Christina reassured herself again that she was doing the right thing and pulled her laptop out of the bag and turned it on, before logging into her email. She typed in Grace's email and wrote a quick note.
Dear Grace,
Do what you need to do. I still mean it. We're best friends, forever and ever, amen. I'll be here. Just let me know you're okay and where you end up. I hope you figure out who you are while you're out in the big, bad world. Remember my rules. Don't take drinks from guys unless you can watch them getting it and make sure they don't roofie you. And be safe if you have sex. I don't think the world is ready for Grace 2.0.
I love you.
Christina
She logged off her email and blew out a breath. If I did the right thing, why do I feel so rotten?
* * *
Grace drove, endlessly. Her first stop found her in the middle of Pennsylvania at a seedy forty dollar a night motel that was none too clean but worked just to catch a few hours sleep. The antiquated neon sign had bragged about having air conditioning and color TV, neither of which seemed to work very well. She didn't care, the bed was all she was after. Tossing and turning all night on the old, worn mattress left her feeling more tired than she had been before, but she wanted to keep driving.
Where she was going, she still had no idea, but she had to just drive. The monotony of the road kept her from thinking, and with each turn of the wheels, she could push him a little farther away. She sang along to the radio, making up lyrics to songs she didn't know and she drank entirely too many cups of bad convenience store coffee. After her fifth cup and third package of coconut crunch donuts, she decided to pull off at a rest stop and stretch her legs.
The little rest area had some maps and she took them after she relieved herself in the small, rough bathroom and washed her hands. Propping her butt against the hood of the little red car, she opened the maps and let her fingers trace the lines of roads untraveled. Excitement bubbled through her veins at the thought of being on the open road, meeting new faces, discovering new places, and maybe finding out where she belonged.
She had been heading west now for close to twelve hours and was just outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana. Where do I want to go? Or am I just going to drive aimlessly for days? Weeks? Forever? No, I can't do that. I'll need some money eventually and I'll have to stop and try to work somewhere. Shivering against the brisk wind that blew, she crawled back in the car and looked at the map again. Okay, I've got it. I'll close my eyes and run my finger back and forth across the map and just finally put it down somewhere and wherever my finger goes, I'll go there.
Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she moved her finger back and forth across the map, up and down, round and round. Releasing her breath, she stopped her finger and opened her eyes. Her index finger was pointing directly at Seattle, Washington. Let's see what's for me there. Pulling a pen from her purse, she marked out her route, which would take her on I-94, through Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and finally into Washington.
Grace folded the map and placed it on her dashboard and started the car. She drove through the night, stopping twice for more coffee and donuts and finally ending her trip at another bad motel in Wisconsin as the snow falling from the sky made it nearly impossible to see. The next morning she woke to a winter wonderland and fought the urge to run out to the parking lot to make a snowman. Instead, she checked out and balled up a handful of snow from her windshield to toss into the air. The glistening flakes caught in the pale sunlight and twinkled around her like a handful of glitter. She scraped off the rest of the snow with her bare hand, grimacing at the cold.
I will need some frickin' gloves, and more coffee...
The car protested at being started in the cold, but she kept trying until it started with a roar and she carefully drove on the snowy streets to a gas station, where she picked up another cup of bad coffee and some cheap brown gloves. Granola bars, chips, water, and donuts filled her sack and she set back out on the road, ready for another long drive.
The scenery as she drove stole her breath. She'd never been out of the upper East Coast in her life and the different view of the country was awe inspiring. North Dakota seemed barren and empty and she fought to stay awake as she crossed into Montana. Finally, she stopped for the night in a place called Miles City at another cheap motel. Taking in her clothes and laptop, she showered quickly, washing off the road grime under lukewarm water. Drying quickly, she dressed in warm clothes, a sweater, jeans, and thick socks. Her hair dried over her shoulders in tangled curls as she pulled out her laptop and logged into the hotel's Wi-Fi.
It was slow and spotty, but she was able to sign in to her email. An email from Christina made her smile and she shot back a few short sentences, enough to keep her friend from worrying too much.
Dear Christina,
I'm having the time of my life. I've been driving and I'm sitting in Montana right now. I'm heading to Seattle, I think I'm gonna see what's going on there. But who knows, I think I have a case of gypsy feet. I may stay there a while, then move on. I'll let you know when I know something. Just don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine. This is good, and I need it. I'm just...I dunno. I feel free. I like it. Be happy for me, k?
Talk soon,
Grace
She logged off the Wi-Fi and lay back on the bed, but couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing with thoughts she couldn't quite verbalize yet. Sighing in frustration, she pulled her diary out of her purse and propped it up on her knees to write.
