“I’ll drop you off at the bus station then head back to the city. Hopefully, I’ll be home before they realize it’s your car,” Jeremy says, breaking the short silence.
I nod again, wondering how to tell him how grateful I am. How can I thank him for putting himself on the line for me? I’m not sure what would happen to him if the truth comes out, but I doubt he’d have his job much longer. Cops don’t stage deaths and keep their badges; that much I know.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
He hesitates before answering. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”
Knowing he is shutting me out, I turn to look out the window again. I’m lost in thoughts of my future, one without my family in it. Will Jeremy’s friend, Bowie, really help me? Why would he, when he doesn’t even know me? I’ve heard a million stories about him through the years, at least when I was still allowed to speak with my brother. I know he was a good soldier, a good friend to Jeremy, but not much else.
“You don’t need to be scared,” Jeremy says, seemingly reading my thoughts. “Bowie will make sure you’re safe.”
“I know,” I reply, lying to help ease his mind. “I’ll be fine.”
Taking one hand from the steering wheel, he grabs a large manila envelope from above his visor. Handing it to me, he says, “Read that. I want you to memorize every word of it before you get off the bus.”
I open it, with shaking hands and pull out the contents. The first thing I notice is a driver’s license. It’s something I have never had before and never thought I would get. Learning to drive was not something high on my list of priorities when my mother was sick. After I married Marcus, he thought learning to drive was a waste of time when he hired a full-time driver to take me anywhere I wanted.
I stare at it, shocked at what I see. The picture looks like me. At least it’s like the me I used to be, only older. My hair is blonde and eyes are blue on the license, the way they were meant be. The only difference is my name: Shay Johnson.
“How did you do this?”
“I know a guy.” He explains, without giving me any real explanation.
“The picture…, how did you make it look like me?” Even in my mind, the woman I’ve become isn’t me. I’m still that girl I was the day I opened the door to Marcus Bell.
He peeks over at me then looks back at the road. “You have to change the way you look, so I figured you might want to go back to the old you.”
I use the back of my hand to wipe a stray tear from my eye, as I sort through the rest of envelope. There is a birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of cash. I’m not sure how much, but I know it is probably everything Jeremy could get his hands on. I slowly close my eyes and will my tears to stay in check; I can cry when I’m alone, but not here for my brother to see.
“Thank you.”
He ignores the sentiment and carries on. “Make sure to study it all. I want you to know it like the back of your hand. It’s your life, what you will tell everyone about you. I don’t want anyone, not even Bowie, calling you Laura. From this moment on, you are Shay.”
I let his words settle in my mind, knowing there is no turning back. After a moment’s hesitation, regretting the loss of the life I had once shared with my family, I open my eyes and start to read. There is paper after paper of information, detailing every moment of Shay’s life. I shake my head at the thought; no, it’s my life. At least, it’s the life I have now.
I grew up in a small town in Alabama; I was an only child, and my parents died in a car accident when I was twenty. I graduated from high school and have the diploma to prove it. From there, I worked a few menial jobs, while traveling across the county. Every stop was a place my real family had visited; I assume this was so I would have a basic knowledge of the place. My last home had been in Nashville, Tennessee, and I had worked at a daycare there.
“A daycare…” I mumble out, imagining myself surrounded by children.
“I couldn’t fake college transcripts, not with so little time. I know you wanted to teach, so I figured I would give you a background with children, just in case you still wanted to go to school.”
I look over to him, as hope blooms in my chest. “I could do that; couldn’t I?”
A small smile plays on his lips, before he replies. “You sure can. I want you to give it a little while, six months maybe a year. Then, you can enroll in school. You’re going to a little town called Rich Hill. It’s not far from Owensboro. There are some good colleges near there, so you could get your degree.”