“Excuse me, sir"
Ned was leaning against the side of the Casselman Bridge, looking out at the Casselman River, which flowed lazily through the countryside. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a tan t-shirt, and desert combat boots. His hands were folded on the concrete capstone of the bridge.
A young woman, wearing a white summer dress and boots, stepped onto the bridge. “Excuse me, sir,” she said. “You okay?”
“Fine, ma’am,” he said, looking out at the river.
“Ned,” she said, approaching him on the bridge. “It is you, Ned,” she said. “Ned Bannister.”
He turned toward her. “Marissa,” he said, his eyes narrowing on her.
“I don’t believe it,” she said, smiling. “You said you’d never come back. You should’ve said something. When did you get back?”
“O’ nine-hundred this morning, ma’am,” he said.
“Are you going to be here for long?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head.
“What brings you back to Casselman?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing.
“Ned,” she said, her eyes widening. “You can trust me. Have you really changed so much?”
He placed his hands into his pockets. “There’s a lien on my house,” he said. “I’ve got a court date.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I heard about your mom too. Are you staying in Casselman?”
“No,” he said, turning away from her.
“Hey,” she said, “do you need a lift? I could take you into town or something.”
“No, ma’am,” he said.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “When did you get so reserved?”
He looked at the road winding into the country underneath the branches of mulberry trees. The dark purple mulberries dotted the gravel and the grass between the trees and the road. He looked over his shoulder at her.
