She made eye contact, and nodded towards his car. He nodded, and opened the door for her. She slid in.
The older man shuffled around the car, and took his sweet time and when he did get in, she noticed he turned on the meter before asking her where she wanted to go. When she told him, he smiled.
“No one to pick you up miss?’ he asked curiously.
“No, sir,” she answered. “I’m going to a funeral, and everyone’s pretty busy,” she offered giving him the story she was still going to use.
“Oh, sorry to hear that, sweetie. Someone close?” he asked looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“My dad,” she mumbled, pulling out her balled up tissue and unraveling it, she brought it to her face.
“Oh darling, then I’m really sorry for your loss.” He saw her swipe at her face in the rearview mirror, and felt guilty for asking.
The radio was on, and the music broke for a commercial. The DJ announced the six o’clock news would be on shortly and she felt a moment of panic. She hoped she hadn’t been discovered missing yet.
“Hey mister,” she asked. “I’m really beat, and since it is such a long drive, would you mind turning off the radio so I could sleep a bit,” she asked. She didn’t know if the news would report anything about her, but just in case she wanted the radio off, especially if they announced she had fled the state of Florida, and might possibly be in the area.
“Sure thing darling,” he called over his shoulder. She watched as he reached towards the radio, and pushed it off. “I just gotta call my dispatcher and let her know where I’m going, then I’ll even shut off the squawk box here.”
His voice was full of concern and sympathy. Gotta love Maine. The people had heart. Well, most of them anyway.
She nodded, and thanked him, then slunk down in her seat. She used her back pack as a pillow, and pulled her hoodie tighter around her as the driver made his call to dispatch. She listened in, hoping the dispatcher didn’t pass along any other news. When she didn’t, Ronnie was relieved and comfortable enough to relax. She wouldn’t sleep though just in case he turned the radio back on.
The car picked up speed shortly afterwards, and Ronnie knew they must be on the Interstate now. Soon, she thought. Once she got her bike, all would be good. She knew the trails around her grandpa’s place like the back of her hand, she knew the woods. She knew all the trails in and around the Aroostook State Park. Knew the forests well. Gary’s family owned an impressive cabin on Lake Echo at the foot of Quaggy Joe Mountain. The Campbell’s controlled the timber rights in pretty much all of Aroostook County. Her bet was he was hiding there.
She peeked out from her hoodie, looking up at the trees whizzing by, the pine, the evergreen, the white oaks, and the fir trees. Yes, it was good to be home. She loved Maine. She loved these woods. It smelled like home, she thought as she got comfortable for the long ride ahead.
“Hey, Miss. We are almost there.” Ronnie heard the strange voice deep inside her dream, and it took her a moment to realize where she was. Crap. She had fallen asleep after all, and to make matters worse, she had a crick in her neck. At least he’d been true to his word and the radio was still off.
Ronnie sat up, and looked around recognizing the area immediately. She was minutes from her grandfather’s. Another brief panic hit her. She didn’t know if there would be police there or not. She asked the driver if he could pull over here. He looked startled for a moment. Confused. “But the house is still a mile or two off.”
“I’d like to walk and stretch my legs a bit. See the old place,” she trailed off softly, adding,” Before I have to go in and you know . . .,” the tissue came out. She was trying to think of something logical to say. She couldn’t tell him there might be police cars, and she didn’t want her grandparents to see a taxi pulling up at eight o’clock in the morning.
“Oh, oh, I understand,” he stated fatherly. “Before you have to face everyone and all the people trying to offer their condolences.”
“Yes, exactly,” she breathed a sigh of relief. Mainers were wise and always made astute assumptions. They were usually right too. But she had been lying to the cabbie anyway, and so she was perfectly happy to agree with his presumption. “I’ve got a lot of good memories of my dad walking me down this road to the school bus,” she added to make the story more believable.
The car was stopped now, and she pulled out her wallet. Her ID slipped out, and she quickly made a grab for it on the floor of the cab. “How much, sir?” she asked as she fumbled to put it away her hands shaking suddenly.