Thelma served us chicken dinner afterward. But I couldn’t keep my mind off that Camp Point church. Why would the man want me to come? The church wasn’t really in town, just close to it. I’d had Thelma read the address for me, which included directions along a road called the Cannonball. Sam said that was the one going straight north, past Bailey Park. The man had written the service times too, and they had a Sunday evening service. I decided I’d go. Just for a little visit. Just to quench my curiosity. But Sam was not happy about it. “Are you crazy? Driving to Camp Point tonight after dark? Come on, Frank. I thought you had good sense.” “You’re the one that asked me to drive all the way up here,” I reminded. “You must have been confident I could do that. And the road to Camp Point’s familiar now.” “The Cannonball isn’t. And it’s over fifty miles to get there, Frank. After dark, for no reason.” “Church is a reason. And I’ve drove in the dark before. At least it ain’t snowin’.”
