full-scale war ahead. I needed to save my energy so I could win that, too.
Donovan filled the car up with gas—sixty-one cents per gallon out in Ashburn Falls, a whole two cents cheaper than in Chameleon Lake, it was that remote—and we began the drive toward Minnesota. I noticed his anger was more directed this time. Less of a simmering general malevolence than a laser-focused frustration.
Something else was different, too. Unlike the ride up, there were fewer pockets of silence on the way back. This time he actually initiated a few conversations. One in particular surprised me.
“Do you think our brothers were lying to us? To everyone?” he asked over the low crooning of Journey’s “Wheel in the Sky” on the radio. “Do you think they were trying to get away with something illegal? I know they were capable of it. It’s just—do you think they’d actually do it?”
I’d wondered about this. Over and over again I’d wondered.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I hope not. My sense is that they wouldn’t do something really bad on purpose but, maybe…maybe, accidentally…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”
“You know, there’s a lot of risk in going to the police, Donovan. Not only might they botch up the investigation again, but if they find out something bad about our brothers, they’d expose them both. Our parents don’t need that kind of heartbreak. Not on top of everything else.”
He nodded, saying nothing but just running his fingers through his dark hair. I could see a tremor in them as he did it. Just one. Then he pulled the fingers of that hand into a tight fist and clenched the steering wheel with the other.
In the parking lot in Alexandra, he dropped me off alongside my car, getting out to put my bag into the backseat of the Buick for me. I dug out my keys and stood in the distance between our two vehicles for a minute, remembering something. The ring.
I tugged it off my hand and ceremoniously returned it to him—making a face as I did it and trying to get him to smile just a little after the seriousness of our conversation on the drive.
He did smile, and he pocketed the dorky golden band. “Too much of a women’s libber for a ring, huh?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said, trying to sound casual and sophisticated. At least that’s how I hoped he’d interpret my words. “But, in any case, I won’t need it here.”
“Fair enough. And I’ll let you have your way with the journal, since I’m not going to wrestle it away from you,” he said, the smile mutating into a smirk because I’d been holding onto Gideon’s leather book with a death grip, like it was my passport to get out of a foreign land.
“We need to talk in a few days and really figure out what we’re going to do next,” I said.
Donovan grimaced. “I’ve got to work this week, and I think you do, too.”
I agreed. I’d probably need the week to come up with a good excuse for taking off some time from Dale’s Grocery Mart. Not sure what, exactly, I’d say to my boss. And then, of course, there were my parents. Hmm, that could be difficult. But I’d deal with one problem at a time.
“How about we meet on Tuesday night?” I suggested. “It’ll give us three days to mull over some ideas on our own, then we can run a few possibilities back and forth. About Chicago.” I paused to gauge his reaction. “And, maybe…beyond Chicago.”
His reaction was nearly nonexistent, his face devoid of all emotion. But, after a long moment, he consented with a short nod.
“Okay, so, Tuesday night then,” I said. “Should I come to the auto shop?”
“Yeah. Make it seven p.m. And Aurora?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t run off before then,” he said, slipping into the Trans Am with a wave and a tight grin that bordered on threatening. “I’ll be watching around town for you.”
Chameleon Lake, Minnesota ~ Sunday, June 11
S O AS not to entirely lie to my mother, I drove to St. Cloud
Donovan filled the car up with gas—sixty-one cents per gallon out in Ashburn Falls, a whole two cents cheaper than in Chameleon Lake, it was that remote—and we began the drive toward Minnesota. I noticed his anger was more directed this time. Less of a simmering general malevolence than a laser-focused frustration.
Something else was different, too. Unlike the ride up, there were fewer pockets of silence on the way back. This time he actually initiated a few conversations. One in particular surprised me.
“Do you think our brothers were lying to us? To everyone?” he asked over the low crooning of Journey’s “Wheel in the Sky” on the radio. “Do you think they were trying to get away with something illegal? I know they were capable of it. It’s just—do you think they’d actually do it?”
I’d wondered about this. Over and over again I’d wondered.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I hope not. My sense is that they wouldn’t do something really bad on purpose but, maybe…maybe, accidentally…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”
“You know, there’s a lot of risk in going to the police, Donovan. Not only might they botch up the investigation again, but if they find out something bad about our brothers, they’d expose them both. Our parents don’t need that kind of heartbreak. Not on top of everything else.”
He nodded, saying nothing but just running his fingers through his dark hair. I could see a tremor in them as he did it. Just one. Then he pulled the fingers of that hand into a tight fist and clenched the steering wheel with the other.
In the parking lot in Alexandra, he dropped me off alongside my car, getting out to put my bag into the backseat of the Buick for me. I dug out my keys and stood in the distance between our two vehicles for a minute, remembering something. The ring.
I tugged it off my hand and ceremoniously returned it to him—making a face as I did it and trying to get him to smile just a little after the seriousness of our conversation on the drive.
He did smile, and he pocketed the dorky golden band. “Too much of a women’s libber for a ring, huh?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said, trying to sound casual and sophisticated. At least that’s how I hoped he’d interpret my words. “But, in any case, I won’t need it here.”
“Fair enough. And I’ll let you have your way with the journal, since I’m not going to wrestle it away from you,” he said, the smile mutating into a smirk because I’d been holding onto Gideon’s leather book with a death grip, like it was my passport to get out of a foreign land.
“We need to talk in a few days and really figure out what we’re going to do next,” I said.
Donovan grimaced. “I’ve got to work this week, and I think you do, too.”
I agreed. I’d probably need the week to come up with a good excuse for taking off some time from Dale’s Grocery Mart. Not sure what, exactly, I’d say to my boss. And then, of course, there were my parents. Hmm, that could be difficult. But I’d deal with one problem at a time.
“How about we meet on Tuesday night?” I suggested. “It’ll give us three days to mull over some ideas on our own, then we can run a few possibilities back and forth. About Chicago.” I paused to gauge his reaction. “And, maybe…beyond Chicago.”
His reaction was nearly nonexistent, his face devoid of all emotion. But, after a long moment, he consented with a short nod.
“Okay, so, Tuesday night then,” I said. “Should I come to the auto shop?”
“Yeah. Make it seven p.m. And Aurora?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t run off before then,” he said, slipping into the Trans Am with a wave and a tight grin that bordered on threatening. “I’ll be watching around town for you.”
Chameleon Lake, Minnesota ~ Sunday, June 11
S O AS not to entirely lie to my mother, I drove to St. Cloud
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