Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
As I got in my car, I pulled my notebook and crayon out of my back pocket and set them down. Then I started the engine and adjusted the air conditioning before taking my phone out and putting the number Xavier had given me into my contacts. I doubted I’d ever use it, but the contact was one more tie I had with Xavier and, right or wrong, I wanted every tie to the man I could get. He was everything Paul was not, and everything I never knew I wanted.
My new home was only twenty minutes away from the prison property. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but when I found this small but wonderful farmhouse with thirteen acres of land at such a reasonable price, it had seemed like fate. This was where I was supposed to be. And really, I could write anywhere in the world I wanted to. Sure, electricity and the Internet would be a huge help but weren’t strictly necessary. The fact my place was off by itself where no one would bother me guaranteed I’d spend many days and evenings on the front porch with my laptop.
* * *
It had been two weeks since I’d told Xavier about my house. I’d printed out pictures to show him last week. I’d hoped to print out a few more before I went to see him tomorrow.
I’d taken actual possession of the property yesterday morning. I hadn’t brought much with me because I didn’t have much. My clothes, laptop, office chair, a makeshift desk, and my car. That was all. My mother and father had sold off anything I got from Paul’s estate as payment for me living with them after Paul’s death so while I had a bit of cash and a decent vehicle, I had very little else. Thank God for that money, too, because I’d been living in a hotel for two months before I found and bought this place. The cash payment I’d offered was the only way I’d managed the purchase. The owner came down on what I thought was an already pretty good price and let me have the keys a week later once the paperwork had all been filed.
I sighed happily as I pulled onto the long drive to the house and into the attached garage. This was my new home. I was proud I’d been able to buy the place by myself. If the money I’d used to make the purchase had come from my dead husband, I’d still count it as buying the house with my blood and so much pain. Besides, I might not make much money as an author, but I made enough for payments on this house even if I’d taken out a mortgage. I counted that as proof I was a success. Small-time, maybe, but a success nonetheless.
Saturdays were devoted to Xavier, but Sunday through Thursday brought me back to the real world. Figuratively speaking. Because my world was pure fantasy. Literally. I could make up any world I wanted and that was my reality for the next six days. The only time I had to poke my head out into the real real world was to go to the grocery on Friday mornings. Technically I also went out on Saturdays to see Xavier, but then I didn’t think about anything other than my time with him. It was important to me to make every minute count. For both of us.
* * *
It was now Friday afternoon, over a month since Xavier had given me a way to contact him. I hadn’t needed to use the phone number, obviously, but I liked having that connection in my hand. I often stared at the number I’d labeled “Xavier’s Friends.” It made me feel less alone.
I always allowed myself Friday afternoon to do whatever I wanted. I’d read or binge-watch a TV show or bake something. I’d just come from doing my weekly shopping and was going to make my favorite recipe of egg noodles, cheese, ground beef, and tomatoes. It was my comfort food.
Tomorrow was my hour with Xavier. It wasn’t as long a day as before I moved to Terre Haute, but I liked to have a dinner I could heat up quickly at home. Not often, but occasionally, they extended visiting for an additional hour or two. Sometimes, that additional time wasn’t in the same block. So I might have to wait a couple hours between them. Having leftovers made one less thing for me to have to do when I got home. Without fail, I was always emotionally exhausted. Because, the fact was, I couldn’t imagine my life without our visits.
Before I entered the house with my groceries, a chill went up my spine. I froze, key in the lock, looking around the area. The garage door was off the kitchen with a covered walkway between the two. I stood in the walkway and set my bags on the concrete.