The Mor Road

by Jennifer AlLee

"I'll share," she says as she dumps it on the counter.

  While the man is ringing us up, she spins a rack of postcards. She takes one out and shows it to me. "Look at this."

  It's a scenic view of the Grand Canyon. The shot is slightly out of focus and the colors are muddy. They don't do justice to what the canyon must really look like.

  The cashier pauses with his finger poised over the register keys. "Do you want to buy that too?"

  "What? Oh, no." She puts the postcard back in the rack. "Are we near the Grand Canyon?"

  "You bet. Take you about ninety minutes or so to get there from here."

  "Really?" She turns to me now. "Natalie, we've got to go see it."

  "I don't know." That's at least a three-hour round trip, not counting whatever time we'd actually spend at the canyon.

  "Oh, come on. How can we not stop there? When are we ever going to have the chance to see it again?" She dips her chin and looks up at me from under her long, pale lashes. "Please?"

  Why does she keep doing this to me? And why do I keep falling for it? I know she's only being nice and sweet in order to get her way. The next time I do something she doesn't like, she'll get all snarky again. But times like this are so hard to come by, I hate to ruin it.

  I look at the cashier. "Can you tell us how to get there?"

  He smiles and reaches under the counter. "I can do better. I have a map."

  "Great. Add it to the bill."

  Lindsay claps her hands. "You won't regret it, Nat. It's about time we saw something cool."

  I frown at her. "We've seen cool stuff."

  "Yeah," she says, taking the bag from the cashier. "But this is a natural wonder." We're heading for the door when she stops and thrusts the bag at me. "I better make another pit stop before we hit the road." Then she makes a mad dash for the rear of the store.

  I push my way through the big glass door and head for the car. A natural wonder indeed. You know what would be a true natural wonder? If we make it to Illinois without her driving me nuts.

  Now that would be a wonder.

  24

  Standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, I have to admit that Lindsay was right. It was worth the extra time and gas it took to get here, as well as the hassle of finding a parking spot and crowding onto a shuttle bus. I'd do it all over again to be able to take in the grandeur of God's creation.

  The majesty of the place is overwhelming. Looking down the sloping rocks, past the jagged peaks, I glimpse the Colorado River snaking below. I think of the power it took to carve this enormous canyon through solid rock. It dwarfs me. It makes my problems seem small and petty. Insignificant in the big picture of life.

  Lindsay stands beside me. I keep waiting for her to make some wisecrack, or to do something silly like yell across the void to see if it will echo, but she doesn't. For once, I believe my sister has been awed into silence. Further evidence of the power of the canyon.

  "Amazing, isn't it?"

  Lindsay pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, but the wind immediately blows it back in her face. "Yeah, it is. And we almost didn't come. You are so lucky you've got me with you."

  "Oh, I know just how lucky I am." I press my lips together and turn on the camera. "Wave at Mom and Dad."

  She does. Then, in bold, elaborate motions worthy of a game show model, she indicates the vista behind her. I let the camera follow, taking in everything I can, and knowing there's no way a digital recording will render an accurate representation. When I pan back to Lindsay, her expression is noticeably different. She glares past me, her arms hanging straight down at her sides.

  "What are you doing here?"

  I turn to see who she's talking to and nearly drop the camera. Ben stands there, looking flushed and guarded at the same time. This guy is harder to shake than the stomach flu.

  "I need to talk to you, Lindsay." He steps forward. "Since you just yell at me on the phone, I figured we'd have to do it in person."

  My blazing cheeks must surely be redder than the rocks in the canyon. "You can't keep stalking her like this."

  His expression turns indignant, like he's truly wounded by my opinion of him. "I'm not stalking her. I'm following her. There's a big difference."

  "I don't know what your problem is, buddy, but you can't seem to get it through your head. She doesn't want to be with you."

  Ben squeezes his forehead and lets out a growl. Finally, I can see the letters tattooed on his fingers. They spell out LOVE. A word that has nothing to do with the kind of person he really is.

