He stared at her. Then finally said, “Oh sure. Okay. Just I thought I’d better check.”
He shifted gears and slowly drove off. She could see him watching her in the rearview mirror and realized that it was curiosity more than remorse that had slowed his speed.
When she and Jake got back to the house, Lucy had the table already set for breakfast and had added the scent of bacon to the kitchen.
“You forgot to mention what an oddity I might be, out running in the road.”
Lucy didn’t look up from the counter where she slathered butter on bread, but there was a glimpse of a smile when she said, “I think you and I were meant to be oddities no matter where we are or what we do.”
CHAPTER 18
NEBRASKA
Maggie had slept. Hard enough that she needed to remember where she was. The scent of brewed coffee and freshly baked bread wafted up to the loft, but when she looked over the side rail she didn’t see Lucy in the kitchen.
The woman had loaned Maggie an oversized T-shirt to sleep in. It looked new and had blocks of brightly colored train cars with a logo that read RAILFEST 1999. She found her clothes, which had been soaked and stained with blood and debris, now freshly laundered and stacked neatly on an upholstered bench by the stairs. Even her shoes had been cleaned, the mud scraped off and the leather polished. She wondered if Lucy had slept at all.
Maggie opened the sliding glass door to the porch and stepped out into the morning sunlight. Blue skies—not a patch of white cloud—stretched over miles of sandhills, the yellow and burnt-orange grasses waving so that the hills looked like they were actually moving.
Directly below—what Maggie had not been able to see last night—were a patio and landscaped garden with brick-paved pathways between berms of flowers. Colorful birdhouses hung from trees. A small fountain made of watering cans trickled a stream down onto rocks. Maggie could hear wind chimes and smell pine. And in the middle of this paradise was Lucy’s tall thin figure, arms stretched above her head, the wide sleeves of her shirt and the slow, graceful movements of her arms looking like wings of a bird.
Sheriff Skylar had mentioned Lucy’s Indian heritage and Maggie wondered if this was, perhaps, part of a silent tribal dance. Lucy saw her, completed the circle her arms had started, and then shouted up, “You’re welcome to join me for a little yoga before breakfast.”
Maggie was glad she was far enough away that Lucy couldn’t see her embarrassment. Yoga. Of course, it was yoga. What was wrong with her? She was as bad as Skylar.
“No, thanks. Do I have time for a short run instead?”
“That’s fine. Help yourself to whatever you can find in the closet and the bottom drawer of the bureau.”
Maggie found shorts and a sweatshirt. Thankfully Lucy wore baggie workout clothes. Her shoes were a bit long but Maggie fixed them by putting on two pairs of socks. In minutes she made her way out the long driveway with Jake, the black shepherd, following along.
Last night she hadn’t noticed that the road to Lucy’s place was hard-packed sand with only patches of gravel mostly in the middle. The rain had left crevices that ran like veins and crumbled the edges. Maggie stayed close to the center, not risking sliding into the rain-filled ditch.
At first the shepherd seemed confused by her behavior, on alert, looking for whatever danger had made her run. But he kept pace and soon stopped looking over his shoulder. It reminded her of jogs with Harvey. She liked having the company.
They hadn’t been at it for long when the dog’s ears pitched and he started herding Maggie to the side of the road, bumping her leg once and then a second time when she ignored him. The pickup came roaring over the hill from behind them. The tires sent a spray of sand at Maggie and Jake as it swerved to avoid hitting them. The dog crouched to his belly. The brakes screeched, spitting more sand and gravel. Taillights flared. The truck jolted to a stop about ten yards ahead of them.
Jake was back on his feet, his nose nudging Maggie’s hand, wanting her to follow him back to the house.
The engine idled then the driver shifted into reverse and slowly backed up. The window opened and a man poked his head out. He was young, mid-twenties with a sunburn and ball cap pulled low so that all Maggie could see were his mirrored sunglasses and a bushy mustache.
“Everything all right, ma’am?”
“Just out for a run.”
“A run?” His head swiveled around as if he were looking for someone else to explain.
“I’m jogging,” she said, noticing that her mouth and eyes were lined with sand.
He stared at her. Then finally said, “Oh sure. Okay. Just I thought I’d better check.”
He shifted gears and slowly drove off. She could see him watching her in the rearview mirror and realized that it was curiosity more than remorse that had slowed his speed.