A destination I couldn’t quite admit to myself that I had.
Pauline handed me a paper bag bulging with food for the road and called, “Send me a postcard, dear,” as I pulled away.
The weather was gorgeous—the sky bright blue and dotted with pillowy clouds—but the drive grew monotonous quickly. I understood why John Steinbeck took his famous road trip with a standard poodle as opposed to a spider plant.
So when I saw a hitchhiker, standing by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, it almost seemed like a sign. Two hitchhikers, really: a girl and a dog.
I pulled over and rolled down the window. “You need a ride?”
It was an idiotic question—what did I think she needed, a unicorn? But I was nervous, because I’d never picked up a hitchhiker before.
The girl nodded and hurried over, her backpack flapping against her slim hips and her dog bounding after her.
“I assume you’re not an ax murderer,” I said as she carefully set Spidey on the dashboard and climbed into the passenger seat. Her dog, a pretty yellowish mutt, took its place on the backseat, pressing its nose to the window. “Or a runaway,” I added, because I’d just realized just how young she was.
The girl smiled; she had dark eyes, round cheeks with deep dimples, and an unfortunate lip ring. “Thanks for stopping,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. “I’m Savannah. That’s Lucy.”
“And…?” I prodded. As if I was waiting for her to admit that she had an ax in her bag.
“And I used to be a runaway, but then I turned eighteen. So now I’m just an adult without a car. Or a house.”
I had to smile then, because now we had something in common. “My name’s Anne,” I said, “and I don’t have a house either.”
Savannah nodded like this was totally normal. “I’m so glad you stopped. I was out there for hours,” she said. “I had to turn down like six pervy-looking guys. They’re happy to give you a ride, but they want something in return, you know?” She gazed out the window over the green fields and sighed. “So where are you going?” she asked.
“Denver,” I said. “What about you?”
“Away.” She turned around and gave her dog a reassuring pat on the flank. “Just you and me, kid,” she said to her.
I watched Savannah out of the corner of my eye. She was vaguely punk looking, with dark short hair and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Her clothes were faded and wrinkled, but clean; she’d obviously put major walking miles on her black combat boots.
“Where are you coming from?” I said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
She seemed to grimace a little. “Do you want the long story or the short?”
Needless to say, I thought of my book. “The long,” I said.
She leaned her seat back and said, “Okay, then I have to back up like three years. When, honestly, I was… not the greatest kid. But I wasn’t the worst, either. I didn’t steal or fail all my classes—only geometry, and like, who cares? They’re just shapes. But I skipped school a lot. My boyfriend’s brother was a dealer, and there was always weed and pills around. And I was like, ‘Drugs? Sure, I’ll take those.’ I was fighting all the time with my mom and my stepdad, and I kept telling them that I was going to run away.”
“So one day you did,” I said.
She shook her head. “No. That’s the messed up part.” She took a deep breath and then blew it out in a low whistle. “This happened when I was seventeen. I stayed out really late partying one night, and then I went home and passed out in my bed with my clothes and shoes still on. But I woke up super early, and I just knew: There was someone in my room. And I sat up and called out, Who’s there? And the next thing I knew there was a bag over my head, and people were grabbing my arms and legs and pulling me out of my bed. And I was screaming my head off, Mom, Mom, help! Mommy!!”
Savannah stopped and turned around to pet Lucy again. I was practically holding my breath.
“I couldn’t see anything. I was being kidnapped. One person’s tying my hands behind my back and the other’s half carrying me downstairs. I was still screaming.” She paused and shook her head. “And that’s when I heard my mom’s voice. She said, really quiet, ‘Savannah, this is for your own good. You’re going to a place where you can be helped.’”
“What?” I gasped.
“These rent-a-cop thugs were my ‘escorts’ to a teen boot camp,” Savannah went on. “You know, like the army for troubled kids? I didn’t get to say good-bye to anyone, I didn’t get to pack a bag. I just screamed, all the way outside, where they put me in a van and drove me to Idaho. That stunt alone cost my parents five thousand dollars—how sick is that? And I spent the next three months in the woods, chopping logs, digging up stumps, eating slop, and being screamed at. Once I missed curfew and they put me in a cell for two days. Solitary confinement! But then, a few days before I turned eighteen, I ran away.”
I was shocked. “What about your parents?” I asked.
“They know I’m safe,” she said. “But they can’t know where I am.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
She shrugged. “We’re getting over it, me and Lucy. I mean, I am, and she’s helping me. Her people got rid of her, too, didn’t they, girl? They sent her to the pound. But I saved her, and now we travel together.”
I made the decision right then. “I can take you as far as you need to go,” I said. “Wherever that is.”
She turned and smiled at me. “Thanks, you’re the best. But I think I gotta do this on my own. I’ll go with you until—”
“Until Denver,” I said firmly. “I’m not letting you out on the side of a highway. And I’m giving you money for a hotel.”
“As long as it takes dogs,” Savannah said.
“Of course,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said. “Really. Thanks a lot.”
She didn’t really want to talk much more after that—it was as if reliving that experience had exhausted her. Or maybe it was just her journey, which was obviously long and complicated.
But I bought her lunch and then dinner, and at seven o’clock that night, I left her in the parking lot of a Best Western on the outskirts of Denver.
She wouldn’t let me take a picture of her face, so instead I took a picture of Lucy, sitting by her feet. She wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead she was gazing up at the girl she was bound to, and I swear to God she was smiling.
I’d taken a lot of pet pictures in my day, but this, by far, was my favorite.
Chapter 19
AN HOUR later, I checked into a downtown hotel and showered off the eastern Colorado dust. It was still too early to go to bed, and I was too restless to veg out in front of the TV, so I walked down the street until I heard the sound of live music coming from the open windows of a tavern.
I went inside, ordered a gin and tonic, and tapped my foot to the music. When I got my drink, I raised the glass to Savannah and Lucy. I hoped their story would end happily. And I wished I’d ever have a way to know.
“You can join in if you like,” someone said.
I turned to see a man about my age, wearing black-framed glasses, with a violin tucked under his arm. He gestured toward the circle of people a few feet away, whose acoustic bluegrass had first pulled me into the bar.
“Now I wandered far away. From my home I’ve gone astray,” sang a woman with a high, clear voice.
I smiled. “Thanks, but I’m not a performer,” I said.
“I can tell you play an instrument, though,” he said.
I looked at him more carefully. He was handsome and broad-shouldered, but he squinted like he couldn’t see me very well.
“You can? How?” I asked.
“You would’ve said ‘I can’t play.’ But instead you said you don’t perform.”
“Very perceptive,” I said, smiling. “Okay, I don’t play anymore.”
“What did you used to play?”