A Song for the Road by Kathleen Basi (classic literature books txt) 📕

and Woodward. I know, you’re thinking, “A bridge? Really?” But just wait till you see it. It’s a work of art. Like, these things they call “cribbings”—I guess that’s in reference to the structural braces they used to use inside coal mines. And it’s thirteen stories tall! Enjoy!

 21

Sunday, May 1

Hannibal, Missouri

FOR THE REST OF the day, Dicey didn’t mention Miriam’s revelation. She campaigned for and then planned a stop in Hannibal, Missouri, boyhood home of Mark Twain. But on the subject foremost on Miriam’s mind, Dicey remained silent.

It was unnerving. Miriam had held her secret so long, she scarcely knew who she was without it. There was a giddy yet terrifying weightlessness, merely knowing another living soul knew it now too. She hadn’t realized what a difference it had made, having Teo to share the burden. Now, she waited in agony for the moment Dicey would ask more questions … an agony of simultaneous dread and longing.

Touring the cave made famous by Tom Sawyer took her mind off it for a while. So did setting up the tent and air mattress at the adjacent campground. But when she left Dicey to go find a grocery store, it came rushing back.

Miriam returned to find Dicey perched on top of the picnic table, trying to take a selfie while holding a piece of paper that read “Love you forever” in bright pink, outlined in brown. “You want me to do that?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Miriam snapped several pictures and then handed the phone back. Dicey continued working on her scrapbook while Miriam started cooking. But still not a word about Miriam’s big secret.

Maybe she should take heart from that. If Dicey accepted the truth so casually, maybe everyone else would too.

Not Gus, though.

Miriam closed her eyes and breathed long and slow and deep, a singer’s breath, then exhaled even more slowly, listening to the sound of insects in the trees and squirrels darting around in the undergrowth.

“This is so much work,” Dicey said. “It’d be easier to go grab fast food.”

Miriam opened her eyes. Dicey had set her phone aside and was watching her cook. The look on her face made Miriam smile. The kids used to say the same thing, in the same tone of voice, wearing that same look. “Everything about camping requires more effort. That’s kind of the point. To focus on the moment. On the doing.”

Dicey rolled her eyes. “Did you guys camp a lot?”

“Had to. We didn’t have money to take big trips.” Miriam turned back to her work. “I remember this one time, Teo set the fire up on the side of a hill. We didn’t realize it until the sausages started rolling off the grate into the fire. He couldn’t stop it. The kids were thrilled because we had to go to Dairy Queen for dinner. It was a huge treat.”

She rolled the sausages onto plates. “Ready to eat?” She turned to find Dicey munching on root vegetable chips. “Clearly.”

“Sorry. Got hungry. Needed salt.”

“You and salt. Is this, like, a medical condition or something?”

“It’s a none-of-your-damn-business condition.”

The words were spoken with Dicey’s characteristic biting humor, but they hit Miriam like a physical blow. She turned away.

Dicey wiggled off the table and came over to embrace her. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy. I know I’m kind of sensitive.”

Miriam managed a little smile. “You’re right, it’s not my business.” Although the more defensive Dicey got about it, the more suspicious Miriam became. Coughing, salt, and mechanical equipment in the bathroom. It added up to something. She just didn’t know what.

But Dicey was already moving on. “I don’t suppose you bought ketchup and mustard, did you?”

Miriam groaned. “No, I didn’t even think of it.”

“Hmm. Well, lucky for you, I keep all my fast-food packets. Here.” Dicey opened another zipper on her apparently limitless backpack and grabbed a handful.

“Teo was the one who was good at that kind of stuff,” Miriam said as she doctored her bun. She dropped her voice. “One more thing I never appreciated.”

Dicey chewed her sausage thoughtfully, swallowing before she spoke again. “You’re awfully hard on yourself. Your family died. It sucks. It’s not fair. But how is it your fault?”

Miriam’s throat sent up a sudden revolt at the taste of the sausage. With effort, she swallowed, then set the rest aside. “It’s not my fault that they died. It’s my fault that—” A hot wave rushed over her. She focused on the roughness of weathered wood beneath her palms to tether her to reality. “I never told them about …”

“Their real father.”

Miriam’s jaw muscles clenched against that phrase, but it was such a relief to have the subject open at last, she let it go.

Dicey scooted her chips around her paper plate. “I’m sure you had a reason.”

Miriam nodded slowly. “Yes. But the longer I didn’t talk about it, the more it—the more I changed.” Why had she never realized that secrets harmed the keeper as much as the one left in the dark? “I used to be a good mother, you know. I was never a great wife, but I was a good mother. When they were little, I made their lunches, took them where they needed to go. Cuddled them, kissed their boo-boos. As long as they were little, I could justify keeping it from them. I was protecting them. They didn’t need to be confused, you know? And we were always so busy. And exhausted. Whole weeks would go by when I didn’t even think about it.”

Dicey leaned on the heel of her hand, listening.

“But the older they got, the more I could see Gus in them. I couldn’t forget anymore.” Miriam shook her head. “The talent, the single-mindedness … Talia’s charisma … but they were Teo’s kids, you know? In their character. It was Teo who taught them to be human beings. Good human beings.”

“And you.”

Miriam spread her hands. “I don’t know about that. Carrying that secret … it got in the way. It didn’t seem to impact my relationship with Blaise