Elizabeth sat in the truck, knuckles white on the wheel. The engine hummed reassuring and familiar. She'd ridden in that truck as a little girl on trips with Granny and Leo. Now it was supposed to be hers. One lap around the orchard and it was time to pull out to the highway.
"You can do it," Granny said, a hint of impatience in her voice.
Elizabeth took her time with a slow calming inhale and exhale. The gesture did nothing. If anything, it made her tingling nerves and heavy heartbeat more pronounced.
"I can, I just don't want to," she whispered.
The key was still attached to the lumpy keychain she'd made for her great-grandparents at culture camp, a cylinder of woven beargrass with leather fringe.
"You gonna be stuck here if you can't do it," Granny said.
"I know," she muttered. The rez was the easiest possible place to drive, the narrow roads familiar, none of those terrifying intersections or multi-lane freeways to navigate. But she still couldn't bring herself to move forward.
A loud engine, like a lawn mower on steroids, thundered up the driveway and George's red truck bounced into view. He’d bought it so everyone in town would notice him coming and going. Everyone knew when he came to see her.
"That one helping?" Granny asked.
"He thinks so," Elizabeth said.
They'd tried once, George in the passenger seat, coaching, only he never stopped talking: "You can go faster. No need to stomp on the brake. It's too early to signal." The rest of his attention he directed to his phone, laughing at texts he didn't share with her.
"He made me nervous," she said.
"That's what he's like," Granny said.
George leapt out of the truck, his arms spread wide, like he wanted to hug the whole world. "Thought you were waiting for me."
Elizabeth leaned out the window. "We've been waiting. Granny and I need to get to work."
"You haven't gotten far." He gave her a cocky smile.
"Let's go with him," Elizabeth said, shutting off the engine.
George took Granny's arm and led her to his truck. She wore a droopy yellow sweatshirt that said: Don't mess with me, I'm an Elder and white pants that emphasized her skinny stick legs. A fanny pack hung off her hip and she had on a pair of giant wraparound dark glasses.
Elizabeth rushed after her and held out her cane.
"People see my cane, they think I'm old," Granny complained. She struggled for a grip to pull herself up into the truck.
"Secret is out," Elizabeth said, while George gave her a boost.
Once they got going, George said, "I told you before, I can take you where you need to go."
"I'm going to drive eventually," she said, her voice salty.
"Me too," Granny said. She was ninety-two, had shrunk to less than five feet, with her eyes so weak she couldn't read the numbers on the remote control. She hadn't driven in years but Elizabeth's recent onset phobia made her threaten to try.
"The casino isn't far," Elizabeth said.
"Casino is no job for you," Granny said.
She'd just finished college and Granny acted like taking that job was a tragic blunder.
"It's marketing. Promoting the casino. You should love me in this job."
"You should go see something," Granny said, pointing at the world outside the vehicle.
"I like being home," Elizabeth said. The whole time she was away she was homesick for the rez. She almost quit college when Leo died but Granny made her promise to finish.
Their tribal casino was a small operation but it had plenty of machines and the restaurant served Granny's favorite hamburger. As soon they got her out of the truck, she made a speedy track to the entrance, hanging on to her fanny pack with her free hand so it wouldn't slide off her narrow hips.
George grabbed Elizabeth's wrist. "I meant that. You don't have to worry about driving."
She had history with George, the on-again, off-again boyfriend during high school. He'd made his interest clear once she'd come home but already she had clues of how it would go. While she was away he'd gone from job to job: construction, handyman, fishing boat. Sometimes a delivery job that sounded sketchy.
She slipped out of his grip. "I'll keep that in mind."
Inside, she found Granny busy 'at work' parked in front of a nickel machine, her players club card attached to a neon pink cord that spiraled out and linked her to the machine. The sunglasses had disappeared and she stared at the flashing lights. An incomprehensible series of images and bright lines flashed and the machine chimed. Granny expertly pressed a few buttons, and the whole thing started again.
Elizabeth went to the back office to finish her new employee orientation. When she returned, her cousin Kora showed off her tattoos for Granny. Kora smiled when she saw Elizabeth.
"You're home!"
"It's true." Elizabeth held up the fat envelope holding the paperwork that represented her future: personnel manual, benefits, schedule, retirement. "I'm a real grown-up now."
"Awesome. What did they say about the driving?"
"No one said anything about driving." A cold finger of nerves touched Elizabeth's insides.
"The marketing assistant drives up and down the river going to businesses and, I don't know, places along the coast."
The back of her neck grew damp and she put her hand there. She blinked her eyes a few times and said, "I'll figure it out." She might have to lean on George after all.
Kora gave her a hug that wasn't a tiny bit comforting. "Come on, I want to show you two something."
Granny refused to look at anything until they found her a booth at the casino restaurant and got her a coffee and hamburger.
"We're making bets," Kora said while she ate. "Before the end of the year, most people think."
"Before the end of the year, what?" Elizabeth asked.
"You and George."
Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't think George is the one."
Kora laughed. "That's not what you used to say."
Granny made an unhappy sound. "George is a leaky boat. Nice for now but eventually you gotta get out of that thing." She stuffed another French fry in her mouth.
Kora laughed. "He's ready to settle down." She said it as if it were her job to convince them.
"No rush," Granny said.
"I'm not in a rush," Elizabeth said. She didn't add that in a small town, there weren't many options. "What's this thing you're going to show us?"
"Historical exhibit we put together," Kora said. "Granny is in it."
After dinner Kora took them to a long hallway lined with photographs. The exhibit consisted of split photos, one historical next to a similar, but contemporary photo. Fishermen now and then, a tribal house next to a plank house, a collection of baskets together with young people gathering today. Granny paused over each set. She came to a blurry photo that showed three girls in dance regalia, their arms hooked together.
"That's me," Granny said, tapping the photo.
"Really?" Kora said, studying the photo more closely. "If that's true, we need to document it."
"Pfffffffft," Granny said. "You don't know nothing."
The three girls had braided hair and loops of dentalium shells around their necks. They all smiled, two of them with their eyes on the camera and the third staring off at something else. Elizabeth squinted at the image and tapped on the third.
"That's you."
Granny nodded. It was hard to imagine Granny as a girl. When that picture was taken she had her whole life ahead of her, no clue what it would bring.
George found them again, stood too close, looked down at Elizabeth and winked.
Granny pointed to the modern photo, a dance skirt fixed in a display.
"I want to see it," she said.
"What?"
"The skirt. From the picture."
"The label says it's at a historical research center up north," Elizabeth said. "How would we get there?"
"We got Leo's truck."
Elizabeth dropped her hand to the churning nerves that leapt up in her belly.
"I can take you," George said.
Elizabeth cringed inside. "Granny, are you going to be comfortable sitting in a car all day?"
"I sit around at home. I can sit around in a car," Granny said.
"It's a great idea," Kora said. "You could interview her and take photos."
Elizabeth calculated what it would take to pull off such a trip, several days at least. She needed to report to work before then. "We don't have time. Too bad this didn't come up a week ago."
"We can do it in two days," George said. "Travel tomorrow. See the thing. Home by the weekend."
No one was talking sense.
Kora said, "I'll call them, so they know to expect you. Linda's up there. She can show you around."
They were going on a road trip.