We are okay. Both of us. Scary night in the Pawnee Grassland. Close encounter with twister. But we are ok. Rescued by a gallant rancher. Regrouping to go on to CO Spgs.
It took all of thirty seconds for the replies to start coming in. A cascade of them, covering the spectrum she’d expected, from Jo’s I should never have let you talk me into this to Becky’s effusive emoji-laden statement of support.
She supposed she ought to put something up on the app too. Her choir members and Father Simeon were bound to hear about it; better to control the narrative.
She repurposed the text she’d sent her family and posted it through Talia’s app as Buck walked back into the house. “All set,” he said. “But keep it slow. You shouldn’t drive too far on that donut.”
“Thank you,” Miriam said. “We’ll get on the road shortly and be out of your hair.”
“Oh, you’re no trouble at all.”
“In that case, I could use a shower,” Dicey said. “A really, really long shower, if you don’t mind.”
She pulled her entire suitcase into the bathroom, just as she had the first night in Cincinnati. Miriam smiled and shook her head.
Her phone rang. She glanced down, and her body flashed hot and cold: Gus. Good grief. She’d only put up the status update about a minute ago. He really was stalking her.
Her promise to God the night before seemed rash now. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. When she’d thought her life was ending, confession seemed a no-brainer. But in the light of day, she was right back to Won’t it do more harm than good?
But she’d promised: anything, she’d said last night under the bridge. If she got out of this alive, she’d do anything. Even confess to Gus.
Heart pounding, she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Miriam! August von Rickenbach. I just saw your post.” Gus gave an awkward chuckle. “Glad you’re okay. I have to say, I’ve gotten a bit obsessed with your little trip the last couple of days. My wife is getting irritated with me. Actually … she’s not the only one. I was supposed to have some excerpts ready for recording three days ago, but I … I can’t seem to concentrate.”
He almost sounded proud of it. Like it proved his worth as a human being. But surely even Gus couldn’t be so crass as to appropriate someone else’s grief.
Her silence seemed to get through to him. “I … uh … I know you must think I’m crazy, taking so much interest in your family,” he said. “I can’t account for it. It’s as if I’ve known you forever.”
Well, if she intended to do it, now was the time. Miriam sank into the plush office chair. “Listen, Gus, I need to tell you something.”
“Yeah, I have news too. Guess where I am right now? Denver International Airport!”
Miriam’s revelation died on her tongue. “What?”
“I know, right? I’m performing with the Denver Symphony tomorrow. What are the odds? Can you come? I’d love for you to come.”
“Um …”
“It would be so great to meet you in person. Talk about Blaise. I have some ideas I want to share with you. I can comp a ticket for you, if money is an issue.”
Miriam gritted her teeth. Money was an issue, but having him toss her free tickets like she was some kind of charity case just pissed her off. “It’s really not that kind of trip, Gus.”
“But it can be!”
“I’m traveling with someone else.”
“She can come too.”
Miriam’s near-death vow warred with the tower of resistance rising up in response to his pushiness. Maybe this was a sign—a humongous, flashing neon sign screaming “Tell Gus!” But it didn’t feel that way. It felt more like a car with all its warning lights going off at once.
“Listen,” she said. “We just got the crap beaten out of us by a tornado. I don’t know about Dicey, but I’m really not up for a concert.”
“Then I’ll rent a car and come down to Colorado Springs on Monday,” he said. “I really want to talk to you face to face.”
Miriam was starting to feel caged in. “We won’t be there by Monday. We don’t stay more than a day anywhere, usually.”
“But you could.” A wheedling tone had entered his voice.
Miriam was starting to feel panicky. What if she screamed, “Blaise is your son!” just to shut him up?
Except that wouldn’t end the conversation. That would just make it worse.
“Hey, I’m getting another call,” she lied. “I’ve got to go.”
“But Miriam—”
“Bye,” she said. She punched the red button and slapped the phone down on the desk, then picked it back up and shut it off entirely. She’d fulfilled her obligations to the people who mattered. If past history was any indication, she had at least an hour before Dicey would be ready to leave. It was time to take care of herself.
She needed to get her equilibrium back before she got on the road. Her body itched to feel the burn of exertion at elevation in muscles numbed by fifteen hundred miles of driving.
“Buck?” she called. “Do you mind if I take a walk outside?”
31
Friday, May 6
Colorado Springs, Colorado
DICEY SPENT THE DRIVE to Colorado Springs working on her scrapbook and singing with a playlist off her phone. The resiliency of youth: a hot shower and all was well.
Miriam had never been that emotionally agile, not even at Dicey’s age. The phone call with Gus rankled like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Maybe it was guilt. Every time she passed another highway turnoff, queasiness stabbed her throat again. That road would get her to Denver. And that one too. And that one.
Her phone dinged for the sixth time in an hour. Dicey glanced down at it. “Hey,” she said, “it’s not Gus, for once! It’s your sister.” She held
