You don’t look half bad. Although I gotta say, that fluorescent bulb isn’t doing anything for your complexion. There’s this great little invention they have now, you know. Foundation? Ever heard of it?
Miriam laughed—actually laughed out loud—for sheer joy. Because if she could imagine Talia teasing her, she must be healing.
The silver locket twisted on its waterdrop chain as she pulled out her phone to tap out a text message to Becky and Dicey. It’s time. Wish me luck.
Becky’s response came so quickly, she had to have been waiting. It contained no words, only an emoji of praying hands.
Dicey didn’t respond at all. Probably asleep again. Miriam adjusted her red fringed scarf, scooped up her keys, and slipped out the door.
Nearly three thousand miles behind her, and one left to go.
* * *
A mile down the highway, Miriam pulled off into a parking place on the shoulder and stepped out of the car. It was an unprepossessing beach, long and narrow, the water so blue it looked painted. The wind picked up the red scarf; the soft fringe tickled her face as she stepped off the hard-packed shoulder of the highway.
Her foot sank into sand mixed with tiny pebbles, black and orange and white, worn smooth by billions of tides breathing in, breathing out. Rolling along, doing their own thing without regard for the cars whipping by or the lovers walking along the beach.
There was a wildness to this place, from the tangle of evergreen and windswept wildflowers across the highway to the endless expanse of ocean. Talia would have loved it. If they’d made it here, Talia would have torn out of the car and run straight for the water, forcing the others to keep up. Blaise would have been more likely to take his shoes off and sit down, digging his toes in like a hermit crab.
If she had been with them, she would have been like those lovers Miriam could see far down the beach, walking hand in hand with Teo.
If she had come with them instead of staying behind to play a Mozart concerto, might they have actually made it to this beautiful place? Maybe she would have seen the big pickup, weaving dangerously up the highway, in time to warn Teo before they crossed onto the bridge where disaster struck.
If. Always if. But if any of those ifs had happened, everything would have been different, not just the ending.
“This isn’t how they should find out,” Teo had told her. It was the last conversation they’d ever had, the evening before her family died. Teo and the kids had just left the awards ceremony, and the twins had tripped over each other, shouting at Teo’s phone, trying to tell her everything at once. She’d never heard Blaise so animated. In their excitement, they’d failed to notice Miriam’s stunned silence after Blaise mentioned meeting the famous August von Rickenbach.
“We’ll see you tomorrow!” was Blaise’s parting shout as Teo had retrieved the phone. “We’re going on a beach-hunting expedition, and Dr. von Rickenbach said he’d camp with us tomorrow night!”
Teo had clicked off the speaker. “You’d have been proud of them today, Mira.”
But Miriam couldn’t focus on her children’s success. “Teo—is it really Gus?”
“I assume so.” Of course, Teo couldn’t know for sure. He’d never met Gus. She’d made sure of it. “Can’t imagine another guy with a name that fussy.”
Despite feeling overwrought—or perhaps because of it—she’d had to chuckle.
“Ah,” he’d said, and even now Miriam could picture the satisfied look on his face at having coaxed a laugh from her. “I’ve missed that sound. I wish you could have been here, but I’m glad it worked out the way it did. This isn’t how they should find out. They need to hear it from us. But Mira, it’s time they know. Past time.”
“Can they hear you?”
“No, they’re off talking to Mr. von … Dr.… to Gus.” Teo chuffed. “I gotta say, he’s a charmer, that man. Even Talia’s starry-eyed.”
Miriam could hear the vulnerability in her husband’s voice. He’d stepped in and raised this family, and now … “I’m so sorry, Teo,” she’d told him. “It’s not fair to you, having to deal with this.”
“It’s all right. I’ll protect my family. But I think you’d better stay home.” His voice had changed. Raised a bit, as if for public consumption. “It’s only going to get worse if you get on a plane and wear yourself out. We’re going on a hunt for the most beautiful beach in California. Some project Talia has in mind—for school maybe? I’m not sure. But it’s not weather for someone with the flu. Windy. Cold. Just stay in bed and let Becky force-feed you chicken soup, okay, Sassafras?”
She could hear the protests in the background.
“No, no,” Teo addressed their children. “Of course she didn’t tell you she’s sick. She’s your mother. Tell her you love her and you’ll see her when you get home.”
Only they’d never made it home. It never occurred to any of them, as they’d shouted “I love you!” and “See you soon!” into the phone, that those were the last words they would ever exchange. If they’d realized it, the end of that conversation would have been very different.
But it wasn’t. Her family’s story had ended twenty-four hours later, on a bridge, on their way to this spot, on a day not unlike this one.
A spray of sand dusted her sunglasses; her locket caught a brief gust of wind and slapped back down against her chest. She grabbed it and held on tight as she walked toward the water, stopping several feet away from the crashing surf. In this spot, North America’s final plunge to the Pacific was steep, waves breaking right at the tide line instead of out in the surf.
Her phone dinged. Miriam, startled, released her grip on the locket, only then recognizing the ache in her hand. A text from Dicey:
You got this girl.
Miriam smiled, breathing a prayer of gratitude. She slid her phone back into her pocket and flexed her fingers to work out the pain of clinging so tightly to the past.
The wind calmed. Miriam took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Teo,” she said. “I wasted so much time. I always loved you. But you knew that already, didn’t you?” The sinking sun kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and the tip of her nose. She swallowed. “I’ll always miss you. And I’ll always love you. But it’s time to stop looking back.”
The warmth spread. Not quite a hug from beyond the grave. But close. “Kids, take care of your father.”
The wind picked up again. She closed her eyes. It was time. She lifted the locket over her head and held it in both hands, closing her eyes. She could feel it all around her again, the sense of being part of something vast and beautiful and holy. She couldn’t change the past, but she could shift the trajectory of her future. From now on, she would honor Teo—and Talia and Blaise, and her mother and Brad and Jo—Dicey and Deandra—she would honor all those she loved, the dead and the living alike, by her commitment to live free and love fully. That would be her love song. Her gift to the world.
Breathing deep, Miriam lifted the locket over her head. She flipped a thumb over the latch and let the fragile petals fly.
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Kathleen Basi is a classical flutist who’s composed a number of works for instrumental and choral ensembles. Her writing can be found in Apeiron Review, Chicken Soup for the Soul, and NPR’s All Things Considered. A Song for the Road is her first novel.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Kathleen Basi
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Alcove Press, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Alcove Press and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (trade paperback): 978-1-64385
-690-2
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-691-9
Cover design by Melanie Sun
Printed in the United States.
www.alcovepress.com
Alcove Press
34 West 27th St., 10th Floor
New York, NY 10001
First Edition: May 2021
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