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I may just do that, Angie said.
Joanna picked Jenny up from Sue Espy s house in time for Sunday school and
church. During the service, Jeff Daniels held the quiet Esther on his lap
while it took both Joanna and Jenny to keep Ruth corralled. Marianne s
Thanksgiving-in-January sermon left not one dry eye in the congregation.
During coffee hour afterward, one whole Sunday-school table was stacked high
with baby presents.
Over Jenny s objections, Joanna rushed her out of the social hall before she
was able to snag a second helping of cake. What s the hurry? Jenny asked.
We re going on a picnic, Joanna replied. I ve ordered picnic lunch from
the Grub-box uptown. It s supposed to be ready by now.
Where are we going? Jenny asked.
It s a surprise, Joanna told her.
As expected, lunch was packed and ready to go. They rove from there to the
Grand Hotel where Butch Dixon sat waiting for them in the lobby reading
another book Smilla s Sense of Snow.
Once he was in the car, they headed east on Highway 80. Where are we going?
Jenny asked again, settling into the backseat.
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The Wonderland of Rocks, Joanna said.
Where s that? Butch asked.
In the Chiricahuas. If you look on the map, it s called the Chiricahua
National Monument, but locals call it the Wonderland of Rocks.
It s where Grandpa Lathrop died, isn t it, Jenny asked quietly.
Yes, Joanna said. As they drove across and up the long valley, Joanna told
Butch the story of Big Hank Lathrop s death, about how he had stopped to
change a woman s tire and had been run down by a drunk driver while Joanna and
her friends had looked on in horror. And until Friday night, she finished,
I had never been back.
Not once? Butch asked. Not even with Andy?
No, Joanna said. Not even. But I decided this morning that today is the
first day of the rest of my life. This was always one of my favorite places.
It was silly to put off com-ing here for so long.
Driving into the monument, they rode past the greasy oil slick where Hal
Morgan s Buick had burned to ashes. Joanna said nothing. That was part of her
other life. She was determined not to let work intrude on this gloriously
clear, wonderfully warm January day.
The first glimpses of the fantastic rhyolite pillars brought gasps of
astonishment from Jenny in the backseat.
This must have been a sacred place to the Indians who lived here, Butch
said. What did they call it?
Joanna shook her head. I don t know, she said. Whatever it was, they
probably kept it a secret, and I don t blame them.
Later in the afternoon, after lunch, while Jenny set off to explore one of
the trails, Joanna and Butch sat watching a lizard sun himself. Green-and-gray
skin made him almost invisible on the lichen-covered rock.
So what do you think? Butch asked. Will Hal Morgan be able to get his life
back now?
Joanna thought long and hard before she replied. The question had more than
one layer of meaning. So did her answer.
I don t know, she said. It takes time to get over something like that.
Yes, Butch Dixon said gently, I m sure it does.
About this Title
This eBook was created using ReaderWorks®Publisher 2.0, produced by
OverDrive, Inc.
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