Luke’s raising a brow. His expression amused.
Sal blows him a kiss and turns.
She runs.
The crisp early-morning air tightens her lungs. Blood fills her veins, pumps her legs. Sal keeps to the ridgeline of thin trees that drops into a thicket of forest. Tall southern red oaks rise like skyscrapers above her.
As Sal settles into her rhythm, she realizes one thing. She’s pretty damn fast. In fact, she’s damn good at this. It feels natural. Like breathing. Like something she’s done for a long time. As her legs respond, loose and limber, she tries to remember herself and how she used to be. The thoughts come to her like small pebbles, pattered against her brain. She ran to be fast, to be strong and healthy. Each morning, she drank a cup of coffee with Luke before leaving to beat her body, her legs into submission. Sal had to care for people, carry them, lift them. So it was easy to care for herself.
Is that right?
She doesn’t know.
She comes to a stop at a fork in the road. The right path leads down, deeper into the forest; the left leads up to Hellier Curve. The narrow dirt curve angling off the highway. She can see the stop sign marking the dividing intersection.
Sal makes a move in that direction but pauses. Her belly dips, a sickening, foreboding sensation.
After a second’s hesitation, she turns for the woods. Her feet pick up the pace as she runs across springy earth. Pine needles and loam and moss. Deeper she moves into the canopy of trees, getting thicker the further in she goes.
Sal’s mind drifts from Hellier Curve to Luke. To second chances. Second chances she might never have had because of ...
Sal shudders.
It feels like a dream. Like a lifetime ago that she was anywhere other than here. That she was with Roy. A monster who broke her down, lied to her for months, who stole her memory and her health.
Sal squeezes her eyes shut. With a thrash of her head, she sprints for the forest.
No. No more Roy.
She won’t think of him, won’t give him another second of her breath. He took enough of her life. Never again will he take any more.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Luke scribbles a pen across the lined page of his lyric notebook, unable to stop the flood of words that pour from him. Ever since he and Sal made love, something uncorked inside of him. The mental cock block that happened after Sal’s death is no more.
His wife was what he needed to get his mind back onto the page, the words, the music, the lyrics. He always knew he lost it when he lost her. And now, with Sal back, he’s back. Just having her around, seeing her determination to recover her lost memories, has inspired him. Luke has nothing but fiery admiration for Sal. His wife’s been through hell and back, but she ain’t broken.
And though he told Mort no “Sal’s Song,” he’s still determined to finish it. It needs to be done because Sal deserves it. He started writing the song over a year ago, but with everything that happened, it took a back seat. Now back at it, Luke’s found the song’s taken a turn into something even more personal, more tender and reverent. It’s everything Sal is. Beautiful. Precious. Fierce as hell.
Luke’s brain turns to mush as Sal’s face floats into his mind. The last two weeks have been heaven. Better than their honeymoon. He didn’t think it possible, but he’s more in love with her than he’s ever been.
He grins, thinking about this morning. The sight of her in her short shorts. Those long runner’s legs. Her pillowy lips, begging for another kiss. Her big green eyes, teasing, bidding him closer ...
A hard groan of frustrated arousal rumbles out of Luke, his thoughts taking a torturous road to blue ball town. All he can focus on is Sal. All he wants is her home so he can worship her in bed.
Luke sets the pencil down and glances out the window for Sal. A light breeze flutters the curtains.
Then, just as quickly as it came, Luke’s arousal dissipates and is replaced with a stab of worry.
“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he tells himself. She hasn’t even been gone an hour. He’s gotta stop worrying.
She’ll find the road home. She always did.
Luke turns back to the notepad. He closes his eyes, letting “Sal’s Song” float over him. A whisper of a tune, the lyrics forming and pushing themselves into something new. Something different, but better. Fiercer. Just how Sal does everything.
The life we live ain’t been perfect
But it’s been perfect with you
And where we’re goin’ may not be perfect too