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

Grace.

 22

Monday, May 2

Hannibal, Missouri

IN THE MORNING, MIRIAM woke to a curious sensation she couldn’t quite place. It was a coolness in her heart, an emptiness in her mind. It was the sense of being in tune with God and the universe, of absence of anxiety. It was the sound of breathing on the air mattress beside her, reassuring her that she was not alone.

Contentment. That was it. She hadn’t felt it in so long, she’d forgotten.

She wasn’t supposed to be content. Teo was dead. Talia, dead. Blaise, dead.

A flashback of a scene she hadn’t witnessed—only imagined again and again. The coastal highway. The kids talking, Teo’s attention split. Crossing onto a bridge over an almost nonexistent creek. Shouting as that monster pickup truck swerved into their lane, crushing their little rental between the truck and the railing. Twisted metal. Screams. Burning.

Miriam sat bolt upright, her head grazing the roof of the tent, gasping for air. Her body was covered with sweat.

The air mattress bounced as she scrambled off it; Dicey groaned. Miriam unzipped the tent and escaped into the blessed chill of a spring morning, crouched down in a primal defensive position, her hands pressed to the dirt.

Sunlight pierced the canopy, laying down long strips of golden luminescence on the worn pavement as she walked to the shower house. Inside, she turned the spigot all the way over and let the water scald away the nightmare vision.

She powered up her phone on the way back to the campsite. Jo had called, and she had three text messages.

She listened to Jo’s voicemail first. “Hey, Mira.” Her sister sounded ill at ease. “Sorry to call so early, I have a merger to negotiate today so I won’t be able to talk later, but I wanted to call, at least.” A pause. “I have something I want to talk to you about. About Mom. So, call me tonight.”

For Jo, that was unusually not pushy. Miriam navigated to her texts.

Becky: How are you holding up? We’re all thinking of you today.

Gus: Your motivational speech for today! It was a link to a TED talk about working under pressure. “Thanks a lot,” she murmured. “That’s no pressure at all.”

And Mom: Just touching base. Call anytime if you need to talk.

Well, she’d asked for space. Her mother was giving it to her without going completely silent. Although it was a little odd that both Mom and Jo were trying to contact her the same morning. Miriam suspected a conspiracy.

As if in response, her phone rang. It was her brother. Now she knew there was a conspiracy. That or an emergency.

She picked it up. “Brad?”

“Hey, Mira.” He sounded half asleep.

Okay, maybe not an emergency. “What time is it where you are?”

“Um … five thirty?” Her silence evidently clued him in to the oddity of his calling at such an hour. “I’m in surgery today. I wanted to call while I had a chance. I imagine today’s gonna be a rough one.”

She was missing something. “Um …”

“I figure it was probably all too fresh last year, so this is probably the first one. I know Teo always made a big deal of your anniversary.”

Anniversary.

Orange blossom and larkspur. The courthouse steps. Feeling nauseous, and not just from morning sickness. Teo, his hand sweaty, trying not to betray that he was at least as nervous as she was.

Miriam felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She’d come home after the congressman’s funeral and canceled the standing order, and she’d never thought another thing about it.

“Mira?” asked Brad. “You still there?”

She heard her voice, faint and breathy, from a great distance. “I hadn’t … been keeping track of the dates.”

“Oh, shit.” She could practically see him mussing his hair in agitation. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Jo called this morning. And Mom texted. I couldn’t figure out why.” She chuffed, more a hiccup than a laugh. “Imagine Jo remembering when I didn’t. What kind of person doesn’t remember her own anniversary?”

Silence on the line. Then, a fierce tone. “Don’t do that, Mira. Don’t do that to yourself. You’re on the road. You’re off schedule. Besides, Mom probably called Jo last night to remind her.”

“Mom never forgets stuff like that.”

“Of course she doesn’t. And neither do you under ordinary circumstances. I’d place bets you’ve never forgotten before.”

Miriam swallowed. “That’s true.” But that was because they’d always talked about it together. Planned it together. She’d never had to remember it on her own.

The tent zipper buzzed. “Going to the shower,” Dicey mouthed. She dragged her suitcase up the drive.

“Mom was hoping to spend this whole week with you,” Brad said. “To … you know. Support you, or whatever. But she got roped into helping plan some big event at church. You know how she is.”

“Yeah.” Miriam mustered a chuckle and then gathered her thoughts to redirect the conversation away from herself. A survival instinct. “Is everything okay with Mom? Jo’s message said … I don’t know—it was weird. She wants to talk about her.”

“Oh, you know Jo. She has Mom one foot in the grave. Mom’s fine, she’s just not fifty anymore. I mean, she’s lonely. Like you. I’m sure that’s what Jo’s thinking about. She sees you both in pain and figures you can help each other. Merger of two struggling entities, you know?”

Miriam smiled wanly. “She does try to make everything fit into a profit loss spreadsheet, doesn’t she? Dad would be so proud.”

“Wow. That was bitter.” Brad hesitated. “Do you have any good memories of our family?”

Miriam pondered the question. “We used to have popcorn and soda on Sunday nights,” she said at length. “And watch Disney movies. I liked those nights. And I remember doing a puzzle one New Year’s Eve.”

“Wow,” Brad said again. “That’s all you remember?”

“I remember Dad on his deathbed, still trying to convince Teo to go back to the accounting firm.”

Brad blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Mira. I wish … you know, they really struggled for a while.