Chapter 4 #2
“Okay,” he replied. Then he looked at her for a long moment, blinked slowly, and gripped the doorknob again. “Thanks, Camellia. It was nice to not go home to the empty house tonight.”
“For me, too, what with Mom’s suddenly early ladies’ club meeting.”
“Yeah.” He laughed softly, opened the door, and went outside. “Thank your mom for me, too.”
“Goodnight, Wolf,” she said, and closed the door.
Wolf
Wolf went home, but it didn’t feel like home. It felt like a lie. The place was empty and lifeless without his mom.
Under the spray of a hot shower, he replayed the day. He’d done a bone-headed thing tonight, telling Camellia to go ahead with the search for his missing family. He hadn’t intended to. He’d been debating whether he ever would. But something had happened.
She’d made him laugh on the worst day of his life, and he’d felt something between them. As if the sounds of their laughter had intertwined and woven themselves together.
And then she laid down the law about having no interest in men, and he’d realized not letting her help him meant not seeing her again at all, maybe. And that had instigated panic.
Telling her to go ahead and find his birth family had been a knee-jerk reaction. And now he was committed. Or maybe he should be committed.
Maybe it would be all right, though. Maybe she wouldn’t find anything. He hoped to God she didn’t find anything. But maybe…it would take a little time for her to give up, and in the meantime…
What?
He didn’t know. He wondered if pretending he wanted to find his family just to get to see her again would put him in the same category as her stalker-ex in her eyes. It had been stupid.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he was in no shape to be thinking about women right now, but he was thinking about her.
He wondered about that. Her history, the ex.
It must’ve been bad to have her swearing off men forever.
He wondered what the guy had done to her and felt a darkness cross his soul.
Then he realized that thinking about Camellia had distracted him from thinking about the rug being ripped from underneath his own life.
He couldn’t remember feeling such an instant interest in a woman before.
Maybe it was good that she’d drawn a boundary line between them. It was protecting him from himself.
It wasn’t lost on him that she was the first woman in his life since the most important one had left it. Maybe that was all this was.
He toweled down and went to bed, but he knew he’d never sleep. So he returned to the unfinished diary on his nightstand.
Cilla
August 11
I’ve been digging through some of the cargo to pass the time.
I found a box of aluminum baseball bats stacked top to bottom, and there were multiple boxes just like it.
Another one has golf clubs packed in individual Styrofoam forms like they’re precious.
But the best thing I found was camping gear.
No food, no clothes. I wish there’d been time to grab some clothes from my bedroom.
I keep thinking about all my stuff, all my jeans, my jacket, my shoes.
Anyway, I found a case full of tents in sacks that seem way too small to hold one. I took one. It says “two-person dome tent” on the front. Found a sleeping bag, too, still in shrink wrap. It’s marked “teen” and covered in Mutant Ninja Turtles. There are crates of them.
I unwrapped and unrolled the sleeping bag, then rolled it back up with the tent and my pillow and blanket in the middle. Then I used the elastic bands on the sleeping bag to attach it to my backpack, and pulled them both over my shoulders.
I’m making the next stop the end of my ride. I don’t care where we end up. I think it’s far enough and I’m ready to get out of this—
Wait, we’re stopping. Okay, more later.
HOLY GOD, that was scary!
I have to write it down while it’s fresh, even before I go to sleep.
I heard him coming around the truck, so I took hold of my bike’s handlebars and lifted it up off its side a little bit, listening, waiting.
Suddenly the tarp was yanked right off the truck, and I stood there in full-on daylight!
The driver was a big guy with a dark beard, plaid shirt, and wide eyes.
He said, “What the hell?” and I just straddled the bike and pushed hard on the pedal and shot right off the tailgate.
I hit the ground without tipping over. I didn’t even think about it then, I was so scared, but now it seems kind of amazing.
Right then all I could do was keep on pedaling.
After a while, I realized nobody was coming after me, and I eased up a little. I figure I rode that bike for two hours under the hot, Texas sun.
Yep, I made it to Texas. I finally saw enough road signs to figure out that much. I was far away from that piece of shit my mother married—out of his reach. But man, I was tired. And hungry again. At least I had a place to sleep because I was carrying it on my back.
