How (Not) to Fall in Love (23 page)

But right now I had more important things to figure out, like finding my dad. I knew no one was going to change their minds overnight. Charlie would still want to go with me. Mom would still want to call the cops, not that they’d listen to my crazy theory. Lucas would still insist he should go.

I rolled over and grabbed the mini Stonehenge kit. In the light of the full moon spilling in my window, I unwrapped it. I set up the tiny stones on the tiny green mat. Tears filled my eyes as I remembered how I’d destroyed Dad’s henge. I rested my head on my pillow, staring at the tiny henge on my nightstand, glowing in the moonlight.

“I’m coming, Dad,” I whispered. “I promise.”

Chapter Thirty-One

December 18

I
tiptoed quietly down the hall, not wanting to wake Mom. In such a small house, it was a lot harder to sneak out undetected. In the kitchen, I filled a trash bag with dog food while Toby danced with excitement, his nails clicking on the linoleum.

“Shh, Toby. Sit.” He sat, tail swooshing silently across the floor. “You’ve never gone on a road trip like this, buddy. I need you to be my copilot, okay?” Leash, Scooby treats, a giant Tupperware bowl for water. We were ready.

Writing a note was difficult. Whatever I said, Mom would flip out. So would Charlie and Lucas. Liz might be the only one who wouldn’t. Guilt overwhelmed me, especially as I looked at our Christmas tree lights twinkling in the early morning darkness. But Dad’s absence had hit me harder than ever last night. I couldn’t face going into a brand new year without him.

Somehow I knew I could find him. I believed it deep in my soul, as much as I’d ever believed anything. It was like I could feel him calling to me. But I had to go by myself.

I feared that if Dad saw Charlie, who he hadn’t spoken to in years, or Lucas, who he didn’t even know, or Mom, whose life had fallen apart when he left, it would be too much for him. Seeing anyone but me could crack whatever shell might be protecting him. I imagined him as a terrified child, hiding somewhere, waiting to be found.

Dear Mom,

Please don’t freak. Don’t call the cops or send out a search party. I’m safe. I have Toby with me for protection. I’ll be back soon, and Dad will be with me when I return. I’ll call you from the road.

Love, Darcy.

I wandered into the living room for one last look at the tree before I left. I knelt down and inspected the pile of presents. I looked for Lucas’s handwriting on the gift tags. He wasn’t kidding about the twelve days of Christmas; it looked like half the packages were from him to me. A heavy weight settled in my chest as I remembered how he’d stormed out of the house last night, too angry to even say good-bye. I picked up a small jewelry-sized box from him, hesitated, and then shoved it in my pocket.

Toby nudged me and I rose to my feet. In the kitchen, I grabbed another grocery bag and filled it with granola bars, chips, crackers, and a jar of peanut butter.

Toby squeaked out a “Let’s go!” bark.

“Hush!” I whispered. “Don’t wake Mom.”

This was it.

The full moon lit up the truck bed as I tossed in our supplies. I craned my neck to look at the stars, sending a wish to the universe. After I slid into the truck, I glued the ninja salt and pepper shakers to the dashboard. Like I’d told Charlie, it was time to prove my hero potential. Plus, I figured a good luck charm couldn’t hurt.

Popping the truck into neutral, I rolled the truck quietly down the driveway so Mom wouldn’t hear us leave. Toby hung his head out the window, tail beating furiously against my arm.

I drove by Lucas’s duplex, which was dark. “Forgive me,” I whispered. “I love you. But I don’t need a knight in shining armor with me this time.”

I
drove in the dark, listening to country music on the pathetic AM radio. I wanted to plug my headphones into my iPhone and listen to my playlists, but I knew I’d be inundated with calls and texts once everyone woke up. So I stuck with the radio, leaving my phone powered off.

By the time I got to Casper, Wyoming, it was a little after nine a.m. My stomach growled with hunger and nerves. I pulled off the highway to gas up the truck and get food.

I’d sent an email to Charlie, Liz, and Sal before I left since I hadn’t wanted to wake them with pinging text messages. The email said,
“Sorry to do it this way, but I need to do this by myself. I’ll be fine. DO NOT call the police. I have food and money. The truck is in great shape, thanks to Lucas. Also I have Toby to protect me.”

Lucas received a separate email:
“Thank you for everything. You’re amazing. I’m sorry to leave this way, but I have to do this alone. I don’t know if you understand why, but I hope I can explain it better when I get home. I love you, Lucas. So much it hurts.”
It was the first time I’d actually said the words to him, even though he’d said them to me, more than once. I hoped this counted, even though it was virtual instead of face-to-face.

