Months had passed, and now I paused in my recollections to read the sign up ahead. Five more miles until my turnoff and the motel where I planned on staying. It was in the town of Saint Marlot, and according to the sign, had a population of three thousand people. It was there that Daisy and her friends, both male and female, had traveled to for some prayer meeting to honor the recent death of J. R. R. Tolkien. There they would stay for a few nights, and then head on out to the coast.
Apparently, college wasn’t in the cards for my Daisy. She’d given her mother hell and had put her foot down when she’d told Mrs. Davonport that she wasn’t going to go, that she wanted to “find herself” and spend a year traveling, maybe head to Hollywood. The whole argument had been heated and loud. I knew because I stood outside in the darkened doorway at the kitchen, listening to the words that poured out from the open window a few feet away from where I was stealthily spying.
Daisy won the argument. Being a single mother who worked too much for too little, her mother had relented, letting her daughter, her only child, decide her own fate.
Although I wasn’t too hip on the idea of Daisy cutting school and skipping a chance at a better life than her mother’s, I was happy to see she’d inherited her father’s spark and grit.
That didn’t mean I was happy about what she’d been focused on these past few weeks. The crowd she’d been recently hanging with was made up of drifters and dodgers. The type of seed that balked at reality and hard work, banking on the kindness of others to get by. Daisy said she wanted to follow a dream, no matter what, and her ticket appeared to be from this new lot of people.
So here I was, following the caravan of flower children, keeping enough careful distance from notice, my Daisy always in sight.
I turned the volume down on an Elvis Presley song and straightened in my seat, flicking the signal for a right turn. The sun was just a smear of color as I made my way to the neon sign that read Marlot Motel. I circled the parking lot slowly when I got there, noting all the rooms, vehicles, and the two breezeways in the middle of the long L-shaped motel where the ice machines would be. Already I had spotted the mint-colored VW bus that Daisy had arrived in. I parked toward the office and went inside to check-in.
The room the bored lady at the desk gave me was number fifteen, the floor above Daisy and friends, probably exactly above their rooms. If I was lucky, it would be the one Daisy was in. I went back to my car and grabbed my bag, locked up, and headed to the stairs. The place was pretty silent, at about half capacity, which I liked. Not too many bodies, not too little.
The room was threadbare and basic, with the usual motel smell and comforts. I turned on the TV, locked the door, and took a shower. I knew from the conversation I’d overheard earlier at a truck stop, that Daisy and company were going to go grab a bite to eat at the steakhouse next door tonight. So I had plenty of time before they came back.
The nightly news was talking about Nixon and Watergate when I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me. I sat on the bed while I dug through my bag, looking for a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. Laughter from outside had me at the window peeking through the curtains. Below was Daisy. The streetlights gleamed off her yellow hair, tinting it pink, as she skipped in the parking lot with her friends. She was happy. Even from inside my room, I could make out that husky voice, the one that shot right to my dick.
I watched until I lost sight of the group as they headed into the rooms below. Quickly, I got dressed, grabbed my bag, and headed outside. It was time for Daisy to meet me.
Chapter Two
I watched from my car in the middle of nowhere as the VW pulled into the clearing that had been set up for tonight’s “vigil.” There were about five vehicles already here, all to gather in memory of The Hobbit’s author.
It was plum dark out now, but someone had started a bonfire by the time I had arrived. Already the circle of Tolkien fans gathered around the flames. Make-shift chairs of barrels had been set up, and blankets were laid out. I was out of my car by the time the VW opened its doors.
I chose a seat on the ground across from a hippy who was strumming a Cat Stevens song. Beside me was a young couple making out and laughing. I looked for Daisy among the crowd and spotted her. She was being led by the hand by some girl wearing a bright red poncho. Both girls laughed as they found a seat by the guitar boy.
I rested my arms on my jeaned legs, the heels of my cowboy boots planted deep into the earth. With my hat hiding most of my brow, I watched her. She had on a short, flowing dress that was sinched in at the waist by a wide braided belt. Her long golden hair fell loose over her shoulders.
It was all worth it, being here among these clowns. As much as I wanted nothing more than to grab my Daisy and drive off somewhere far away, I was content to just watch, to be close enough to walk over to her and know she was safe. Besides, I’d been doing it for months.
After a while, the strumming stopped, and the girl with the red poncho stood up,
