I found my new mentor sitting with Zackie on the stone wall outside the old Methodist church. Zackie stared at me, her long hound face dominated by a pair of bored eyes. Cam held her lead loosely in his hand, barely in compliance with the leash laws. In contrast to my mood, they looked relaxed and comfortable beneath the budding branches of an old oak tree. The soft, filtered light made silver highlights in Cam’s unruly, gray mop and warmed the russet color in Zackie’s coat. It was late afternoon and I had timed my arrival in Hope Township to make sure they would get there first. Hospitals, cemeteries, and historic buildings are places I avoid. There are too many dead, and I can easily be overwhelmed.
Cam looked me over. “Ready, Fia?”