scene 7

Previously.

INT. WRITER'S HOME OFFICE - DAY

HUNTER, 50ish - running shoes, faded jeans, untucked dress shirt, glasses - types at the laptop on the old wooden desk aimed at the big window view to the up-close Organ Mountains. Blank whiteboard with markers in tray on wall behind him, near a hat rack loaded with baseball caps near open door to hall.

Navajo rug on hardwood. One wall is book shelves, across the room from an old leather sofa under a framed reproduction of an Ad Reinhardt Red Painting. Telescope and stool in one corner by the window, saguaro cactus sculpture in the other. Books share shelves with model sailing ship, white-new baseball, wood owl, solved Rubik's Cube, antique typewriter, and bronze Smiling Buddha.

Printer on stand next to desk. Laptop shares desk with NMSU coffee mug holding pens and pencils near a stack of yellow legal pads, a brown-old baseball, an etch-a-sketch, a hardcover of the Evan S. Connell book Son of the Morning Star, and a framed photograph of a 15-year-old girl smiling and flashing a peace sign at the up-close camera that has captured her "tubed" in the wave she is surfing, sandy beach and tropical foliage in the background. 

We can see but not clearly discern the text reflected in his glasses and then the color of the image that replaces the text when he closes the file to show OVER HIS SHOULDER the screensaver that is the same surfer girl in a softball uniform, eyes-on-the-ball and in full extension of the swing that has the blur of the softball coming off the barrel of her bat. The home-plate umpire is crouched behind the catcher, mitt waiting for what won't reach it. Hunter smiles at the picture, powers down computer, leaves into hall, SHOES SQUEAKING. 

INT. KITCHEN - MOMENT LATER

State of the art appliances and stone countertops. Bananas in a wooden bowl that shares the center island with a set of keys, stack of mail, Sunday New York Times. View into adjacent dining room. View through window over sink to grill, four chairs around table under shade on the patio that gives way to xeriscaping, bordered by a low stone wall. Door from kitchen to walkway to patio. SHOE QUEAK before Hunter enters, gets a plastic water bottle from the refrigerator, finishes it, crushes the bottle, puts it in the plastic bag in the bin he pulls from a closet, ties it off at the top, sets it down, lines the bin with a new bag, closes closet, leaves with full bag.

scene 6

Previously.

INT. TOM'S TRUCK - DAY

He is driving a two-lane road aimed at the Organ Mountains east of Las Cruces, New Mexico. We can see on the portable GPS DISPLAY that he is driving east on Soledad Canyon Road, nearing Lost Padre Mine Road. The high desert neighborhood features handsome southwest-style homes trending toward adobe. 

GPS VOICE: Turn left on Lost Padre Mine Road

Tom makes that turn onto the hard-pack dirt road. 

scene 5

Previously.

EXT. YUCCA BLOSSOM MOTEL - SUNRISE

A dozen vehicles in the puddled parking lot. Tom comes out of his room, suitcase in hand, walks to and gets in the truck, starts the engine, drives away onto the wet street and out of view. 

scene 4

Previously.

INT. DINING ROOM/KITCHEN - SUNSET

Quaint and cozy. Calendar on refrigerator turned to August; the accompanying photograph captures a fly-fisherman mid-cast, knee-deep in waders in a mountain stream. Wanda, in jeans and Cheyenne Frontier Days tee, reading glasses, sits atb the table facing the window to the modest back yard and umbrella over a small table and two chairs in the middle of it. The sun sets on the cedar fence. Wanda turns a page of James Michener's Hawaii, her phone near a glass of milk. She smiles when the PHONE RINGTONES an instrumental version of the Townes Van Zandt song, If I Needed You. She lets it play, picks up.

WANDA: Hey there.

At the table with Michener. You in your room?

Raining yet?

INT. MOTEL ROOM - SUNSET

Basic room. Tom stands at the window aimed at monsoon clouds above the Albuquerque skyline, obscuring the Sandia Mountains. His shirt is unbuttoned and his boot are off. Suitcase on bed, hat on rack near door.

TOM: What'sat, sweetheart?

No, not yet but the monsoon clouds are gatherin'. I reckon it's time I get goin' on that hearin' aid?

Come again, hon'? 

I seen a Chinese place down the street, fella at the front desk says they deliver, so I'll probly do that. Was lookin' forward to the book but I guess I left it on the nightstand.

I miss you too, angel.

Sunrise, I'll call when I'm leavin'.

Love you too, Wanda Pearl. 

Sweet dreams. 

(RAINDROPS TAP THE WINDOW. Tom speaks into phone.)

Ruthie.

Hey sis, in my room. Bout to run a bath, I'll call back. Love ya.

He sets phone on desk, leaves into bathroom. We hear the BATH STARTED.  FAINT THUNDER, RAIN HARDER.

scene 3

Previously. 

CREDITS OVER:

INT. TOM'S TRUCK - DAY

Tom driving a two-lane highway bending through wooded high country, behind a Jeep with New Mexico plates. He turns on the satellite radio to Glen Campbell's Galveston. He turns it up, sings along.

scene 2

Previously.

EXT. MANUFACTURED HOME - DAY

One of several mobile homes that line the quiet street. Two-tone late-80s Ford F-150 pickup truck in the driveway, backed to the port covering a Subaru wagon. Wyoming plates like every other vehicle in view. Two homes fly the United States flag. Tom - cowboy boots, jeans held up by belt with a silver buckle featuring a turquoise horseshoe, western shirt with pearl snap buttons, cowboy hat - comes out the front door to the porch with suitcase in hand, holds the door open for Wanda - slippers, robe over pajamas - and they walk hand in hand down the steps to the driveway and truck.

WANDA: Thought about lunch?

TOM: That Mexican place in Pueblo if it's still there.

WANDA: Cantina Azul.

TOM: That's it. Knew it was cantina somethin' or other.

WANDA: That was delicious. Twenty-five all the way? 

TOM: Thinkin' I might cut over south a Raton and take the scenic route. Coffee up at that place in Cimarron, if it's still there 

WANDA:  Rio Roasters.

TOM: That's it. 

Tom unlocks driver's door, slides the suitcase across the bench seat to the passenger side, puts his hat on top of it, puts the key in the ignition, steps back, hugs and kisses Wanda.

TOM: I'll call every hour on the hour.

WANDA: Thank you.

He gets in, Wanda pushes the door closed, Tom starts engine, lowers window, Wanda steps up onto the running board, leans in for a kiss.

TOM: Ready?

Wanda nods, Tom drives to the street, stops.

TOM/WANDA: Love you.

Tom blows her a kiss, she reciprocates, watches him drive the short distance to the stop sign where their street bisects another. The truck's left turn signal flashes. Tom lets a car pass, makes the turn, looks out the window at Wanda, waves, she waves back and watches the truck leave view behind the house at the corner.  A breeze tousles her hair and RINGS THE CHIMES on the porch. She folds her arms across her chest, walks the steps to the porch, stops to water plants, looks to clouds, enters the house, closes door behind her.