Page 91 of The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

Frank shook his head. “I was going to—”

I shook my head. “No, I…we want to do this for you.”

“I…well…thank you,” Frank stuttered.

I bowed my head. “You’re welcome.”

The three of us headed out to the parking lot together and Frank led us to an older model Cadillac sedan. He opened the trunk and pulled out a grand birdhouse. It was three stories and even I had to admit the amount of detail was astounding. It almost looked like a dollhouse my sister had when we were little.

“For you.” Frank handed the birdhouse to Willow.

She gaped at him. “Oh, no. I can’t. This is much too nice for you to give me.”

He shook his head and placed it in her arms. “It’s not too much. I want you to have it. A special gift for my new friends.”

Willow smiled at that and handed the birdhouse to me so she could tackle hug the poor man.

“Oomph,” he grunted when she collided with his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“We have to stay in touch,” Willow vowed.

He chuckled. “Why would you want to talk to an old fart like me?”

Willow’s musical laughter filled the air. “Because you’re a pretty cool guy, Frank, and I like you.”

He smiled at her and I knew he saw how remarkable of a person she was, just like I did.

They exchanged phone numbers and Willow vowed to keep him updated on our trip.

As we walked away, Frank said to me, “Take care of that one, you hear me?”

I smiled and lifted my hand to my forehead, saluting him. “I will.”

I opened the passenger door for Willow and she ducked into the car.

On the way back to the hotel, she said, “Who would’ve thought doing our laundry would lead to such an interesting evening.” She ran the tips of her fingers over the shingled roof of the birdhouse that sat in her lap.

My lips quirked into a half-smile. “It goes to show you what you can learn and experience when you stop to get to know someone.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, “it does.”

Willow

On Day Six of our journey, we arrived in Cullman, Alabama. It was a small, normal town. Nothing spectacular and a little lackluster considering how long it took us to get here—which was my fault since I kept getting us lost.

Dean parked the car on the side of the road by the WELCOME TO CULLMAN sign.

His lips lifted into an eager smile. “I assume you want pictures.”

“Of course.” I was already rifling through my bag for my Polaroid camera. It had sunk to the bottom, no surprise there. “Aha!” I cried once my hand closed around it and I pulled it out, waving

it around with a proud smile.

Dean climbed out of the car and jogged around to my side, opening the door for me.

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