Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(50)



~

They started early in the morning. There was not much to take: a canvas bag once used for carrying home groceries now filled with clothes, a box of food and threadbare towels, a few pans, some chipped dishes, the rocking chair, and Benjamin’s tool box. When there was no more room in the truck bed, the remainder of their things were left behind.

As he pulled away from the house the sun was just lighting the sky, and Benjamin turned back for one last look. He’d expected to see his memories, the good ones; instead there was only a sorry-looking house with a dirt yard. It was then he knew he’d made the right decision. No matter what the future held, it had to be better than this.





The first day of driving was slow going. Whenever Benjamin pressed his foot to the accelerator and tried to move past forty miles per hour the Chevy pickup, now seventeen years old, burped steam. He’d left Bakerstown and traveled northeast thinking he could pick up the highway, but thirty minutes after he turned onto the road the truck overheated and they had to pull to the shoulder and wait for it to cool. Once that happened, he gave up thinking about a highway and stuck to the side roads.

They traveled across the state of Georgia, stopping three times: once for gas and twice to let the engine cool down. When Benjamin pulled open the hood and poured water in the radiator, it sizzled like a steam locomotive.

It was near dark when they reached Leesville, South Carolina. They’d been on the road for twelve hours and had gone just under three hundred miles.

“I was thinking we’d be further along,” Benjamin sighed as he turned off the two-lane roadway and onto a smaller road.

He drove until he came to the Oconee River; that’s where they camped. Isaac caught two small crappie in the river, and Benjamin cooked them over an open campfire. They sat by the fire talking late into the night, and from time to time Benjamin heard Delia’s words tiptoeing through the conversation. It was a good omen, something that told him she hadn’t been left behind but was right there traveling with them.

When Isaac grew tired he climbed onto the seat of the truck and fell asleep. Benjamin moved the rocker aside and stretched out in the bed of the truck, his head resting on a bag of clothes. Even though there was no roof over their head, they slept soundly. The river seemed to have washed some of the shame from Benjamin’s skin.

The second day started with a breakfast of apples and bread; then Benjamin got back on the road and headed northeast. It was early afternoon when they crossed the border, and Benjamin turned to Isaac.

“We is now in North Carolina,” he said.

Isaac grinned. “I likes North Car-oh-lin-ah.”

“You don’t know nothing about it,” Benjamin laughed.

“Don’t matter,” Isaac replied. “I likes the sound a’ it—North Car-oh-lin-ah.” He repeated the name over and over again, each time stretching the words out a bit longer. “Why don’t we jest stop and live in North Car-oh-lin-ah?”

“It’s north, but it ain’t far enough north,” Benjamin said and kept driving.

At the end of the day when the truck was spitting steam and they were both road weary, Benjamin pulled off the road in Hollister.

“This still North Car-oh-lin-ah?” Isaac asked.

Benjamin nodded. “I’d hoped we be further along,” he said again.

Not far from where they’d left the road he found an area called Lightwood Knot Creek, and they made camp there. By the time they parked the truck it was late and too dark for fishing, so they ate bread and the pieces of smoked pork Bessie Mae had given them.

With the cost of gasoline, two loaves of bread, and the bottle of soda pop Isaac wanted, Benjamin was now down to thirteen dollars. That was money enough to get them to Maryland, maybe even Pennsylvania. Once they got that far, then he’d figure out what to do.





On the Third Day





The rain started about an hour before dawn. At first it was just a drizzle, but before the light of day settled in the sky it turned to a downpour. Benjamin had spent much of the night worrying about money and hadn’t slept well; now he was both weary and wet. He climbed into the cab of the truck and sat alongside Isaac.

“Maybe we ought to get an early start,” he said. “Could be we’ll run into a spot a’ sunshine and can pull over for a nap.”

Isaac yawned and gave a nod.

The rain continued all morning and was still coming down heavy in the late afternoon when they passed the Roanoke River and started across Virginia. With the roads slick and wipers that did little more than spread streaks of dirty water across the windshield, the going was slower than the previous two days. When the thought of using up gasoline to go thirty miles an hour picked at Benjamin’s mind, he turned to Isaac and said, “Take a look at that map ’n see if you can figure how many miles to Maryland.”

Isaac unfolded the map and started measuring with his thumb. His nose was buried in the map and he didn’t see the accident. Benjamin did.

The back tire of a car fifty, maybe sixty, yards in front of them exploded with a loud bang. The car spun sideways and skidded across the road. For a moment it balanced itself on the two right tires, then toppled over and rolled down the embankment. After three bounces it slammed into a stand of pine trees.

Benjamin gasped. “Holy shit!”

Bette Lee Crosby's Books