After a while, I saw a sign that said Big Bend National Park, and I headed that way. The place looked peaceful.
It reminded me of back when I was little and my family used to go camping at a place called Port Ontario.
It was “up north” from where we lived. I remember those trips well.
It was before Dad started doing things to me.
We used to fish for bullhead. He baited my hooks and taught me to cast. I was so proud when I caught a fish.
I adored him. I didn’t even know he was my stepdad back then. He was just Dad.
But I don’t like thinking about those things. I think I’ll lock the door on those memories and throw away the key. I don’t need them anymore, not down here. This is a brand new life for me, a brand new start.
The entrance to the park was a narrow, paved road with a set of open gates. There was a gatehouse with a person inside, so I stopped out of sight to watch.
One by one, cars and trucks drove up to the gatehouse, paid some money, got a ticket, and then drove into the park. Some of them were towing campers behind them.
I figured they wouldn’t let a kid my age in there all alone, at least not without calling a cop to come check up on me.
So I waited until nightfall, when the lady left the gatehouse and closed the gates.
Cars only went in this way, never came back out, so I guessed there must be a different spot where cars left the place again.
I watched closely. I hadn’t come this far to get caught.
The gate lady wore dark green shorts, a button-down shirt, had brown curls, and a fun ranger hat hanging on her back from its strap around her neck. She was smiling for no reason as she walked into the park along its neat, narrow lane.
I walked my bike over the pavement and rolled right on inside. There was room around the outside of the gate. I didn’t need to open it, just needed a little privacy. I got on my bike and rode in the same direction the park ranger had gone.
The lane forked in two places and I had no idea where I was going. There were patches of scrubby brush here and there, but the landscape was mostly rock. I’d expected a forest in a national park. Home felt further away than ever.
A car came my way and there was no time to hide. My heart about pounded through my chest. I saw the driver—that gate lady with her curly brown hair. She looked right at me, then she smiled, and waved, and kept on driving.
I almost floated off my bike seat in relief! I guess there’s nothing unusual about a girl with a pack on her back, riding a bike in a national park. I was still invisible.
So I found a spot behind some boulders that can’t be seen too easily from the road, away from other campers, and I pitched my little tent.
It looked way more complicated than it turned out to be.
I took off my shoes before I came inside and unrolled my sleeping bag, laid out my pillow, put my blanket over top.
I even rolled my bike inside for safekeeping.
And now I’m curled up. I’m still hungry but even more sleepy, and I’m warm and safe. I’m even pretty comfortable. So I’m going to sleep now. My first night in Texas! And I don’t think I need to worry about anybody in this park coming into my tent to paw me in my sleep.
Willow, Sky Dancer Ranch
Willow arrived in her mom’s living room to find her sitting on the sofa, waiting. There was an antique strongbox from the old west beside her. It had “Pinkerton” stamped on one side. She thought Drew would’ve given a limb to have it.
Drew was planning to start her own PI business with her brother Orrin. Until they pulled the trigger on that, they both worked for their mother’s investigations agency and freelanced here and there.
Drew was a born snoop. She’d been named after Nancy Drew.
There was a tea service on the coffee table. Her mom’s native-made clay set, and a plateful of small cookies she had not made herself. Willow spotted Fig Newtons, Chips Ahoy, and Oreos.
Her mother looked up when she heard her come in.
Her eyes were so puffy and red that Willow gasped in surprise before she could prevent it.
Then she moved faster, suddenly swamped in regret.
She dropped to her knees in front of her mom.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry. I was angry and I felt betrayed.
But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never want to hurt you. ”
Her mother petted her head as if it were a cat in her lap. “You had a right to feel angry and betrayed. I’ve kept this from you, and that was wrong. But no more.” She gripped Willow’s shoulders and straightened her. “I want you to know everything, my Willow. And it’s all here.”
As she spoke, she caressed the lid of the strongbox, and then she raised it.
Willow sank onto the sofa beside her as her mother reached into the box, then paused. Her hands were shaking.
Willow leaned forward to cover them with her own. “Are you sure you can handle this?”