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

from him. Surely she could shoulder the personal cost of giving him this gift.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, that would be … yes.”

The wind swept up the street, swirling the brown skirt around her calves, and Miriam could swear she heard a whisper on it: Thank you, Mom.

She dipped her head, pressing her hand against her chest, as if she could stop her heart from spreading into infinity, because here—in this distant, windswept city—Blaise’s memory spoke at last.

She tipped her head back and tried to memorize the feel of this moment, the sunlight on her face and the screech of brakes on the street and the hard pavement beneath her feet and the wind tugging her hair out of her headband and pushing it into her face, wrapping her up in the certainty of loving and of being loved.

She almost forgot Gus was there until he spoke again. “Can you come for dinner tonight? I’d like to talk some more. I’d like to know … everything about Blaise. And Talia.”

She hesitated. She owed him so much. Yet this fragile peace hung on a wisp of a thread. What about Kaye? Gus, being Gus, hadn’t stopped to consider the ramifications: namely, asking his wife to accept this bombshell with Miriam standing right in the room.

She shook her head. “We do need to talk,” she said, “but I think you should give your wife some time to come to terms with all this first. You guys can stay with me in Atlanta when you come. If you want.”

He didn’t like it—the tension in his face told her that—but he nodded. “So then, what now? Are you going home?”

She could. She’d confronted her ghosts, made peace with them. She didn’t have to keep going. She could go home. Or to her goddaughter.

Yet she could feel them all around her, those who loved her, those she loved: Blaise, Talia, and Teo. Most of all, Teo. All of them beckoning her onward.

“No,” she said quietly. “No, I have one stop left to make.”

 47

Friday, May 13

Carmel-by-the-Sea, California

MIRIAM STOOD IN FRONT of the mirror inside the Starbucks bathroom, applying a hint of eyeliner and some blush and eye shadow. Teo had never been one of those guys who insisted makeup wasn’t necessary, but he’d always liked a light touch. She let her arms fall and surveyed her reflection up close.

She’d aged in the past year. No doubt about it. She could see three gray hairs in her ponytail, and that fourth one she’d call blond. But she liked the new slimness in her face. She hadn’t realized all those years she’d spent thrashing around, thinking she was barely keeping her head above water, were transforming her into a real live adult.

She stepped back, smoothing her hands over the dress Teo and Talia had given her. The one that, until today, she’d never worn. It seemed fitting to wear it for this, her own personal memorial. She brushed at the skirt. It had picked up some lint the past couple of weeks, sitting in the bottom of her suitcase, but all things considered, the crinkly black fabric splashed with crimson flowers had weathered the trip well. Miriam wondered what Talia would say if she were here.

You don’t look half bad. Although I gotta say, that fluorescent bulb isn’t doing anything for your complexion. There’s this great little invention they have now, you know. Foundation? Ever heard of it?

Miriam laughed—actually laughed out loud—for sheer joy. Because if she could imagine Talia teasing her, she must be healing.

The silver locket twisted on its waterdrop chain as she pulled out her phone to tap out a text message to Becky and Dicey. It’s time. Wish me luck.

Becky’s response came so quickly, she had to have been waiting. It contained no words, only an emoji of praying hands.

Dicey didn’t respond at all. Probably asleep again. Miriam adjusted her red fringed scarf, scooped up her keys, and slipped out the door.

Nearly three thousand miles behind her, and one left to go.

A mile down the highway, Miriam pulled off into a parking place on the shoulder and stepped out of the car. It was an unprepossessing beach, long and narrow, the water so blue it looked painted. The wind picked up the red scarf; the soft fringe tickled her face as she stepped off the hard-packed shoulder of the highway.

Her foot sank into sand mixed with tiny pebbles, black and orange and white, worn smooth by billions of tides breathing in, breathing out. Rolling along, doing their own thing without regard for the cars whipping by or the lovers walking along the beach.

There was a wildness to this place, from the tangle of evergreen and windswept wildflowers across the highway to the endless expanse of ocean. Talia would have loved it. If they’d made it here, Talia would have torn out of the car and run straight for the water, forcing the others to keep up. Blaise would have been more likely to take his shoes off and sit down, digging his toes in like a hermit crab.

If she had been with them, she would have been like those lovers Miriam could see far down the beach, walking hand in hand with Teo.

If she had come with them instead of staying behind to play a Mozart concerto, might they have actually made it to this beautiful place? Maybe she would have seen the big pickup, weaving dangerously up the highway, in time to warn Teo before they crossed onto the bridge where disaster struck.

If. Always if. But if any of those ifs had happened, everything would have been different, not just the ending.

“This isn’t how they should find out,” Teo had told her. It was the last conversation they’d ever had, the evening before her family died. Teo and the kids had just left the awards ceremony, and the twins had tripped over each other, shouting at Teo’s phone, trying to tell her everything at once. She’d never heard Blaise so animated. In their