“Um, it’s 175.76 here on the meter, sweetie. Sorry.” He gave her a sad smile.
She returned it. “It’s okay. I expected it would be a lot. Here,” she said handing him two one hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change.”
“You don’t have to do that, honey,” he replied.
“No, you let me sleep, and were so kind. Really, it’s no problem.” She wanted him to have it. He was a kind soul. He reminded her of her granddad a lot.
“Well, thank you kindly. You’re a beautiful sweet girl, and I’m sure your dad is looking down from heaven right proud of the girl he raised.”
She nodded, hating the lie and the pretense, but she had no choice. Ronnie opened the door, swung her legs out. “Thanks Mister. It means a lot.” Frankly, she had no clue where her dad was these days. She’d met the man once in her entire life. It had been in her first year of college, and she hadn’t been impressed. But, this man thought she was coming to bury him, so she carried on with the façade.
The driver began to make a U-turn in the road, and she waved at him as he began to pick up speed. She began to walk towards her grandparents’ house. It was about a mile and half away, and she wanted to get off the road soon in case other cars passed by, but made herself walk slowly, for one minute until she was sure the taxi was out of sight on this long straight stretch of road. She took one peek back, assured herself the taxi was gone, and then ducked into the woods along the side of the road. She walked in perhaps ten feet, before stopping. She was hidden from the road by a large pine, and dropped her bag. She unzipped it, and pulled out her hiking boots. These sneakers were no good for riding her motorcycle, and no good for this terrain. Lots of soft spots in the soil, and rocks could cause her to stumble and sprain an ankle. She couldn’t afford to get injured now. She needed her hiking boots in order to get a good solid grip on gnarled tree roots, and branches too. She also knew going this way, around the back side of her granddad’s property, there would be a stream she would need to cross.
Once her sneakers were in her bag, the wig was also removed, and she left it on the grass. She wouldn’t be needing that again. Her helmet when she was driving would hide her features and her hair. She wouldn’t be spending much time out and about anyway. Except for her trip to radio shack. Crap! She still needed the damn wig. Shaking out the dirt, she stuffed it into her bag and zipped it shut.
The only part of her plan that was going to be a problem was getting to her bike without her grandfather noticing her. He was an early riser, and he was always puttering around outside doing something. She would have to bide her time, stay hidden, and wait until he went indoors for lunch, then get into the shed. She knew where he hid the key. She’d make sure her tank had fuel. He always had gas canisters on hand this far out, so that shouldn’t be an issue, and then walk the bike out hoping he wasn’t looking out the back window until she was far enough away to get on and ride off. Simple right? Not really. Her granddad, Roland, was as sharp as they came. A former marine from Vietnam, he was crafty, and she learned from him. She knew how to be quiet, where to step, and where not to in these woods. But again, all those skills she had gotten at his heels.
Walking through these woods put her at ease. It was those special times as a child with her grandfather that made her decide to become a forest ranger in the first place. She breathed in the woodsy scents of pine and other fir trees. She listened to the birds and animals of the forest getting quieter at her approach, remaining silent until she passed. God, she loved it. The serenity. The peace. It was her true home.
Time was passing, and from the looks of the sun, nearing nine. She was getting close. She could see the end of the tree line that wound around her grandfather’s property. And sure enough, she caught sight of his faded blue Red Sox cap through the branches. She stopped and popped a squat. Make yourself small, he told her many times. The smaller you are and the lower you are to the ground, the less likely you are to be seen. It’s why the animals crouched to reduce their size and possibly their chances of detection. Her heart ached to run to him though, call out, “Pepere, I’m home.”
But, he’d try to stop her. She needed to do this. Clear up this mess so they could all move on. Her grandpa was heading to the shed, but he stopped mid-stride, and just smiled. Turning around, he gazed at the woods. She ached to be held by the man she regarded as a father. He loved these woods as much as she. He stooped to pick up a rock, and tossed it into the air, catching it. He began to whistle and to move again. Slow measured steps until he reached the shed. He slipped the rock into his pocket, and approached the door to the shed. He unlocked it with the key he hunched down to retrieve from underneath the flower pot beside the wood pile. He went in, and Ronnie moved just a bit to relieve the strain in her hamstrings. She got comfortable. She may have to wait here awhile. As she stilled, the birds picked up their usual chatter, and she occasionally heard noises from the shed where her granddad was working. But, he didn’t stay there long. Maybe twenty minutes and he began to approach the house.