Toby scarfed down his food and water in the truck bed while we waited for the gas tank to fill. I sat on the edge, swinging my feet and rubbing my gloved hands briskly to warm up. It was oddly peaceful sitting in the cold wind. Dad always said the “W” in Wyoming stood for windy. I watched cars fly up and down the highway. I felt free. I’d never traveled anywhere alone. Even though I worried about what kind of shape Dad would be in once I found him, it was still liberating to be doing this on my own.

He’d be okay. Whatever fog he was under would lift as soon as he saw me. I had to keep telling myself that, even though J.J.’s words echoed in my mind:
“Don’t you think he would’ve come home by now, if you were enough?”

After a quick pit stop in a McDonald’s bathroom, I bought Egg McMuffins and we hit the road again. I planned to make it to Montana today. It was about two hundred miles from Casper to the henge just across the Montana border. I hoped the truck was up to the challenge. My plan was to drive no more than the speed limit. However, the speed limit was fast up here
—
seventy-five miles per hour— and the Grim Reaper preferred about sixty miles per hour. Maybe I’d putter along in the right lane and let everyone pass me.

We’d been driving for about an hour when I counted the third Ford F-150 truck about the same age as mine. That was an unexpected bonus; we were even less conspicuous than I’d hoped, just in case Mom totally freaked and put out an APB.

The wind buffeted the truck as we passed oil rigs and cattle. Clouds had chased away the sun and light snow glanced off the windshield. I hoped I wasn’t heading into a storm. Maybe I should’ve checked the weather forecast before I left town.

The clouds darkened and the snow increased in intensity the farther north I drove. My sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel. Lucas had said the new tires were in good shape; I hoped he was right. I turned on the radio and a staticky voice told me that parts of Wyoming and Montana were under a winter storm warning until eight p.m. Up to eight inches of snow was predicted, with gusting and blowing blizzard conditions on the highways.

Crap.

While newer SUVs and trucks continued to pass me, I drove slower and slower. This sucked. I tapped the brakes to test them, and the truck started to skid into the next lane. I needed to stop. There was a town coming up called Buffalo on the map, but I wasn’t going to make it that far. I looked anxiously for the next exit sign.

T
he Sleepy Side Motel had one of those cheesy neon arrows that flickered sporadically. The hand-lettered sign read
“$35.95/night.”
The motel looked old and worn, not scary, but like it had suffered through the Wyoming weather for many years. Warm orange light spilled from the office windows onto the snow. “Friendly dogs can come on in,” read a sign taped on the front door.

“I think we’re in luck, Tobes.”

A tiny old woman sat behind a counter, watching the news on a small TV. She peered up at me over her bifocals. Immediately I thought of Mrs. Beasley, a funny-looking old doll of my mom’s with yellow hair, rectangular wire-rimmed glasses, and a blue polka-dotted dress.

“Hello, honey,” she said, slowly straightening up from her chair. She peered over the counter at Toby. “And who have we here?” She reached into a fishbowl of dog treats and tossed one to him. “Hope that’s okay,” she said, after he inhaled it.

I smiled. “Sure, it’s fine. I’m so happy you take pets here.”

“I do believe we’ve done so since the first day we opened back in 1959. My husband always insisted dogs were part of the family. He’d get so sad when families came in telling us they had to board their dogs while they went on road trips.” She paused for a breath, but not long enough for me to agree. “Sometimes we get a cat, which we aren’t as partial too, but as long as they stay in their little travel cases, we don’t mind.”

I waited to make sure it was my turn to speak. “So, can I get a room for the night? For me and Toby?”

“Well, of course, sweetie.” She blinked her Mrs. Beasley blue eyes behind her glasses. “Are you traveling alone? Or do you have a parent who can sign in?”

What could I say? That my mom was standing right here under Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak? Crap and double crap. Toby whined restlessly, his eyes fixated on the treat fishbowl. Mrs. Beasley tossed him another treat.

“You on your own, honey? Just you and your dog?”

I nodded.

She tapped her cheek with a ballpoint pen with a red feather taped to it. I wondered if it tickled.

“As a rule, I don’t let out rooms to minors. Had some trouble with that in the past.” Her eyes squinted, examining me for signs of trouble-making ability. “You sure you aren’t hiding a boyfriend out there in that truck?”

Lucas and me in a motel room? My whole body flushed. I knew I looked guilty even though I wasn’t. “No ma’am.” I hesitated. “I’m…on my way to meet my dad.”

