All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth
The words of Jonathan Moore came to Lauren as she
looked out the window of the airplane she was in. “It will do
you good to have a vacation, Lauren. I’m ordering you to take
two weeks somewhere that is sunny and healthy for you. You
should do it tomorrow. I’ve got the tickets. You just have to
show up at the gate.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You need this. It’s good for you. Don’t argue.”
“I’ve got piles of work to do.”
“I’ve asked Adam and that new attorney to help with
that.”
“OK, fine. I’ll go. I’m still feeling like something’s not
finished.”
Jonathan paused and his lips twitched. “I know.”
“OK, I’ll go and pack.”
“Good girl.”
She packed her bag, and now she tried to think toward
the time when she would be having a good vacation
somewhere where her father was sending her. She didn’t
realize it until she saw where she was boarding. It just didn’t
matter where her destination would be. But she was being
sent to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Her first thought was
that this was not where her father would have sent his
daughter. He didn’t like North Carolina, and yet here was her
ticket, sending her there.
Lauren sighed and then sat back, finding herself falling
into a light sleep.
Myrtle Beach was a lovely town. There was the beach
itself, and at that time of year in April, she could still feel some
of the chill wind when she walked on the sand. Lauren made
it a habit to walk in the mornings and then have breakfast at
her hotel. There was hardly a crowd there that April—only
stragglers and die-hard tourists who came there every year
because they had fallen in love with the place. Lauren, not
having had a real vacation in years, enjoyed her walks. She
stayed away from people, and the others left her alone.
One of the kitchen staff observed her as she walked
toward the beach one morning and said to her friend and
coworker, “That girl—she is not happy.”
“Oh?” Her friend looked at Lauren’s retreating back.
“Why do you say that?”
“I can read people. She’s one of those—one of them
people.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Someone who’s lost somebody that they loved.”
“Oh, really!”
“Mark my words. She’s hurting for someone.”
Lauren decided to skip her plane trip and, instead,
hired a car to go back home at the end of her stay at Myrtle
Beach. It was more relaxing for her to drive than to do all that
had to be done to catch a flight and get all settled down and
then get up and find her luggage and head home. So with a
full tank of gas and her credit card ready, she drove a white
Renault on Highway 501 and kept her GPS to track her
journey.
She would be home in eleven hours.
The roads were mostly good, but once she headed
through toward West Virginia, she found the roads patchy
and rough at intervals. The weather was relatively good and
made her spirits feel uplifted. Her father called her on her cell
and expressed extreme displeasure at her having decided to
drive instead of taking the flight back.
“My god, Lauren, what the hell are you thinking?
Driving alone through the South?”
“Dad, I’m OK. This is not the first time I’ve driven
alone through parts of the US!”
“No, it isn’t, but I’m afraid this is causing me a
problem. I want you to take yourself to the nearest airport and
come home from there.”
“No, I won’t,” she smilingly said. “I love the weather,
and I am enjoying the drive. Let’s be calm about it. You can
ask Marsh to prepare me a great big meal when I get home.”
“And when will that be, pray tell?”
“Oh, sometime tomorrow after lunch!”
“Oh my god.”
She rang off and motored away into the wilds of
Appalachia.
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