Page 77 of The Roads We Follow

“But you weren’t wrong. I know your father gave you very little agency over your future at the label. I should have been more present to challenge some of his expectations. He was the love of my life, but he struggled to let go, to rest.”

Adele is quiet for so long I’m not sure she’s going to respond at all, but then she says, “I don’t regret my degree or the time I got to spend working side by side with Dad, but perhaps he could have given me space for ... balance.”

I can’t help but feel grateful when Luella touches her daughter’s shoulder. “Then maybe that’s what we can help Cheyenne discover, too.”

The freeze-out between mother and daughter appeared to be fully thawed by the time Cheyenne and Hattie joined us for breakfast. With the help of a few well-placed questions here and there, the conversation between the women flowed naturally throughoutour meal. Even when Dottie showed up with armloads of groceries, the warm atmosphere remained stable. Several people questioned Raegan’s uncharacteristic sleep-in this morning, to which I did my best to cover by suggesting she was likely still recovering from our long and tenuous day yesterday. Hattie seconded my statement with the raise of her coffee mug.

Once the chatter at the table dies down and the dishes are cleared and washed, I overhear Adele inviting Cheyenne to sit with her out front. Cheyenne nods easily and then reaches for her mom’s hand. I see Adele give it a squeeze as they walk out the front door.

It’s another step in the right direction.

And now it’s time for me to take a step of my own.

I track Luella through the living room and watch as she steps onto the back patio. She’s holding an iced tea in one hand and a book—no, a Bible—in the other, and though I know I’m intruding, I can’t wait. Not another day or even another hour. I ask God to be with me in this, come what may, and then I step out as soon as she settles into a rocking chair.

“Mind if I join you?” I point to the matching chair beside hers.

Luella’s expression holds no sign of irritation at the interruption. Instead, a light seems to turn on inside her. It’s easy to see where Raegan gets her infectious smile from. And just like that, my steady pulse trips over itself.

“I’d love nothing more than your company. Please, sit.” She gestures to the empty rocking chair, and I comply. “I watched the sunrise out here with Dottie this morning. It came up just over that wheat farm out there.” She points to the field beyond Dottie’s fenced yard. “Who knew Kansas was so lovely? I think God planned this stop for us on purpose. Thank you for picking up on His cues.”

“A smoking radiator is pretty hard to miss.”

“I’m not just talking about the radiator.” She rocks back in thechair, her hands resting on the Bible in her lap. “I know what you did for Adele and me today. Consider me in your debt.”

I dip my head and chuckle humorously. “I think I might be calling in that debt sooner than you think.”

“That right?” She quirks an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind?”

My knee bounces on its own accord as I meet her gaze. There are at least ten different ways I’ve thought about approaching this conversation with Luella, but I push them to the side now as I work to reconcile the woman beside me with the one I spent reading about through the eyes of my mother in the wee hours of the morning. “I finished reading the journals.”

Immediately, her face sobers. “Ah. I’m sure you have questions.”

She can’t possibly imagine how many questions I have. “Have you read them?”

“Yes.” A simple answer, yet her tone is anything but.

“I figured so,” I say with an exhale, “seeing as this road trip is a mirror image of the one you took with my mother in 1975.”

“Until Kansas,” she amends with a thoughtful smile.

“Right. Until Kansas.”

A pang radiates from behind my rib cage as an image of Luella stepping out of my mother’s music room in April materializes in my mind. “Was this road trip something you discussed with my mother the night you came to see her in hospice?”

“It was certainly inspired by her, but no, we didn’t discuss it. I didn’t even realize I had her journals until after I started the renovation of the bus.” Her face turns contemplative. “As you know, it was a challenge for her to speak when I saw her, but forgiveness is in our hearts more than it’s in our words.”

“Forgiveness,” I repeat. “Is that what was happening behind that closed door?”

Luella takes a minute as she rubs her palm over the cover of the Bible. “Both given and received. It’s meant to come in a perfect pair, no matter how pride may tell us otherwise.”

Her admission is stirring, yet I’m still struggling to understandhow an estranged friend for more than three decades would be granted forgiveness when the truth my mom held surrounding her son’s conception was buried with her.

“Would you tell me what happened between the two of you after that tour? It seems, from my mother’s journals, like there was a slow but steady decline in communication between the two of you, as well as some differing expectations as time went on. Which I suppose is understandable after a twenty-year partnership.”

Luella flashes me a knowing grin. “Are you always this diplomatic, Micah?”

“It’s always my goal, ma’am, but not always a reality.” Especially when the subject hits closer to home.

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