“Well, then. It’s a bad storm out there. Of course you can stay.” She turned around and took a key off an old peg board. “Room twenty-three, around the back. Make sure the windows are locked; that wind’s blowing mighty hard.”

I paid her and took the key gratefully. I was surprised to see my hand trembling. The impact of what I was doing was starting to hit me. Once we were safely in our room, I let myself crumple. I fell on the bed and cried softly, all the stress leaking out through my tears. Toby jumped on the bed next to me and licked my wet face. This made me laugh, which totally freaked me out. Was this what hysteria felt like? Did I inherit the insanity gene from my dad? How could one crazy person rescue another?

“He’s not crazy,” I whispered out loud. “He’s not. He just needs to come home.”

Fortunately, all it took was a giant bag of salt and vinegar chips and a can of soda to restore my sanity. Now for the phone. How many voicemails and texts would I find?

“Courage,” I whispered as I held down the power button. Toby sighed next to me on the bed. I rubbed his belly while I watched the screen fill with notifications.

Where to start? I wanted to start with Lucas, but knew I should start with Mom. I’d look at text messages first.

There were a dozen texts from Mom.
“Darcy how could you! Why didn’t you wait until we talked? You shouldn’t be alone.
” And on and on.

From Sal:
“What the hell? You did this without telling me, your BF? I am done with you Darcy. D.O.N.E.”
That hurt. But twenty minutes later she’d texted again.
“Please call me. Let me know you’re alive. Just tell me u r safe. And call Lucas. He is totally manic.”

From Charlie:
“I wish you hadn’t done this. Please turn around and come home. I’ll go with you and we’ll do this together. Your mom needs you.”

Of course she needed me. She needed me to find Dad.

Finally, I looked at the single text message from Lucas.
“Damn it, Darcy. I can’t believe you did this. Not cool.”

The one person I wanted to call didn’t sound like he wanted to hear from me. I knew he’d be mad, but somehow I’d hoped that his concern for me would override the anger, that his feelings for me were strong enough to forgive me for ditching him.

So much for that.

I looked at the list of recent calls. Eleven calls from Mom. Five from Charlie. Four from Liz. Seven from Sal. Zero from Lucas.

I called Mom, who answered on the first ring. “Darcy! Where are you? How could—”

“Mom, please just let me talk. I’m okay. I’m perfectly safe in a nice motel. It’s run by a sweet little old lady who likes dogs. For real.”

“You have to come home. Turn around right now. I swear if you don’t—”

“Mom, please calm down. I told you, I know where Dad is, or where he’s going to be. I should get to him today.” I looked out the window at the blowing snow. “Or tomorrow. Then I’ll come home. You have to trust me, Mom. I promise I’ll stay in touch, but don’t keep calling me or texting me every five minutes, or I’ll turn my phone off. I swear I will.”

She didn’t speak. I heard sniffling. Then another voice spoke into the phone.

“Darcy? Are you all right? We’re all so worried.” Charlie. The one person I couldn’t be tough with. I sighed into the phone.

“Charlie, I’m okay. Honest. It’s kind of…exciting. A little weird. And like I told Mom, I’m in a perfectly safe motel.” I took a deep breath. “Can you keep Mom from calling out the cavalry? Buy me some more time? I swear I know exactly where I’m going.” I swallowed. “I know where he is, Charlie. I can feel it. I can feel him.” It sounded crazy, but if anyone would understand, it’d be Charlie, the priest of Broadway.

Charlie’s sigh was deep and drawn out. It sounded just like Dad when he was disappointed in me. “I wish you had waited. Let me come with you.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I had to do it by myself.”

He sighed again. “What if you’re wrong, Darcy? What if you don’t find him? How long are you going to keep looking?”

I’d been fighting away that worry ever since I made my plan to leave. How long would I look?

“If he’s not in Montana, I’ll come home.” He’d be there. I could feel him calling to me.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“You have enough money?” Charlie’s voice hummed with worry.

“Yes.”

He sighed again. “I know the truck is running fine.”

I winced. “Yeah. Not great in the snow, but Lucas was…wonderful.”

“You should call him.” It was a command.

“I don’t know. He’s sort of mad.”

“We’re all ‘sort of mad’ at you, Darcy. That doesn’t mean we don’t want to know that you’re safe.”

I pulled at the threads on the bedspread. “Maybe you could tell Lucas I’m okay? And that I’m sorry?”

“I’ll tell him you’re okay. You can tell him the rest.”

If he ever talked to me again.