Page 112 of A Real Goode Time

“Well, good luck to you,” I said.

“You too, man.”

We sipped beer and smoked the stogies, and talked about women and trucks until the wee hours, and then I crashed.

The next morning I wrote a letter to Torie, stuck it in the mailbox, and started packing.

A month later,I had my engine hoist, creeper, all the tool crates and tool boxes and rolling carts and everything else all loaded in the trailer, along with various other things like compression testers and spare parts, and a few of the best of the salvaged parts, plus all my personal belongings. Most of that fit in the bed of the truck, which wasn’t a hundred percent restored, but good enough to make the trip.

I’d signed the contract for the building and all the agreed upon property, got paid, and hit the road—but not before stopping by a certain old diner to say goodbye to Marty. He gave me a big bear hug, told me to love her like he’d loved his Jenny, and gave me a big old burger for the road. God, I would miss that man.

Here I was, driving to Alaska, again. This time, I was on my own, and I had my whole life with me.

I stopped at the post office on the way to check my P.O. Box, and arrange to have all my mail forwarded to Ketchikan. And there was a letter for me.

From Torie.

RJ—

Or shouldI still call you Rhys? You signed your letter RJ, so I wasn’t sure. I like you calling me Victoria.

I’ve missedyou more than I can say, and I understand about you not calling me.

When I sayI’ll be standing at the window watching and waiting, I’m not kidding. If I’m home, I’ll be watching for your arrival.

I hopeit’s not too forward to sign this letter this way…

I love you,

Your Victoria

Holy hell.My heart leapt like a trout in a river. She loved me.

I mean, hearing it when I was with her was one thing, but to read it in a letter after three months apart? That was something else entirely.

I left New Haven with that letter in my back pocket and a grin on my face.

I madeit to Ketchikan in record time, considering I was hauling a trailer and driving a ’49 F-1. I stopped to sleep in my truck in a truck stop twice, and only for a few hours at a time, preferring to keep driving, needing to be with Torie as soon as possible.

I arrived in Ketchikan at two in the morning. I parked in the back of her mom’s condo lot. Locked everything, grabbed my backpack and went for the door.

I buzzed her mom’s unit. “H’lo?” Lucas’s deep rumble, sleepy and annoyed.

“Sorry to wake you, Lucas. It’s Rhys.”

“RJ.” It was said with a laugh. “She ain’t here.”

“Oh.” My heart sank.

“Don’t sound s’down hearted, son. She’s got her own place. I’ll come down and tell you how to get there.”

A few minutes later, a sleepy Lucas emerged from the front door wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. He gave me directions to her place across town, and another one of those claps on the back that shook my teeth.

“She’s been workin’ her tail off, that girl,” he said.

“Oh? Doin’ what?” I asked.

“Working for Zane, helping him and Liv flip houses. She’s right handy with a circular saw, that girl, and knows her way around a paint roller like nobody I seen. Got a real eye for colors and such.”