Free Miss Dreamsville and the Lost Heiress of Collier County by Amy Hill Hearth Page A

worms,” and “iron uniform.” The latter, I supposed, referring to the Civil Air Patrol outfit that made teenagers look like miniature grown-ups.
    â€œNot that side,” Jackie said, glancing my way. “Flip it over.”
    Why was it that I so often felt stupid around Jackie? Sure enough, the reverse side was Judd’s rendering of where he thought the new road had been carved into the swamp, based on what he’d seen from the air. Jackie had already gotten us to the Tamiami Trail and from there she headed north. Our first turn from the main road was supposed to be about a half mile past a combination bait shop and liquor store called Gin andBare It. Judd had told Jackie it was easy to spot from the air on account of a gigantic painting of a naked lady on the tin roof, a revelation which, Jackie recalled, had left her momentarily speechless.
    Jackie wrinkled her nose when we passed by, then slowed down so we could find the side road. “Hasn’t anyone in this county ever heard of a street sign?” Jackie complained. “Wait,” she added. “That must be it.”
    Sam Cooke was singing “Another Saturday Night” on the radio, but the signal was already fading and Jackie turned it off. The side road was a lot like the one I took to Dolores Simpson’s fishing shack, only more remote. “Oh, rats, why did I get the car washed. Remind me next time I buy a car to get one of those surplus Jeeps from the war.”
    The road showed signs of being heavily used, and recently. This was unusual. Even Jackie, city girl that she was, noticed the broken tree branches on either side, and she remarked about ruts in the road, which she maneuvered around rather expertly. I started looking for the next road, where we were supposed to make a right turn. “If we get stuck out here, we’re in trouble,” Jackie announced, as if it wasn’t obvious. Just as I was about to suggest we turn back, we came upon the right turn, or what we hoped was our right turn.
    â€œMaybe we should have told someone we were heading out here,” I said.
    â€œJudd knows,” Jackie said.
    Of course he did. He’d made the map. And, knowing Judd, he was looking at his watch right now, trying to estimate our location.
    â€œJackie, you look to the front and I’ll look back,” I said.
    â€œOf course I’m looking to the front, I’m driving the car!”
    I paused. “Jackie, I guess no one ever told you this,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “but when you’re driving on a dirt road this far back in the swamp, it’s pretty easy to run over a snake. If you see one and you think you hit it, it’s important to say, ‘I think I just ran over a snake.’ And your passenger—that would be me—will need to be prepared to look back and see if it’s behind the car after you ran it over.”
    â€œWell, where would it be if it isn’t behind the car?” Jackie asked.
    â€œCould be it’s climbed in the car. But more likely underneath and wrapped around the axle.”
    â€œ Oh my God, that is disgusting! Ew!Ugh! I hate this place . . . ”
    I was sorry I’d said anything.
    Jackie continued driving with her hands clutching the wheel. “How come nobody told me this before?” she whined.
    â€œI have no idea,” I said. “I guess I should have told you. I mean, all the times you’ve driven to Priscilla’s grandma’s house, someone should have mentioned it. I guess we all thought you knew.”
    Jackie made a sound like harrumph . “Whenever I learn something like this, it makes me wonder what else I don’t know,” she said. I was afraid she might turn around but she didn’t.
    Another ten minutes, however, and she hit the brakes hard. A brand-new gravel road, twice as wide as the little unpaved side roads, appeared in front of us. Was it a mirage? I