How (Not) to Fall in Love (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

A
s I drove, I couldn’t shake my dream. I couldn’t stop thinking of the hippies the nutty henge guy had mentioned. What if I could catch up to them somehow and ask if they’d seen Dad? But who knew where they were by now, or which direction they’d headed?

“It’s the people who get up one last time who make it across the finish line,”
Dad’s voice whispered in my mind.
“The ones who are fallen, broken, even bloody. Everyone else passes them by. It’s often the fastest who give up first. The slow, wounded traveler in the back of the pack keeps going. He passes those who sprinted too fast. In the end, persistence pushes him across the finish line.”

I pulled off to the highway shoulder again and opened Google on my phone. I searched for “Stonehenge in Wyoming.” Nothing. I pulled up the Clonemaniac site and typed in Wyoming. If anyone would know about it, he would.

“Blue Spruce, Wyoming. This henge is pretty cool, considering it’s in the middle of nowhere outside a dead town. It’s on private property but my sources tell me the owner doesn’t really care. It’s probably worth a stop if you’re in the area.”

My heart sped up. I’d seen a sign for Blue Spruce on the highway when I’d been heading to Montana. I pulled up my map to see where it was. It was only about fifty miles south of here, and it was right on my way home since it was just off the highway.

I revved the engine and pulled back onto the highway.

“One last stop, Toby,” I said. “I’ve got to try it.”

B
lue Spruce, Wyoming, was a sad little town, if it could even be called a town. Half the shops were boarded up with
For Lease
signs in the windows. The shops that were open looked like they shouldn’t be. Even the wind blew more fiercely here.

There was one restaurant in the center of the tiny town, Daisy’s Diner. An enormous white-petaled flower with a yellow smiley face center was painted on the window, shining like a beacon in the midst of the other dingy, gray buildings. Someone in there had to know about the local henge.

When I walked in, all the customers looked up. A Christmas tree decorated with glinting lights and paper daisies stood next to a long counter lined with backless stools, most of which were occupied. It reminded me of Charlie’s, except for the three-tiered rack of pies instead of a covered tray of donuts. How I wished I was sitting at Charlie’s right now, listening to jazz and joking around with Lucas.

Most of the men at the counter looked like farmers, wearing denim and work boots, cowboy hats and baseball hats. A few of them nodded at me, and I smiled shyly.

Daisy bustled over. There was no question it was Daisy since everything on her was a daisy of some sort. Dangling daisy earrings, a huge daisy necklace, hairpins with tiny daisies, and a yellow apron patterned with rainbow-colored daisies.

“What can I do for you, sweetie?” She glanced out the window to my truck. “Are you eating here or getting food to go?”

“Actually, I just need directions to somewhere. But first, could I please use your bathroom?”

She pointed to a narrow hallway running parallel to the kitchen.

I slid off the stool and hurried down the hall. It was a one-holer, thank God. I locked the door and stared at myself in the mirror over the sink. I wondered how the motel lady had recognized me from Dad’s anniversary specials. I looked nothing like that girl. My skin was pale and dark shadows made me look like a raccoon.

After washing my hands, I returned to the counter and slid onto a stool. Daisy was talking to a large sheriff who looked like a sausage stuffed into a too-small uniform.

“What’s our favorite crime fighter up to today?” Daisy asked.

He sank onto a stool. “Oh, not much. Just heading up to Bill Paxton’s property. He wants me to run off a bunch of hippies camping on his land.”

Daisy clucked her tongue. “Well, it’s his own fault. If he hadn’t built that ridiculous Stonehenge, those crazy kids wouldn’t be camping there.”

I gripped the edge of the counter and turned my stool so I could hear better.

The sheriff laughed. “I know. That’s what I told him.” He took a long drink from the bright yellow coffee mug covered with daisies. “I’m not in a hurry to get out there. The kids aren’t causing any harm. Probably just smoking dope and howling at the moon.”

I peeked up at the sheriff, surprised at his laid-back attitude.

Daisy handed him a donut oozing red jelly. He took an enormous bite, then walked over to a table of farmers, who laughed boisterously at something he said.

“Excuse me,” I said to Daisy.

She turned to me, smiling as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Um, about that Stonehenge? The one the sheriff was talking about. Is it far from here?”

Her smile faded. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t want to go out there. The sheriff might think those kids are harmless but you never know.”

She glanced out the window at my truck. Toby was licking the hand of a lanky man in a cowboy hat who’d reached through the cracked window to pet him.

“I don’t know how much protection that dog will be,” she said.

I thought of the gun pointed at me earlier. “You’d be surprised.”

She wiped the counter with a rag. “Where are you headed, honey? I know you’re not from around here.”