  "That's not true," he snaps at me. "She doesn't have a problem with me. She has a problem with me not wanting the baby."

  "You bet I do," Lindsay snaps at him.

  "But what if I did want the baby?"

  Lindsay's face softens, her eyes large and full of hope. "You mean you do want the baby?"

  "I didn't say that. But if I did, then you'd want to be with me, right? That means you still love me. And I love you. I'm not going to let you go without a fight."

  He reaches out to her. Even though his movement is too slow to be meant as anything but a caress, all I can see is his hand getting closer to the spot where the bruise used to be. And I lose it.

  "Don't you touch her." I swat his hand away and wedge my body between them. "You think all you have to do is slap a woman around and she'll be yours forever? Think again. You've hurt her for the last time."

  Ben looks at me like I'm crazy. "What are you talking about? I've never laid a hand on Lindsay."

  "Natalie—"

  "Stay out of this." I bark at Lindsay, then push Ben away from her. "Never touched her, huh? Then how'd she get that bruise on her face?"

  "She got up in the middle of the night and ran into the bedroom door."

  "You seriously expect me to believe that?"

  "Yeah, because it's the truth. She can't see a thing without her contacts."

  Wow, this guy is good. There's not a hint of remorse in his voice, not a clue that he's making the story up as he goes along. "Sure she did. I'll bet you'd love to take her back with you where she could run into the door again, wouldn't you?"

  I give him another shove for good measure. But this time, Ben doesn't move. His feet are planted and he stands his ground. "Lady, I've never hit a woman, any woman, in my life. But I might make an exception for you."

  "Excuse me." A booming voice draws my attention to the tall park ranger standing behind Ben.

  When Ben turns around, he actually has to tilt his head up to look the man in the eye. "What?"

  "I was concerned there might be some trouble here." The man looks from me to Lindsay. "Is this fellow bothering you ladies?"

  "No," Lindsay says.

  "Yes," I say.

  Hands on his hips, Ben drops his chin to his chest and mutters something I'm glad I can't hear. Then he looks back up at the ranger and jerks his thumb over his shoulder at me. "She's crazy. I'm just trying to talk to my girlfriend."

  "He's stalking us," I say.

  "No, I'm not!"

  By now, most of the people at the lookout spot have turned from the grandeur of the canyon to take in the spectacle of the crazy lady, the pregnant woman, and the stalker. Another ranger walks up. I can tell from the way they look at each other, they're eager to remove us and restore a sense of peace and tranquility.

  The new guy is shorter than the first one, but what he lacks in height, he makes up in pure muscle. His forearms are so thick, I wonder if he has to have his shirts specially made.

  He motions to Ben. "Why don't you come with me, sir?"

  "I didn't do anything wrong."

  "I'm not saying you did. If you come with me, you can tell me your side of the story, and we'll get this whole thing cleared up."

  Ben deflates. He turns to Lindsay, hands out, palms up, and tries one more time. "Tell them I didn't do anything."

  Lindsay's wavering. I can almost hear the battle going on in her head . . . He loves me . . . He promised he'd never do it ag
ain . . . But he still doesn't want the baby . . .

  "Please, Ben," she finally says, "just go with him. Go away and stop following me."

  His jaw tightens and he blows out a big breath. "Fine. We'll do it your way. For now."

  A wave of relief washes over me as I watch him walk away with the ranger. But Lindsay looks like she could burst into tears at any second.

  "Are you ladies going to be all right?"

  The concern from park ranger number one is all it takes to push Lindsay over the figurative edge. She puts her hands to her face, trying to hide her sobs, which is useless. "I don't understand how he keeps finding me."

  "Maybe because you keep telling him."

  "I didn't tell him we were coming here."

  She had to tell him. Not only did we get off 66, we made quite a substantial side trip. There's no way he could have guessed we'd be here, in this exact spot on the rim. "You've been texting him, though, haven't you?"

  "So? I never said where we were going."

  "Then how did he know where to find us?"

  "I don't know!"

  "Ladies. Excuse me." The ranger breaks in. "I think I might have an answer for you." He holds his hand out to Lindsay. "May I see your phone?"

