Page 13 of Heart Strings

“You mean, the girls giggling in the background when we talked on the phone?” I chuckled at Abigail’s startled glance. “They aren’t very quiet.”

“Yes, them. I guess I also have to kick both their butts before I leave, too.” I followed Abigail into the house and found myself met by at least five curious stares from Abigail’s sorority sisters. “Al, Zoe and Maggie. Zoe and Maggie, Al.” This poor introduction must have been her way of getting back at me because she vanished up the stairs immediately.

“Hi,” I said, sizing up the two girls Abigail had pointed out. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” the girl I thought was Zoe agreed. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Too much!” she called loudly up the stairs.

A muffled “Shut up!” floated from the hallway.

“All good things, I’m sure.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows at me. Maybe that had been a little cocky.

“She needs a break. Just treat her well, okay? You don’t want to get on the bad side of a sorority.”

Abigail saved me from either snorting with laughter at the idea of having a sorority after me or having to convince her two protective friends that my intentions were good. Descending the steps waving something in her hand, she explained, “I almost forgot my hairbrush. Now I’m ready to go.” She gave Zoe and Maggie a quick hug, then led the way out the door. The two watched us leave with wide grins.

“Okay, now, are you sure you have everything?” I watched Abigail pack the brush into her suitcase and close the trunk. She just stood there, staring at the purple bougainvillea with glazed eyes. “Abigail. Abigail.” No response. “Abby!” I made my voice a pout.

“Uh -” Abigail shot a surprised glance at me and sent a small rock bouncing away on the pavement with the toe of her shoe. “Could we make one more stop? It’s on the way to the airport, and it’ll only take a minute or two.”

I glanced at the watch that hugged the compass tattoo just above my wrist. “Sure, we have plenty of time. Where is it?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Abigail hopped into the passenger seat, and I slid into the driver’s side. “And, uh, can you please not call me Abby? It’s a nickname for me, but only my family uses it.”

Only her family, huh? We’d see about that. “Sure.”

I noticed two things as I followed Abigail’s directions. First, this place was on the way to the airport as she had said, but indirectly. Second, where we were headed was not in the Garden District, downtown or in the French Quarter. We were passing through a rundown neighborhood.

The houses had oddly-colored siding that peeled off the walls and children were playing in the middle of the street. Graffiti blemished the occasional abandoned buildings. As we turned left, the street became narrower and was riddled with potholes.

“Okay, can you pull over right up there?” Abigail asked pointing ahead as we neared a house with faded blue siding. When I pulled into the dirt driveway, I couldn’t help but admire the front door, though, ornately painted with flowers and vines.

“What are we doing here?” I asked. The confusing vibe of the house and this entire side of town was urging me to check the rearview mirror.

“Just wait here? It’ll only be two minutes?” The cute pattern of freckles that sprinkled the bridge of her nose shifted with her imploring gaze.

“Sure.”

“Thanks!”

A few strands of red hair tickled my nose as she quickly turned and hopped out of the car. I watched her walk up to the door and knock, and I waited to catch a glimpse of whoever lived here. But Abigail blocked my view and quickly disappeared into the house.Weird.

Two minutes later on the dot, Abigail reappeared and rejoined me in the car. “Now I’m really ready,” she promised.

“Who was that?”

“Uh - a friend of my mother’s. She’s kind of fallen on hard times and I was supposed to visit next week, so I was letting her know I couldn’t make it.”

“Why didn’t you just call her?”

“Most people around here don’t have phones.” I still didn’t feel quite right about her answer, but I focused on not rear-ending a car that was parked near the curb and let it go. “So, when does our flight leave again?”

“About ninety minutes,” was the answer to that question, and by the time we got to the airport, parked and walked inside, that answer changed to “in forty-five minutes.”

Luckily, the lines through security were short, and we got Abigail’s suitcase checked without delay. After finding our gate, she sat down beside her backpack while I went to grab two coffees. On the way back I ran into a couple fans, stopped for a few pictures and got back to the gate just as people were standing to make a line for boarding.

“That was close,” Abigail commented, taking her coffee.

---