— “No, that’s quite alright. I don’t want to be a bother, young man. I can find my own way.”
Michael sighed but didn’t back down.
— “I know it’s a bit unusual, but I really can’t leave you here. There are coyotes in these woods, and it’s pitch black. Hardly anyone passes this way.”
She wavered, avoiding his gaze. Michael pressed on gently:
— “Is there someone I can call for you? Family? A friend? I can call them from my cell and let them know where you are if that makes you feel better.”
She let out a quiet sigh, his words finally reaching her. With a hint of sadness, she whispered:
— “No. There’s no one. I live alone. I suppose I could call Martha, but I don’t even have my phone with me.”
The admission tugged at Michael’s heart. He felt a sudden, protective urge toward this woman who seemed so utterly alone.
— “Then please,” he said gently, “let me drive you. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
After another moment of hesitation, she finally nodded and climbed into the passenger seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Michael, sensing her nerves, kept his driving smooth and the conversation light. After a few miles, he broke the silence:
— “My name is Michael, by the way. What’s yours?”
She looked at him with a faint smile.
— “Eleanor,” she replied, relaxing slightly.
— “Eleanor. That’s a classic name. My grandmother was an Eleanor,” Michael smiled. Feeling the tension thaw, he added, “Do you take walks out here often? It’s a bit of a hike from the nearest neighborhood.”
Eleanor looked a bit embarrassed.
