Wayfarers

Sylvie

“I think this is it,” Knox says, peering through the windshield. “But what if I’m wrong, and I knock, and some guy answers the door with a shotgun?”

We look at each other.

“This is probably going to be fine,” I tell him. “But if it isn’t, we’ll travel for a few more weeks until you can make another plan.”

He nods, distracted. “Okay, I have to know,” he says, “I have to know she’s okay. Miss Tara and Miss Mara got in my head.” And he gets out of the van and books it to the front door.

With his good hand, he rings the doorbell, waits for a while, and then knocks. He throws a worried glance back at me. Another long pause. The door opens gradually. And I watch from a distance as the tiny old woman takes him into her arms.