Twenty-six years ago
The bell on the front door of the motel's office jingled as the door opened, and frigid air and blowing snow entered with Daniel.
“Annie, what are you doing?"
I looked from my husband to the telephone in my hand. “Where have you been?"
“Come back to the room."
“No, I'm going home."
His features changed from curious to stern before me. “I said come back to the room."
My gaze went to the woman behind the desk. Maybe girl was a better description. She was petite and couldn't have been any older than early twenties. She was watching us with big eyes. I'd had to convince her to allow me to use the motel's telephone. At first, she told me in broken English that it was against their policy.
“Ma'am," she said, “you go back to the room. We don't want trouble."
I sto
