Evan gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Then what happened?”
“I pretended to be asleep when we got home. So she’d have to carry me to bed. She knew I was faking but she played along. She tucked me into bed with my blue whale in the crook of my arm. She kissed my forehead and said, ‘This was a good night, Josie.’ I couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore. I put my arms up around her neck, held her tight and said, ‘No, it was the best night.’”
I breathed in the night air, let it out, waiting for the memory to fade back to gray. It didn’t. Joyland was a ghost town around us, but in my mind it was bright and brilliant, full of color. And my mother was closer now, too. I could see her face so much clearer now.
I looked up at Evan in the darkening night. “How are you doing this? How do you know to take me to these places?”
“I don’t,” he said.
“Evan…”
“Does it make you happy? To be here?”
I stared. “Well…yes, of course. I’m getting my mother back. Little by little. It’s like a miracle. But, Evan—”
“Then that’s why. As for how…?” He shrugged. “I don't know to take you to these places, Jo. That’s not how it works. I dreamed it but can only remember little pieces. It doesn’t come back to me until we’re in the moment. I wait and listen, and when it comes, I follow.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. However he was doing it, he was giving my mother back to me, piece by piece. A gift more valuable to me than I had the words to express right there, in the falling dark.
Evan moved close, touched my cheek softly. “More than anything, I want you to be happy. If there’s a driving force then that’s it. Your happiness.”
He held me close, wrapping me in his warmth just as he had four years ago.
I leaned into him. “I’m happy. More than I’ve ever been.”
“Then I’m taking you exactly where you need to be.”
I woke up with a gasp, and half sat up, the dream slipping away before I could grasp all of it. As usual. But this time a few fragments lingered; names and objects.
The burner phone.
Rapid City.
The detective.
Step by step instructions without a diagram of the finished product.
The clock said two a.m. Jo slept peacefully. I slipped out of bed and took the prepaid phone from off the nightstand where Jo had left it. She was planning on throwing it out but didn’t want to leave it in the hotel trash.
As quietly as I could, I stepped outside the motel door, watching to see if Jo woke at the sound. She didn’t.
I stepped out onto the tiny porch outside our room, made a call to information, then a second call. At this late hour, I got an answering machine. I left my message and hung up. The instant the call ended, I felt a chill sweep over my skin. I peeked into our room. Jo was stirring in the bed. I hurried back inside, and tucked the phone into the inner pocket of my duffel with plans to ditch it somewhere safe tomorrow.
I slipped back into bed with Jo and wrapped my arms around her. She sank deeper into sleep, and I followed soon after, easily. I hated hiding anything from Jo but my mind was at peace because I had done the right thing even if she’d never see it that way.
I woke at dawn, wrapped around Jo. Her naked back against my chest and a thin sheen of sweat between us. She smelled like tangerines: sweet but tart. I smiled into her hair because she tasted the same: sweet and tart. She stirred, rolled in the circle of my arms to face me. My fingertips ran along her scar. While I hated where it came from and the pain it carried along its pale seam, I loved it as a symbol of her survival. A battle scar.
Her smile flickered under my fingertips. She kissed me, then declared the coffee in the motel was shit.
“Is that a subtle request?” I laughed.
“It’s concern for your well-being. I’m not too friendly without coffee.”
“You seem pretty friendly to me,” I said, kissing the hollow beneath her ear. “But I’ll get you some coffee anyway.”
She folded back the covers and sat up. “You’re a saint. I’ll hop in the shower and get us packed up.”
I got dressed and Jo bustled around the room, humming to herself as she collected our belongings. Since Joyland last night, she looked as if another heavy weight had fallen off of her, or a shadow had lifted. I wondered if she’d look this content in our own space. Our own home instead of some dingy motel. I drank in the beauty of her, then went out.
I double-checked the door, making sure it was locked behind me.
I should’ve told her to put the chain on.