Get in the car

Ben's resolve lasted longer than I thought it would. It was nearly 50 miles before he spoke.

"Kielle?" he asked cautiously.

I suppressed a sigh. Lisa had made me promise I would not be rude to him. He was, after all, doing me a service. I could be indifferent, but not cruelly so. Some sarcasm was inevitably going to creep in, but bitchiness was not allowed. Besides, we were going to have to talk about the elephant in the living room — the death of our relationship — sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.

Tipping the book to my chest to hide the distracting text, I said, "Yes?"

"Do you hate me?"

Right to the point, as always.

"No. Hate is too much work."

"Have you forgiven me?"

"Not yet."

"Do you think we can be friends again?" He glanced hopefully over at me.

"Right now, I am not so inclined."

He tightened his two-handed grip on the steering wheel. "What would it take to get us back on a friendly footing?"

An act of God and some time travel, I wanted to retort. But that would violate the agreement. Instead, I considered for a moment, then replied as neutrally as I could, "More time and space than we have between here and Atlanta."

When his eyes returned to the road, they looked wet. I went back to my book.

* * * * *

In the late morning heat, I dozed.

The previous night had been a long one. After a tearful long-distance reunion with the Kellys, I sat down at Lisa's computer and checked my e-mail for the first time in weeks. Hundreds of messages had piled up, most of them relating to Nancy's death and the events that followed, especially Quill's laryngitis. Friends and fans wanted to know what I knew of what had happened and how everyone was handling the tragedy. I felt a little guilty for leaving people in the dark, but not much. For a while there, I'd been in no shape to take care of myself, let alone anyone — everyone — else.

Quite a few messages also inquired after, first, my health, then my absence from the Church Basement and the blog, then my sudden departure from the Caravan. Bill had apparently announced, after the questions grew loud and insistent, that I was no longer with the company and had refused to elaborate for reasons of confidentiality. Naturally, this lead to wild speculation about the reason for my departure. The most horrifying theory mentioned was that I was pregnant with Bill's love child and needed bed rest. As if!

Next, I'd visited the Church Basement, figuring simply reading the bulletin boards would not violate my promise never to touch them again. I wanted to see what people knew and what they thought they knew about what had happened. But the site was out of order, crashed. I could not see the posts without going in through the back door, and that I was not willing to do. Instead, I spent hours reading the fans' blogs and websites, and the renegade bulletin board some of them had thrown together when the Basement flooded.

I was very touched by the amount of concern the Caravan faithful had shown for my well-being and did not want to leave them hanging. So I composed a quick message explaining that I had been re-injured, more seriously this time, and that Bill had subsequently released me from my contract. The smart ones would see that euphemism for what it was, and the rest would simply think he'd given me time off to recuperate.

I also described how I'd been out of touch, convalescing at a friend's house, and had not learned of Nancy's death until just yesterday. Stretching the truth a bit, I said I was as upset as they were about it. But, I added, I was on my way to Atlanta to be with the Kellys and promised to write more soon.

I sent the note to a few dozen of the most active fans and asked them to spread the word. That would have to do for the moment.

Then I had spent a couple hours reading news reports to see if Ben had left out any of the particulars of the story. Typically, he had not, and Q and Quin had supplied perhaps more detail than I was ready to absorb. By three a.m., I'd been too sandy-eyed to stare at the screen any longer. I'd stuffed the suitcase with the belongings Lisa had gathered up for me and tumbled into bed.

Anxious to be on my way, I'd already been up when Ben woke at eight. After his hurried shower, we'd hit the road with breakfast in hand. Now, as the sun rose higher, my eyelids sank lower. I drifted into half-sleep that went undisturbed until Ben slowed to exit for a food and fuel break.