back to the early part of the last century. It used to hug the Red River.”
Diana frowned. “Not even a convenience store?”
“Nope,” Luke replied. “We’ll have to drive to Paris or Clarksville to even get gas for the motor home or groceries.”
“But . . .” Diana had so many questions, she didn’t know where to start.
“Aunt Tootsie’s grandma and mama grew up there. When her grandma moved to Clarksville, she left the house to Tootsie’s mama, and then it was passed on to Aunt Tootsie. There’s no town. I don’t think there’s even a zip code—just miles and miles of farmland and five acres of timber with an old two-story house set back in the trees.”
“Why has she kept it?” Diana asked.
“She and Uncle Smokey honeymooned there, so it’s a special place. Here’s our exit.” Luke tapped the brakes. “Ten minutes and we’ll be parked and set up for the night. Want to take another walk after supper?”
“Love to,” she answered.
She always walked at least a mile in the evenings—in the summer heat or the bitter cold winter. It cleared her head of all the clutter and got her ready for another day. Nothing said that she couldn’t be friends with Luke, and it would be rude to tell him no when he was driving them.
Nothing says that you can’t be more than friends, too. Smokey’s gruff voice popped into her head.
He’s too much younger than I am, she argued. Good Lord! Now I’m talking to Smokey, too.
Chapter Five
Tootsie was surprised to see Delores behind the wheel of the same old big boat of a car that she’d been driving the last time Tootsie and Smokey stopped by her place. She leaned into the driver’s-side window and gave her friend a quick hug. “You want to come inside and meet the kids?”
“Another time, darlin’. It’s a chore for me to get in and out, and going up those little steps into your motor home—well, let’s just say I’m still clumsy, and I don’t want to break a hip. Get in. Supper will be ready when I get you back to the house,” Delores told her.
“How are you holdin’ up?” Delores asked as she backed her bright-red car away from the RV park and headed into town.
“Pretty good, I guess. I still talk to Smokey a lot, and I mean I talk out loud to him. I prop up his picture and pretend he’s right there with me,” Tootsie admitted.
“Honey, it’s been ten years since Jimmy died, and I still talk to him all the time. Those old soldiers were our life. We can’t just turn it off like a water faucet.” Delores stopped at a traffic light and then made a right-hand turn. “Talking to them keeps them alive to us, and that’s all right.”
“So you still live in the same house? You talked about downsizing last year when we stopped by.”
Delores pulled into the circular driveway of a two-story redbrick place. “Yep, this is where Jimmy’s spirit is. I looked at a couple of smaller houses and even at a retirement home at the kids’ insistence, but I couldn’t do it.” She got out of the car, picked up her cane from the back seat, and slowly made her way to the porch. “Come on in.”
Tootsie followed her inside and closed the door behind them. She removed her jacket and laid it on a chair in the foyer. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble. I was really just expecting you to send a car, and we’d visit in a restaurant.”
“Where’s the fun in that? I can still drive. I still make a mean bologna sandwich, and it is Saturday night.” Delores hung her cane on a hook beside the kitchen door.
“You remembered!” Tootsie rushed across the floor and hugged her. “Saturday-night supper at your place was my favorite time of the week, especially when Jimmy and Smokey were off to God only knows where.”
Delores had to stoop a little to wrap her arms around Tootsie. “I thought we’d keep our tradition. Sandwiches with all the fixin’s, potato chips, Kool-Aid, and chocolate ice cream for dessert. Then we can have a glass of cheap wine and pretend the kids are all in bed asleep.”
“You are the best. What can I do to help?” Tootsie asked.
“You can make your own sandwich and fix your own plate. We’ll take it out