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

the day she met Dicey. “You know what he needs,” it seemed to say.

“What were you going to sing?” she asked. “On your anniversary?”

He looked surprised. “Schubert. ‘Du bist die Ruh.’”

She smiled and nodded. “A good choice. Good pronunciation too.”

He smiled. “I had German in high school, you know, a couple hundred years ago.”

Miriam smiled too. The query was enough; the man was satisfied he’d been heard. But Teo’s presence hovered around her, nudging her to go further.

I’m not good enough, she told it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he would have said. And of course he was right.

“Would you like to sing it now?” she asked.

He turned to her, startled. “Really?”

“Keep your expectations low,” she warned. “I’m a pianist, not a guitarist. But I think I could muddle my way through it.”

He raised his shoulders. “Well, I’m a grocery store manager, not a singer, so we’re even on that score.” He pushed off the wall, assuming a posture that would have made Maria Callas proud. Miriam noodled around a minute, getting her bearings in a song she’d only ever played on piano, and then nodded.

He was right—his was not a trained voice. But it was a beautiful one. Clear and unaffected. The kind of voice people would love to hear cantor at church.

She’d forgotten how beautiful this song was. Or maybe it just meant more, coming from a man who’d undertaken to learn it as a gesture of love. She didn’t know German, but she remembered the gist of the translation: a lullaby to absolute trust. A testament of love made all the more powerful by the fact that it never used the word at all.

It was the perfect song to dedicate to Teo on this day.

When the song ended, the man put his hand down heavily on the rail. Miriam’s breath felt slightly tremulous.

He looked up, his eyes bright. He crossed the distance between them and hugged her, guitar and all. “Thank you,” he said.

Her heart contracted. Bittersweet: yet another emotion rediscovered. A pang, profound and painful, but pure. Not infused with self-recrimination. For once, she’d done Teo proud.

“My pleasure,” she whispered.

Part 6

Chimney Rock, Nebraska

I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.

—Mother Teresa

Talia’s intro to Chimney Rock

So, Chimney Rock. This one’s way off the beaten path. It’s a big rock out at the far edge of nowhere Nebraska, but it looks way cool. It’s about 300 feet high, so you can’t miss it. And when the settlers were on the Oregon Trail, this was one of the big landmarks that let them know they hadn’t gotten lost in all that grass.

It’s got a visitors center run by the National Park Service, so you guys can read signs to your hearts’ content. Yawn. We’ll be having fun at Interlochen.

 24

Tuesday, May 3

Omaha, Nebraska

WIND FARMS AND FIELDS: western Iowa in a nutshell. Lots and lots of fields. A few displayed rows of tiny, bright green plants marching away into the distance, but most were still bare black earth, striped with planting furrows.

Dicey had given up on the view long ago, burying herself in her scrapbook app, but Miriam found it soothing, a calm counterpoint to the intensity of the last few days. They’d slept in this morning and then gone out for a huge, sit-down breakfast. Now they were getting close to Omaha. Nebraska, for heaven’s sake. Never, in all her daydreams about traveling the world, had she imagined visiting Nebraska.

Her phone rang through the Bluetooth. Miriam punched “Answer” without looking at the ID. “Hello?”

“Oh, so you are alive!”

Miriam smacked the back of her head against the headrest. “Hi, Jo.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled. I suppose I ought to be grateful you answered, considering you flaked out on me last night.”

Miriam gritted her teeth. Apparently Jo’s lack of pushiness only had enough staying power for one day. “Look, I did what you wanted. I talked to Mom. I asked her for some space, and she gave it to me. Which I’m sure you know because you talk to Mom all the time. So how about you ease up?”

“All right, pipe down. I didn’t call to pick a fight.”

Dicey flashed Miriam a look that clearly communicated: Coulda fooled me! Miriam bit back a laugh, knowing it would only aggravate Jo further and make whatever this was last longer.

“I only have five minutes,” Jo said. “If you’d called me last night when you were supposed to …”

“I believe you said something about not picking a fight?”

Dicey gave her a fist pump.

“All right, all right.” Jo took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “It’s just a crazy day. It would have been much better to do this last night.”

Miriam didn’t argue, but she knew her sister. Jo worked around the clock; last night, this morning—it made no difference.

“So I have an idea that will help everyone,” Jo said. “My firm is opening an office in Albuquerque. I can guarantee you a position as an administrative assistant. You can live with Mom.”

Miriam picked her jaw up off the floor. “You’re kidding.”

“It’ll be good for both of you. Mom’s seventy-five. She needs someone to look after her, and Brad and I can’t relocate. But you can.”

“Because my life and my work are so much less important than yours?”

“Miriam.” Jo infused the word with deep scorn. “Don’t act like a child. You know there’s nothing for you in Atlanta now.”

“No, thank you.”

“See? I knew you’d react this way. Mom thought you’d listen, but I—damn it!”

“What?” Miriam said, making sure her tone communicated her displeasure.

“They’re early. I’ve got to take this call.” Jo made it sound like the interruption was Miriam’s fault. She spit out the rest in a rush. “Look, I know you don’t like change, but think about it. For Mom’s sake. And yours. Whether you know it or not, you need this.”

“Goodbye, Jo.”

“I’ll call you later.” The phone went dead.

Dicey drummed her fingers on the door. “Well, that was awkward.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I’m not entirely