I look in the mirror and plead with Austin. “Please take a nap. You’ll be too tired to drive later if you don’t.”
Austin closes his eyes and leans on Jenni.
I concentrate on following the signs back to the main road. I need to find out about the person who’s been on my mind since this trip started. “Hank. Tell me more about Lady Margaret.”
He frowns. “What do you want to know?”
That’s easy. “Everything. How you met. What you did together. How she was.”
He crosses his arms on his chest. “I already told you. We met in a chat room. She came to rescue me. She did. End of story.”
I glance over at him. “Hank. Please. This is my aunt, a lady I thought would never fall for anyone’s story. I’m trying to understand why she did, and what she was looking for.”
He glances over at me. “She missed you, Amy. She was vulnerable and lonely. She wanted to do something good for somebody, and that’s when she found me.”
I shake my head, more than slightly annoyed by his smug answer. “I don’t believe it. Lady Margaret wasn’t easily duped. If she wanted to do good, she would have started a canned food drive, or donated her time to the Salvation Army or Big Brother/Big Sisters. Why in the world would she choose to go into a doomsday compound? I don’t understand.”
He shrugs his shoulders and acts all defensive. “People have fears, Amy. And as they get older, those fears grow larger. It happens.”
I turn and glare at him a second or two. “Are you saying my fearless aunt was afraid of the end of the world, because she wasn’t. She may have been strange and eccentric, but she was a believer! Her faith was strong. She was always telling me stories of Old Testament women like Debra who led armies, Lydia who made the purple cloth, Esther the beautiful saver of her people, Leah the lying deceiver, and Delilah the wicked Philistine.”
He grins. “You’re cute when you get fired up.”
I reach over and smack his leg. “Don’t call me cute.”
He grabs my hand on its way back to the steering wheel and traces my palm with his fingers. “You’re smokin’ hot.”
I take my hand back. It tingles in every nerve ending. “Cut it out.”
I rack my brain and try to think of other possibilities. “Maybe she knew someone else inside, and they had reached out to her. Maybe she was trying to rescue them.”
He stares hard at me, and for a second, I feel fear.
“Why would you think that? That’s absurd.” He stares hard at the windshield before he turns back to me. “She came to get me, remember?” He’s already told me this, but it’s not too convincing.
Something in his tone tells me I’m close to the truth, but it also tells me to back off. I stare straight ahead, a little shaken. “It was just a thought, Hank. Relax. I’m just trying to rule out other ideas.”
“Well. That’s a ridiculous suggestion. So just forget about it.”
My mind races at his statement. Why would he be so adamant unless he was hiding something? That has to be it. The question remains - who did she know?
He interrupts my thoughts. “We can stop at her place. It’s on the way. It’s not that far off the route. I’ve checked.”
What is he saying? “Hank. My aunt’s house was in Florida. I think I’d know.”
He shakes his head. “That’s where her main home is, yes, but her more recent home is near Oakland.”
I glance over at him. I don’t believe him - can he really be that dense? “Hank. Oakland is in California.”
He glares back at me. “Yeah, I know. But there’s also an Oakland in Nebraska, just like there’s a Paris, Texas, though neither are that desirable.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Yes, I’d like to see her place.”
“If the two of you could please keep it down, I’m trying to sleep.” Austin growls at us from the backseat.
I look back at Austin. “Just grab my AirPods and stick them in your ears if you don’t want to hear us.”
Austin digs through my bag and pulls them out with a happy smile as he puts one in. “Gladly.”
I look back at Hank, pondering. “Why do you speak as you do?”
He smirks back at me. “And how is that?”
I really should be less abrasive, but I find I can’t be, especially when his facial expression keeps goading me. “Uneducated.”
He laughs out loud. “What is the point of education, Amy? What if the world shut down, and the environment became like the Hunger Games? What good would it do anyone to know what cultural tolerance means or the devastation of world hunger and the possible effects of climate change when all they really need to know is how to survive.”
I roll my eyes. “The Hunger Games, Hank? Really. You think this civilized world is going to one day become an environment like the Hunger Games where people kill each other for sport and others watch?”
He crosses his arms across his chest. “That was ancient Rome once, Amy, and the people were entertained. They craved it.”
I shiver at his tone. “Well. That was a long time ago, Hank. And we are not in Rome.” I look at him again. “How did you know how to tame that horse?”
He shrugs and stares at me with heat in his eyes. “I guess I’m just animalistic in nature. They’re drawn to me.”
I snort. “And your apples.”
His volume drops. “And what about you, Amy? Do you like my apples?”
My breath hitches, and my body betrays me, as I feel the heat rush through me. “You’re so weird, Hank.”
He chuckles and sits back in his seat. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He’s infuriating. “That’s because it’s a ridiculous question not worth answering, and I’m not a horse. You won’t find me eating apples from your hand.”
He turns sideways and reaches over the console. His fingertips skate up my forearm. I glance down at my skin. I’m certain I’ll see a line of burned skin left behind, as he takes my hand off the wheel, draws it to his lips, and kisses my knuckles, before laying it down on the console. “If I wanted you to eat from my hand, you would.”
I take back my hand and stare out the front window; shocked at what I cannot say, nor can I answer. I feel like the quivering taut string of the bow, being pushed to the point of madness by Hank, the arrow that’s headed straight for my inexperienced heart or other regions if I’m not careful.
