Page 78 of The Wilder Widows

“Tell that to the people you’re about to mow down.” Alice snorted.

“We drew straws, and I got the one saying I can drive. Now just buckle up and tell me where we’re going.”

“Does this thing have double seatbelts back here?” Marge asked while she clicked herself in. “Extra airbags? A roll cage?”

Doris just huffed and put the car in drive. “Just tell me where we’re going.”

According to Martha’s research, Tom now lived on Walnut Lane. Since I’d spent my entire youth running around this town, I didn’t need a map to tell me where it was. It was only three blocks over from the house I grew up in. “At the stoplights up there, take a left.”

“Got it,” Doris said, pressing the gas and pulling out of our parking spot. A horn honk caused us all to jump, and Doris slammed on the brakes. The car she’d pulled out in front of whizzed past, and a middle finger greeted us from the driver as he blew by.

“Oops.” Doris gave us a sheepish shrug.

“Cripes, Doris! Careful!” Marge shouted. “You may get off easy anyway, Sylvie. Looks like Doris will kill us long before we solidify our stalker status.”

“For the first time in my life, I’m praying for death.” I blew out a breath as Doris looked over her shoulder before creeping out onto Main Street.

Following my instructions, she drove us through the town I’d once called home. Each street we turned on brought back a flood of memories. I saw the old oak tree I’d learned to climb at my friend Sarah’s house. Further down, we passed the street where I’d gotten that scar on my knee that I hated so much. I’d hit a rock while riding over to Trudy’s house and gone ass over teakettle on my bike. Doris turned again, and this time I saw the house I’d called home for eighteen years.

“Pull over for a second.” I rolled down my window to get a better look. “This was my house growing up.”

The modest two-story home still looked remarkably the same with only a few minor changes. Dark green shutters framed the windows now instead of the blue ones from when I’d lived there, and the driveway had been newly paved and looked sharp next to the fresh coat of white paint.

“Wow. It’s been years.” I leaned out the window, closing my eyes to inhale the scents of my childhood. I could almost smell my mother’s fresh cinnamon buns on a Sunday morning.

“It seems like a nice place to grow up,” Doris said.

“It was.” A soft smile lifted my lips. “Many happy memories here. I loved this town. In fact, I never wanted to leave. Bruce was the one who forced us to move away.”

“Well, I’m glad he did. If you hadn’t, we never would have met you.” Doris tapped my thigh. “Now, tell me where to go so we can bring you home to your true love.”

My inward groan turned into an external one. “Just go straight for three blocks. It should be on that street.”

“I’m so excited!” Doris squealed as she pulled back out. Another horn honk caused her to slam on the brakes again. An old lady in a minivan raked us with a glare as she pulled around.

“Oops.” Doris shrunk a little lower in her seat.

“Can we go back to running with the bulls? I think we were safer then,” Alice said, and it caused me to laugh, loosening the fingers of tension tearing into my shoulders.

“I’m telling you. We need a damn roll cage to ride with her.” Marge tugged on her seatbelt to make sure it was still on tight.

“Okay. Now we’re off.” Doris took an extra look in her mirrors and pulled back out.

It felt like an eternity as we crossed the last three blocks to Walnut Lane. Time seemed to slow down as our rental car rolled down the suburban streets.

“There! That’s it! 2723!” Marge pressed her face to the window. “The white one!”

“Are you sure?” I asked, sinking lower into my seat as we rolled up in front of it.

Doris pressed on the brake, but I screamed and smacked her in the leg. “Don’t stop! Go! Go!”

With a shriek, she stepped on the gas, and our tires squealed while we skittered away.

“Cripes! I’ve got whiplash!” Marge scolded. “What the hell?”

“We can’t stop in front of his house! He’ll see us!”

“Isn’t that the point?” Marge said.