Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I quietly made my way out of the woods and back to the car. When I was safely inside the Camaro, I let the floodgate open, tears falling unchecked down my cheeks.
I sat there for several minutes before my vision cleared enough to drive. I turned the car toward home and pressed lightly on the accelerator. I was in no rush to get there. The excruciating pain of loss after my father’s death had been eased somewhat by the arrival of Derek. But now, with heartache and betrayal marring those memories as well, home seemed more like a place of torture rather than the sanctuary of solace it was supposed to be. If I’d had somewhere else to go, I’d have skipped the house altogether.
I pulled into the garage and got out of the car. Briefly, I considered leaving the garage door open, as Derek had, so he wouldn’t know I’d followed. But then I decided against it. He’d know soon enough anyway.
Once inside, I sat down on the couch in the living room to think. The terrible tearing sensation in my chest had settled to a dull, empty throb and my mind was somewhat clearer.
I debated the best way to handle the situation. Several ideas flitted through my mind, but I quickly discarded them for one reason or another. I thought of my father’s letter and what seemed to be his last request.
I want to find your sister…it’s all up to you.
As I considered this, I heard his voice. Though it was very much just inside my head, it was as if I’d once heard him say the words and was remembering it. Only I was positive I’d never heard him mention the name.
Find Byron Allsley first.
I had never seen or heard of Byron Allsley until the package had arrived after my father’s death. And obviously my father wanted me to go and find him. It was like I was hearing him inside my head and feeling him inside my heart. I didn’t know how he was communicating that to me, but I didn’t doubt that he was.
It only took a moment for me to realize that finding him could eventually lead to finding my sister, which was what my father really wanted. And that was enough for me.
As I worked out the details, my eyes fell on the package beneath the Christmas tree. A shard of sadness sliced through my heart. Though I’d never really planned for the future, what with it being so uncertain and all, I guess I had begun to think of Derek as being a part of whatever hovered out there on the horizon. I’d never really analyzed my feelings for him; I’d just accepted them and went with it. Totally impulsive, like I’d always wanted to be when it came to love. No thoughts, just feelings.
And look at me now. I was learning the wisdom of rationale over rash love, and I was learning it the hard way.
I walked to the tree and knelt to pick up the package. After only a second’s hesitation, I ripped open the paper and tore into the box.
There, beneath several gauzy sheets of white tissue paper, was the sweater I’d tried on at the mall the night I’d gone shopping with Leah and her mom. It was the one I’d been wearing when I’d seen Derek for the first time (outside of a dream that is), when he’d walked by behind me.
I brushed my fingertips over the soft cashmere; it was like touching a cloud. And even in the dim light, I could see the warmth of the deep apricot color, just as beautiful as I remembered.
Gently, I pulled the sweater from the box and held it up. An envelope fell out as the sleeves unfolded. Laying the sweater aside, I picked up the envelope and slid my finger beneath the glued edge to loosen it.
Inside was a card. On the front was a picture of a huge silvery moon as it shone down on a snowy clearing in the woods, much like the one I’d just left (minus the snow). I opened the card and it was blank inside but for a few handwritten words.
You glowed like the moon in this, only much more beautiful.
I thought of my new plan and, for just a moment, reconsidered. I reread the card then held the sweater up to my face, rubbing the fuzzy fabric back and forth across my cheek. Then, with a pang of regret, I laid the sweater back in the box and put the card on top. I slid it back under the tree and went to the kitchen for a pen. I wrote on the blank envelope:
Too many blondes in the clearing. Don’t try to find me, just be gone by the time I get back.
I laid the envelope on top of the card and went into my bedroom to pack a bag. When I’d stuffed some toiletries, several pair of jeans, socks and underwear, a few bras and several sweaters into the bag, I carried it into the kitchen. I quickly added to it my father’s gun, an atlas, two granola bars and the package from Byron Allsley. It had all sorts of information I might need.
I turned down the heat, made sure the doors were locked then, without a backward glance, grabbed my bag and headed for the garage.
I drove through town toward the interstate. When I reached the intersection, I sat staring at the blue I-77 sign. Somewhere deep inside, I knew that if I proceeded, I would be passing the point of no return. Carrying out my father’s wishes would forever change my life, even more than what it had already changed. I could feel it. It buzzed in the air inside the car, like the crackle of destiny.
Images of my father and Leah, the Kirbys and, yes, even Derek drifted through my mind. I thought of the memories I was leaving behind, as well as the possibilities. But I knew it was something I had to do. And now was the time. I might not get a second chance. So, throwing caution to the wind, I pushed on the gas pedal and guided the car up the entrance ramp and set out to find Byron Allsley and my sister.
********
My inner turmoil fueled me all through that day and into the evening. I teetered between devastating heartbreak and iron-clad determination and I let them drive me. I stopped only for gas, refusing to look back or dwell on my decisions. I was going forward, consequences be damned.
When I’d stewed about as long as I could stew, the tears came. I began to cry about half way through West Virginia.
I grieved, grieved like I should have grieved months ago. Only I had more to grieve now. I grieved the loss of my father and Derek. I grieved for my sister and my mother, for Leah and my future, the life I could’ve had, should’ve had, but could never have now. I cried for miles and miles, pushing myself relentlessly.
By the time I started seeing signs for the Ohio state line, I was overcome with fatigue. I watched the billboards for hotels. When I saw a reputable name, I noted the exit number and then watched for the sign.
Once I was off the interstate, the hotel was easy to find. It was a huge monstrosity that sat right off the exit. Relieved, I pulled into the lot, parked, and then made my way into the lobby.