Dear Diary,
Being alone on the road leaves you with a lot of time to think. I was impulsive and wrong to push Drake into something that could hurt us both. But we both wanted it. I just...does everyone feel that way their first time? Like you're being worshiped, that you're the most beautiful woman in the world or is this something rare? Should I be running toward it instead of away from it? No. He needs his job. I can't be there with him and know that he's so close. I can't listen to the jeering and the whispers. It's better that I'm far away. That I forget him. It was one night, right? Nothing more. So I can't be in love with him, no matter how much my brain and heart scream at me I am. I just can't be. I'll just write down here for the last time that I love him but I had to let him go. I have to find out who I am and where I'm supposed to be. Without him. No matter how much that hurts to say. It is just how it is. Goodbye, Drake. I'm leaving you here in this little town in Montana. I'm not taking the feel of your kiss with me, nor the touch of your skin against mine, nor the way you made me cry your name. I'm leaving that here. In this bed, in this seedy motel. Right here, you can settle down and permeate this blanket, and get out of my skin, out of my blood. I can't move forward if all the broken pieces of my heart are stuck with you. So I'm taking them back, although I'm not sure if you really believed I gave them to you in the first place. Thanks for holding them for a while, and building me up, making me feel worthy to be loved. Thank you for fulfilling your part in helping me grow up. Maybe I will have a healthy relationship with a man one day, and it will be thanks to you. I'll know what not to do with the next one. Take care of yourself. I'll be taking care of me.
Grace
Closing the diary, she let out a sigh and wiped at the moisture that had pooled in the corners of her eyes. I feel better. Resting her hand on top of her journal, she closed her eyes, and slept, deeply. For the first time in many, many nights, nightmares didn't fill her dreams. She dreamed of freedom, of eagles flying overhead, of snow catching the sunlight and glittering around her as she danced.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A phone ringing woke her and she reached sleepily across the nightstand and picked up the old brown receiver. “Hello?” she whispered.
“Miss? It's almost time for check out...will you be staying with us another night?”
Grace sat up and rubbed her forehead. “No, no, I'm sorry, I overslept. I'll be right out, give me a few minutes.”
Hanging up the phone she moved into the
bathroom and readied herself for the next leg of her journey. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she was glad to see the swelling in her face was nearly gone and all that remained was some purple and yellow mottled bruising. It was fading nicely and soon would be gone.
Picking up her luggage, she took it out to the car and checked out of the hotel before getting into the car and driving again. She turned the music up as she rode and she just enjoyed being on the road. Dark clouds loomed ahead on the horizon and she frowned. Maybe it will rain? As she drove, the clouds grew darker and bigger and before she knew what was happening, hail was hitting her windshield and the rain poured down around her little car, making it almost impossible to see. Pulling over on the side of the road, she turned on her hazard lights and waited out the storm. It came quickly and left just as fast, the hail easing off to a murky drizzle that seemed to cling in the air.
Grace burst into laughter in the confines of the car. Her body quivered with the residual panic she'd felt as the storm had hit, and now everything just seemed funny. As her laughter tempered, she wiped her eyes and drove on. Stopping sometime later at another convenience store, her stomach grumbled and she groaned. When I get to Seattle, I'll be finding the biggest frickin' diner there is and eating my heart out, but I don't want to stop for more than this until I get there. I'm gonna drive through.
She fueled her trip with more coffee and junk food and filled the tank of her car before getting back in and continuing her journey. The hours slipped by and her tired heart soared as she drove through Spokane, Washington. Still she didn't stop, even as her eyes grew tired. Instead, she rolled her windows down and blasted music. She sipped a soda she had picked up that was lukewarm and gross, and kept driving.
Seattle, sixty miles. I can do that. I will do that. Tonight I will sleep in Seattle. She smiled in the dark of the car and pushed on. As she drove into the outskirts of the city, she found the first motel she could and checked in, barely making it into the room and locking the door before falling across the bed and sleeping yet again.
The next morning she woke up and stretched slowly before getting ready for the day. She checked out at the front desk of the hotel, hoping to find some long term motel that would be cheaper to stay at and asked for the nearest diner with Wi-Fi. The portly receptionist directed her to a greasy spoon called The Cat's Meow. Taking off on foot, with her laptop bag slung on her shoulder, she trekked the two blocks to the diner.
As she opened the door, the smell of food, real, good food infiltrated her nose and she groaned. The hostess sat her in a slightly worn booth and handed her a menu. Grace thanked her with a smile. Pulling out her laptop she sat it up on the table beside her and connected to their Wi-Fi. The waitress walked up and pulled a yellow notepad out of her little red apron.
“Hey there, hon, what can I get you for?”
Grace smiled brightly. “What do you recommend?”
“Our Canadian Scramble, best thing on the menu in my opinion.” The waitress shifted on her feet and propped a hip against the table.
“Sounds good, and coffee. Lots of it. Thanks.” Grace was hungrier than a mama bear with three little ones in the cave and she didn't care what the Canadian Scramble had in it, as long as it was something other than donuts from a convenience store.
Logging into her email, her pulse picked up. Her mother, or rather, grandmother, she reminded herself, had sent an email. Tentatively, Grace clicked on the little envelope and waited for the message to open. The waitress brought her a cup and filled it with coffee. Grace sipped the brew while she read.
