All That's Left to Tell(27)

“I can’t afford to end up in the county jail!”

“You wouldn’t have. I’d have told them the truth if he caught me. You picked me up on the highway, and we’ve only known each other for a couple of hours. Hey, it was the only way I could help with gas and food.”

“I would’ve covered you, for God’s sake.”

“That wouldn’t have been fair. You don’t have much money yourself, or you wouldn’t be driving all the way to Michigan in this old truck. You’ve got a little kid back home still in diapers.”

Claire checked in her rearview mirror for a cop car.

“If you want me to get out, I will.”

“Out here, you’d fry inside half an hour.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Claire shook her head. “Look. No more stealing stuff, okay? We’re gonna sleep in the back of the truck unless it rains, so you don’t have to worry about hotels. We’re making this trip on the cheap, okay?”

Genevieve gave her a slight smile. “You sound so maternal,” she said.

Despite herself, she chuckled at this. “That might be the first time I ever heard that.”

“It’s not a criticism. It kind of suits you. But you don’t need to worry about me. Look, I took down the address, see?” She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and showed her. “The gas at that place comes from Exxon. And if it was one of the little links in their giant chain, I’d say screw them, they can spare the cash. But that old guy was an independent operator. He’s probably had that little station for years. I’ll send him the money when I get to Chicago.”

“All right,” Claire said. She sighed heavily, and relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. “Let’s see if we can make Salt Lake City.”

Claire handed Genevieve a packet of crackers, and she opened it and handed one to Claire.

“You ever swim in it?”

“What?”

“The Great Salt Lake. You ever swim in it?”

“No, I’ve never been there at all.”

“You can float in it without moving. Just like the Dead Sea.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that. You’ve been to the Dead Sea?”

“Oh, no. But that’s what they compare it to.”

The woman finished her crackers and laid her head back against the seat. After a while, she hummed a tune intermittently; Claire smiled, and then leaned forward, as if this would get them into Utah faster. She would have liked to call Jack and ask him what he thought of her new companion. Years running a motel had made him less wholesome, but he still had the farm-boy honesty that wouldn’t allow him to take a cent without returning it sometime. He’d get irate when a towel came up missing after a guest had checked out. “Like no one has enough towels at home, especially the raggedy ones we give ’em at this place? That’s stealing just to steal.”

Genevieve was right about the view from the road as they moved through Nevada. These desolate landscapes could be beautiful, but not at the peak of the day. She looked over at her. Genevieve’s eyes were closed, and she seemed to be dozing lightly. The sunburn had started to show on her high cheekbones. A strong face, she thought, but fair eyelashes that looked much longer now that she was asleep. A few beads of sweat showed on her upper lip. Her mouth was full, kissable like a starlet’s, and it didn’t fit her other features.

She may have felt her looking at her, and she opened her eyes and sat up quickly.

“Sorry. Must have been more tired than I thought.”

“No rule against taking a nap.”

“I’m supposed to be your shotgun.”

“Out here, there’s not much to be afraid of. Maybe an animal crossing the road.”

Genevieve nodded, and rested her head and squinted into the bright light that poured through the windshield when they took a curve. She pulled the scarf back out of her pocket and wrapped it around her eyes.

“Better than sunglasses,” she said, and Claire smiled. After a minute, she started humming a song quietly, the notes bounced around by the wind.

“The radio’s broken, or I’d turn it on,” Claire told her.

“That’s okay.” Genevieve licked her lips, and, as if in response, started humming again.

“What song is that?” Claire asked.

“It’s an old Joni Mitchell tune. I mean, maybe sixty years old now.”

“‘Circle Game’?”

“That’s right!” Genevieve said. “My mother used to play that song on the CD player when I was little. I’d sing it sometimes when we were alone on the playground. It was perfect for the merry-go-round. I think she thought I knew what the lyrics meant, but I was just singing the words.”

“It’s funny.”

It was odd to talk with her with the scarf wrapped around her eyes.

“What?”

“I learned that song at a campground when I was maybe sixteen years old.”

“Why’s that funny?”

Claire laughed uneasily and ran her hand through her damp hair. “I was at that camp because I stole something.”

“Really? So they sent you to sing-along camp when you did something wrong?”

Claire laughed at this. “Yeah, something like that. I was stealing things because I was angry at the way the world operates. Useless things like a cheap bracelet or a hair ribbon. Stuff made in China because of the kids working in factories over there. But it’s weird that you’d sing that song right after you took the money.”