Chapter One
Patricia rolled down the window of
her RV as she drove south into Georgia and breathed in the warm spring air. Patricia
had left cold, snowy New York City yesterday morning and after one night at a
campground in Roanoke, Virginia the night before, she was happy to see the
green landscape around her, crawling with kudzu and bursting into flower.
She sang along with the radio, her curly red hair waving in
the wind, enjoying the freedom of life in her RV. There was nothing better than
this, Patricia knew—the excitement of hitting the open road whenever she
wanted, off on an adventure where she would explore a new place. Patricia was a
woman with a gypsy soul who loved meeting new people and meeting new adventures
head-on, which was why her career as a travel writer was so satisfying to her.
Patricia
was coming to the end of a fourteen-hour drive. Her editor and publisher had planned
out her travel writing assignments and wanted her to write a long feature
article about Atlanta. Before New York, Patricia had been in Philadelphia
researching a similar feature, and, despite the cold, she had had a blast doing
it. She took a deep breath of the warm, fresh air blowing in through her window
now and could hardly wait to see what Atlanta had to offer her.
Patricia
kept her attention on the highway, humming along softly to the classic rock
song playing on her radio. A small sporty car zoomed past her on the right.
Patricia smiled. I’ll probably see them pulled over in a few minutes,
she thought. Sure enough, a few miles down the road Patricia saw the sleek red car
next to a sheriff's car with its lights flashing. Patricia’s RV could manage a
good speed, but she generally kept to the posted limits. As a young woman, she
had worked a clerical job at a police station processing tickets and citations,
and she had a healthy respect for the law. She had no desire to add a speeding
ticket to her life achievements.
Of
course, once she had been promoted to administrative assistant to the
detectives there, she had wished to add plenty of things to her life
achievements. Her writing skills and people skills were unparalleled—she had
her degree in English and Psychology to thank for that—but she lacked the
credentials to do more than help out occasionally with investigations. “You
have talent, kid,” a detective sergeant had once told her. “Call me when you’ve
got a badge to back it up. Until then, stick to your paperwork.” It stung. But
truthfully, Patricia knew she would be a little miserable if she went to the
police academy. Her free spirit longed for something more. That very same week
she had begun hunting for travel writing jobs, then sold her car to buy the RV
not long after that.
Patricia
knew she had made the right choice in life because when she saw the “Welcome to
Georgia” sign, her heart sang. Patricia was almost at her destination. She would
be staying at a campground next to a tourist attraction called Stone Mountain. There
was plenty to explore there, plus a bus line ran from the park to Atlanta and
nearby suburbs. That was perfect for Patricia, who relied on busses, taxis, and
Ubers to get around.
A
couple of hours later, Patricia was awed to see Stone Mountain rising tall in
the middle of flat land and highways. It was beautiful. Patricia pulled up to
the ranger station by the entrance. The ranger gave her a map showing her
camping spot and welcomed her to the park. Patricia thanked him, and he wished
her a good day in a sweet Georgia accent that made her grin.
Driving through the campground, the lush green trees rose on
every side and families and couples walked along the paths. She found her space,
parked and got out. Patricia hooked up her RV to the electric station and
decided to stretch her legs after her long drive. The generator could charge
while she took a walk. After donning her favorite floppy straw hat to keep the
sun out of her eyes, Patricia hopped out of her RV and locked the door. Even
though campgrounds were generally safe, Patricia knew she was better safe than
sorry. She may have a gypsy soul, but she also prided herself on being a savvy,
careful traveler.
Patricia consulted the map of the park and set out toward a
good walking trail. She walked along the small paved road and saw a young
couple setting up their RV in a space nearby. The young man looked up and waved
at Patricia. Patricia waved back.
“Hello,”
said the young man. He was dressed in shorts and a polo shirt. He had wavy
brown hair and a friendly look.
“Hello,
neighbor,” responded Patricia. She stopped to chat, and he walked over. “I’m in
the next lot over. My name is Patricia.”
“My
name is Tom,” he said as they shook hands. She saw chairs and a table set up by
the firepit. A pretty young woman walked up, her brown hair framing her face in
fetching natural curls. “This is my wife, Valerie.”
“It
is nice to meet you both,” said Patricia, and Valerie shook her hand warmly.
“Did
you just arrive?” Valerie said.
“Yes.
I just drove down from Virginia. Are you enjoying Stone Mountain so far?”
Patricia asked.
“Yes,”
said Valerie with a huge grin. “We love it. We’re on our honeymoon,” she said
and blushed a little, reaching out to hold Tom’s hand.
“Yes,
we are traveling all around the United States,” Tom explained. “The RV was a
wedding present from my uncle.”
“How
wonderful,” exclaimed Patricia. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
“How about you? What brings you here to Georgia?” asked
Valerie.
“I am a travel writer, so my work brings me to Atlanta. My
friends always tease me how much I love the RV life. My job is perfect for me. I
guess I’m just a gypsy at heart.” The young couple laughed.
“This
seems like a really nice place to start your research. Quite a lot of things to
do around the park, even before you head into Atlanta,” said Tom.
“I
thought so too,” said Patricia. “Well, it was nice meeting you both. I am just
stretching my legs on the trails. I’ll let you get back to setting up.”
“Okay,”
said Valerie. She hesitated, then added, “Later on we are headed to the famous
Dekalb Farmer’s Market. Would you like to join us? If it won’t keep you from
your work, that is.”
“Thank
you,” said Patricia, touched by the friendly gesture. “I would love to join
you. The Dekalb market is actually on my list of must-see places.” She could
tell Valerie and Tom were the kind of campground neighbors she would enjoy
making friends with.