I dropped my gaze.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she continued. “But I worry about a young girl traveling alone.”

“I’m not alone. I’ve got my dog. And I’m heading home. I just need to…um…pick up my dad.”

She smiled again. “Oh good. I’m glad to hear that.” She glanced out the window again. “I’ve got a ham bone to get rid of. Let me get it for your dog. No charge.”

Blue Spruce wasn’t pretty, but it felt like I’d ended up in an old black-and-white TV show where everyone wanted to help out the pathetic stranger. Daisy came back with a bone wrapped in plastic.

“Thanks.” Toby was going to be in heaven. “So about the Stonehenge? I just like to take photos of interesting stuff I see on the road. You know, the world’s largest rubber band ball. Fake jackalope fossils. Stupid stuff like that.” I shrugged, hoping she’d buy it and give me directions.

She crossed her arms, her eyes searching mine. “All right,” she acquiesced. “It’s about a half-hour drive from here, off the county road.” She grabbed a paper placemat from the counter and drew a daisy flower to indicate her restaurant. She drew a straight north-south line and wrote I-25 next to it. Then she drew a squiggly line running parallel to the highway then jutting off to the west. She drew a star and slid the paper toward me.

“The ranch is right off the county road. You’ll see a sign for Paxton Ranch, but you can’t miss the Stonehenge. You’ll see it from the road. You can take a photo if you pull off the road, that way you don’t have to trespass.” She frowned a warning at me.

I folded the map in half and shoved it in my bag. “Thank you.” I smiled, lifting the ham bone to my forehead in a salute. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome. You be careful, honey.”

I tossed the ham bone into the truck bed so that Toby wouldn’t drive me crazy destroying it while I drove.

“If you had fingers, I’d tell you to cross them for luck,” I told Toby as we drove away.

D
aisy was right. It was impossible to miss.

The sight took my breath away. This wasn’t a silly replica like the Carhenge I’d seen online. This was the real deal. I couldn’t believe that Clonemaniac hadn’t made a bigger deal of it on his website. I needed to post a comment on there. Maybe he’d seen so many replicas he was jaded. Yeah, the one up in Montana had been a lot bigger, but this one was every bit as impressive to me, especially since I could walk right up to it without getting electrocuted.

I ignored the
Keep Out
signs and drove through the open gate under the
Paxton Ranch
sign. I parked near a post sticking up out of the ground, next to an ancient VW van. A wooden sign swung from the post.
“Do not disturb!”
The words had been burned into the wood.
“Private Property! Stay out!”

Someone had taped a cardboard sign under the warnings that said,
“Druids welcome. Vandalizers be warned. This place protected by magick.”

I shivered. “Ridiculous.” I snorted. “Druid magic, my butt.” But before I got out of the truck, I touched the ninja shakers for luck, just in case.

Toby and I struggled against the wind and I shivered in the quickly dropping temperature. I watched the sun slip below a ridge of red sandstone. The T-shaped granite sentries formed a ring at least thirty yards in diameter. It was awe-inspiring. I didn’t care that it was a replica.

I shivered and pulled my parka tightly around me. I’d come this far, I might as well go all the way. I walked between two of the T-stones, emerging into the middle of the circle. Inside the circle were two enormous flat rectangular stones, each about five feet high. Someone had placed groupings of candles on the flat stones. I craned my neck to look up at the massive creation, brushing hair out of my eyes. If I believed in magic or powers unseen, this would be the time and place to make my request.

“Help me find my dad,” I whispered to the looming towers.

No wonder people were in such awe of the original Stonehenge. Today we had the technology and machinery to create this. But how had the original builders done it thousands of years ago?

Voices sounded from the other side of the stone circle. The hippies. Toby reached them before I did.

“Hey man, check out this dog.”

“Where’d you come from, buddy?”

“Let’s give him some food.”

“We ate it all, dude. That weed packed some serious munchies.”

Great. At least they sounded harmless.

Several people huddled around a small campfire. The smell of burning wood reminded me of nights at the cabin, nights Dad and I had camped on our property instead of sleeping inside.

I approached them tentatively. Of course they were stoned; they had to be to even consider camping in this weather. They’d shoveled away snow and set up their tents on tarps, but I still couldn’t see how they’d stay warm.

A skinny guy with a mop of curly dark hair and a spotty beard laughed as he wrestled with Toby. A girl with long red braids and an earflap hat grinned up at me. “Hey. Welcome to Druid Central.” She offered me a hand-rolled cigarette. “Wanna hit?”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

“Wassup?” asked another guy lying in a sleeping bag. His head was shaved and he had enormous earlobe gauges. Dinner plates would practically fit in those holes. “You here for the ritual? It should be awesome. Claire’s gonna start soon.”

