“Also I went to school. You know. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.”
They moved through a gap in a fence at the end of the seawall. Bea reached out for Allie’s arm to steady herself as they made their way down a short but steep hill of sand. Then they were walking on sand at the edge of the lightly lapping bay. Bea turned her head to look more closely at a tall dune on the land side, marked with perfect patterns—troughs and waves—that the wind had blown into its surface. In the setting sun it glowed orange.
It was all very beautiful, but also tiring. It was hard walking in loose sand, and Bea felt she’d had enough.
“I hope it’s not much farther,” she said, her voice marred by puffing breath.
“It’s not. We’re here. Look.”
The girl stood at the edge of the water and pointed down. Bea followed the pointing finger and saw that dozens of jellyfish had washed up onto the beach. They were orangey, and looked a little like huge uncooked eggs with multiple yolks. But at the same time they were far more intricate and beautiful.
It formed a perfect loop in Bea’s mind. On one end was the aquarium in Monterey, where they had been able to see—albeit in a simulated way—under the ocean waters. On the other was driving the coast while truly understanding that all that wonder really did exist just beyond their view.
She thought of the man with that hat and the bushy hair—wondered how he knew that this would be her perfect heaven. Or maybe he had been speaking more generically. Still, it felt prophetic now.
She looked up to see Allie staring into her face.
“You look happy,” the girl said.
“I think I am.”
“You think? You don’t know?”
“It’s an unfamiliar sensation. Give me some slack.”
“Right. Sorry. So you’re glad you walked down here, I hope.”
“Yes,” Bea said. “I’m glad.”
They stood for a long time in silence. Bea alternated between watching the sun set behind the fishing pier and looking down at the way its golden light made the colors of the jellyfish glow.
“I think I had a false idea about heaven,” Bea said.
“Heaven?”
“Not heaven like where some people think you go after you die. More like heaven on earth. I always thought it would be a place where nothing was going on and nothing was required of you. You know, perfectly restful. But now I think it might be a more action-oriented sort of deal.” She paused to see if the girl had anything to add to the odd set of thoughts. “Well. We should go back before the sun goes down.”
But for a good five or ten more minutes, Bea just stood and drank in that perfect moment.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Definitely Friendly, but Definitely Not a Ghost
Driving through the heart of Fort Bragg, a nice enough small town on a high cliff over the sea, Bea spotted the familiar pattern of black and white on an approaching southbound car. She was only just absorbing the color of its light bar, and what it meant to their situation, when Allie began to shout.
“Turn! Fast! Turn right here!”
Bea swung the wheel wildly. The tires squealed. She could only hope she had sufficient distance from the police car, or Highway Patrol car, or whatever it was. She could only hope its driver hadn’t seen or heard that ridiculous turn.
“Turn again! Pull in here!”
“Stop barking orders at me! You’re making me nervous.”
Still, Bea turned, as she had been told to do, and rolled to a stop out of sight of the main drag—the coast highway through town. They waited in absolute silence.
Nothing happened. No police car drove down the side street looking for them.
Bea sighed and shifted the van into “Park.” She rested her forehead on the steering wheel, breathing out as much of her alarm as she could manage.
“Maybe I should just get this over with,” Allie said.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to. Get what over with?”
“You know.”
“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Maybe I should just turn myself in.”
Bea opened her mouth to speak, but her throat felt tightly locked, and she wasn’t sure if she would succeed. She reached out for the ignition key and turned off the engine. The silence felt stunning. The slight hum of cars on the highway formed a background to the moment, but all else held still.
Bea swallowed hard in preparation for attempting to speak.
“Please don’t do that,” she said to the girl.
“I’m just so tired of being scared like this. Always looking over my shoulder. And maybe they’d go easier on me if I turned myself in. Besides. We both know I have to. Sooner or later. I can’t just ride around with you till I’m eighteen.”
Bea’s brain did not seem to be in working order, so she couldn’t present cogent arguments in a crisp format as she might have wished. Instead she said, again, “Please don’t.” It sounded pathetic, like a puppy whimpering, begging for someone to make it feel more secure.
“I’ll give you the gold bar before I go. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Bea shook her head. “It’s not.”
“What, then?”
“I don’t want to go back to the way it was before I had you along. It was terrible. I hated it. I was alone and I was scared all the time. And now we’re actually doing things that are . . . good. That make me feel good. And you don’t even know for a fact that your nosy neighbor reported my license plate number. For all you know she was too far away to see it or didn’t care enough to call. You might be making this huge decision for no reason at all. We haven’t seen Cape Flattery yet. We’re only halfway there, and you can’t quit halfway through an adventure. It’s just not right.”
Bea waited. The silence stretched out. She didn’t dare look at the girl. It would be too much like looking into a mirror and seeing the most vulnerable side of herself in the worst possible light.
“You never act like it’s a good thing that I’m along,” Allie said, her voice small. “You act like I’m a big pain in your ass.”
“Well . . . you are, dear. But it was still much worse without you.”
Another long silence.
“Okay,” Allie said. “I guess we should try to get all the way up to Cape Flattery before I make any big decisions.”
Bea straightened up and filled her lungs with air.
“Yes. Excellent. Thank you. On to Cape Flattery.”
She turned the key in the ignition. No sound. Well, one sound.
Click.
She turned the key to “Off” again. She sat a moment, feeling the chill settle into her belly and her bones. Then she decided it had been an anomaly, or she had somehow turned the key in not quite the right way. This next time would be different, and all would be well again.
She cranked at the key a second time.
Click. Click. Click.
Not only did the engine not turn over, it didn’t even try. Judging by its response, for all Bea knew a pickpocket might have stolen it right out from under the hood while she was begging the girl not to go.
Bea withdrew the key and set it in her lap.
“Uh-oh,” she said.