“Wasn’t she worried you were hurt?” Brook asked, frowning over the woman’s heartlessness.
“Oh, she saw me walking in. She could tell I wasn’t injured; well, maybe just my pride.”
They drove on, Lance showing her this and that, until finally they reached the outskirts of town.
Brook turned to face Lance, urgency written on her face. “I need to find a phone. I have to call my parents.”
Lance nodded and pulled into a convenience store with a phone booth outside. “Will this do? Or, do you want somewhere more private?”
“No, this is fine.” Brook started to step from the truck, but stopped. “Damn, I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t worry.” Lance entered the store and returned carrying three rolls of quarters. “They didn’t want to give these up, but I insisted.” Lance kissed Brook’s forehead and went to lean on the back of the truck, leaving her alone to make her call.
With shaking hands, Brook dialed. She fumbled over the familiar numbers, restarting twice before getting them right. Several rings passed before she heard the loving voice of her mother saying hello.
Brook choked up and couldn’t speak for a moment. “Hello?” her mother repeated with a questioning tone.
“Mama,” Brook managed.
A second’s silence met this word, and then, fearful she had misunderstood, “Brooklyn?”
“Yes, mama, it’s me!” Tears were streaming down Brook’s face, as the answering sobs of her mother filled the receiver.
Brook's mom called for her dad and then his excited voice sounded close by. “Where are you, baby?” her mom asked, her words tripping over each other. “Are you okay? Oh, God, we’ve been sick with worry. We were so afraid…” she broke off.
“I’m okay! Really. It’s a long story and I will tell you everything, soon. But not now, not on the phone. Just believe me when I say I’m alright. Now.”
They talked for a long while. Brook used over two rolls of quarters before she could bring herself to hang up, to let go of her mama and papa’s loving voices. She promised to call again soon. She had a hard time convincing them not to jump on a plane and come immediately. With reluctance, they finally agreed to wait, but not long.
Brook stood staring at the receiver after she disconnected the call. Finally, she hung it up and turned to Lance. She was trembling when she went to him. He gathered her into his arms and held her until she stopped shaking.
He looked her up and down. “You need clothes. You can’t very well return home wearing what you have on.”
Brook put on a look of dismay, purely faked. “I thought you liked the way I looked in these clothes.”
Lance, noticing the mischievous look, stated firmly, “It only makes me angry to see them. It means I have one less set of clothing.” He stopped, letting his gaze travel over her again, this time with a leer. “Actually, the clothes look better on you than they ever did on me; but I really like it better when you wear nothing.”
Brook blushed. “Let’s go shopping before we have to get a motel.”
They jumped back in Old Reliable and drove further into town. Brook’s eyes roved constantly, searching for the faces she hoped to never see again. Hunting for the monsters who had hurt her.
After going to a couple of stores, Brook took her purchases into the restroom of the café that doubled as the bus station. She exited wearing a mid-calf dress of soft suede with a matching jacket. She had donned a pair of panty hose but still wore the moccasins Lance had made for her. She had purchased blush, mascara, and lipstick and had spent some time with the cosmetics and her hair.
When Lance saw her he breathed a soft, “Whoooh!”
Brook took this as the compliment it was meant to be and smiled gratefully. One of her other purchases had been a valise to carry her few possessions. Now, she accepted the ticket from Lance’s outstretched hand. One way to Denver. She looked sadly at the piece of paper, positive it meant she would be separated from Lance forever. She noted the time of departure and put on a brave face. “I still have an hour before I leave. How about we take a walk?”
Lance presented his arm and they exited the building. They walked slowly along meandering paths until they came to a tiny park. Sitting on a bench outside the gazebo, they stared up at the surrounding mountains. “It is so beautiful here,” Brook whispered, leaning her head on Lance’s shoulder.
“It surely is,” Lance said, his eyes for her alone.
They spoke little, each simply enjoying the nearness of the other. They returned to the bus stop and all too soon her bus arrived. Brook gazed into Lance’s dark eyes for only a moment, the ache of leaving threatening to overwhelm her. She saw Lance struggling with the same torment. Quickly, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. He met her halfway and they lingered briefly over the kiss. Neither spoke of their love, they had told each other many times the night before; the time had come to put these words aside. Brook boarded and looked straight ahead, blinking away tears as the bus pulled out.
Lance, for his part, stood and watched until the bus disappeared over a rise in the road. Only then did he return to his truck. He started it up and pointed it towards home. Although there was a lot to replenish after the winter, there would be no shopping today; he needed the comforts of his cabin now.
Riding on the bus with her meager possessions, Brook felt she could relate to the homeless; even though, in truth, she had a place to go, a home, a life. As the bus rolled down the road, moving further from one man she loved and closer to the other, Brook found herself in turmoil. How would she feel being with Clark again? Did she really still love him? She hadn’t really thought about the matter before her abduction. But since that time, she had realized that life with Clark had changed over the years.
After their engagement and during the first year of marriage, Clark had spent every dinner hour with her and every weekend. Then, over the next few years, he had begun to stay later at work, and their dinners together dropped to two or three times a week. And then, he began working most weekends. Also, in the early days of their marriage, they had talked. They talked about their childhoods and the time that had transpired between then and when they met. Thinking back, Brook realized these talks centered more on Clark’s life, than her own. But, even at that, conversation had dwindled away to merely perfunctory exchanges. Adequate, but unsatisfying.
Then she lost Lacey, the precious baby she had longed so to hold, to nurture through childhood and shape into a healthy, happy adult. When that dream was ripped away, along with the chance to ever have another baby, Brook had been crushed. But Clark hadn’t really been affected. Oh, he had been sad at the time, but he quickly forgot the whole incident and carried on as before. No! Not as before. Now that she really thought about it, Clark had withdrawn further from her after the loss, spending more time at work and far less with her. Possibly, she reflected, this was her fault. She hadn’t been the same afterwards either.
Clark hadn’t understood why Brook wanted a child so much. Several years after losing the baby, Brook had broached the subject of adoption. Clark had looked at her with incredulity. “I suppose we could,” he had said, flatly. “But it’s not like it would be ours.”
Brook had insisted that any baby they raised would be theirs completely.