I hadn't been across state lines for five minutes before my phone started chirping. I smiled when I saw Carla's number pop up on the display. "Hey, babe. Everything all right?"

"More than all right," she sang. "I told you I'd get to Yanni. And I'm almost there."

"And none too soon," I said, breathing heavily into the receiver. "Especially with that trial right around the corner. We need everything we can get to put that fool away for good."

"I'm on it, baby."

"I know you are, and I love you for that." I had to slow down when I saw the flashing lights ahead of me on the interstate. Seemed to be some sort of accident. That's the last thing I needed. All I wanted to do was get to my house. I'd been away for months trying to set things up for the trial. And now, with it starting in a week, I needed to tie up some loose ends.

"Is that all you love me for?" Carla was in rare form, cooing on the phone. Lawd, there's nothing like a pregnant woman and their hormones.

"You know that's not all." I crept past what I thought was an accident, but instead was some sort of checkpoint. What the fuck was this about? I nodded to the officer as he peered through my side window, thankfully not matching whomever they were looking for. He gave me a weird smile and a tip of the cap before waving me through. I thought nothing of it.

Shit, the last thing I wanted to face was a charge of Driving While Black.

I exhaled and got back to Carla. "Babe, I love you and that beautiful creature you have inside of you. I love the fact that we'll be together soon. I love how you ride for me, even after all these years. And I love that after all these years, we'll finally get to live the life we should've had a long damn time ago."

"I love that, too," she said. "Where are you now?"

"Carla, come on." I ducked off of interstate and made my way through the twisted roads that led to my house. The leaves were brilliant shades of red and orange this year. Funny how you notice small things like that when you most need to. Guess that comes with missing home.

"What?" she asked, innocently. "I know what we agreed upon, but sometimes I just want to know. And this is Thanksgiving week, babe. I was hoping all this would be over by now so we could spend it together."

"And trust me, I was hoping the same thing. But we can't be careless right now, when we're so close. Just remember, the deal is that we get to speak whenever and about anything. But not about my whereabouts. The less you know, the better."

I could hear her sighing on the other end. "As long as you know where my heart is," I continued, "that's what's important."

"I know. But sometimes . . ." Carla's voice trailed off. "Sometimes, I get lonely. And scared."

"Lonely?" I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "How in the hell can you ever get lonely, with that big-headed boy of yours following you around, and sleeping with people in the living room? That should be enough to make you sick of being around folks."

She laughed.

"Besides," I said, "now that you're closing in on the ring leader, it won't be long now."

"Until we're together for good."

"Exactly." 

My street looked just as it always did, but never better for some reason. Hearing Carla's voice made me smile, and took me to thoughts of how it would be once we got back here to start our family. Finally.

I pulled the car into the driveway and started to tell Carla about the nursery I had painted a kelly green, her favorite color, in anticipation of her arrival, before catching myself and remembering that saying anything about that would give away where I was.

That's when I noticed the package sitting on my front porch.

"Shel, you OK over there? Wherever there is?"

I walked toward the porch, totally distracted. "Yeah, Carla. I'm fine. Let me call you back in a minute. I need to handle something."

"Oh, boy," she joked. "You and that word. Go on and handle whatever it is. I'm gonna make some tea and prepare for my skull session with Yanni." 

"Don't prepare too much," I said. "Being natural and reacting is always the best strategy." With that, I hung up before even hearing her say goodbye.

The large yellow package had my full attention. Where did it come from? What the hell was it? The package was still fresh, not worn, like it had just been dropped off. I searched up and down the street with my eyes. Nothing. There was no return address. I ripped it open to find copies of notes I'd scribbled throughout the years. Copies of my journals. FUCK. A note on what looked like hotel stationery was attached to the front.

It read: "SHELDON, I'M IMPRESSED. ONLY A REAL MAN KEEPS JOURNALS. TOO BAD FOR YOU, THOUGH. IF YOU WANT THE ORIGINALS, IT'LL COST YOU MUCH MORE THAN JUST A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS."

I knew things were going too well.