You will travel to Burlston. At the town square at 3:02 p.m. on the eighth day of April, you will meet your future wife.

Mae McMurtle’s words were like a whisper from beyond the veil, urging Rudy forward.

He stepped off the bus and followed a few of his fellow passengers into Northbridge Mall.

A rush of warm air greeted him as the doors whooshed open. Shoppers wandered in and out of stores, neon signs beckoning: Bling Boutique, Glamour Nails, Chic Threads.

Rudy had heard stories about the big city. It’s dirty. Panhandlers on every corner. Thieves lurking in dark alleys. “There is nothing for us there,” Granny Mae had often said. “Everything we need is right here on Canterforte Mountain.”

But Northbridge Mall, brightly lit and bustling with cheerful people of all ages, did not seem threatening.

The glass dome overhead afforded Rudy a view of puffy cotton ball clouds dotting the cornflower blue sky. Ahead, a large directory displayed the floorplan showing two wide-open corridors flaring out like eagles’ wings from a seating area marked with a red dot: YOU ARE HERE. Rudy’s stubby finger traced the glass, landing on L2-441: Shoe Emporium.

Gawking, Rudy traversed the second-floor hallway lined with glass-fronted stores— clothing, eyeglasses, cosmetics—before reaching his destination. Standing in the doorway, he surveyed row after row of tall shelves, uncertain where to begin.

A woman, sporting pink hair and a t-shirt emblazoned with Cats and Wine Make Everything Fine, approached. “Help you?” She blew a bubble from a wad of gum a shade darker than her hair.

Entranced, Rudy studied the bubble as it expanded to the size of an orange and disappeared on an inhale. Refocusing his attention on her dark-rimmed eyes, he said, “Yes, I need to buy a pair of shoes.” Pausing to find her name badge beneath a lock of pastel hair, he added, “Zeeva.”

The clerk’s gaze traveled from the frayed collar of his winter coat, past his too-short black pants, to his scuffed brown wingtips; the sole of the left shoe on the verge of separating from the worn leather. “Right. What kind?”

Rudy had only inherited footwear and clothing from the donation bins at the Church of Radiant Life. He shrugged. “I do not know. I am getting married. So that kind.”

“Well, the men’s shoes are back there.” Zeeva waved dismissively to the far-right corner. “Holler if you need anything.” With a snap of her gum, she moseyed over to another customer, blue-jeaned hips swaying.

Rudy weaved his way through the rows of women’s shoes, display cards identifying each style: Ballet flats. Sandals. Cowboy boots. Hiking boots. Evening shoes. Intrigued by a red pair with tall thin heels, he leaned in. “Stiletto.” Clever. Footwear and a weapon.

The men’s selection was limited in comparison. Wingtips. Work boots. Athletic shoes. At the end of a row, he discovered black oxfords like Pastor Dave wore. Rudy wiggled his toes, pinched and confined in his size tens. He grabbed a box, size 11, found a vacant bench nearby, sat, and began threading the eyelets.

“I have the same pair. They’ll last you a good long time.” Rudy looked up to see a silver-haired man with rheumy blue eyes standing before him. “Thank you. I am happy to know that.”

“Special occasion?” “Yes, for my wedding.”

“Congratulations. When’s the big day?” “I do not know.”

“Ah, getting ready to pop the question, then.” The man nodded. “No. I have not met my wife to-be yet.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows met.

Rudy pulled a small box from his jacket pocket and opened the lid, revealing a diamond chip atop a thin gold band tucked into blue velvet.

The older man leaned over the box. “So, you haven’t even met a girl yet, but you have a ring?”

“I will meet her in six days, so I must be ready.” “Six days. And you know this how?”

“My grandmother was a prognosticator. She told me I will meet my future wife on the day of the solar eclipse.”

“Seems very … specific.”

Rudy nodded. “I will travel by bus to Burlston, Indiana where Granny grew up. I will stay with her people.”

“Long trip from Pennsylvania.” “Yes.”

The old man scratched the back of his head. “What if your grandmother is wrong?” His tone curious not cruel.

Rudy froze. No one had ever doubted Granny’s visions, but here in the city, things

were different. Back home, kith and kin walked miles to her cabin to learn the sex of a baby on the way, the best day to plant crops, when to marry. The fulfillment of her predictions often surprised Rudy, but she was never wrong.

But what if?

After all, she had delivered the vision in a fevered state at the end of her life.

More than anything, Rudy wanted a wife, a family, but at forty years of age, he wasn’t sure he was fit to have children. The thought of living out his days in Granny’s mountaintop cabin, alone, was too much to bear.

Slow was how adults described Rudy in whispered conversations. Children had called him much worse to his face, teased him about his manner of speech. After Rudy’s parents died in a car crash when he was eight years old, Granny had reared him, protected him from taunting, and schooled him. She had even purchased an old set of World Book Encyclopedias (missing Q-R) and Rudy had read by the light of the oil lamp every night.

He was not dumb. But would the woman he was to meet laugh at him? Would she consider him stupid, a dullard?

Granny’s last vision for her only grandchild had come on her 100th birthday as she lay on her deathbed. In her last moments of life, Rudy had promised to fulfill her vision. Regardless of what he might encounter, Rudy would not go back on his promise. He would travel to Burlston.

“Well, I wish you all the best.”

Rudy remained focused on the open ring box in his hand, the tiny diamond twinkling under the florescent light overhead. His voice, barely a whisper, quavered. “She is never wrong.” He looked up, but the man was gone.

For a long moment, Rudy stared into the space where the gentleman had stood. The void now replaced with another vision, his last moment with Granny Mae, still and peaceful. And gone. He closed the box and placed it in his pocket.

Swallowing hard, he reached down and continued lacing the oxfords.

THE END