Chapter 59
Ben had never particularly enjoyed driving. He liked driving a U-Haul on two-lane country roads less. He’d called Courtney
from that little café and told her he couldn’t go through with the house sale. She’d been furious, reminding him how hard
she’d worked for him, her commission, blah, blah, blah. He’d placated her only by promising that if he ever did decide to
sell, he wouldn’t use anyone else, and that he’d give her a larger commission.
“I didn’t really think you’d go through with it, anyway,” Courtney had said before she hung up. Her comment wasn’t malicious.
She’d said it as a matter of fact. “None of us did.”
Ben hadn’t asked who “us” was. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. That had been nearly a week ago. Since that time, he’d flown
back to Chicago, rented a U-Haul, gone to the storage facility he’d rented after his mother died, and loaded everything up.
He hadn’t told Courtney he was coming back home, just that he hadn’t wanted to sell. Home , Ben thought to himself. That’s what the house was. That’s what Clay Creek was. More than anything, that’s what Mylie was.
He’d felt that bond between them stretch thinner and thinner the farther away he got from her. He hadn’t been able to feel
her in that city, and he realized that if he stayed, he’d never feel her again. He’d severed the invisible string once, and
he never wanted to live that way again.
Ben pulled into the gas station just outside of Clay Creek and went inside.
“I need seventy-five dollars on pump eight,” he said to the cashier, handing over his credit card.
The cashier eyed him. “I heard you left town,” she said.
“Well, I’m back,” Ben replied.
“Mmmhmm,” the woman said, swiping the card.
Ben signed the receipt she gave him and handed it back to her. “Thanks,” he said. “Oh, and Margie?”
The woman stared at him.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get out of the parking lot before you start calling people.”