Photo from wallpapercave.com

As I drove down the dirt road, a wooden fence stretched for several miles on my right. On the other side of that fence, a green meadow provided food for a herd of sheep, before I passed a barn with a wheat field behind it. Next came a small cabin.

Straight ahead of me, a few miles in the distance, sat a small homestead with a large line of golden brown craggy rock mountains jutting from the land into the beautiful clear blue sky lined with white cotton clouds.

I took a deep breath as I stared in awe at the beauty before me. How could anyone take in such a spectacular scene and still question the existence of God, the mighty creator?

An infant’s hungry cry broke through the majesty of the moment. I reached a hand over to the carseat buckled in next to me. “Shh, Adora, I know you’re hungry and your diaper probably needs changed, but we’re almost there. The homestead is just ahead.”

Adora cried louder.

I sighed. “Yes, I know. I, too, wonder if we will be welcomed or turned away.” I put both hands on the wheel again, gripping it until my knuckles turned white. “What will we do? Where will we go if he turns us away?”

                     * * * * * * * *

The purr of an engine and the crunch of ground drew Griffin’s attention from the newspaper he was reading. He rose from his wooden chair at the oak table and Finnegan meowed from his mat by the fireplace. Griffin moved to the kitchen sink and looked out the window toward the road. He watched as a Classic 1968 red Ford Mustang drove toward his homestead, a cloud of dust in its wake.

“What the…” He leaned toward the window. “No, it can’t be.” He remained glued to the spot, his eyes locked on the car, as his heartbeat pounded a faster rhythm.

The Mustang pulled into the dirt lane and drew up to the front of the cabin, before it came to a stop. Griffin couldn’t move, as he waited to get a good look at the driver. Several minutes passed, his heart still thumped in his chest, causing him to wonder if he were having a heart attack, but there wasn’t any pain.

After several more minutes, the driver’s door opened and a brown leather boot beneath a bluejean-clad leg landed on his dirt lane. A petite woman, with chocolate brown waves of hair falling around her face, stood, placing a strawberry blonde infant on her hip.

Griffin’s breath caught in his throat and he coughed, trying to regain his breath. He watched as the woman stepped onto his front porch and approached his door. Still unable to move, even though the woman and baby were no longer in his line of sight.

Her knock seemed to loosen his feet and he moved toward the door with caution. He took a deep breath and blew it out in a great gust before opening it. When he did, his feet seemed to once again grow roots where he stood as he looked into the woman’s violet eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that seemed to prevent him from talking.

“Melisande, what are you doing here?”

“You’re a hard man to track down, Griffin, but I figured it was about time you meet your daughter.” She turned the baby on her hip, so he could get a better look at her face. Though her hair was strawberry blonde and her skin peaches and cream, she had her mother’s violet eyes. “This is Adora.”

The child stared at him for a moment, then began to cry.

“Look, can we come in? We’ve been on the road for days and stayed in a hotel or two, but we’ve been driving now for four hours straight and she’s hungry and needs a diaper change.”

Griffin’s head spun. Where? How … no, forget that one, he knew how. He couldn’t form words. He stepped aside and Melisande stepped through the entrance. He watched her eyes scan the kitchen and the open doorway to the living room. Then she looked at him. “You got an extra bedroom where I can feed and change her?”

He pointed her to the stairway along the right wall of the living room. “Up those stairs, first door on your left.”

Finnegan stood, arched his back, and meowed as he eyed the stranger, as Melisande walked past him without a glance.

Griffin watched as Melisande climbed the steps without hesitation, like she belonged here. A knot formed in his stomach. He’d left Melisande behind months ago, told her they were over. Now she was in his home and she had his daughter. His daughter. What on earth was he going to do now?

(Note: I had planned this to be a Flash Fiction story, but the characters in my head often take over and determine where the story goes. I wasn’t planning on a baby being part of this story, but as I was writing in a local coffee shop, she was suddenly there. And the last words I wrote in the coffee shop were “What will we do? Where will we go if he turns us away?” and when I sat down to finish the story here, I soon found that this is going to be longer than a Flash Fiction story. I hope you’ll enjoy it and go along for the ride. I’ll add to it every Friday until it comes to an end.)