Chapter 1
1
Adam Roper wiped the sweat out of his eyes and then fiddled with the car’s rattling air conditioner, trying to tease a cold gust of air from it. The yellow lines on the road were starting to blur into one long, faded path, and the only thing that kept his heavy eyelids from falling was the sharp pang of hunger in his gut. Billboards dotted the horizon with promise of food, of gas, of cheap hotel rooms. Each and every one looked completely appealing. Their promises seemed meant for him, personally, as though they were addressed to Mr. Adam Roper, formerly of New York City.
His watch told him he had only been on the road for eleven hours. Eleven hours was nothing. When he was a kid and had accompanied his dad in the summer on his business trips, an eleven hour drive would have been nothing. But he didn’t have that sort of stamina anymore—if he’d ever had it at all—and eleven hours pushed his limits considerably.
Adam took the first exit off the freeway that he came to and immediately passed a McDonald’s. He considered pulling over, but he didn’t want fast food. His mouth watered for a big, succulent apple, or orange, or even a peach. He wanted something sweet and juicy. More than that, he wanted to buy a cooler and some food to pack away for the rest of his drive. He was determined to be somewherebefore he stopped driving. He wasn’t sure where he was now, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t somewhere.
Adam thought he could drive through the entire town in under five minutes, and he found the grocery store at about the three minute mark. It was smaller than any grocery store he had ever seen before, but that didn’t matter—they’d have fresh fruit, at least. There were only five other cars parked in front of the building. A dog barked at him from one, his slobber speckling the glass as he lunged at Adam.
The heat slapped him in the face as soon as he exited his car, and sweat rolled down his forehead and stung his eyes. His lips were dry and salty and his shirt clung to his back. He would need to find a hotel and take a long, cold shower. The sun beating down his head and shoulders made it difficult to walk. The parking lot even felt sticky as he trudged toward the front door, the soft tar gripping his heels and refusing to let him go.
Should have sold my car and bought a plane ticket. I could be in Miami by now, relaxing at the beach. But no. I wanted adventure. I wanted to see some of the country.
“I’m a freaking idiot,” Adam muttered as he pushed the store door open. A bell jingled above him, equal parts annoying and charming, and an old man nodded at him from behind the register. The store’s single register. Adam smiled cordially as he passed by.
The produce section of the store was tiny, but the apples gleamed in the light—small, red beacons. Adam immediately began picking through them, carefully studying each one, before finding three acceptable ones in the pile.
“Excuse me?”
Adam didn’t look up at first, certain that the soft words couldn’t be directed toward him. He shifted his attention to the oranges, wondering if they were worth the price. But the bananas were on sale. He could get two or three and…
“Excuse me?”
Adam glanced at the older woman standing behind him. She’s about Mom’s age.Something stung Adam’s heart, and he immediately pushed that thought away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in the way?”
She smiled at him. “Not at all. I was just wondering if you could help me.”
Adam was about to suggest she ask somebody else for help, but a quick survey of the aisle proved that there was nobody else.
“I guess. What do you need?”
She pointed to a giant watermelon. “I was going to buy that for dessert tonight, but I just can’t seem to lift it.” She lifted her hands almost apologetically. Her fingers were twisted and bent. “It’s the arthritis.”
Guilt washed through Adam. He should have approached her and offered to help, instead of ignoring her. “Of course. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, no, just the watermelon.” She tilted her head and studied his face. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“I’m just passing through.” He hefted the watermelon before adding, “My name is Adam.”
“I’m Ida Emerson. It’s good to meet you. We don’t get very many new faces around here.”
“Well, I’m just glad I was here to help. I only stopped to buy some apples.” He nodded at the plastic bag he still held.