“Fair.”
“I need to know I can stand somewhere that is mine and still choose you.”
His eyes go dark. He steps closer but stops before touching.
“You choosing me?”
“I’m trying to.”
He looks down at the keys in my hand, then back at me. “Try harder.”
A laugh bursts out of me, half sob.
“Romantic.”
“I rode to Oregon. I’m low on poetry.”
I smile, and for one second, things are almost simple.
Then the crown behind my ear throbs.
Lottie’s words come back.
Women who get roads opened for them should remember who moved the trees.
My smile fades.
Derby sees it. “What did Lottie say?”
I look toward the road where the old jail clubhouse sits somewhere beyond trees and curves.
“A lot.”
“About Jeremy?”
“Yes.”
“Did she confess?”
“Not in words that would hold up anywhere.” I don’t know if that’s exactly true.
His face hardens.
I touch his arm.
Derby’s eyes close briefly.
“She threaten you?”
I think about it.
Then answer honestly.
“I think she reminded me.”
“Of what?”
“That freedom here has shadows.”