A Song for the Road

recovering from a brutal day in the world of Hollywood face-lifts and breast implants. “What’s going on? Jo called, but I really didn’t follow it … something about a road trip?” He sighed. “Anyway, Mom’s a wreck, and Jo thinks you’re mad at her about the Easter thing. Can you just call one of them so they’ll leave me alone?”
Miriam growled; Dicey glanced up from her phone. “Everything okay?”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Four brothers.”
“Whoa.” Miriam regarded her with new respect. “Are they always in your business?”
Dicey raised her eyebrows. “Well, duh.” Her lips quirked. “You?”
“One of each. I guess my mom’s freaking out about this trip. Apparently she and my sister elected my brother to reel me back in.”
“Let me guess. You’re the youngest.”
“Yeah … why?”
The girl pointed at her own chest and then spread her hands with a wry smile.
Miriam looked back at her phone, but she couldn’t concentrate. Mom was right: embarking on this road trip did feel like abandoning her commitment to Blaise.
“No heart,” Talia’s voice whispered.
Miriam shuddered. If she’d loved her family better—loved them so they were in no doubt of it—surely Talia could never have entertained such a thought. But Teo and the kids were all demonstrative in their love, while Miriam—well, Miriam was her parents’ child.
And that was the real reason she’d avoided calling her mom. The reason she’d been dodging her mother’s calls for months. Ever since Miriam’s subconscious started dredging up Talia’s accusations and Teo’s pleas for time and attention, she’d been seeing more clearly the parallels between her own marriage and her parents’.
For years, she’d buried the question now bubbling up, but it felt too important to ignore any longer.
Why hadn’t Mom and Dad ever gotten divorced?
Had they decided it was too much hassle? That it wasn’t worth becoming the talk of the church? Of course, once Dad got sick, it was a moot point. What kind of person would leave a dying man?
For several long moments, Miriam stared at the “Call” button beneath her mother’s name. But she couldn’t imagine having that conversation in front of Dicey.
Cursing her cowardice, she navigated to her text messages. There were five from Becky and a handful from other choir members, at least two of which seemed to include the words Ella Emil. One from Father Simeon, short and sweet: God go with you. What a good guy.
And of course, one from Josephine. It started with the un-word Srsly? Miriam flipped over to e-mail, where her social tab was filled with notifications about friends and choir members who’d mentioned her in their comments. “Well, at least I know the app works,” she murmured.
“What app?” Dicey didn’t look up from her own screen.
“Talia’s app.”
“Who’s Talia?”
“My daughter. She wrote the road trip app.”
Dicey looked at her then, her hands frozen. “Hang on. Your daughter wrote an app? For this road trip?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Can I see?”
“Sure.” Miriam returned to her home screen and tapped the nondescript green icon. Welcome to your Great American Road Trip! it read. Upload photo/video to unlock your next destination. She turned the phone toward the younger woman.
Dicey’s lips parted. “Whoa. This connects to social media?”
“Uh-huh.”
Dicey reached for Miriam’s phone, then paused. “You mind?”
“Go ahead.”
Miriam watched, bemused, as Dicey punched and swiped. “Look,” said the younger woman. “Up here, she has access to all the accounts, so if you want to post on one of them individually, it’ll take you straight there. Which means, I guess, if you post in the main tab—here—it goes everywhere. Where’s the list of … oh, there it is!” She was working on both phones now, pulling up apps and typing so fast, Miriam couldn’t keep up. “I’m following you, in case you’re wondering,” Dicey said. “That’s the worst selfie ever. No one would even recognize you.”
“Good.”
“This trip was seriously cool—and that was before I knew about this! I can’t believe you didn’t mention it in the first place.” Dicey handed Miriam’s phone back, but her thumbs continued to move busily. “So who’s this Ella Emil person?”
Miriam froze. Then she went back to her texts.
Josephine’s read, Srsly? I have 2 find out from Facebook? Miriam tapped on the pasted link and found herself looking at Ella’s blog, Atlanta Attaché. The headline read: A year after her family’s death, Atlanta widow sets off on cross-country pilgrimage planned by her dead daughter. “Shit,” she said.
Dicey’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Such language from a church choir director!”
Miriam gave Dicey her best “Mom Look” and then shook her head. “I can’t do this trip with Ella Evil staring at my backside.”
Dicey snorted. “Ella Evil?”
Miriam threw her phone in the center cupholder and turned the car back on, easing out onto the road. “She’s a glorified gossip columnist in Atlanta. She did a write-up after Teo and the kids died.”
Dicey flipped her phone end over end as the car got back up to highway speed. “That sucks,” she said. She tipped her chin upward and stared at the passing scenery for half a mile before continuing. “Still … this isn’t about her, right? It’s about your family.”
Miriam shuddered. She pulled off again, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. She wasn’t working very hard to prove she loved her family if one post from Ella Evil could make her turn tail and run. “All right,” she said. “All right.”
She picked up her phone again and sighed at the “Upload media” button.
“What’s the matter?”
“I have to upload a picture of the last stop in order to unlock the next one. But all my pictures are on here.” Miriam tapped the disposable camera tucked into the cupholder.
Dicey dropped her forehead in her palm, shaking her head. “Oh, Miriam. You could’ve taken a picture from the observation deck.”
Figures.
“It really is too bad you couldn’t get a video of you singing to the telescope,” Dicey mused, staring out the window.
The guitar and the cello in the back seat seemed to whisper her name. “Well …” She scanned the scenery: trees, fields, mountains. Beauty everywhere. “I suppose I could do something right