Page 17 of Never Too Late

“What the hell are you doing, girl?” The question came sharp in my right ear, making me jolt and scream.

I looked that way only to see Mrs. McConnell standing near the edge of the stones that were lying on the ground with her hands on her hips.

“I’m...” I didn’t get to finish what I was saying because she gave me a sharp shake of her head.

“Now is not the time for that, girl.” She looked up at the dark cloudy sky. “The moon is not right,” she continued her bizarre explanation. “Has your grandmother not taught you anything?” She took a firm hold of my elbow and pulled me back. Looking me right in the eye, she whispered, “Or have you forgotten everything?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered back. There were chills that were running through my body and they had nothing to do with how cold it was. All my grandmother ever said was to stay away from the well. Especially at night.

“Old fool that woman was.” Mrs. McConnell turned to me and still holding on to me, started walking briskly toward home. It was surprising the spring she had in her step and the firm hold she had on me. But I didn’t process any of it. I was too busy assessing her mental state. “She taught you nothing. Well, no use for me to teach you now, you’ll learn on your own soon enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see, girl.” She patted my arm, a mischievous smile on her face. “You’ll see.”

6

Sophie

Two days later, Mrs. McConnell’s strange behavior completely evaporated from my mind.

Sure, I did decide to leave, and have already set up a meeting with Denver Thunder’s coach to go through his heart condition and see what could be done. But I was determined to soak up every last possible atom of goodness that was this little town in Colorado.

And yes, I will be back.

But that was only to finalize the house sale.

I still hadn’t put it on the market.

I haven’t come that far.

But I would.

And it was because of all of that and just my looking around town and in various shop windows was why I wasn’t prepared.

Why I saw him only at the last moment as we walked toward each other.

It was as if the sun shone directly at him, calling all female attention and screaming, here’s the perfect male specimen, ladies, come and grab him while you still can.

And he was the perfect male specimen that is.

He was talking on his phone, his head was turned left so I could see his profile. His jaw was set hard, its angles sharp and made sharper by him clenching his teeth which was highlighted by a muscle jumping in his cheek.

The arm holding the phone to his ear was big.

Bigger than I remembered.

The muscles under his thermal jumping up and down as if on some kind of showcase of their strength.

His powerful legs eating the pavement away.

His attire of washed-up jeans, gray thermal and darker gray vest, mouth-watering.

And when he turned his head to the front, to watch where he was walking, I was hit with his silver, mirror aviators, Freddy Mercury style, and my knees got weak.

And I stopped.

Right there in the middle of the walkway, my purse on my shoulder that started slowly sliding down my arm from the jolt of my abrupt stop, the grocery bags full of ingredients for my Christmas baking, swinging in my hands.