I could like Hillary Grantham.
But she really is a decent human
being. I’m glad she and Gabe hit
it off. They deserve each other.
I go back to riding and she goes
back to whatever it is she’s got
planned for the day after taking
the time to try and improve mine.
By the time I finish, my rear
end’s sore, but my brain
is functioning on a higher level,
and that’s a good thing because
now I’ve got to go and see what
remains of the place I’ve called
home for the last eighteen months.
The Focus is parked just outside
the barn, with a note on it saying
it’s okay to drive, despite a few
scratches on the driver’s side.
Just as I’m about to leave, Peg
arrives on scene, waves me over.
Oh my God. What did I do now?
And why is this the first
thought to pop into my head?
But she is kind. Hillary confided
what’s going on with you.
I just wanted to affirm her offer
of a place to stay with us here.
Too kind. “Thank you. I really
appreciate it. I’ll have a few
days to work out if that’s
something I’ll need.”
Wonder exactly how much
they know. What did Gabe tell
Hillary, and what information
did she pass on to her aunt?
I understand the tenuousness
of your situation. Advice is cheap,
but for what it’s worth, I don’t
recommend hasty decisions.
You’ve lost the majority of your
life to subterfuge, but there are
a lot more years ahead of you.
Make the wrong choice now,
there might be no turning back
around. I speak from experience.
You’ve got all the time in the world.
Consider carefully. Regret is an illness.