Recalling that we’d turned right into the gate, I set off down the road. The morning sky was overcast this close to the sea, and I felt grateful I wouldn’t be trekking under a beating sun. I trudged along, the motion feeling good after being cooped up all of the prior day, and my head started to clear some of the fog that had descended over my spirit the prior night and thickened in the predawn.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Maine’s sorriest intersection. Even the main road was little more than a two-lane stretch of pocked asphalt stretching into the green hills. I switched my phone on and pulled up a map, and saw I was at least seventy miles from Ridley, most of it on secondary roads like the one I was looking at.
Determined to distance myself from the manor house, I set off along the road at a pace I figured I could maintain for hours. The map didn’t show any towns within easy reach, so I would probably be walking much of the way, barring a miracle.
After a half hour of marching, the duffel growing heavier with every step, the rumble of a poorly muffled vehicle from behind me drew my attention, and I spun around just as a faded blue van came into view from around a sweeping curve. It slowed as it drew near and pulled to a stop in the middle of the road a few yards from me.
A woman with a thick mop of unruly brown and gray hair leaned from the passenger-side window and called out, “Your car break down, honey?”
“No. Nothing like that,” I replied.
She looked me over. “Where you headed?”
I glanced past her at the driver, who had long hair and a graying beard, and then returned my gaze to her. “Trying to get to Ridley.”
“You a student there?” the woman asked.
“That’s right. I kind of got stranded.”
The woman nodded. “I’ll say. You’re a million miles from nowhere.” The passenger door opened and the woman got out. “If you can squeeze past the seats and into the back, we’re headed that way, more or less. Sorry, but the side door hasn’t opened for years.”
Doubt must have shown on my face, and she offered a tanned, gap-toothed smile. “I’m Kindra, and this here’s Wade. We’re headed north, to the border. Don’t worry, we won’t bite.”
Her assurance instantly reminded me of Jared, and I returned her smile. “I’m Lacey. I appreciate the ride. It’ll be a big help.”
“No problem. We’ve all been there before.”
Kindra stepped aside and I climbed into the cab, which smelled vaguely like incense and patchouli oil and maybe pot, although I couldn’t tell from the incense, which might have been the whole point. A double mattress lay in the back, with three old rucksacks and a suitcase that looked like it dated from the sixties. I shouldered between the bucket seats and placed my duffel beside an acoustic guitar case, and then crouched between the seats, supporting myself with my hands.
Kindra got into the van and twisted toward me. “You can use that bunch of blankets to make a seat if you want. You’re going to be pretty uncomfortable on your haunches like that, Lacey.”
I did as she suggested, and soon we were bouncing down the road. The old van’s engine hummed in a monotone under the crooning of the Grateful Dead from ancient speakers as Wade rolled north. Kindra eyed me in the rearview mirror and grinned happily for no apparent reason. I shifted on the blankets and watched the landscape blur by, my thoughts filled with the images from Jared’s disks.
Now that I’d burned off some energy with my early morning hike, my decision to leave the house and return to Ridley didn’t seem as wise as it had at dawn. I was doing exactly what Jared had pleaded with me not to do, and I had no plan other than to return to school and pretend I didn’t know anything about what he’d spent the better part of two days telling me.
Which had felt rebellious and empowering when I’d been angry and a little scared, but in the cold light of morning, I wasn’t so sure.
“So, you’re at Ridley? Academy, or the high school?” Kindra asked.
“Academy,” I said. “If all goes well, I’ll finish up after another year and then maybe transfer to the university.”
“Those were the good old days. Wade and I met when we were both freshmen.” She shot a glance at him. “Seems like forever ago now.”
“Twenty-nine years,” Wade said, with a smile of his own.
Kindra nodded slowly and toyed with a beaded necklace dangling down the front of her peasant blouse. “They go by in a blink,” she said softly.
“Wow. That’s a long time,” I said.
Another nod. “Saying it out loud like that, it sure does. But I still remember it like it was yesterday. We were both away from home for the first time, living in apartments with three to a room. It had seemed like we were embarking on a great adventure. Little did we know just how great,” she said.
“What did you study?” I asked.
“I was really into botany. Wade was thinking about becoming an engineer. You couldn’t have picked two different people, but when we met at a concert, it was…it was like magic.”
“And we’ve been together ever since,” Wade confirmed. “Although Kindra’s tried to get away a bunch of times. But I’m faster – she can never outrun me.”
They both laughed at the well-worn joke.
“So…you’re heading to the border. Are you on vacation?” I asked.
“Sort of. I mean, every day’s a vacation for us. There’s an arts fair up there for a week – I make jewelry, and we’re hoping for some sales. And maybe Wade here can probably find some odd jobs. He’s turned into quite a handyman since his old slide-rule days.”
“You travel around to fairs? All over the