“Great!
Does four pm work?” Valerie asked.
“That
works for me,” said Patricia. “See you then.” With a wave, she headed off
toward the walking trail.
Patricia
had read about Stone Mountain online and knew it would be a great hook for her
article about Atlanta. Anyone could write about Atlanta, but Patricia loved the
unexpected angle of starting out a city visit from a secluded, lush park in the
country. She was excited to see the famous carvings on the mountain, but the
trail was so beautiful she almost forgot what was waiting for her at the top.
The cherry tree blossoms wafted a delicate scent on the afternoon air, and
purple blooms of wisteria draped on a grove of pecan trees along a creek by the
trail.
Patricia climbed up the steep, smooth mountain trail. About
thirty minutes later, she reached the top and caught her breath. Her hike was
worth it. Patricia gasped at the sweeping view of the Atlanta skyline. She saw
the Appalachian Trail and the lake below the mountain and stunning views in
every direction.
Realizing it was nearly time to head back, Patricia noticed
a cable car platform by the gift shop. She walked over and was told she could
use her park pass for free rides up and down. I wish I had known that before
I hiked up here, thought
Patricia ruefully, but then realized she was grateful for the exercise. This
way she could also describe the experience better in her article. Patricia rode
down in the cable car, which provided a view of the carved monument.
When she reached the bottom, Patricia sauntered along the
trail toward her RV and observed the wildlife. A small lizard scurried across
the trail and it was followed by a slightly larger black snake. Patricia gasped
a little, but she had done her homework on the wildlife of Georgia and she knew
the black snake was non-venomous. Besides, snakes ate campground pests like
mice and rats.
Back at her RV, Patricia hopped into the shower. While she
scrubbed off the remains of travel and hiking, she reflected on a cute family
she had seen at the top of Stone Mountain. Two boys wearing I Survived the Stone Mountain Climb t-shirts had made goofy faces
while their parents took their pictures in front of the cable car sign. One boy
took out a cell phone and took a selfie in front of the view and his brother
held up two fingers to give him rabbit ears at the last second. Patricia
laughed, remembering it.
She headed over to Tom and Valerie’s campsite still thinking
about that family, and she realized she knew exactly how she would start the write-up
about Stone Mountain: When’s the last
time your family took a selfie on a cable car 825 feet in the air? She
grinned.
When Tom pulled the car up to the
Dekalb Farmer’s Market, Patricia was surprised to see it was a rather
unexciting brown warehouse, but when they stepped inside the doors, she gasped
with surprise. Flags from every country in the world hung from the ceiling and
aisle after aisle was lined with colorful bins of local produce and flowers
from all over the country, as well as imported foods and delicacies.
What a sight. They even had a small buffet-style restaurant
in the market that featured food from the marketplace. Patricia was overwhelmed
by the variety of food available, but she gripped her shopping cart and got to
work, waving merrily to Tom and Valerie who set off in the other direction. She
started down the dry goods aisle and picked up some hibiscus tea, then in the produce
section, she found prickly pear cactus next to the baby bok choy. Patricia’s
mouth watered, remembering an omelet with stir-fried cactus she had eaten in
Las Vegas. She added it to her cart, determined to recreate that dish.
By the time she found Tom and Valerie again, her cart held bagels
that rivaled the ones she had eaten in New York City, homemade quiches, organic
milk in a glass bottle, and farmer’s cheese.
“This place is amazing,” Valerie gushed, coming over to
admire Patricia’s finds.
Tom was waiting for some lamb kebabs
to be cut up and packaged at the meat counter.
“Tom always buys enough to feed an army,” said Valerie with
a laugh. “Patricia, you should join us tonight! I insist.”
“You’re
too kind. How about I bring the dessert?” said Patricia. Tom and Valerie
thought that sounded delicious and agreed.
Valerie
and Patricia walked side by side with their carts, chatting amiably about
dinner plans, when suddenly someone knocked into Patricia hard, jostling her
shoulder. Patricia exclaimed and stumbled into Valerie. She rubbed her shoulder
and looked up to see a man glowering at her as if it was her fault.
The man was tall with a shock of wavy brown hair that fell
over his forehead. His serious blue eyes frowned down at her. “You should be
more careful,” he said in a warning tone.
How rude, Patricia thought. “Excuse me,”
she replied, mustering all the politeness she could manage. “You stumbled into
me.” She boldly stared him down.
He
seemed surprised by her reply. But then he walked away, his eyes darting around
in the crowd. As an afterthought, he said over his shoulder to her, “You should
watch your purse, miss. There are pickpockets here sometimes.” She watched his
tall figure disappear swiftly into the market.
“What
was that about?” Valerie said in bafflement. Her husband had picked up on the
stranger’s meaning, however.
“Check
your purse,” Tom said to Patricia with concern. Patricia was surprised to find her
purse zipper open. Her pulse jumped in fear. She knew that pickpockets often
tried to distract their targets while taking something.
“Well, if he’s a thief, he’s a really bad one. Nothing is
missing,” Patricia said with a sigh of relief.
“He
didn’t even apologize for knocking you over,” said Valerie.
Patricia
thought for a moment. Perhaps they were jumping to conclusions. He had simply
warned her, after all. “Maybe we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” she
said.
They headed for the check-out lanes. Patricia thought to
herself that she would rather have a rude stranger than a thieving pickpocket,
any day. Still, it left a sour feeling in her stomach, and she was happy when
they were back in the car returning to the beautiful campground.
