She poked him again.
He stopped rolling in one direction, throwing his bulk back the other way so that he was lying flat on his back again. His eyelids fluttered, focusing, and she knew that she actually managed to wake him this time.
“Nothing’s wrong, but I… I needed to head out of Hamlet to do some shopping. Normally, I wouldn’t bother you for something so silly. You know that. It’s just—”
She didn’t even have to finish her statement. They both knew how difficult it was for her to go past the gulley—it took everything she had in her yesterday to make that trip alone—and Rick would never hold that against her.
So that long, convoluted story she came up with in order to get him in the truck?
No need.
“Okay. Yeah.” Rick pulled himself up, scrubbing his hand over his face as he wiped away the last of his rest. He yawned, shaking it off, as he immediately reached for his radio and his keys. “Just, uh, let me take a piss and change my clothes. Then we can go.”
The butterflies in her belly flapped wildly. She gave him a winning grin, trying to disguise her nerves. “I’m ready when you are, babe.”
At least, she hoped she was.
Grace kept up the pretense that they were heading out of Hamlet for the first few minutes that they were in Rick’s truck. But, because he lived so close to the edge of town, she had to stop him before they got too far.
As soon as she saw the backside of the wooden sign coming up on their left, Grass reached out and laid her hand on his arm.
“Do me a favor? Stop the truck.”
Rick looked at her curiously. He didn’t question her, though. He just pressed on the brakes until the truck was idling.
She had everything she needed in the small beige shopping tote on her lap. Picking it up, Grace opened the passenger side door and hopped out of the truck.
The slam of the other door said that Rick was coming out to see what she was doing.
Good.
She took out the small jar of paint Maria loaned her and twisted off the cap just as she sensed him joining her on her side of the truck.
“Tiger, what—”
Focused on her task, she hushed him. Daring a peek up at him over her shoulder, she saw that Rick’s dark eyes had lit up in amusement, but he didn’t say another word.
Palming the jar, Grace set the lid on top of the truck’s hood, careful not to splatter any of the green paint. She reached back into the shopping tote and pulled out the paintbrush. She looked up at Rick, her heart in her throat and butterflies in her belly, and said, “Come with me.”
Grace led him over to the sign. Her hands were trembling and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Then, after dipping the tip of the brush into the paint, she drew a decisive stroke through the 191 on Maria’s sign.
“What are you—”
“Not done yet.”
She didn’t want to mess up Maria’s handiwork. Her friend wouldn’t mind, she already knew that, but still. This moment was important. She refused to mess this up.
The tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips. She leaned in, taking her time to complete the next five brushstrokes until the sign now read:
Welcome to Hamlet
est. 1941
Population: 191 192
~ Hamlet Helps ~
“Okay. I’m finished.”