31 - Maeve
I heaved myself up in the Ford 150 front seat without help, Stanley tucking the crutches under his impressive arm. He hadn’t wanted to hear anything about walking back to Kat’s by myself.
And, as the afternoon sloped toward evening, and the engine rumbled under me, I felt the exhaustion of walking seeping in my bones. Stanley drove with his attention on the tourists crowding Ocean View Street. That did not arrange my problem. Kathleen would have gotten back home by now.
How would she react to my absence? Especially after yesterday?
Impossible to ignore Stan’s massive presence behind the wheel, his fisherman pants and the smell of sea and fishes. I rolled down my window to get some fresh air. His silence, at yesterday’s dinner, could mean he had also found my questions foolh
