Page 71 of The Roads We Follow

A moment later the door opens to reveal a middle-aged woman with peppery hair pulled back in a loose braid, wearing a blue checkered apron and holding a wooden spoon ... which is currently dripping something whipped onto her canvas shoe. “Oh, goodness. Well, hello there!” she greets us with a broad smile, looking from Adele to the rest of our sweaty crew. “I should probably save you nice folks some time. If you’re here to try and sell me something, I probably already own it. And if you’re here to try and sell mesomeone, I definitely already know Him. I’ve been trusting in Jesus since before I knew how to make a decent pie. And I don’t much like to think about life before pie.” She shudders.

Once again, Micah and I share a glance.

Adele appears so off-guard that she actually stutters, “N-no, ma’am, we’re not here to sell anything or anyone for that matter. We’re sorry to bother you, but our bus broke down a few miles back, and we’re hoping you might have a phone we could use to call a tow truck.”

She steps further out onto her porch and glances left and right. “Where did you break down?”

Hattie points exaggeratedly. “Exactly four-point-six miles that way.”

“But there’s nothing but wheat farms out that way.” The woman gasps. “Did you walk all the way here in this heat?” When her gaze falls on Mama’s flushed cheeks, I’m worried she’s recognized her, but then she exclaims, “Please, please, come inside where it’s cool. I’m happy to help. Nobody should be out in this heat—not even if it’s Jesus you’re selling. I’ve just finished up a French silk pie, and I have some iced tea in the fridge to share.”

“Thank you, ma’am. We appreciate your help,” I say just as Mama teeters on her feet.

“Nonnie?” Cheyenne calls out. On sheer instinct, I open my arms to catch Mama’s frail, fainting frame just as Micah swoops in to lift her from me as if she weighs no more than a paper doll.

“Mother!” Adele cries as Hattie calls out, “She needs water!”

I’m completely mute as fear sweeps through me.

“Good gracious, bring her inside to the sofa.” The woman waves us through an entryway so plastered in knickknacks it would take more than ten minutes to process everything in this space. But one thing’s for certain: I can definitely understand why she said she didn’t need anything we might be selling. It would appear she has one of everything already, especially if it’s in any way related to Dorothy’s magical journey to Oz.

“The green velvet one there is fine. I’ll get some ice water and some cool washcloths. Poor thing’s probably got heatstroke.”

Cheyenne follows after the woman to help while Micah lays Mama down.

The three of us sisters crowd around her, and thankfully in a matter of a few seconds Mama opens her eyes and blinks up at us. Her brow rumples as much as it can, given she’s had every fountain-of-youth facial treatment imaginable. But even though my mama might look forty, she’s nearly seventy. And something about that revelation punches me through the heart. And by the looks of it, Micah is having a similar reaction. His brows are furrowed as he watches her every movement.

“Oh, phooey,” Mama says, coming to. “Did I make a dramatic entrance I hadn’t planned on?”

“Mama.” I drop to my knees in front of her and take her hand. “That was really scary. How are you feeling now? Are you dizzy?”

“Just a bit parched is all,” Mama amends.

“Well, I don’t want you leaving this couch until we’re certain you’re okay,” Adele says in her usual take-charge way.

“I’ll be just fine after a sip of water and a decent sit-down.” She smiles and pushes herself up to a seated position.

Micah plants a hand on Mama’s shoulder. “I agree with Adele, Luella. You should take it easy while we figure out a plan for the bus.”

There’s a protest brewing in Mama’s gaze when we’re interrupted by our gracious host.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She hands Mama a giant glass of icewater, and Cheyenne folds a damp wash cloth to blot Mama’s forehead with. “That was quite a scare.”

“I’m feeling fine now, thank you.” Mama takes a few ladylike sips of water. “We’d like to repay you, Ms....”

“I go by Dottie. And there’s no repayment necessary. Hospitality shouldn’t be the exception but the rule. At least, that’s been my motto ever since I opened my home as an inn.”

“You have a beautiful home,” I comment, noticing the life-size statue of Scarecrow standing guard next to the staircase. I’d hate to run into him in the middle of the night. “You must be quite a fan ofThe Wizard of Oz.”

“Fan is putting it mildly, sweetheart, but yes. I’m a strong believer that there’s no place like home.” She winks as Micah steps forward.

“Dottie, may I trouble you for your house phone and a ... phone book?” The look on Micah’s face is so iconic I nearly laugh. I’d bet money my niece has never seen a phone book in her young life.

Dottie waves her hand in the air and starts for the kitchen. “Of course, but I’ll save you the trouble of calling around. There’s a large service station about two hours east, but my brother Billy owns the local mechanic shop just ten minutes up the road. You would have run straight into it if you could have kept on driving.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hattie mutters as she collapses into a winged-back chair across from Mama, one with tiny ruby slippers printed all over it.

“I’m sure Billy can help get a tow figured out for your rig, too.”

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