Letters to Hank

Chapter Nine

The airplane landed with a heavy thud, further tying Rose's stomach into knots. She stared out the window as Virginia welcomed them with a dismal glaze of precipitation. Her ears ached from the pressure and her eyes drooped with exhaustion. The seatbelt sign turned off with a ding, followed by a goodbye and thank you from the pilot.

"You ready?" Scout nudged Rose with his elbow. He stood in the crowded aisle and pulled their bags from the overhead compartments.

Her limbs heavy and her stomach still churning, she went with the crowd, her arm looped through Scout's, and exited the plane.

"First time on a plane and you can hardly keep your lunch down." Scout laughed. He tossed his backpack over his shoulder and tugged her close as a mob of late passengers stampeded past. "We've got to keep this quick. Our flight leaves at eleven tonight. That gives us..." He snapped his wrist out, glancing at his smartwatch. "...about twelve hours to find this Heidi, get our answers, and still have an hour to get through customs again."

"Shouldn't be too hard. I have her address written down. Just have to get there." Rose's feet dragged with tiredness.

After calling a taxi, Scout shoved Rose in the back seat with a smirk. He quickly followed. "You know, Rose, maybe you were right."

Fighting sleep, she ignored what was to come. She flipped through the pages of her notebook until she found the address. She showed it to the driver who simply nodded, then drove off.

"I never imagined us to be halfway across the country together chasing after some postcards." He curled his arm around his shoulder; she laid her head down, her eyes drifting shut. "You need answers. I need adventure."

It was no longer than an hour before the taxi driver came to a halt in the driveway of an old, Victorian-style home. The siding was stained a pale blue, the shudders a pristine white. With a turret off to the side, the house reeked of elegance and magnificent beauty. The front flowerbed was congested with blossoming peony bushes and daisies.

Rose woke when Scout climbed out of the car. Her neck ached, but every ailment faded when she came to her senses. Standing before her was the home that she had been searching for, the abode that held the answers to who Hank George was. She pulled the postcards out of her backpack and followed Scout up onto the wrap-around porch.

"I sure hope this is the right place," Scout muttered. He watched the taxi driver disappear around the corner leaving nothing but a fading trail of black exhaust.

Rose sighed, her palms growing sweaty. "I never thought postcards at the back of an antique store would have taken me to Virginia."

"Me either."

Slowly letting out a breath, Rose rang the doorbell with her heart pounding in her throat. No one answered at first; the house was silent for all but the structure's ominous sound of age. The trees applauded the birds' symphony, but the inside of the house was quieter than the belly of a cave. Rose rang again, hoping and praying that Heidi would answer.

Finally, the front door crept open. In the slit of the door, a woman's face appeared. Her skin was papery and smooth as butter. "Can I help you?" she croaked.

"Are you Heidi Gordon?" Rose blurted out, her voice trembling.

The woman squinted and opened the door wider. "What are you trying to sell me?"

"Nothing, Ma'am. My name is Rose Nash and I'm looking for Heidi Gordon. Would you be able to help me find her?"

"What concerns her?" The woman's piercing gaze darted from Rose to Scout.