Dear Grace,
I hate how things ended. I should've stood up for you, and for that, I'm sorry. Archie overreacted and he says he's sorry too, well sort of. I know he is. Mary being our daughter wasn't easy. She resisted all forms of authority, hated to be told what to do, and wanted her life to be her own. Much like you are now. I think it's probably a normal reaction when you're growing up, but Mary started growing up much too fast. I knew she was messing around with boys when she was thirteen, and we tried to keep her closer, and make more rules. It only pushed her farther away. She ran away when she was fifteen, to New York City, her heart set on becoming an actress. She got hung up in some rough crowds, and before we knew it she was writing home to tell us that she had met a man, someone so amazing she couldn't believe it and that they were going to have a baby. That baby was you. She never put her return address on the letters, and we had the police looking for her, but it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The letters came less and less often, she said that the man had left for California without knowing she was pregnant, and that she didn't want him to know. She said she wanted to save him, that he could do something great with his life. She said his name was Damien Kitson and he had been offered a job out there and promised when he could he would send for her. I often wondered if life got in the way and he forgot my sweet little Mary, or if he had never intended for their relationship to be quite as deep as it had become. Regardless, I got a Polaroid snapshot of you when you were born, but she wouldn't tell me where she was, or where you were. The letters came less and less often, with postmarks from different places in New York. Archie stopped caring. He said if she didn't want to be home, he wasn't going to force her. Then one day we found that she had been using checks of ours through the city, and it finally caught up with us. We guess she had taken some when she left. A string of bad checks pointed back to us and we had to pay everything off. She wiped us out, but I guess that's how she was living. The police had called to tell us they thought they had found her, and we were just about to leave for the city to see her and to see you...then we got the call that they found her dead and you were sitting in the derelict old apartment sobbing your eyes out. We rushed for the city, and we got you out of the orphanage and within a few months we adopted you. For us, Grace, it was a fresh start. We could raise you as our little girl, and forget all the terrible things that had happened. Archie and I were just kids when we had Mary, and we often wonder if we were too hard on her, but it didn't stop us from being hard on you. Your friend Christina told me when I showed up at the school to apologize to you that you were on your way to Seattle...if you've gone that far to find yourself, maybe, just maybe you'd be willing to go a little farther. I found an address for your father. At least I believe it's him. Damien Kitson isn't exactly a common name. He lives in Phoenix, Arizona and I think you should meet with him and find out more about your mom, and more about him, so you can finally fill that spot within you that I'm sure you've been missing all your life. I love you, I always have, and so does Archie, in his grumpy old way. One day he will apologize for what he did, but it will take some time, as I'm sure you're aware. I understand if you're angry with him, and with me for not sticking up for you. It felt like the same thing was happening all over again and I couldn't handle it. We were wrong. We love you. Keep in touch, Grace, and know you always have a home. If you need me, or need money, please call me.
Love always,
Annie
Damien Kitson
4843 Sunset Drive,
Phoenix, Arizona
PS. Good luck. Find out who you are out there but remember your roots start here. Branch out, touch the sky, just don't forget where you come from. Even the wildest roses need somewhere to set down roots.
Grace stared at the email, re-reading the contents over and over. The waitress had brought her Canadian scramble and she picked at the potato and egg dish absentmindedly, placing a bite in her mouth periodically, not tasting any of it. The man who could be her father lived in Phoenix, and according to an online map, it was less than twenty-four hours away. She could drive it in two more days.
If I want to meet him. Do I want to meet him? Grace turned back to her food and picked at it for a few moments while she weighed the question in her mind. Sipping on her coffee, she nodded. I do. I want to meet him. I can't expect him to jump up and down and have fireworks at my arrival. I mean, he could even have a family of
his own, maybe I have siblings! I want to meet him.
Shoveling the rest of the food in her mouth, she gulped down coffee and pulled out her wallet to pay the bill. Within five minutes, she was running back to the motel parking lot and jumping into the car to drive again. Seattle, maybe I'll be back soon, but right now I need to do this...
Maneuvering quickly through the traffic, she took the ramp to Interstate 5 South and began the drive to Phoenix.
The route she had chosen on the map took her through California and then into Arizona. Pushing the little car as fast as it could go down the Interstate, she sang along to songs, stopped for gas, and drove until the sun disappeared into the horizon. Still, she drove, pushing herself to get just a little farther before stopping for the night.
The stars twinkled in the velvet sky, and still Grace drove. Around one in the morning, she found herself yawning and dozing slightly as she meandered down the winding road, so at the next motel she found, she pulled in and got a room for the night. According to her map she was a little more than halfway to her destination, and in the morning she would check to get final directions to get around Los Angeles and into Phoenix.
The little room was barely more than a bed and cheap old TV, but it suited her purposes, which was to refuel for the next leg of her journey. Anticipation and excitement bubbled through her veins and she tossed and turned most of the night before finally dozing off as the sun's warmth danced over the horizon. Two hours later the alarm she'd set on the cheap alarm clock went off and she pulled herself from the bed and stumbled into the shower where she scrubbed off the grime of her journey.
Saving Grace (Wild Rose Book 1) Page 15