Chapter 18

Micah

Several years ago, I was "volunteered" by a member of the school board to drive a group of theater kids in a fifteen-passenger van for five hours across the state after the recruited parent came down with the stomach flu. I'd prepared myself for random outbursts in song and the occasional misquote of an epic movie line. But what I hadn't prepared for was the depth of drama I'd be dragged through after an argument about the cast of Wicked divided my passengers. After an extended two-hour freeze-out period, in which there were only hand gestures used, the students had given me no other choice but to pull the van over.

I'm about five minutes away from doing the same thing with the Farrow women.

We've been back on the road for three hours, and in that time, Cheyenne has attempted—and failed—to engage her mother in a productive conversation about school while Luella has been a rare sighting for the majority of the trip. Her avoidance of conflict has certainly passed its way down her family line.

I glance over at Raegan sitting in the jump seat next to me, typing away on the shiny new laptop we stopped to pick up after what appeared to be a positive phone call with Chip, the editor. Due to our mixed company, she couldn't provide me with much information, which in and of itself only furthers my point. When was the last time this family talked through anything of significance with one another? More importantly, do they even know how?

To be fair, my perception of my own family's openness wasn't exactly accurate. The mere fact I'm driving through the Midwest on a quest for my unknown father is proof enough the Davenports were missing a few vital conversational tools in their toolbox, too.

The image of Tav Zuckerman's full name flashes through my mind again, and I clench my molars until my jaw aches and stare out at the nothingness that is the US-40 detour we're on due to the brutal construction traffic on I-70. It will take another four hours to get from here to the Denver airport for Cheyenne's rebooked flight tonight, but with any luck, I'll be able to get us back on Luella's original course by tomorrow afternoon.

I tug at my damp shirt collar and tap the AC arrow lower as I direct my thoughts to the conversation I'll need to have with Luella soon. I calculate the risk/reward ratio of involving yet another person in the details of a sordid past I only recently accepted as my own. I might hold some skills in the art of mediating hard conversations, but it's rare I have to mediate myself.

Raegan stretches out her hand toward the air vents. "Did you turn the heater on?"

My eyes snap to hers and then to the vents, which are indeed blowing out warm air. I smash the down AC arrow again and again to no avail. No, no ... this cannot be happening.

"Whoa. Chill out, Micah," Raegan reprimands. "It probably just needs a break. It's been running nonstop since we started out today."

But chill out is a luxury I no longer have access to, which is perhaps the only reason I've been able to manage on three hours of broken sleep as well as I have. It's hot. I check the interior thermostat on the wall behind Raegan's head, and sure enough, the perfect sixty-nine-degree temperature I've had it set to all week despite multiple protests from my frostbitten passengers has crept to a brutal seventy-nine. Make that eighty.

A slow-rising panic begins to congeal my insides. I've barely begun a diagnostic check of each gauge on the dash when I'm interrupted by Raegan announcing, "We'll just crack the windows. Don't worry, Kansas isn't humid like Arkansas or Oklahoma. It's dry heat." But as soon as she follows through with her mastermind plan, a wind tunnel of arid air fills the cab. She sticks her hand into the fiery furnace. "On second thought, it's pretty warm out."

"Please," I say with what feels like the last shred of patience I'll ever possess. "Close your window."

Her eyebrows pinch together, and she looks ready to unleash an arsenal of snark when my attention pulls to my side mirror where a giant white cloud has engulfed the back of the bus. I bite back a choice word or five and bang my palm against the steering wheel. Raegan unbuckles in order to lean over my shoulder long enough to see the nightmare unfolding behind us in real time.

"That's dust, right?" she asks feebly.

"Not unless dust comes out of a radiator." My eyes dart from the billowing steam to the water temperature gauge. Sure enough, it's maxed out. We're overheating in the middle of Nowhere Kansas. Perfect. "Crank the heater as high as it goes."

"What?" Raegan's neck whips back in my direction. "But you just told me to roll—"

"As high as it goes," I repeat as I engage the emergency flashers. I decelerate and pull off to the old country highway.

"Hey," Hattie hollers from the back. "It's stifling back here. Can you turn up the AC, Micah?"

Raegan's eyes go wide. "Wait—why are we pulling over here? There's nothing but cows and wheat for like a hundred miles."

"Because every minute I drive on is another minute we risk blowing up the engine." Sweat dampens my shirt front and back and seems to pool from every pore on my face. I maneuver Old Goldie into park and turn off the engine, plunging us into an eerie silence.

Suddenly, every Farrow woman on the bus is crowding around the cockpit, demanding answers to a million questions at once. It would appear the emotional freeze-out phase of the last three hours has come to an abrupt end. However, this wasn't exactly the kind of pull-the-bus-over situation I'd had in mind.

Slowly I stand and turn to face them, my hands raised so as not to poke the bear any further. Bears, I mentally correct. "First, I'd appreciate it if everybody remains calm. It would appear we've overheated the radiator. I'll give the engine a fifteen-minute cooldown before I decide if I should try and limp us along to the nearest service station, but that would be a best-case scenario."

"And what's the worst-case scenario?" Adele asks, waving her phone. "Besides being stuck in the middle of nowhere without air conditioning or cell coverage?"

I fan my shirt, which does absolutely nothing. "Worst case, we'll have to walk to the nearest town. The last sign I saw was for Scarecrow, five miles to the west."

