Free Journey, The by John A. Heldt

around his pensive companion. He gave her a gentle hug and kissed the side of her head.
    "I don't know what this is all about, Shelly. I really don't. But it's obvious that this bothers you. If this lady's important to you, then she's important to me."
    Shelly studied Scott for a moment with serious eyes. She had two boyfriends. One was a pompous, insensitive ass she wanted to strangle at least twice a day. The other was a thoughtful, caring young man who had never failed her when she was troubled or down.
    She kissed him lightly on the lips and then asked him to slide back on their seat. Locking her eyes to his, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, took it off, and placed it gently atop the car's ample rear deck. Condensation again covered each of the windows. When Shelly repeated the process with her bra, the one without the Velcro snaps, Scott Richardson cocked his head.
    "I thought you weren't a peep show," he said.
    "I'm not," she answered in a soft voice.
    Shelly smiled sadly and threw her arms over his shoulders.
    "I'm your birthday present."
     

CHAPTER 15: MICHELLE
     
    Thursday, September 27, 1979
     
    Michelle thought about flying crows as she walked from Unionville High School to her apartment on Eighth and Jefferson. Equipped with wings, she would have had to travel barely a mile from her workplace to her home. Equipped with Nike Waffle Trainers and firmly attached to the ground, she had to travel two. But she didn't mind walking across town twice a day. Not yet anyway. She wanted the exercise and winter was still months away.
    So when school faculty and staff drove by and asked Michelle if she wanted a lift, as happened often, she always said no. She said no to Ross Anthony, the science teacher, as he began an eastward trek down Riverside Drive and said no to Marsha Zimmerman, fellow paper pusher, as she waited for a light. But she didn't say no to the driver of an orange Volkswagen Beetle shortly after crossing the William Henry Harrison Street Bridge.
    "Would you like a ride, Miss Jennings?" the girl behind the wheel asked.
    Michelle peered through an open window and smiled at the driver. She had waited days for a greeting like that and gobbled it up.
    You still like me.
    "I'd love one," Michelle said.
    The time traveler opened the passenger door and got in. Settling into a black bucket seat, she searched with her right hand for a seatbelt and, when she found it, pulled it across her waist.
    Shelly Preston laughed.
    "What?" Michelle asked.
    "I've never seen anyone use that seatbelt. It's mostly an annoyance."
    "Well, it's an annoyance I can live with."
    Michelle turned to face Shelly.
    "Are you sure this is no bother?"
    "Not unless you live in Walla Walla or Hermiston. I'm just planning to meet April and Brian at Big Bill's. They have amazing root beer floats."
    "So I've heard."
    "Where should I drop you off?" Shelly asked.
    "The Benson apartment complex on Eighth and Jefferson. It's where I live."
    "That's where April lives. She's the one who gave me the snow globe."
    "I remember."
    Her right hand on the 8-ball at the end of her shift stick, Shelly shifted down and tapped the brake pedal as she approached a red light at Second and Harrison. When the car rolled to a stop, the driver turned to face her passenger.
    "I'm sorry I haven't been very friendly the past week, Miss Jennings. I've wanted to say hi. I really have. But every time I passed your window, I thought of all the things we had in common. It still freaks me out a bit."
    "I understand," Michelle said. "It is strange. But the coincidences are just that: coincidences. And you can call me Michelle. 'Miss Jennings' is way too formal. 'Miss Jennings' is what you would call an old lady with thick ankles who sells cosmetics door to door."
    Shelly beamed and blushed.
    "Don't you have gymnastics practice?" Michelle asked. The question drew a puzzled look from the driver. "I saw in the school paper that you were on the team."
    She was learning to cover her