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“Well, there you have it. Hopefully, in a month or two, you will join me again and provide a happy ending to this story.” She says.
“Thank you for having us.” Dad says and then it cuts to a commercial break.
Over the next couple of weeks, we do several other interviews with various news and radio stations. I post every single one on the Facebook page I made called, ‘Finding Susan Smith’, hoping it will keep the momentum rolling, but while we are experiencing our fifteen minutes of fame, it doesn’t yield any useful leads on finding Susan. I’ve basically given up when I receive an email.
Hi Hannah,
I came across your father’s story on the internet and would like the opportunity to pursue it further. I run a YouTube channel that covers human interest stories and I believe your father’s story would be a great addition.
I have taken it upon myself to hire a private investigator to seek women fitting the description of Susan Smith. I would like to provide your father with the opportunity to visit each of the women on this list. I’ve already reached out to my sponsors, and they would provide transportation and boarding during the duration of the trip (we will be required to name drop them in the vlog). All I request is that I be able to accompany your father on this journey and be able to write a book about it. Please reach out if you and your father would be interested in this opportunity.
Thank you,
William Whitmore
At first, I think it is a scam, but when I look up William Whitmore, he really is a writer and one with lots of connections at top production companies and though he isn’t in any of the YouTube videos, he is the owner of a channel with almost a million subscribers. I show the email to my dad and, like me, he is skeptical at first, but he gives the writer a call. The call begins as an interrogation on my father’s half, but by the end he is giving the writer his email and coordinating schedules. When he finally hangs up, I am desperately curious.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“Looks like we are going on a road trip starting next week!” He says, and it is the first time I had seen him look genuinely excited since Mama died. He gives me a quick overview of the itinerary that he says Will, the writer, will email over later.
We will start here in our small town of Willow Springs, Alabama and then head north, starting a giant westward loop towards California, and then come back from the south. Each week we will meet with one or two of the Susan’s the personal investigator had found until eventually we find the Susan Smith we are looking for. The whole road-trip will take 3 months, starting in late April and going until early August. I’m not sure anything will come of this, but from the way my dad is whistling as he writes a to-do list, I think I may have my dad back and nothing has ever felt sweeter.
Chapter 5
Dad and I spend the next week getting everything ready for our trip. We are going to be gone for months, so Dad must prepare Sandra to run the diner in his absence and I must find someone to watch Sunny. I desperately want to take him, but three months in a car isn’t good for a dog.
Luckily, my Uncle Tad agrees to watch him and there is nothing Sunny loves more than chasing my younger cousins around the yard, so I know he will be happy with his accommodations. That doesn’t stop me from crying after dropping him off though. Sunny got me through Mama’s death and every day since. I’m not sure how I will go months without him curling up at my feet.
Everyone in town is super supportive of this trip, so it is easy to find neighbors to collect our mail and care for our house in our absence. Lilli volunteers to care for Mama’s garden, which takes a lot of my anxiety away. Mama grew prize winning roses and I would hate it if they died while we were gone.
Basically, the whole town drops by on the morning of our departure to wish us safe travels, but by noon only me and Lilli stand out on the porch waiting for the writer to arrive.
“It’s hotter than a jalapenos armpit.” Lilli complains, tossing her dark ringlet curls over her shoulders.
“Please, all you have been doing is standing there.” I point out, wiping the sweat from my forehead while she still looks perfect because while I had loaded the car, she had sat on the porch swing telling me about her latest love interest. His name is Dan, and he is a tourist visiting from California. Lilli thinks they can make long distance work, though she doesn’t have his number yet.
“True, but you could hardly expect me to move all your bags. I just got a manicure.” Lilli says with a knowing smile as she flashes her perfect light pink nails. I know for a fact that she got those done today just to avoid moving anything.
I just roll my eyes as I haul the last of my and Dad’s bags and supplies into the trunk of the SUV we have rented for the trip. It is dreadfully hot for a spring day and a thin layer of sweat coats me. I only wear a tank and cutoff shorts with sneakers, but it still feels like too much clothing. My hair sticks to my neck and I desperately wish for a hair tie to put it up, but I don’t have one on me. I’m about to go inside to retrieve one when a black sedan pulls up.
The back-door passenger side opens, and a tall man steps out and looks around. Even without knowing to expect the writer, I would know this man wasn’t from around here. With his stylish haircut and clothes, he was far from the typical baseball hat, boot cut Levi’s, and tee that was standard for men around here. His eyes catch on me as he scans the house, and he smirks before walking to the trunk and pulling out his suitcase.
“Well, isn’t he a tall glass of iced tea?” Lilli drawls as she gives the writer a long look. She gives me a smile that makes me worry she has found another soulmate.
I roll my eyes at her again as I step off the porch and walk down the drive to meet him. I take in his deep brown hair, green eyes, and chiseled features as I get closer. I didn’t expect the writer to be so young or handsome. Not that I was going to complain, though. Spending the summer with a young hot dude sounded a lot more entertaining than spending it with two middle-aged men.
“I presume you are Hannah?” He asks, giving me an appraising look and I wish I wasn’t covered in a sheen of sweat. He looks like a GQ cover and I have to assume I look like an ad for the dangers of addiction. I assume he has seen interviews of me, so I want to roll my eyes at his question. Of course I’m Hannah.
“Yes, nice to meet you. Will, right?” I greet, with a handshake, pushing aside my irritation to give him a welcoming smile. I got used to calling him the writer and I hope I remember his name correctly.
“Yes, where would you like my bag?” he asks, raising the suitcase he holds at his side. He has another bag slung around his shoulders, messenger style, which I assume holds his video equipment.
“Let’s put it in the trunk with the others.” I say as I pop the trunk of the SUV and help him find space for his suitcase.
“I have to say you are exactly like what I imagined you would be.” Will says as I shut the trunk. Confused, I turn to see his expression because I’m not sure what he is getting at. From the condescending smirk on his face, I would say it was a dig.
“Is that so, city boy?” I ask, my voice saccharine. I know I’m covered in sweat at the moment and that my hair is likely a little frizzy, but I won’t let any city slicker that doesn’t know east from west get to me.