"Scarecrow, Kansas?" Cheyenne blurts. "That can't be a real town name."

"Darlin', I can tell you from experience that Scarecrow doesn't even make the top ten for craziest town names I've come across in my career." After a moment, Luella grants me a nod and says, "We trust your judgment, Micah. If we have to walk, then we'll count it as part of the adventure."

Grateful for her sudden optimism, I give her a courteous smile. I much prefer this version of Luella to the one who's been hibernating for the better part of the day.

"Speak for yourself, Mama. I've only recently stopped seeing double." Hattie groans and then ducks her head to look out the window. "Anyone know if a cow can be ridden bareback?"

I don't know Hattie well enough to determine if she's joking or not, but the sweat dripping from my chin as I cut through them for the exit must convey I'm not in much of a joking mood. An inch from the exit, I turn back. "In the meantime, you should all prepare the items you'd want to carry with you before it gets too hot to remain inside."

And with that, I push out the door, only to be trailed by my favorite Farrow.

"I'm sorry," Raegan says, shuffling behind me in the dirt.

"Why, did you break the radiator?"

"No, but I feel bad that you're having to—"

I spin in the dirt and face her. "You did nothing wrong, so there's nothing for you to apologize for. I, on the other hand, will likely be apologizing for several offenses once my brain is no longer set to broil."

She bites the smile of her bottom lip. "Can I at least help you with something out here? Hold the tools or ... I don't know, read you an instruction manual?"

I yank my sweat-soaked shirt over my head and wipe my face with it, before sitting on the shaded back bumper and patting the open spot next to me. "No need. We'll be walking in about ten minutes."

Her mouth falls open, but I have no idea which of my offenses she's deemed gape-worthy. "But you said we're only walking if it's worst-case scenario."

"It is worst-case scenario. That acrid smell is not just antifreeze. Most likely we've burned through a hose or two."

"Then why did you even give us both options?"

"Because offering even a modicum of hope creates a far better psychological outcome than starting from a place of despair. Hope, even at the smallest level, builds a quiet resilience, whereas forcing a hard decision on them would only create resistance and resentment."

Her eyes go round.

"It's basic psychology," I say as genuinely as I can. "This way, they have time to prepare mentally and physically while also working toward a common goal with one another. And if your family needs anything right now, it's that: a common goal."

After a hard sigh, she plops next to me and drops her head in her hands. "You must think my family is an absolute mess."

"All families are messy."

"Mine especially."

I nudge her shoulder and then huff a hard sigh. "Come on, we should probably go break the bad news to them. It has to be stifling inside that bus by now."

"Wait." She lifts her head, and I don't miss the way her gaze snaps from my bare chest to my face. Or the blush that creeps up her neck. "You should probably prepare yourself, too."

"Okay." I quirk an eyebrow in interest. "Enlighten me."

"A hundred bucks says Hattie will complain the entire way. Even when she's not recovering from an epic hangover, she hates all forms of exercise and always finds excuses out of it."

I laugh. "Noted."

"And Adele always has to be in front. Mark my words, she'll take the lead within the first two minutes."

"Also noted."

"And Cheyenne won't leave her guitar behind—nor should she. The heat will warp the body and hurt the sound. She has a backpack case with her, but maybe we can volunteer to share the load if it gets too heavy. Five miles will be long in this heat."

I nod. "Agreed. Good plan."

"And then there's Mama..." Raegan gives a little shake of her head. "She's off today. I think the tiff between her and Adele is bothering her a lot more than she'll admit."

"I think so, too." I stand and offer Raegan my hand. I pull her to her feet but can't quite get myself to release the hold. The feel of her delicate fingers in mine is almost reward enough to make a walk down a hot Kansas highway in hundred-degree weather worth it. I swipe my thumb across her soft skin. "You should know, I'm planning to talk to your mom about Dorian as soon as I can get a free moment with her."

Raegan's curious gaze trails my face, and it takes every bit of willpower in me to recall my reasons for not kissing her. "Are you prepared for what you might find out?"

"No, but I'd rather know one way or the other."

She's just about to respond to that when the bus door flies open and four more Farrows burst out.

Raegan and I drop hands before we round the corner to find mother, daughters, and granddaughter all outfitted in appropriate walking gear and whatever personal belongings they've deemed worthy for the trek to Scarecrow.

"Are we walking?" Adele asks in her no-nonsense tone. "If we're going to be hot, we might as well be getting our steps in for the day. I'm guessing if we're needing a tow to a service station, we'll be looking for overnight accommodations. Let's hope Scarecrow has something decent."

"I can help search as soon as we're back in coverage," Cheyenne says. "I'm guessing we're not going to make my flight."

"At this point," I say, looking around at the farmlands, "I'd say it's not looking good."

"Thank you, everyone," Luella chimes in, looking from her daughter to her granddaughter. "I appreciate your flexibility. I'm sure Micah will see to it that Old Goldie gets patched up in no time."

I slide my gaze to Raegan, hoping my earlier point about hope building resilience has been proven when Hattie harrumphs and shuffles to the front bumper, holding out her thumb to the dead highway.

"You put that thumb down right now, Harriet Josephine," Luella scolds. "No child of mine is going to hitchhike."

"Then I hope you're fine with me stealing a cow."