Page 30 of The Roads We Follow

She jumps and smacks a hand to her chest. “Raegan! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry.” I wince.

She breathes out one of her overly annoyed sighs. “Why are you standing so close?”

I do a quick glance around me. “Um ... I was just going to ask you if Mama is still asleep?”

Adele looks at me as if I’m a few cards short of a full deck. Maybe I am. “Hardly. She’s been awake since sixnotdoing any of the pre-festival tasks I’ve asked her to do in the mornings.” She rubs at her temples. “I swear, it’s like she enjoys working against her own best interest.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s—”

Adele’s scowl tells me whatever I think is not welcome at the moment.

“I’m certain two weeks will never feel as long as this again,” she adds.

I can’t argue with that.

Adele points toward the front. “Mama just brought Micah a third refill of coffee about ten minutes ago. She’s in the jump seat.”

I frown, failing in my mental efforts to understand how time works. “How long have we been on the road?”

“Two hours.”

“Did Mama say where we’re headed yet?”

“No, but she hinted at something involving swimsuits.”

If anything could shake the intrusive fear of a corporate spy working against us from my head, it’s imminent swimwear. “I really hope you’re wrong.”

“So do I,” she says through an almost empathetic-looking smile.

And it’s right then, in that exact millisecond, I’m tempted to unload the heavy burden I’m carrying into the capable arms of my big sister in hopes that the two of us might problem-solve it together. My palms grow damp, and despite the low-level motion sickness I’ve experienced since the moment I climbed out of my bunk, I shove it down and open my mouth to—

“You’re not eating enough green veggies,” Adele says matter-of-factly before looking to her laptop screen again. “It’s why the darkcircles under your eyes are still present after a full night of sleep. Drink one of my kale smoothies at lunch today—it will help.”

And just like that, the warm, sisterly moment is gone. Who was I kidding? Adele is a solo act, a take-over, take-charge type. Do I really want to pour more kerosene on that fire before I’m certain who she should be pointing the torch at? Definitely not.

“I’ll try that, thanks,” I lie. I’d rather drink from the gray water tank than have one of her uppity smoothies.

I move toward the front unsteadily, knowing it’s only a matter of minutes before I reach the point of no return with my nausea, and yet the idea of sitting beside Micah again makes me feel a bit squirrelly. Yesterday at Graceland with him was ... confusing. As was the way he searched my face after Tav called. I don’t know what it is about him, but every time we share the same space, I have this weird compulsion to divulge far more about myself than I do with anyone else. And right now, that’s a very, very bad idea.

I’m holding far too many unlit explosives to suddenly become an oversharer. An overthinker is bad enough.

By the time I reach the closed curtain separating the passenger lounge from the driver’s cockpit, Micah’s voice has already woven its way to my ears. Only, I’m surprised by the content of their conversation, or rather, by the timeline he’s rehashing—the tour of ’94. Again. If he wants to fill in the holes of his mother’s life, shouldn’t he be asking questions about decades earlier? Our mothers’ journey togetherendedin 1994.

“Russell’s homecoming from Germany that Christmas was a gift from heaven,” my mama says.

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“I tend to reserve the good ones for a captive audience.”

“Don’t think I can get much more captive than this, ma’am.”

Mama laughs. “You have your father’s humor.”

Still hidden from their view, I lean against the wall behind Micah’s seat and listen to a story I used to hear every Christmas Eve—told in dual-perspective.

“It was Christmas Eve of 1994, and I hadn’t heard a peep from Russell in nearly two days. I was worried sick! The embassy was operating on holiday hours, and my contact there hadn’t returned my calls. The last thing I’d heard was that there was to be a mediation between the two embassies to finally resolve the visas, but then there was nothing but radio silence.” Mama pauses, and I lean closer to the curtain. “There had been so many deep losses to grieve that year, and I was certain I wouldn’t survive another if something terrible happened to my husband. When I finally stumbled to my bedroom around midnight, I’d convinced myself that this would be our worst Christmas and that somehow I’d have to pull myself together for the sake of the girls. There were a few wrapped presents under the tree courtesy of bandmates and friends, but I felt as if my heart had been removed from my body, and all that was left was an empty shell. You ever felt that way, Micah?”

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