way back on the path past the farmyards and the maple-candy stores and the glassblowers and the Ben & Jerry’s signs, back to I-89, and all the way to the rest stop where Stevie’s parents waited now, next to their maroon minivan, bundled tight.
David stood to let her go by, and then he continued right off the coach. She thought he was just taking extreme steps to make room for her, but he remained off the coach and followed her right to her parents.
“I’m David,” he said, extending his hand. “David Eastman.”
Why was David introducing himself to her parents?
“Nice to meet you, David,” her mother said. “Are you meeting your family here?”
“No. Stevie said I could maybe ride into Burlington with you? If that’s no trouble. If it is, I can just catch the coach when it comes by again.”
Stevie saw the light come on in her parents’ eyes. They looked from David to Stevie and back to David again, and they liked what they saw. Stevie felt the ground moving away from her feet.
“Of course not!” her mom said. “You’ll come with us.”
“We’re going to get something to eat,” her father said. “If you’d like to come.”
Stevie couldn’t move. Her body had gone rigid. David, don’t, David, it’s not a joke, David . . .
“Sure,” he said with a smile. “If it’s not a bother?”
“Oh, it’s no bother,” her dad said.
She saw David take in the EDWARD KING sticker on the back of the minivan. He gave her a sideways look, then went to the back door of her family’s car and opened it.
“After you,” he said.
“I will kill you,” she said in a low voice.
“I’m telling you they are serious about that policy.”
She walked around to the other side.
All four of them were off together in the Bell family minivan, down I-89, as the dark fell over the land. The ride into Burlington was quick. They rode through the university section, got stuck on the waterfront road along Lake Champlain, and turned back onto one of the many small and charming streets.
The entire order of the world was now thrown. There should be no David here, with her parents, in this place. Though the volume was turned low, Stevie could hear the familiar mumble of her parents’ favorite talk radio show—the one that always talked about how “those people” were trouble, the one that proselytized about Edward King. They switched it off, which was something.
There were many fine restaurants in Burlington, and fine restaurants tend to be expensive. Stevie had looked up a place off Church Street, the main shopping and social area, that looked like it had good sandwiches and salads and didn’t cost too much. There were free places to park as well. The restaurant was the kind of place where you ordered at the counter and paid and took a number back to any table you liked.
Stevie’s mom and David ordered first. Stevie’s dad took longer to examine the menu, and Stevie considered impaling herself on the potato chip display rack.
“Vegetarian roast beef sandwich,” her father said. “I wonder how that works.”
“They use a substitute,” Stevie said in a low voice.
“Then it’s not roast beef, is it?”
Stevie’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment.
“Don’t make that face,” he said. “I’m just making a joke. Can’t I make a joke?”
Don’t make that face, Stevie. Don’t be smart, Stevie. You think you know so much, Stevie, but wait until you get into the world you’ll see things don’t work that way. . . .
“We came up to see you. Can’t we make this a good visit? We can always take you right back home.”
Don’t react. Don’t give in. Just get through this, go back.
The moment settled.
“I like him,” her father said. “Very polite. Opened the door for you.”
“He’s a treasure,” Stevie said.
At the end of the line, down where you picked up your order, David appeared to be entertaining her mother to no end and . . . oh no. He was getting out his wallet. He was insisting, clearly insisting that he pay. There was the credit card. Another joke. She was laughing away, charmed half to death.
Stevie distinctly felt part of her soul die. She hoped it wasn’t an important part.
They took a table by the window. The cold air penetrated the glass, and Stevie invited the chill. It suited her mood. She examined her overstuffed chicken sandwich, found it was too heavily stuffed to ever pick up and eat, and so tipped it to the