I turn the radio back on and flip the station to old country, because it relaxes me and reminds me of my drives with Lady Margaret, who loved to drive down quiet roads listening to classic country songs. She’d put one foot on the gas and the other out the window while holding an apple or some other fruit in her hand. She loved to eat and drive, and she loved the wind in her hair, and a hand in the breeze. I smile at the thought. We would fly down the dirt roads and throw up great clouds of dust behind us. I once asked Lady Margaret why she never had children, and she just laughed and said. “I have you, dah-ling, and that’s enough for me.”
I find myself wondering what she did with all her spare time. She was married just a few years when her husband died of old age and she inherited his millions. When she would come to visit, she never mentioned her life; she only wanted to know about mine. I glance over at Hank who sits at the ready in the upright position with his eyes closed, the only indication he might be sleeping. I try to figure out if he’s capable of stealing from a kind, elderly woman. I hate that I’m thinking this, but even more that I really don’t know. I don’t want to be like the naïve girl in “Knives Out” who is almost done in by the handsome young playboy, tricked by his good looks and irresistible charm. Hank’s charm is purely primal. For some reason, it works on me; a fact I find quite annoying.
I drive about three hours. I miss our banter, but I’m thankful for the reprieve, as Hank manages to turn most of what I say into some kind of sexual conversation. The guy just won’t let up. My mind races in circles as I drive down miles and miles of desolate highway. No matter how long my thoughts go or how fast, I cannot come up with an answer. Why did Lady Margaret go to the compound? I can’t believe it was only for Hank. I never in a million years thought she’d fall for that, even though her letter says she did.
One minute I’m wide awake and the next I’m nodding off and drifting, when a hand reaches out for the steering wheel. I narrowly miss hitting a construction cone. I feel Austin’s arm over my shoulder. I instinctively hit the brakes.
“You’re alright, Amy. Keep going until you can pull off. You’ve got someone behind you.” His low voice hums in my ear. My face flames and I’m glad I’m driving in the dark.
I follow Austin’s instructions. I glance over at Hank who’s sound asleep. His face is mashed up against the window. My eyes fly back to the road, and I’m embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Austin. I didn’t even feel tired. It snuck up on me.”
He takes a breath from behind me and hovers over my right ear. “It’s okay, Amy. It’s just a car, and nothing happened.”
I pull into the coffee shop parking lot and go through the drive-thru to order a chai tea. I turn back to ask a question, and Austin’s still there. My lips bump into his for a fraction of a second. I jerk my head back. My eyes are wide with horror as I stare a hole through the front windshield. Is it my imagination or did I hear “finally” escape Austin’s lips? That can’t be. My eyes fly to the rearview mirror. “Do you want some coffee?”
Austin sits back in the seat slowly. He stares at me all bewildered. His fingers stay on his lips. He whispers beside a sleeping Jenni. “Tall white chocolate mocha.”
I whip back around to order and come face-to-face with a very awake and irate Hank. I squeak out the words. “Hank, do you want a coffee?”
He doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at me.
“Hank?”
He says nothing.
“Fine.” I turn back around, facing the speaker. “That’ll be all.”
The girl in the speaker chirps back at me. “One venti chai tea and one tall white chocolate mocha. That’ll be $9.79. Please pull forward.”
I do as she says and inch around the building, terrified I’m going to scratch the paint on Austin’s car. I get to the window. I’m so shook I didn’t think to get out any money.
“Here, Amy.” I turn toward Austin’s voice. I take the money from his hand. A strange new awareness passes between us when his hand touches mine. I glance over at Jenni, who’s sound asleep. She leans on Austin’s balled-up hoodie for a pillow. I turn back around and pay the barista at the window, who hands me our drinks. I turn back and hand one to Austin. He takes a drink before handing it right back. “This one’s yours.”
Why am I flustered, and why do I feel like I’m cheating on Hank as I take it back.?My hand brushes Austin’s. His face remains strangely passive as he reaches forward for his coffee. He grazes the front of me in the process, and I fly back in my seat, as Austin flings himself in the opposite direction. I almost spill my tea in all my clumsy awkwardness. I sit back and take a sip of tea to calm myself as I shut out Hank’s eyes that bore into the side of my head.
I pull forward when I hear a honking behind me. I ease into a parking spot. I set my tea in the cup holder to pull out my phone. “Austin. We’re stopping at my aunt’s place near Oakland, Nebraska. I’m going to see how much farther we have to go.”
Before I can pull it up on my phone, Hank answers. “Forty-eight miles from here.”
Austin says nothing. He just watches me with this unnerving stare that I can’t read. I sigh. “I guess I’ll keep going ‘til we get there.”
Hank taps his fingers on his knees. “Sounds like a perfectly good idea to me.”
I turn the radio back on and will the next forty-eight miles to fly, as I take another long drink of tea, hoping it’ll keep me up. There’s a buzzing in my lips. Every time I look in the mirror, Austin’s eyes meet mine. What is going on?
Half an hour goes by. We’re almost to Oakland when Hank gives me instructions, which I follow. By this time, it’s dark again, and as I drive down these lonely dirt roads, I’m torn between believing Hank or a totally different scenario where he’s the only one who makes it back. My heart pounds in my chest. I try to cover up my fear as I ask Hank. “How much longer?”
He chuckles, as if he knows my thoughts. “Just over the next hill, Amy. Are you scared?”
I look him in the eye. “Should I be?”