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

How much joy she could have had with Teo. If she’d just confronted Gus, it might have been different. A failed relationship was supposed to end in a breakup. It wasn’t supposed to just hang there, unresolved, forever.

In this moment of clarity, it was hard to blame Jo for thinking she needed a total reset on her life. Was she being unreasonable to resist?

But the idea of babysitting a phone sounded like the death of her soul.

She powered up her own phone, more from force of habit than because she expected to find anything worth her time. Another text from Gus. This was more what she’d expected from him. She swiped it away unread. The e-mail from Becky, though, deserved her attention.

She’d sent a video of the choir, gathered in the music area of St. Greg’s, with one of the other parish accompanists behind the keys. He started playing the familiar melody of “KREMSER,” and the choir began singing.

We gather together to send you our blessing

Our prayers and our love are behind you today.

Drive safely, eat healthy, don’t text while you’re driving,

Remember Father’s foll’wing, so watch what you say!

“Happy trails!” they all shouted.

Miriam laughed, her throat thickening. She’d known she was blessed in her volunteers, but it had been a long time since she’d had it demonstrated so clearly.

Nobody at St. Gregory’s had hesitated to pick up the slack so she could take this trip. Not even Father Simeon, her boss. They stood behind her a hundred percent, the people who knew her best, the people who had watched her family grow, cheered their successes, and encouraged her when the kids had pushed her to the edge.

She thought of the rehearsals peppered with smart-ass comments and liberally sprinkled with laughter. Of the way they supported each other with prayers and casseroles and cards and hugs. Of the way St. Greg’s had opened its arms and enfolded them when she and Teo arrived, young and sleep-deprived, with twin babies in tow, and handed them a small but newly renovated house at a ridiculously low rent. Of Becky, who’d kept Miriam sane for the last year, forcing her to take a break from the busy work she was using to keep the demons at bay.

That community, with Teo, was the only place she’d ever felt she belonged. For the past year, she’d been keeping them all at a distance, afraid to show them her heart, afraid to lean on them as they had so often leaned on her.

Jo was wrong. Miriam had plenty of reasons to stay in Atlanta. This video proved it.

She sent Becky a string of hearts. When she looked up, Dicey was emerging from the restaurant, moving slowly. Her blue bracelet flashed merrily in the bright sunlight. Miriam wondered again about the significance of that accessory. She’d never seen Dicey without it. “You okay?”

Dicey smiled wanly. “Well enough.”

Miriam chewed the inside of her cheek as Dicey eased into the car and reclined her seat. They really should find a quick care clinic. But she could imagine how Dicey would react if she brought that up again.

Miriam got in and slid the keys into the ignition. A phone buzzed. She tensed, but it wasn’t hers. Miriam had never seen Dicey ignore a text. “Dicey? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I just need to rest a while.”

The phone buzzed again. “That’s going to keep buzzing until you clear it, you know.”

“You check it, then.”

Miriam took it from her. “What’s the password?”

“Nine-one-nine-seven.”

Miriam punched the code in. “It’s your mom. She sent an article. ‘Pregnancy and Gastro-Intestinal—’”

Dicey grabbed the phone without looking. “I’ll read it later.”

Miriam touched the ignition again. They’d spent the better part of six days in the car. Dicey might not see a doctor, but maybe she’d rest for a day.

Miriam could use some rest too. Rest, a piano, and a few uninterrupted hours to immerse herself in Blaise’s music.

“Hey, Dicey.”

“Yeah?” She sounded half asleep.

“I was thinking. I know we’ve only been driving a couple hours, but how would you feel if we just stop here for the day? Grab a cheap motel room, and I’ll find a place to write. Give you a chance to relax. What do you think?”

Dicey opened her eyes and smiled. “I think that sounds great,” she said.

Miriam left Dicey asleep at the motel and headed for a Catholic church that looked, from its online pictures, like it had an accessible piano.

The traffic was terrible around the church. She glanced at the clock and smacked her forehead. Of course—the adjacent parochial school was dismissing. She’d timed her arrival badly.

Carefully, she navigated the traffic and pulled into a parking place. Her phone rang as she gathered her things. She glanced down and silenced it. No way did she have the energy for her sister right now.

She headed for the church, dodging parents and children walking hand in hand, the children shouting goodbyes to their friends. Inside, she paused to dip her fingers into the holy water. She breathed deep of the rich, buttery silence unique to the inside of a church. It was as if every person who set foot within its walls left behind a remnant of themselves: joy and peace along with bitterness, anger, sorrow, and shame. Outside, the interstate roared and schoolchildren shouted, but within these walls, everything retreated.

She’d always loved that about churches. One of her earliest memories was of coloring Disney princesses on the floor while Mom sat in front of the tabernacle on her holy hour. She remembered the way Mom’s crystal rosary beads caught the light from stained glass windows, sending bits of glitter scampering around the chapel.

Throughout her childhood, that otherworldly feel meant comfort. Safety. On the hard days—that last year of high school, when the chill of her parents’ floundering marriage made home seem like hostile territory—she’d bike over to church after school and stay there until dinner. She’d practice or do her homework or just sit quietly and pray. Sometimes she even got roped into