Crimson Highway by David Wickenhauser (brene brown rising strong TXT) 📗

a reason. And he was not entirely comfortable with what that reason might be—what all this might mean to her.

When they had finished, she cleared their plates, saying, “Don’t get up. There’s more.”

“How could there possibly be more?” he asked her.

“You’ll see.”

She reached into the refrigerator and took out two smaller plates with a very rich-looking, chocolate-mousse pie type of dessert on them.

“Wow!” Hugh said. “I didn’t think this could get any better.”

They dug into their desserts, Hugh making appropriate appreciative sounds, which he didn’t have to fake. It all was truly delicious, and entirely to his liking.

“Definitely not hot dogs and beans,” he remarked, remembering their first meal together that he had prepared.

They worked together cleaning up, tossing everything into a garbage sack. “A lot easier than doing dishes,” Jenny admitted, laughing.

They took the garbage out together, then stayed outside for awhile to enjoy the pleasant evening.

Truth-be-told, Hugh thought, he felt the truck’s sleeper cab to be a little too confining right now. He needed to think, and distance himself a little bit from everything that had happened this evening.

They walked for a little bit more, both lost in their own thoughts. Neither felt the need to make conversation merely for the purpose of filling empty space.

Finally, Hugh said, “We’d better head back and turn in. I’d like to get an early start tomorrow. Our load delivers in Tracy, California, about 2 pm, two days from now. I’m thinking I’d like to make it all the way to I-5 tomorrow and park for the night at least an hour up the road. It depends on how much drive time I’ve got left after getting loaded at the water facility. At the very least, I’d like to make it to Bakersfield.”

Jenny’s ears perked up when she heard that last part. But she didn’t say anything.

They went into the drivers’ lounge for a final restroom visit, then walked back to the truck.

He stayed outside to give her a chance to change. She had told him earlier that she had bought a nightgown to wear to bed.

When he climbed up into the cab, Jenny had already turned off her top-bunk light. Hugh got into his bunk, stripped down to his shorts, and turned off his own light.

“Jenny?”

“Yes, Hugh.”

“Thanks for an enjoyable day, especially the meal. That was fun,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Hugh.”

“Goodnight, Jenny.”

Chapter Twelve

They were up early the next morning.

By now, most of their morning preparations were a familiar routine. The only difference this morning was that Hugh had stepped outside sooner than normal to do his pre-trip in order to give Jenny a chance to alight from her bunk, and to change out of her nightgown.

Jenny then jumped down with rags and squirt bottle in hand to take care of her own morning chores.

Hugh told her that this was going to be a great day to travel. The skies were clear, the temperature was comfortable, and traffic would be light. They’d miss Reno’s morning rush hour.

The only hitch, he explained to her, was the high-wind area in the Washoe Valley, south of Reno on 395. That’s where the Nevada Department of Transportation prohibits trucks during high winds from staying on the main highway, and forces them to take a parallel side road. That side road hugs the hills, which shields the wind somewhat.

“You never know if the high-wind-warning signs will be lit,” he told Jenny. “The breeze is building a bit right now, so it might be getting worse by the time we get there.”

“Is it a lot out of our way?” she asked.

“Not by much. The main problem is it’s slower going through some rural residential neighborhoods, and there are a couple of stop signs,” Hugh answered.

They got settled into their seats, and Hugh pulled out of the little truck stop, and back onto I-80.

“I liked that place,” Jenny said, once they were headed down the highway.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Hugh responded, not sure what Jenny was referring to.

Hugh had to concentrate on driving through Sparks, and then into Reno. The turnoff to merge onto 395 south was difficult to maneuver at best, but it was worse now that there was so much construction going on.

As they left Reno and approached the Washoe Valley, Hugh could feel the effects of the wind picking up. It’s something about that valley, he thought. It seems to act as a sort of funnel to channel the wind, and kick it up into high gear.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks like we’re going to have a little breeze. Watch for the Trucks Prohibited sign. If it’s lit, we’ve got to take the alternate route.”

Sure enough, before they had gone too much farther, they saw the flashing sign telling drivers of trucks, motor homes, and travel trailers to take the alternate route.

Hugh slowed, exited the highway, and turned onto the secondary road.

Traffic was sparse as they passed by the homes and ranchettes that dotted this area. Hugh observed the forty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit, and disabled his Jake brakes in deference to the local residents.

He approached the first stop sign, stopped, then started to pull out to get going again.

Suddenly, and without warning, two guys jumped onto the cab steps, one on each side of the truck. They held onto the side mirror mounts and tried to open the cab doors. When they found them locked, they pounded on the windows, and motioned for Hugh to stop the truck.

“No way, Jose!” Hugh shouted back at the guy on his side of the truck through the closed window. He stomped the accelerator and quickly worked the gearshift in order to reach a greater speed, and possibly shake these guys off.

At the same time, amongst all the commotion, he could hear Jenny screaming. The guy on her side