“I don’t know. But we can hide until we wake up. The little girl taught me how to hide.”
We entered our home and locked the door behind us. The inside of the home was exactly as our home is. Emma’s dolls were right where she had last toyed with them in front of the fireplace. She headed straight to them and immediately began her routine, entertaining herself. The fireplace sat unlit, the rocking chair empty in front of it.
The thought of Mary resting in the chair while feeding each of our daughters as infants entered my mind. The air around us seemed to vibrate with great intensity. Items that laid upon tables and shelves shook in their place. The ground had a slight rumble. “That won’t work, Papa,” Emma scolded.
“What won’t work?” Everything came to an immediate rest.
“You can’t make Mama come here. She has to find it herself.”
“I wasn’t trying to make her come here. How did you know I was thinking of her?”
She dropped her doll and came to me. “I saw what you were thinking.”
The flashlight flickers in my hand. “I think the batteries need to be changed.” I tap the side and the light dims. I search the bag my father packed for new batteries, but it is difficult to find anything in the dark.
I look at the clock. 9:15 p.m. We have been driving for three hours. Zoë looks tired and overwhelmed. She is trying to hide it from me but the stress of the day is taking its toll on her. “Maybe we should stop for the night,” I suggest.
She breathes a sigh of relief. “No argument here. The Augusta exit is only ten miles away,” she points out as we pass the large green sign on the side of the road. “I’m sure we can find a hotel there.”
An uneventful ten minutes later we finally reach our exit. I dig cash out of the bag for the tollbooth and pass it along. As Zoë pays the toll she asks the operator where the closest hotel is.
“Head west on 202 and you’ll find three of them less than a minute away.”
As we make the turn, we pull into the first hotel we see. “I bet they have beds and showers here,” Zoë jokes.
“What more could a tired girl ask for?”
6. ILLUSTRATED
It doesn’t take us long to get settled in to our room at the hotel. By 9:45 Zoë is filling the bathroom with hot steam from the shower and I am laying out items from the bag on the bed I have claimed. I remove the plastic bag that holds all three of the leather bound books. All resemble each other. The paper in each journal is thick, well weathered, and desperately trying to contain the ink within its pages.
I pull out the cell phone my dad had mentioned and the charger for it. It looks ancient and rudimentary. There are no bells and whistles, not even a camera. It’s solid black with a small screen. It is just a mobile phone with the ability to make and receive phone calls. For a split second I consider turning the phone on and calling my dad. I have so many questions for him.
The sudden realization that my mom doesn’t know I am gone hits me like a ton of bricks. I want to tell her everything is okay and that I’ll be home as soon as I do what I have to do. But I can’t call her no matter how badly I want to.
I kick off my shoes and throw my jacket on a chair in the corner of the room. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I reach for the journals. I carefully slide them out of their protective plastic and set two of them down on the bed. I open the third one that I have not yet looked at and guardedly flip through the pages. Most of the pages contain writing, but on a number of pages I find illustrations.
The first few illustrations are all of places. Several of them are wooded areas with medieval looking architecture; much like the place I had been to when I first encountered Natalie. I stop when I reach a drawing that is so delicate and beautiful, it draws me in and captivates my interest.
My eyes are first pulled to a large tree with incredibly low lying,