And her anger was almost gone. Her argument with Parker had given her a headache, but it was easing now. She’d forced herself to relax, forced her shoulders down and her breathing to return to normal. She’d even begun to play a silent game with the license tags on vehicles that passed her. It was something she used to do with her parents when they went on vacations. McKenna learned a lot of words and it was fun to stump her parents.
She smiled while remembering that as a tag went by with the letters F-T-R on it. Immediately she thought of the word father. After that the words came quickly and her headache was soon forgotten.
Parker hadn’t said much since she started driving, but he also hadn’t opened his computer and resumed his editing job. McKenna began to feel bad. She wasn’t usually angry at people. It was only around Parker that her temper seemed to get the better of her.
She searched for something to say. They had little in common. He was friends with Marshall, although McKenna could never figure out why the two liked each other. Marshall was outgoing, fun loving and always up for a challenge. Parker was the stay-at-home type. He categorized everything, didn’t speak much, at least not to her, and judged everyone and everything.
“Are you planning to teach in September?” McKenna finally asked.
“I am on the schedule,” he said.
“Suppose we’re not back by then?”
He glanced at her. “Still trying to get rid of me?”
“That’s not it,” she lied. She did want to get rid of him, but figured that plan was now dead. “I have no particular timetable I’m working with. I’m free as a bird and winging my way wherever the wind blows.” She tossed her hair to one side, suddenly feeling the exhilaration of the journey.
“If we’re still out on the road by then, I’ll make the decision to either leave you high and dry or get someone to cover my classes.”
He was smiling when McKenna looked at him, but she couldn’t read his face. McKenna had always avoided Parker. He and Marshall often arranged to meet at a restaurant or Marshall would go to his place and pick him up when they went out. Now she couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or serious.
He checked his watch. Then he pulled out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“I thought I’d check on Lydia. She should be awake by now.”
McKenna reached over and took the phone from him. She turned it off and dropped it in the unused ash tray.
“Why did you do that?”
“No cell phones, except in emergencies. We’re out of touch with everyone. If there’s an emergency, someone else will have to deal with it.”
“But I promised Lydia I’d call.”
“She’s going to be fine. We both heard the doctor say so. I ordered flowers to be sent to her this morning with a card that said I was leaving today. She’ll know why you didn’t call. And even if you did, what could you do?”
“You can’t honestly expect to drive all these miles without using a phone.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Suppose you need something? Don’t you have to check in occasionally and let people back home know you’re all right?”
“No one needs to know unless there’s an emergency. We can use pay phones if necessary. But I don’t want to be pulled into the minutia of life back in Woodbine Heights. If something’s going on there we can’t fix it.”
“You’re a real surprise, you know that?”
“What do you mean?” McKenna asked. Her stomach clenched, ready for another of his compliments couched in a joke.
“I never would have thought anyone like you would try doing what you’re doing.”
“What do you mean, ‘anyone like me’?”
“Don’t get your back up. I mean you always appeared so grounded, so much a person who knew where everything was. When you were running the company after Marshall’s death, from what Lydia told me, you were a perfect CEO, dealing with projections and next year’s forecast, new products and all the duties that come with being in charge. Now you’re driving off into the sunset with no set plan and only a few maps.”
He looked in the small pocket in the door. McKenna had stashed the maps there.
“What is this?” She pulled a plastic container from the side of his seat.
“A DVD cover. Lydia gave me the entire set.”
“Of Route 66?”
He nodded. “She was going to watch the old TV series, maybe duplicate Tod and Buz and their adventures in their red-and-white Corvette. She thought if I watched them it would make the trip more interesting. I loaded them on my computer.”
“Tod and Buz?” McKenna raised her eyebrows.
“The characters’ names in the series. Two guys, traveling the southwest and living off the land. Every episode was an adventure.”
“That’s right,” McKenna said.
“And you’re on your own adventure now?” he asked.
“I guess this means we both are.”
“So which one are you, Tod or Buz?”
McKenna smiled for the first time. “Since you’re the guest here, you should choose first,” she said.
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “This is your fantasy. And I know nothing about Buz or Tod. You choose first.”
“Tod was the sensible one. He was blond and logical, always thinking the situation through.”
“Like a CEO?”
She nodded.
“So Buz was the dark angel? The one who shot first and discussed it later.”
“Right!”
“I guess that makes you...”
“Buz,” she answered for him.
He laughed, a hearty, belly laugh that McKenna found very pleasing. But then she remembered Marshall’s laugh and it reminded her that she would never hear it again.
And part of the reason for that was Parker.
* * *
IT HAD STARTED ALREADY, McKenna acknowledged. She sat up straighter, mentally shaking herself.
Parker had begun to talk. The two of them had had a civil conversation. McKenna couldn’t remember that ever being the case. They’d passed each other or avoided each other for years. Now she was sitting next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and smell his cologne. Who would have thought he even wore cologne? Or that he’d speak to her as if they were friends.
They pulled into a gas station and restaurant in Litchfield, Illinois. The Belvidere Café, Motel and Gas Station was closed and the building decaying, the pumps gone, but McKenna recognized it from her research. Only the café remained. The sign on it was faded and worn. Awnings, sporting areas of rust, hung over the windows.
She got out of the car and walked toward the brown-and-tan brick one-story building. Her feet crunched on the gravel path that had once led to a parking lot and motel rooms. Not even a ghost of them remained.
“At this rate,” Parker said. “It’ll take months to get to the coast.”
She looked at him. “Yes, it will,”