“Yeah,” Claire said. She handed the joint to Mophead. “It’s a powerful time, you know. The solstice. A time to release old stuff.”

I had plenty of old crap to release. Maybe I should stay for the ritual.

“Is this your dog?” Earlobes asked from his prone position. “He’s cool.”

“Yeah. His name’s Toby.”

“Sit down,” said Claire, patting the ground next to her.

I sat on the cold ground. Now what?

“So,” I said, “I’m looking for someone. A guy who likes Stonehenges. I’m wondering if you’ve seen him.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and brought up Dad’s glamour shot.

Claire bent over to look into the phone. She laughed. “He looks like a movie star.”

Small screen, I wanted to say. Strictly small screen.

“Have you seen him?”

“No,” Claire said. “I’d remember somebody like that.”

Mophead took the phone and shook his head. “Nope.”

Earlobes held my phone above his head while he lay on the ground. “Nah. I ain’t seen him. But we should ask Preacher. He might’ve.”

He rolled over and yelled toward the tents. “Preacher! Come out here.”

I saw the shadow of a figure moving inside the smaller tent. A hand reached up to unzip the tent flap. A man emerged, tall and scruffy. He walked toward the fire, his body buried under a thick black parka, his face hidden under a hoodie. He looked older than the others.

Toby stopped wrestling with Mophead. He froze, pointing his front leg, ears cocked and nose sniffing the air. Oh crap. Maybe they weren’t as harmless as they seemed.

“Preacher, this girl’s looking for someone,” said Claire.

The man stopped next to the fire. My heart thudded in my ears. I hoped he wasn’t armed. I couldn’t handle anyone else pointing a gun at me. Maybe I should’ve listened to Daisy.

He pushed the hoodie off his face and looked directly into my eyes. His beard was full, and limp, dirty hair grazed his shoulders.

Even in the dim light of the campfire, he looked a lot like his brother.

Chapter Thirty-Four

L
ights from the dancing flames threw shadows on us, and onto the stones looming behind us. I made the first move. I ran to Dad and threw my arms around him, but he didn’t hug me back. Instead he pulled away, his eyes wide with panic.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered.

“No, Dad. It’s not a dream. It’s me.” I loosened my grip and stepped back. My throat tightened as tears rolled down my face.

I’d done it. I’d found him.

Toby had gone into super spaz mode now that he knew who was hidden under the dirty clothes. He pawed at Dad’s jean-clad legs, whimpering, his tail wagging furiously.

“Dude,” said Mophead. “Your daughter? Wicked.”

“It’s a sign,” said Claire. “From the universe.”

Dad looked down at Toby as if he’d just noticed there was a spastic animal attached to his legs. “Toby?” He frowned at me. “The dog. His name is Toby, isn’t it?”

Fear streaked through me like a rocket, lighting every nerve on fire.

“Yes,” I said weakly. “Of course it’s Toby.”

He tilted his head, examining me closely. “You shouldn’t have come, Marilyn.”

Marilyn? He thought I was Mom? Oh my God. Oh my God. Had he gone completely bat-shit crazy? Oh my God.

“Dad.” My voice was strangled by tears. “Dad, it’s me. Darcy.”

His eyes widened. Then it was like a light switched on from the inside. “Darcy! Oh God. Darcy. What are you doing here?”

“I’m
—
I’m rescuing you. Bringing you home. You have to come home. Dad, please. We need you.” I swallowed. “And you need us.”

“That’s intense,” said Earlobes.

We had to get out of there. I grabbed Dad’s arm. Toby danced around us, barking with excitement. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go.” I tried to smile. “I have the truck. Your Harvest truck.”

He looked at me like I spoke a foreign language.

I looped an arm around his waist and took a step. He didn’t move. I took another step.

“Come on,” I urged him. “We have to go. Get you some food.” His body odor overwhelmed me. “A shower. Clean clothes.”

I took another step. This time he stepped with me.

“Hey Preacher!” Mophead called after us. “You staying? Or going home with your daughter?”

“Home.” Dad whispered so quietly only I could hear him. “Home.”

W
e sat in the truck with Toby sandwiched between us. Dad wrapped his arm around Toby, petting him rhythmically. I leaned across Dad to hand-crank the window down. He really, really needed a shower.

Hands shaking, I pulled out my phone. Mom answered on the first ring.

“Mom. I found him.”

Silence. Then a scuffling noise, and another voice.

“Darcy! What is it?” J.J.’s voice snapped.

My heart pounded. What was he doing there? I thought he’d given up on Dad.

“I found him, J.J. We’re coming home.”

