But Finn wouldn’t ever get to drive in the Pala again or jump off a crazy swing with Rusty or watch the clouds drift by on a lazy summer day. He wouldn’t get to go to college and play football with his best friend or meet someone perfect, fall in love, and get married. He wouldn’t be there to give me away when I did. He’d given it all up, changed all the plans, and that was what seemed the most wrong. Because he didn’t have to, and nobody wanted him to, but he did. I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to breathe away the guilt that had shifted ever so slightly into anger at the unfairness of it.
“You all right?” Rusty’s hand on my shoulder surprised me more than his voice did.
I sat up, wiping at my eyes. “I’m fine. I just . . .”
“It kinda comes and goes, huh?” He looked out over the water, then back to me, and I wished he couldn’t see so much just then.
I put my head down. “Yeah.”
“I know,” Rusty said. He put his arm around my shoulder. “It does with me, too.” A soft breeze rose and swirled around us, and off in the distance, a muffled rumble of thunder seemed to answer.
“Must be four o’clock,” Rusty said, eyeing the fluffy gray clouds that had rolled in over the mountaintops. Lightning flickered behind one, and its thunder came a few seconds later.
“What does that mean?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“Means we better head out. Before we get soaked.”
He had no sooner finished saying it than the first fat drop splashed down on the rock between us. I looked at the spot where it landed, and another one plopped right down on my head.
“Too late.” I smiled. I reached for my clothes, and Rusty did the same, and by the time we crossed the little bridge, raindrops had splattered our rock a deeper shade of red and turned the smooth surface of the creek into a collage of expanding rings. When we hit the green twisting path, thunder boomed loud above us and the sky opened up, sending fat raindrops down through the trees, and we ran.
We ran laughing, with the smell of the rain all around and the drops cool on our skin, across the grassy field to the parking lot, where Celia’s old truck sat all alone. I threw open the door on my side and jumped in, shutting it hard behind me. Rusty ducked into the driver’s side and shook his hair out before he closed the door.
“So much for not getting soaked,” I said, out of breath. I ran my hands down my bare arms, then shook the water off. “That came out of nowhere.”
“They roll in pretty quick around here.” Rusty’s eyes ran over my wet clothes. “You got something dry to put on?”
“Yeah. It’s down there.” I motioned to the floor, where a sundress sat draped over my boots. “I’ll be fine till we get back to your mom’s, though. I don’t need to change right now.”
He turned the key in the ignition. “I don’t wanna go back there just yet. It’d be a long night of sittin’ around doin’ nothing.” He thought for a second. “There’s a place up in Flagstaff, has good music and the best burger you ever tasted. You hungry?”
“Yes.” I definitely was. Celia’s “lunch” had consisted of two seaweed and alfalfa sandwiches on sprouted wheat bread, a concoction that was good for cleansing and grounding. That’s what the note said, anyway. “I can always eat.” I smiled. I didn’t want to go back just yet either.
“Yes you can,” Rusty said with a smile. “It’s one of your better qualities.” He put his arm on the seat behind me and twisted around to back the truck out. “That and your little black bikini.”
“Shut up,” I said, trying not to smile too big. “Just drive. I’m starving.”
23
By the time we got to Flagstaff, the rain had stopped, but the afternoon clouds still lit up every few seconds as the storm rolled off into the distance. We turned off the highway at a huge guitar balanced on a marquee shaped like one of those old-fashioned Route 66 road signs. Across it, in big black letters, it said, WADE BOWEN HERE TONIGHT!
“I know him!” I said, pointing at the sign as we pulled into the parking lot. “Well, I don’t know him know him, but I know his music.”
“He’s a Texas boy. New Braunfels, I think,” Rusty said. “Pretty good, too.” He parked Celia’s truck around the side of the log cabin–looking building. “Depending on who’s working, we might be able to stay for the show.”
“Really?”
“We’ll see.” Rusty reached behind his seat and pulled out jeans, a T-shirt, and his boots. “C’mon. Let’s go get changed and get some grub.”
Inside, it was dark and so full of things to look at, I didn’t know where to start. It was definitely a down-home, Rusty kind of place, with its antlers and stuffed animal heads of all different sizes on the wall. Autographed pictures of country singers and old-time cowboys hung everywhere, lit by the glow of scattered neon beer signs. Past the tables in front was a giant wooden bar, where three old cowboys sat talking with beers and a basket of peanuts between them. I liked it right off the bat.
Rusty pointed me to the girls’ bathroom and then ducked into the one across the hall, and when we both came out, he headed over to one of the round booths at the edge of the room.
I scooted across the red leather, to the back of it. “This place is great. How’d you find it?”
“That big sign out there.” I gave him a look. “What? It was advertising DIME BEER NIGHT, and I came on in.”