  She hesitates, then looks at me. Oh sure, now she wants my opinion. I nod, and she takes it out of her purse and gives it to him.

  Most of the people who were looking at us before lost interest as soon as Ben was escorted away. But a few are still hanging on everything we say, waiting for the drama to play itself out. One guy in the back of the crowd pipes up. "Toss it over the rail. That'll solve the problem!"

  Wouldn't it be awesome if Mr. Ranger did just that? It would sure teach my sister a lesson if he pulled his arm back and propelled that silly little phone into the canyon. But it would also be littering, not to mention destruction of personal property. Not likely this fellow would partake in either of those activities.

  He grins at Lindsay. "Don't worry. There's an easier solution." He taps on the phone's touch screen, slides his finger across it, taps a bit more, then stops. "Aha. Here we go. You have FindMe installed on your phone."

  Lindsay's hand goes to her mouth. "Oh, man. I forgot that was even on there."

  I don't know what the big deal is. "What's FindMe?"

  "It's a social networking app." He holds the phone so I can see the screen, but there's so much glare I still don't know what I'm looking at. "It's meant to help you meet up with friends. Every time you send a text message, it gives your exact location."

  "How exact?"

  "Down to the street address and zip code." He hands the phone back to Lindsay. "I'd disable that if I were you."

  She nods and starts moving her fingers across the screen. "I'm doing it right now."

  So even though Lindsay never told him where we were, she still led him right to us. And it took a trip to the Grand Canyon to figure it out. "Thank you," I tell the ranger. "We'll be going now. Is there any way you can detain that man long enough to give us a head start?"

  "No problem. We'll talk to him for a while." He takes a few steps, then stops and says over his shoulder, "You might want to consider taking out a restraining order. Just to be safe."

  It's a good idea. I put it at the top of my mental to-do list, right below Get my sister safely to Mom and Dad's house.

  "You lied to me." I say after the ranger is gone.

  She looks up from her phone. "No, I didn't."

  "Maybe you didn't technically tell Ben where we were, but you still gave him the information. It's the same thing."

  "But I didn't know I was doing it. I forgot that app was loaded on the phone. I swear." She stares at me, her big blue eyes as sorrowful as can be, waiting for me to cave. But I don't. I don't tell her I misjudged her and that I'm sorry for getting upset with her. Because I'm not sorry. And right now, I don't trust her. Not one bit.

  When it becomes obvious she's not going to get her way this time, her demeanor changes. Her brows furrow and her lips press into a thin, hard line. "Fine. Be that way. I don't care what you think." She stomps off toward the shuttle bus pickup area.

  If I had a choice, I'd go the other way. I'd walk away from the plans I keep making that never turn out how I want. Away from the people I put my trust in only to have them destroy it. Away from this stupid trip.

  If only I could walk along the rim of the canyon until the sun began to sink, throwing shadows on the walls and washing the sky in a watercolor of reds and oranges. If I could, I'd crawl right under the railing and sit at the edge of the rocks, letting my feet dangle into nothing as the air grew cool and quiet around me.

  But I can't do any of that. I have a sister to watch out for and parents to get home to. So I follow Lindsay to the shuttle, the rubber soles of my sneakers heavy as if they had turned to lead.

  25

  By the time we leave the Grand Canyon behind, I've made a decision. "We've wasted enough time on side trips. I'm going to find the quickest way to Illinois and stick to it."

  "Fine by me." Lindsay doesn't bother looking in my direction. Her nose is to the window, as if she's fascinated by the scrub and rocks zipping by.

  I turn on the radio and push the button I programmed earlier for a show tune station. As Patti LuPone's voice fills the car, I glance at Lindsay. In my mind, I dare her to try to change the channel. But she continues ignoring me. Apparently, I have become too insignificant for her even to acknowledge what she considers my bad taste in music.

