Dale said. I looked up towards the driver’s seat. Dale Simson’s six foot plus frame filled the driver’s seat. His woody brown eyes sought mine out in the rear view mirror. I felt a stir. I’d thought about those eyes a lot. “Yeah?” I said. I had a feeling I’d been zoning out again. I was engrossed in the tall trees on both sides of the car as we rumbled through the rural roads of backwoods Georgia. Such beautiful country. “Do you think we missed it?” Jimmy said. He was Dale’s older brother, a smidgen shorter but just as broad in the shoulders. His blue eyes found mine in the rear view mirror, his urgency apparent. Shit, was I blowing it already? I glanced next to me and Mr. Duggar was still reviewing his notes. He was the reason the three of us were on this trip. So far everything had worked out, and I wasn’t really worried: Dale and Jimmy were good people. “Let me check,” I said, pulling the map out of my pack. I tried to remember the last sign I’d seen, but I was drawing a blank.
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