Chapter 26
From this hour, freedom!
~Walt Whitman
Samantha stared out the window of the RV as Jason steered it up the white gravel drive. Well-manicured bushes lined the driveway, and flowers rested in pots in front of the small white farmhouse. A gigantic magnolia tree dominated the front yard. Samantha could only guess at the mammoth tree’s age, but it must have been at least a hundred years old. Jason brought the RV to a halt in the driveway. An elderly man dressed in denim overalls sat on the porch swing. He stared at the motorhome with a furrowed brow, pushing aside a five-gallon bucket he’d been filling with purple hull peas. Slowly, creakily, he rose to his feet and walked out to the edge of the porch to await the newcomers.
“I wonder if I should pull into the yard,” said Jason.
