“You’re my only one too. Between work and school I don’t have time.” He smiled. “I don’t think of Wynn as my friend, but he’s probably as close as I’ve come.”

“You get to set the next rule.”

He shrugged as if he wanted nothing, then he finally added, “Rule Three: You have to hug me every time we see each other. It can be when we meet or we part, but it’s got to be a real hug.” When she didn’t question, he added, “I haven’t had enough hugs in my life.”

She stood, wishing she could ask him why, but there was Rule One: no questions. Without a word she walked to his side and leaned on the railing. When he turned toward her, she put her arms around his neck and hugged him.

He wrapped one arm around her waist and hugged her back.

When she pulled away and began to clean up lunch, he added one more fact. “Tuesday, I’ll never be the first one to pull away or the first to start hugging.”

She didn’t know what to say. She felt like he’d just given her a gift. Her choice. She could pick the time.

As the evening shadows grew around them, she brought out a lantern. “We’ll have to save the tour for another time.”

He raised his hand, caught a low beam above his head, and patted the wood as if silently saying goodbye to the house.

They walked back to the truck when the rain slowed, and this time he lifted her bike down. “Could we allow one question, kid?”

“Depends.”

“You going to be all right here?”

“I am. Will you be all right without me, old man?”

“I’ll do my best.” He nodded. “But, if you ever need me, just call or drop by.”

She turned, hopping over puddles as she moved to the house. “You too, mister.”

As he slid his way back to the county road, she stood in the porch shadows and watched him.

Ketch Kincaid was a strange man. A friend. Someone she could almost believe was real.

Sunday

Sunday

Chapter 8 - Harrison

Chapter 8

Harrison

Midnight

Hank Norton walked the three blocks from the hospital to his motel. The town never seemed to change, even though businesses on Main faded and others grew like weeds amid the rubble. Rustic old storefronts became antique shops and fishing gear huts that had seen their glory days in the ’50s gave way to coffee shops and eyebrow spas that drew the college crowd. It reminded him of two worlds that had blended together, not in harmony, but in ragged hunks of sidewalk.