Less than ten minutes later, I joined him at a picnic table. I set down my plate and held up two bags. “I decided to get to-go bags for later, since I know from your itinerary that we’re not having dinner until we stop for the night.”
Grinning, he picked up a bag from the bench beside him and set it on the table. “Great minds...”
A short time later, we threw away our trash, gathered our bags, and walked back to the car.
“I’ll help you unloadMother Treeat the park,” he said, referring to the spot I’d mapped out for my first official photo shoot of the trip. “Then I need to run an errand. I should be back to get you in half an hour. Will that be long enough?”
“Sure.” I wanted to ask about his errand, like I wanted to ask about so many things, not the least of which was the reason he was driving with me instead taking a plane across the country like a normal person. But he didn’t offer details and I didn’t really have a right to ask for them.
True to his word, he helped me set upMother Tree, my tripod, and my selfie stick beside a beautiful marble fountain in the middle of a meadow with huge evergreens in the background, and snow-capped mountaintops behind those. Once I was alone, I recorded some still shots, then a few videos.
The park was nearly empty, but two elderly ladies who, I found out, were sisters oohed and ahhed over the sculpture and asked if they could take a picture of it, too. And then a new idea was born. With their permission, I snapped pics of them with my art that I would include in my online posts and stories. A young mother and her little girl stopped to watch us, then had their pictures taken as well, but only from behind to protect the toddler’s identity. A very young-looking couple, wearing matching backpacks and walking hand-in-hand, also took a turn. They confirmed that they were over 18 and showed me their college IDs, and I added their pics to my project folder.
My idea was moving in a new and exciting direction. This was why I didn’t over plan. My creativity needed time and space to breathe. And for the first time in a long time, I was filled with joy at the thought of grabbing hold of a lightning bolt of inspiration and running with it.
There was one slight problem, though, with my stroke of inspiration. When Nick had laid out our itinerary, he’d taken into consideration a winter storm that was approaching from Canada and might affect our original route. He’d suggested we take a southern route to avoid it and I’d agreed to find different places to stop for photo shoots. But there was one town in Ohio that would be perfect for my new idea. All I had to do was convince Nick to take the risk. It would be like trying to move a mountain, which was why I was glad I still had hundreds of miles left to figure out how to get my way.
CHAPTER 9
CARA
Iwas tearing down my tripod when Nick joined me.
“Success?” he asked.
“It went better than I’d hoped,” I answered, and gave him a quick summary of the change in direction my project had taken.
He smiled as he listened while we carried everything to the car. “I’m glad it went so well. And I’m sorry I didn’t bring this up earlier, but are you okay with the route change? Have you scoped out some different locations for shoots on the southern route?”
I frowned. “I’m working on it. But you’re sure the northern route is going to be affected by a snowstorm?”
“Sorry,” Nick said, “but the forecasters put the possibility of a major event at thirty percent. If they’re right, we risk losing days. You might not even get home for Christmas.”
Thirty percent bad news sounded like seventy percent good news to me, but I understood his concern.
He pointed to the public bathrooms building. “You need a pit stop before we get back on the road?”
“Yes. You?”
He shook his head. “Took care of everything while I was cleaning up and changing.”
Now that he mentioned it, he was wearing a different shirt. I felt a little bad about being so caught up in the excitement of my photo shoot, I hadn’t noticed. In my defense, he was wearing another black shirt, although this one had a vee neck and a slight pattern in the weave.
“Why did you need to clean up? What was this errand you had to run?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.” He shooed me toward the restrooms.
A few minutes later, I arrived back at the car to find him in the driver’s seat. I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. “This doesn’t mean you get to pick the music yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I just need to test her.”
By her, I assumed he meant my car. Before I could ask for clarification, he hit the fob and the car started. And purred.
“The engine knock is gone.” I looked at him. “Did you do that?”
“I told you I’m handy,” he said. “Mason and I guessed spark plugs when we heard it. Turns out we were right. Now let’s see how much of a difference it makes to performance.”
I stared straight ahead and ignored the innuendo because I was pretty sure it was only in my own head. Within a few minutes, it was obvious the Fit was driving like a whole new car. “Thanks for doing that. You saved me hundreds of dollars in repairs.”