  My stomach rumbles, and I realize breakfast was five long hours ago. I was hoping to make some good travel time today, but thanks to our spontaneous journey and subsequent stalker sighting, we're not much farther than when we started this morning. I consider pushing onward, but guilt gets the better of me. If I'm hungry, Lindsay must be starving. No matter how bratty she's been toward me, I can't deprive a pregnant woman of food.

  Flagstaff is a good-sized city right on Interstate 40. But we're still not escaping Route 66. As we drive through town, reminders of it are everywhere. And when I stop to fill up the car with gas, a local at the next pump over calls out to me without any prompting.

  "You gals looking for a good place to have lunch?"

  I shield my eyes and look in his direction. "Matter of fact, we are."

  "You should head over to Granny's Closet."

  Now Lindsay sticks her head out the car window. "Sounds like a thrift store."

  The man laughs as he takes the nozzle from his gas tank and returns it to the pump. "No, it's a restaurant. They've got a prime rib sandwich that's out of this world. And you can check out Little Louie."

  "Who's Little Louie?" I ask.

  "Well now, you'll have to go there to find out. But you can't miss him." The man motions down the street. "You just go that way to Five Points, make a right on Milton, and there you go."

  "Thanks." I shut the cover on the gas cap and walk around to the driver's side. "I guess we'll give Granny a try."

  "All right, then." He gives us a little wave, gets into his car, and drives off.

  Lindsay turns to me as I buckle my seat belt. "You sure know how to work your magic on men."

  What is she talking about? "Excuse me?"

  "Men are always falling all over themselves to help you. This guy, the Oatman dude, the security guard. You don't even have to ask for help. They just seem to know you need it, and there they are."

  It's the kind of statement that could come off as negative and judgmental, but the tone of Lindsay's voice is just the opposite. I get the feeling she wishes the same kind of thing would happen to her.

  As I pull out of the gas station and down the street, I think back over the last few weeks. I remember the soundman, who was so kind to me and complimented me on my blouse. And the 7-Eleven clerk who gave me a tiny bit of affirmation when I needed it. Maybe Lindsay's right. Maybe there's something about me that brings out the protector in men. Every man except Tony, the one man who vowed to always love and protect me.
>
  It takes us all of five minutes to reach Granny's Closet. As I park the car, Lindsay leans forward, peering out the window. "Holy cow."

  "That must be Little Louie." We're looking at a huge, wooden lumberjack standing beside the building. It's an ironic title if ever there was one, because Little Louie is at least ten feet tall.

  "Here's hoping the food is better than the decor." Lindsay gets out of the car, slams the door behind her, and walks to the restaurant. I lock up the car and walk in double time to catch up with her.

  We're quickly seated and given menus. After I decide what I want, I take a moment to look around the place. Seeing a giant lumberjack outside, I expected the inside of Granny's to be rustic, but it's much homier than that. There's lots of brick, flower boxes full of red and purple silk blooms, and some beautiful stained glass windows. The unique one is an image of Granny playing a banjo.

  "What do you think?" I ask Lindsay.

  "The barbecued beef looks good."

  "I meant the decor."

  "Oh." She fiddles with her silverware. "It's nice."

  "Yeah. It is." I can't stand it. If we don't break through this icy wall, we're both going to be miserable. As much as I want to hold my ground and wait for her to apologize to me, I know I can't. Someone has to make the first move, and that someone is going to be me.

  Casually, I say, "But then again, it's no Road Kill Café."

  She keeps her eyes on the table, but one corner of her mouth rises in a hesitant grin. "No, it's not."

  "Lindsay." I reach out, stilling her hand. "I'm sorry."

  She looks up, but her face is blank. I can't read her.

  "I'm sorry for calling you a liar. You said you forgot about that app on your phone, and I should have believed you."

  Her shoulders raise and lower with the quick breath she takes in. "It's the truth, you know. I really did forget about it."

  "I know. I believe you." Funny thing is, I didn't believe her. Not until just now.

  "Thank you." She pulls away and clasps her hands together in her lap.

  Now it's her turn. I wait for her to tell me how sorry she is for being difficult, for her bad attitude. But the waitress walks up.