Chapter 3
Jamila said nothing as we climbed the stairs and let ourselves in. I cleared my throat. “I guess the Welcome Wagon has changed its approach.”
Jamila walked to the sliding glass door leading to the balcony and simply stared. Apparently, my attempt at humor wasn’t cutting it.
I tried to think of something—anything—else to say. I failed.
Sighing, I parked myself on the couch and hit the TV remote. I had to create some noise or the silence would deafen me.
Jamila kept her watch at the window, surveying the bay’s waters as if expecting a Navy Seal attack.
I flipped through channels, interested in nothing.
“You know, I used to live in Salisbury.”
Jamila’s words jolted me. I muted the sound and dropped the remote in my lap.
“I didn’t know you were from the Eastern Shore.”
“Oh,
