Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
My brows drew together. “Mrs. Peabody? The woman you mentioned that has premonitions or something, right?”
“Yeah. She sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night with these strong feelings. She’s had them since she was a kid. But that day, she called me right after my aunt left and said she had a feeling something bad was going to happen to me.” He chuckled. “Then she told me to sober up and pull my head out of my ass. Right before she hung up on me.”
“Who is she?”
“It’s a long story, but I dialed her by accident a few years ago. At least, I think it’s an accident. She doesn’t. One night, back when I was in a shitty place, I’d been attempting to drunk dial some woman I’d met. I dialed wrong and reached Mrs. Peabody. We started talking, and I rambled on and told her my life story. She said she’d been up late, expecting a call because of a dream she had that a stranger needed her help.”
“Oh, wow. That’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Yeah. That’s the tip of the iceberg with Mrs. Peabody. She’s seventy-six and lives in an assisted living facility out in Wyoming.”
“And you kept in touch with this woman after that?”
“I still keep in touch with her. It’s been about three years now. The day after my drunk dial, I woke up and vaguely remembered talking to someone. So I looked through my missed calls and dialed the last number. Mrs. Peabody answered, and we got to talking again. She had just left the podiatrist’s office and found out she needed to have her toe amputated the next day. She’s diabetic and has circulation issues. Anyway, we talked for a while, and I wasn’t sure if she was crazy, clairvoyant, lonely, or just eccentric. I’m still not entirely sure. But she sounded nervous about the surgery, and it was obvious she just needed to talk. So we spent a few hours on the phone again, only that time, she did most of the talking. I figured I owed her one. After that, I reverse-searched her telephone number and got an address to send some flowers for her recovery.” He shrugged. “We’ve been talking a few times a month ever since.”
“That’s a little bizarre, yet also oddly sweet. Though I do believe some people have special gifts like that.”
“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Then I feel inclined to tell you Mrs. Peabody called this morning and said if my neighbor didn’t sleep with me, something bad might happen to me.”
I squinted. “You’re so full of shit.”
He chuckled. “Okay…but if I break a leg tomorrow, that’s all on you.”
We stopped as we reached my house and stood at the bottom of the stairs. We had to have walked five or six miles, yet I could have kept walking for another five talking to him—it was just so easy to do.
“For what it’s worth, you should be proud of how you’ve handled things since the accident—especially your sister. You might not have done everything perfectly, but she seems like a regular nineteen-year-old who’s pretty well adjusted.”
“Yeah. I had a lot of help, and it wasn’t always pretty. But I wound up in the right place, even taking a different path than I’d expected.”
Modesty was another quality I found attractive in a man. Why couldn’t Ford be an egomaniac?
“Even though I’m divorced and starting over at thirty-seven, I wouldn’t change a thing either.”
“You see? We’re not as different as you think.”
Maybe not in values, but an entire generation gap stretched between us. “Oh yeah? Who’s your favorite musician?”
“I listen to everything. But I’m into Jack Johnson right now.”
“Never heard of him. My favorite band growing up was The Backstreet Boys.”
Ford shrugged. “That’s not a difference. That’s an opportunity to share new things with each other.”
“I don’t have an Instagram or SnapFace.”
“You mean SnapChat.”
“Whatever. I just proved my own point. I don’t even know what social media is called anymore. Are you on Facebook?”
“No.”
“Let me guess, because Facebook is for old people?”
“No. Because we don’t know my mother’s passwords, and when I had an account, it kept sending me reminders of stuff with her tagged after the accident.”
Shit. Now I felt awful. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”
It had grown dark, and Ford and I lingered at the bottom of my stairs for a while longer, but eventually it felt like I needed to call it a night. I thanked him for joining me on my walk.
“Hey!” he yelled up as I reached the top step. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
I frowned. Not because he’d asked, but because I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.
“I can’t.”
“Have plans already?”
I shook my head.
“Too tired from your drive out and our walk?”
I shook my head again. “I’m sorry, Ford.”
He gave me a sad smile. “It’s okay. I’ll wear you down. I don’t give up easily. Goodnight, beautiful.”