With my eyesight taken away and not a sound in the car but Lark’s soft breath and the hum of the wheels on the road beneath us, time seems to stretch out forever. More than once, I’m tempted to ask where we’re going, but I sensed she was serious about following her directions.
So I hold my tongue and do my best to ignore how uneasy this is making me.
We drive on and on, the road hum becoming a grumble as Lark turns off onto a gravel road. The terrain tips up sharply, but that doesn’t help me guess where we’re going. We’ve gone hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountain foothills lots of times, but I don’t think we’ve driven far enough to reach any of our favorite spots and the park roads close at sunset, anyway, which won’t be long now.
I felt sun shining through the car windows onto my lap for the first part of the drive, but now the inside of the car is cooling down.
Cooling, cooling, and the small amount of yellow light seeping through my blindfold fades to blue…
Lark cracks the windows, letting in a breeze and the calls of night insects, and still we drive. Up, up, up, turning three more times before she finally pulls to a stop and shuts off the engine.
I sag with relief and let out a long breath.
Finally. We’re here.
Wherever here is.
Chapter 11
Mason
I’m so curious it’s all I can do to keep my tongue still in my mouth. But I haven’t kept my peace all this time to fail Lark’s test now. I thread my fingers together in my lap, bite my tongue, and sit tight as she slams out of the driver’s side and fetches something from the trunk.
I turn toward my door, expecting her to open it, but nothing happens.
After several more minutes pass, I realize she must intend to leave me in the car for a while.
I sit in silence, my ears straining for a sign of where she went. Once or twice, I think I hear footsteps and the crack of a twig underfoot, but another thirty minutes—or ten or twenty, I have no idea—passes and the night goes quiet except for the buzzing of insects and the occasional call of a night bird.
My anxiety turns to irritation, and then back to anxiety again, as the smell of campfire smoke drifts to my nose.
Someone lit a fire.
Was it Lark? Or are there other people nearby?
I fidget in my seat, dying to get out and stretch my legs, my throat aching with the effort it’s taking to stay quiet. I want to shout her name more than I can remember wanting anything in a long, long time, but I force myself to keep my damned mouth shut.
More time passes, minutes that spin around and around my heart like fishing line pulled tight, cutting off my circulation. Time bleeds on until my stomach cramps with hunger and my muscles ache from sitting still for too long and my pulse races with a mixture of nerves, fear, and anger.
I’m angry now. So angry the back of my neck breaks out in a light sweat.
What the hell is she doing? What’s the point of this? What is forcing me to sit in a car for hours going to prove?
It proves you’re a fool, that’s what it proves.
I fight the urge to punch the dashboard, or reach up and yank the blindfold from my eyes. If I’m going to be a fool for anyone, it’s Lark.
Another half hour or more passes and my rage gradually fades away, replaced by resignation. And sadness.
She isn’t coming back.
If she were, surely she would have come to get me by now. It has to be after nine o’clock. She must have decided to leave me here all night. Maybe she had a friend, or one of her sisters, come pick her up farther down the mountain. Maybe she’s safe in Bliss River right now, laughing about the prank she pulled on the man who broke her heart.
I reach across the car, feeling for the steering wheel and the ignition.
She took the keys with her. So if she is gone, then I’m truly trapped here.
Trapped with no idea where I am. Hopefully my cell will have service and I’ll be able to GPS my way back to my hotel, but I know that’s not a given. Service is notoriously spotty in the foothills.
I rub a fist across my forehead, and sigh.
What should I do? Wait here until morning and hope she comes back to get me? Start walking and hope I run into someone willing to give a hitchhiker a ride in the middle of the night?
And what if this isn’t a prank, and Lark is out there somewhere, needing my help? What if she’s lost or hurt, and that’s the reason she hasn’t come back to the car?