“What?” he bellowed into the phone. “You found him? Where? Tell me where you are.”

No freaking way.

“Let me talk to Mom, J.J.”

More scuffling noises, then a new voice.

“Darcy. How is he? How are you? Do you want me to come meet you?” Charlie. Just the sound of his voice calmed me a little. Yes, I wanted him to meet me. But I’d come this far by myself. The hard part was over. Now I just needed to point the truck south and drive as fast as I could.

“No,” I said, forcing strength into my voice. “I think we’ll be okay.”

“Where are you?” Charlie asked.

“Blue Spruce. It’s a small town in Wyoming. I think it’s about three or four hours from home.”

Charlie groaned. “How about if I meet you halfway? Or Lucas?”

“No.” I’d made it this far. I wasn’t about to call in the rescue squad now.

“Your mom wants to talk to him,” Charlie said.

I looked at Dad. He stared out the window at the stones, which glowed white under the full moon. I lowered my phone and whispered, “Dad? Mom wants to talk to you.”

He turned to me. His face was dirty, his skin red and chapped where it wasn’t covered by his beard. His eyes watered as he shook his head. I wondered if he was on drugs right now. Maybe that was the problem. Once he sobered up, would he be my normal dad again? Was I going to have two parents in rehab? God.

I closed my eyes against the waves of emotion racking my body. I had to keep it together. Get us food. Drive hundreds of miles. We just needed to get home, then everything would be okay. Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe.

“He’s exhausted,” I told Charlie. “I’ll call you back after we eat.”

Charlie sighed. “All right. Promise you’ll call as soon as you’ve had food.”

I forced a lightness I didn’t feel into my voice. “He kind of looks like you right now. His hair is longer and he has a beard.”

Charlie whistled. “I can’t wait to see that.”

“J.J. will freak out,” I said.

“I’m looking forward to that, too,” said Charlie, in a threatening voice I’d never heard before.

I swallowed. “Charlie? Will you tell Lucas that I found Dad? And that I’m okay?”

The phone rattled with static. I hoped I hadn’t lost the connection.

“Hey, Shaker Girl.”

I closed my eyes, wishing I could swim in the warmth of his voice. God, I wanted to be home. To be with him. “Lucas,” I breathed. “You’re at our house?”

He chuckled. “Unfortunately. That J.J. guy is a trip. I want to punch him but Charlie won’t let me.” He sighed and his voice dropped. “You sure you can handle this? Driving him home by yourself?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I glanced at Dad, who didn’t appear to be listening to my conversation at all. Toby lay stretched across his lap, blissed out to be with alpha dog again.

I turned away from Dad, facing out my window. “Lucas. I’m so sorry about the way I left.”

“Me too,” he said. “Sorry I went all King La’ul on you.”

I laughed as I pictured the temperamental king in the Firestorm Fairies world throwing a tantrum. “You did, didn’t you? Storming around and slamming doors. All you were missing was smoke shooting out of your head.”

He sighed in to the phone. “Yeah, well…I guess it’s the Lancelot thing. I’m sure your TV shrink has a theory about it.” He lowered his voice. “So why haven’t you called me? You called everyone else.”

“I tried once but got your voicemail. Reception sucks up here. Besides, your text didn’t sound like you wanted to talk to me.”

He snorted. “You should’ve seen the ones I typed but didn’t send.”

I bit my lip. “So…am I forgiven?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Depends on what you got me for Christmas.”

I laughed and Dad jerked next to me.

“Look, I need to go,” I said. “The sooner I do, the sooner I’ll be home.”

“I’m worried about you driving that truck in the snow. You didn’t bother to check the forecast before you took off, did you?” I heard the struggle in his voice as he tried to mask his frustration and worry.

“Is smoke shooting out of your head, King La’ul?”

He snorted in my ear. “You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

“More stubborn than Pickles?”

“At least she lets me help her.”

It was my turn to snort. “She’s four years old, Lancelot, of course she does. Just give it a rest. I’m on my way home, I promise.”

Lucas’s voice faded as he talked to someone in the background, then he returned to our conversation. “Charlie says to call again as soon as you and your dad eat.”

“I will.”

Silence stretched between us, then, “Drive safe, Shaker Girl.”

“I will. Promise.”

I hung up and looked at Dad, who still stared out the window while petting Toby. “Be right back. Don’t move.” I jumped out of the truck and ran back to the campfire. “I forgot to tell you guys. The sheriff’s on his way to chase you away. You need to get out of here. Fast.”

Claire tilted her head at me. “Awesome. Thanks.”

Earlobes saluted me from where he still lay on the ground. “Preacher’s got a cool kid.”

I ran back to the truck and peeled out onto the road.