Downhill looked like a steep drop, although she’d hardly noticed the climb while riding in the car. The church steeples that loomed so oppressively were now small, distant, devoid of authority. A bowling ball released from where they stood would gain so much momentum it might actually smash a hole in the wall of that megachurch four miles down.

Mr. Z opened his arms and with his fingers beckoned to her. “C’mere.”

She went to him and let his arms fold across her back. Neither of her parents had ever hugged her like this. His hands massaged her spine and warmed her up.

“I have something for you.”

For a split second, she panicked. Was he going to push her down the hill like that bowling ball? She grabbed hold of his vest.

“If you let go of me, I’ll be able to get it for you.” He prized her fingers off his garment, keeping his eyes on her. It struck her that he might be reaching for a knife or a gun. “I can trust you completely, can’t I?”

She was shivering now. The lid went up and in the trunk was a lonely red backpack sitting on a spare tire. She distinctly remembered seeing him carrying the pack around school a few weeks before.

“I want you to keep this for me till I come back from my trip.”

She hugged him tight.

“Just promise me you’ll keep it safe till I come back.”

“Why would you need me to guard it?”

“Because my wife’s never approved of my dreams. She thinks I’m childish—‘self-indulgent’ is the phrase she uses.”

Rosemary nodded. She hoped he knew that she approved of his dreams. “What’s in there?”

“Our play.”

“The script?” she asked.

“Everything. Kit and caboodle. Deus ex machina.”

She reached for the backpack, but he delicately moved her hand. “Remember The Sorcerer’s Apprentice? Mickey Mouse setting off spells he couldn’t control?”

She nodded again. He lifted the bag out of the trunk and from the muscles that bulged on his lower arms, she could tell it was heavy, like a bowling bag. There was a sturdy padlock that kept the zippers locked, and a series of smaller locks, all conjoined with wires. The contents made clinking sounds as he raised the bag. Glass bottles, was her guess. Wine? Liquor? He looped both carrying straps of the backpack gently around her right arm. When he let go, she was shocked by its heft.

“Careful!” His palms darted back as she let it dip.

“What’s in there?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Before your mother takes you away, I promise we’ll put on a show. We’ll prove to the non-believers that we’re something.”