Page 24 of The Roads We Follow

The blazing heat is unbearable, yet the date she mentions manages to block out the potency of the sun’s rays momentarily. “Are you referencing the summer of 1994?”

“That’s right. It was just me, your mom, Jana, my girls, and of course, your mother’s not-so-secret admirer, Franklin. The band rode in a separate bus—it was less complicated that way. Single-parenting on the road wasn’t the easiest thing I’d ever done, especially without my Russell that summer.”

Her reference reminds me to confirm the story Raegan told me about Germany as soon as I have a minute alone in my bunk tonight.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I empathize. “Were there any other stops you made after Graceland?”

“Not that I can remember, but that was over thirty years ago now. If we did stop somewhere, she might have mentioned it in her journals.”

I picture the thick plastic box Luella handed me this morning and where I’d tucked it deep into my bunk for safekeeping.

“Chickee made her promise to record all our adventures on the road, and your mother was faithful to do so, even after your grandmother passed away.” Luella stops at the end of the walkway justbefore Elvis’s front porch steps, allowing her daughters to go inside the mansion before us. “When you’re young, you think you’ll always remember the moments that mattered most to you with vibrant clarity.” She shakes her head. “But that’s simply not true.”

Her admission darts through my chest just as a gentleman in a three-piece suit opens the front door to Elvis’s former home and introduces himself as Charles, our VIP tour guide for the day. I’m tempted to excuse myself right then from today’s excursion in lieu of time with my mother’s journals when Raegan rotates in our direction from inside the marbled foyer. Her gaze locks with mine, and my feet make their own decision to join her. I’ll have plenty of time to crack open the journals after we stop for the night.

During the ninety-minute tour, we see no other tourists and very few staff members. But the expectation that Luella will host a private meet-and-greet for a handful of employees after we finish up here has been implied by Charles more than once. Luella doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash at his comments. Maybe it’s all part of the agreement Jana sent out beforehand. Or maybe she’s simply too busy hunting for the exact background of a photo she took with her two oldest daughters in Graceland more than thirty years ago.

“Here it is!” Luella confirms with a spark of exuberance I’m realizing is quite common for her. “This is the very same fireplace we took the picture in front of, girls. You were in the middle, Hattie, and you were to the far right, Adele.”

Unfortunately, neither of them is paying attention. Adele has been quite invested in whatever’s going on in her inbox for most of the day, and Hattie has been single-minded about getting to a secluded location with good enough cell coverage in time to take a video call with her kids. At leastherpreoccupation is understandable. I’ve been around enough struggling families after divorce to see Hattie’s desperation for what it is—critical to her survival.

Luella frowns as she regards her two oldest daughters in all of their distracted glory. This is hardly the first time she’s tried to engage them in a walk down memory lane today. And despite myown unresolved issues with the woman, I’d be an unempathetic jerk not to feel sorry for her unseen efforts. Raegan must feel similarly as she twists away from yet another plaque of information on the wall to look between her sisters and her mother.

“I’ll take the picture,” she announces with a peace-making tone that catches my ear and causes me to analyze her anew. Even though I’ve instructed myself to only be a bus driver andnota therapist for the next two weeks, that part of my brain is more difficult to remove than I thought. “I just texted Jana to send me a pic of the original photo so we can get the re-creation just right. I should have it in just a second.”

“Thank you, darlin’, but what I need most is for your two sisters toget off their phonesand pay attention.”

Luella’s stern reprimand is not unlike that of my own mother. And it works.

Adele and Hattie snap to attention, looking as if they’ve been sent to their rooms without supper rather than asked to participate in a day their mother obviously took time and forethought to plan.

“I’m ready, Mama,” Hattie says cheerily, exchanging her phone for a tube of glossy lip stuff.

Adele slips her phone into her blazer pocket and joins the group without a word. Her compliance is less eager than Hattie’s but more efficient as she silently situates herself where Luella is pointing without asking questions that could delay the process.

I step behind Raegan as she sets up the shot, referencing the old picture on her phone. She ducks to avoid shadows and even asks Charles to open the blinds at one point in order to get the re-creation as close to the original photo as possible. It’s as endearing as it is telling.

“How about I take one with all four of you now?” I reach around her for the phone she’s holding, and Raegan startles at my nearness.

“I wasn’t here when they took the originals,” Raegan says simply.

I hold her gaze. “But you’re here now, aren’t you?”

“Come on, Sunny Bear.” Luella waves her youngest in while hersisters remain planted in their spots. Raegan crouches low in the front and pastes on a smile, clearly uncomfortable. I’m beginning to see why Raegan identifies with Cinderella more and more. Now, if only I could figure out why her nickname among her family is Sunny Bear.

I take three shots in total and then check the screen. I’m startled by how deceptive the images appear. I used to tell my students at school how easy it is for a picture to lie—for a social media post or YouTube video to mislead an audience—but this might be the first time I’ve watched it play out in real time. These four women are all beautiful, intelligent, successful, wealthy, and privileged beyond ninety-nine percent of the population, and yet something acute is missing from all of them. I just haven’t put my finger on it quite yet.

I hand the phone back to Raegan.

“Perfect,” Luella chimes. “Thank you, Micah.”

“Mother, it’s nearly four,” Adele states. “We should get your obligations to the staff here finished up before the public tours begin again.”

Luella checks her own watch. “But the Lisa Marie is up next, and I was hoping to get some family pictures out there, as well. It’s the best part of the whole tour. Don’t you remember how fascinated you and Hattie were with that tiny 24-karat gold sink? Raegan’s never seen it.”

“Hattie and I were fascinated by everything at that age. We’re fine to skip it this time around. Raegan can go, but we are too pressed for time to add anything more without being seen. I also need to make a phone call to HR once we’re back on the bus. Apparently, I’m the only one who knows how to properly deal with a disgruntled ex-employee.”

The announcement seems to spark Raegan’s interest, and she turns to face her oldest sister. “What are they disgruntled about?”

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