“Why are you traveling alone?”
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but quickly turned her gaze back to the road. She was slow to answer the question, however, and after a moment, asked, “What do you mean?”
“Most women would not travel alone in an RV, yet you are,” he pointed out and then asked simply, “Why?”
Mary sighed and set her coffee back in its holder, before saying dryly, “Good question. That’s one I’ve asked myself several times this trip.”
“I do not understand,” Dante said and she could hear the frown in his voice.
Grimacing, she switched mental gears and pointed out, “I’m not completely alone. I have Bailey. Besides, there are lots of women who travel alone in their RVs.”
Mary wasn’t sure if that was true, but she’d met one or two women traveling alone on this trip and had been assured that there were many more than you’d expect. Personally, Mary wasn’t sure that was true. She didn’t see the attraction herself. This trip had been terribly depressing for her and had pretty much convinced her that she should sell the RV when she got home. But perhaps that was just because of the memories it stirred to life in her. She had found herself constantly reminded of past trips with her dear departed husband during this outing, and missing him horribly. She’d even left early because of it, heading home a week earlier than planned just to bring it to an end.
“How long have you been doing this?” Dante asked curiously.
Mary was silent for a minute and then said, “My husband and I have been driving south for the winter ever since he retired six years ago.” She frowned and added, “Well, I guess we both retired then. At least I stopped seeing clients. Although I still sit on several boards that I am involved with. I attend the meetings when home and skype with members while travelling.”
“You are married?”
Startled by the strangled tone to his voice, Mary glanced to Dante with surprise. The horror on his face made her eyebrows rise slightly, but she shifted her attention back to the road and said quietly, “I was. I am widowed now. Joe had a major heart attack and died on our return journey last year.” Hearing the beginning of huskiness in her voice, she cleared her throat, before adding, “This was my first trip alone. And my last,” she added dryly.
Silence stretched out between them briefly and then Dante murmured a quiet, “My sympathies for your loss.”
Mary nodded stiffly, suddenly having to battle back tears. She’d managed to get the information out without losing it, but he offered her his sympathies and she was hard put not to cry like a baby. Damn, this grief business was a tricky bitch, sneaking up on her at the most inopportune times.
Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Mary quickly dashed the back of one wrist over her eyes to remove the few tears that had escaped. Apparently her upset didn’t escape Dante, because he suddenly murmured, “Perhaps I should take over driving.”
“No!” Mary barked, her mind filling with a sudden image of his sitting in her lap with nothing but the ridiculous afghan covering, or not covering, his bits while she tried to slip out from under him. Good God! Trying for a calmer tone of voice, she said, “No, but thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Dante was silent for a minute, and then murmured, “If you are sure . . . ?”
“I’m sure,” she said solemnly, and then changed the subject, asking, “How did you end up working for the Feds?”
“The Feds?” Dante queried uncertainly.
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but then turned her gaze back to the road and said, “I assumed since this was a kidnapping case, that the task force you were helping out was federal. Isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, I see,” he murmured and then cleared his throat and said, “My brother and I volunteered.”
“Really?” she asked with surprise. “So you aren’t a fed yourself?”
“No,” he murmured.
“What do you do then?” she asked curiously.
Dante hesitated and then shrugged. “Some protection work, some other things. Whatever is needed.”
“I see,” she said slowly, and thought the translation of that was probably that he was mostly unemployed. There seemed to be a lot of that today. When she’d been young, most people had graduated from high school to go on to further education, work, or sometimes—for the girls like her—marriage. There had been perhaps a handful of kids who hadn’t graduated and had fallen by the wayside, but for the most part they were the exception to the rule. Nowadays, it seemed like there were a lot more exceptions to the rule. More of the young seemed to be not settling into work or a career, but wandering through life, mostly unemployed and unsettled, couch surfing their way through life.
Mary grimaced to herself and acknowledged that she was sounding like her own grandmother. She couldn’t recall how many times the woman had started a rant by saying, “when I was young.”