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.
A bell chimed as I pushed through the door. I was instantly assaulted by bright lights. The harsh fluorescents hurt my eyes and worsened the headache that I’d developed half way through West Virginia. I assumed it was a result of the climate and/or altitude change because my nose was stopped up, too. Between that and the puffy face from crying a river of tears, I felt pretty rotten.
As I approached the front desk, I saw the back of a maroon