Chapter 6

Evie

Iboard the plane with seconds to spare, the gate attendant smiling nervously as I catch my breath. "You made it just in time."

I show my boarding pass to the flight attendant who leads me past the curtain into first class and lifts my bag into the overhead compartment.

I let out a lungful of air and plop down onto the wide leather seat with tons of legroom, silently blessing Caroline. A little—or a lot—of pampering is more than welcome. My morning has been a disaster.

Across the aisle sits a teenager who doesn't acknowledge my presence.

Kids today.

I can hear hard rock booming from his earbuds, finding myself more concerned that the child will be deaf by age thirty than annoyed at having to sit on a five-hour flight with Metallica as background noise.

That's what motherhood does.

Seeing the flight attendant's back to me, I venture a quick text to Caroline, sending heart and kiss emojis. The guilt is nearly paralyzing. I am sitting next to Caroline's empty seat.

I pull my e-reader from my bag and try to get absorbed in the latest thriller I downloaded. I can't concentrate. I wave over a flight attendant and ask for a double vodka and orange juice, earning a fleeting brow lift in return. After all, it is only 9:30 in the morning.

Minutes later, I drain half my drink and close my eyes.

The next thing I know, we are landing in Reno.

I pullmy carryon behind me. The vibe in the airport is nothing like that of LaGuardia. It is much more relaxed. If you don't account for the slot machines in the terminal.

Who needs to gamble on their way to baggage claim?

I look out the vast windows at the surrounding mountains, the tallest of which are already snowcapped. I am excited for the days ahead despite being alone. Since the boys have flown the coop, I've adjusted to more solo time. At first, it was hard coming home to a quiet apartment but in time I learned to value my space and freedom.

Still, good company always makes trips like these better. Maybe I'll make friends out on the trails.

I extract my bag from the baggage carousel and make my way outside to the rental car shuttle.

Twenty minutes later, I am seated behind the wheel of a shiny black Porsche Cayenne with all the bells and whistles that looks like it just rolled off the showroom floor. Chrome grills, heated seats and steering wheel, fancy nav system. The vehicle could probably drive to the top of El Capitan, I muse.

It's afternoon in New York but I decide against calling Caroline in case she's resting. Instead, I text Paul. I had forgotten I had his contact information until moments ago.

He responds immediately.

Caroline is resting comfortably. She will need surgery to repair a broken bone in her right leg. The doctor expects her to be off her feet for the next several weeks while she has physical therapy. She asked me to tell you not to worry. She has a lot of drugs in her system and she's high as a kite.

I frown in concern, second-guessing my decision to leave New York.

Too late now.

I fire up the ignition, the engine roaring to life. This car is a beast.

I pull out onto the road, taking in the desert, the mountains, the electricity in the air. I have a couple of hours ahead of me until arriving in Yosemite Village. On the highway, I spot the speed limit. 80 mph.

I hit the accelerator and head south.