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pass.
    Arrangements were made. Song would fly to Charleston, West Virginia’s capital, and Cable would pick her up and drive her to Highcoal. She would stay for a week, get to know the town, and then they’d see what happened next. Everything was incremental—judgments would be made, understandings would be forged, love would be allowed to carry them like an inexorable river to where they needed to go. First there was A, then there would be B, and so on, until she and Cable lived wherever they were going to live, as long as it was together. What Song didn’t expect, could not even imagine, was that she was embarking on a journey that would not be sequential, but as chaotic as the jumbled hills of West Virginia.

Three
    T here he is! She was so excited. It was like something out of a movie. Waiting for her at the airport gate was Cable, wearing his snap-brim hat, a blue denim work shirt, and khaki trousers tucked inside high brown leather boots, and a big hey lady, I sure am glad to see you grin. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms while her fellow Mountain Air passengers walked past with small smiles.
    After a sweet kiss, she told him about the landing. “It was scary, Cable. The man beside me pointed at this little runway on top of a mountain and said that’s where we were going to land. I thought he was joking!”
    â€œFlat land is kind of rare in this state,” Cable allowed. “Everything is either built on top of mountains or between them.”
    â€œBulldozers and dynamite,” she said. “Anybody ever heard of them?”
    â€œWell, we don’t much like knocking our mountains down,” he said, conveniently ignoring the coal companies who did just that.
    She had considered winging into West Virginia on one of her father’s corporate jets but had decided that might be too pretentious. Now she knew she’d made a mistake. She’d packed two bags for her journey, and it soon became evident one was lost. Tired, hot, and still a little scared after the landing, the worst of her New Yorkiness came out as, “I can’t believe you lost my bag!” Her face darkened as she slammed her hand down on the desk. “What kind of airline is this? The service is terrible. I expect you to make it up to me. A full refund, at least.”
    â€œNow, honey . . . ,” Cable interceded. “It isn’t this nice lady’s fault. She’s just trying to help.”
    â€œWhen we find your bag, we’ll deliver it to you,” the agent assured her.
    Song was relentless. She did her own job with one hundred percent efficiency. She expected everyone else to do the same. “You act like I lost my own bag. But you lost it! I need what’s in it. All my cosmetics, and some very expensive clothing.” She shook her head. “This is ridiculous.”
    Cable tipped his hat to the agent and steered Song away. “I had more to say to her,” Song protested.
    â€œI think you got your point across.”
    â€œI doubt it. I have a feeling I’ll never see that bag again.” Cable loaded her remaining bag into his bright red Porsche roadster. She was a little surprised. She’d expected him to be driving something like a 1973 Chevrolet pickup.
    â€œDon’t worry about your bag,” he said. “You can get what you need in Highcoal.”
    â€œCan I get Tracie Martyn products?” she demanded.
    â€œI don’t know what that is, but Omar has a little of everything.”
    â€œOmar?”
    â€œHe owns the store in town.”
    â€œ The store?”
    â€œYou only need one store if it’s got everything you need.”
    â€œThat is so you, Cable,” Song accused. “Do you not understand the difference between need and want ? Or the thrill of shopping?”
    He pushed his hat back. “Well, there’s a Wal-Mart over toward Beckley,” he offered.
    â€œAll my problems are