He sat back at the table and took a bite of the meal. “You’re right, it’s just right.”
“I don’t get many visitors anymore,” Candice said, “not in years.”
“I can see why,” Wilson said. “There’s not much traffic on this highway.”
“Why did you drive this way?” Candice said.
“I looked on the map and this seemed like the shortest distance to where I wanted to go,” Wilson said.
“I can tell you something for a certainty,” Candice said, “this highway is not the shortest distance to anywhere. You are here for a reason.”
“I’m going some place for a reason,” Wilson said, “but the reason I’m here is that I’m tired.”
“Have you ever been this way before, Wilson?” Candice said.
“Not that I recall,” Wilson said.
“Are you sure?” Candice said.
“Well I really can’t be certain,” Wilson said. “My memory has been a little fuzzy lately.”
“Would you mind reaching over to your right,” Candice said. “There is a ledger on the buffet; grab it, please.”
Wilson leaned over and secured the ledger. It was old, hardback, and cloth bound.
“On the side is the year,” Candice said. “What year is it?”
“1972,” Wilson said.
“I have a page marked,” Candice said. “Open to that page and read the name of second entry.
“Wilson Gentry,” Wilson said astonished. “I was here in 1972.”
“Yes,” Candice said. “But examine the ledger closer; what do you see before your name?”
“W-i-l-l and it looks like I stated to write something else, but ran a line through it.” Wilson said. “I started to write Will.” Wilson stared at his plate.
“There’s only one reason a person comes this way,” Candice said, “it’s because they are lost.”
Wilson looked up with sorrowful eyes. “Yes.”
“How can I help?” Candice said.
“You must remember something about my first time here,” Wilson said. “You remembered my name and where to find it.”
Candice smiled softly.
“Please don’t tell me we had an affair,” Wilson said.