She didn’t know exactly what he meant, but she didn’t care either. She gave him a quick hug and found her brother leaning againstatree.
“I love you, stay safe,”shesaid.
“Bye, babe,” he said before returning his gaze tothesky.
She shoved her stuff back into the bus and hopped into the driver’s seat. After consulting their tattered map of the US, she turned onto the highway and headed back toward theborder.
* * *
After drivinga night and day with little sleep, she reached the farm. As she pulled alongside the barn, Mr. Grant stepped out. He swiped a dirty hand over his forehead beforeapproaching.
She hopped out ofthebus.
“Where’s Greg?” sheasked.
“I had a feeling you’dbeback.”
“I need toseehim.”
“I won’t have some hippie girl running around breaking my son’s heart. Now you go on. Go back to wherever you’ve come from,” Greg’sdadsaid.
“No,” she said defiantly. “I’m not leaving until I talktohim.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “He’s probably inhisroom.”
“In the middle of the day?” sheasked.
“Yeah. You messed him upsomethinggood.”
“Ididn’t—”
“Save your whining and pleading for him. It’s wasted on me,”hesaid.
She narrowed her gaze as she stomped past him. He didn’t know a dammed thing about their love. Of course Greg would be happy toseeher.
When she reached the front door, she almost just opened it and walked in. But she wasn’t living there anymore, so she knockedinstead.
Betty answered the door. Her eyeswentwide.
“Well aren’t you a welcome sight,”shesaid.
Good, at least someone wanted toseeher.
“Hi, Mrs. Grant,” she said. “IsGreghere?”
“You can call me Betty, dear. Nothing’s changed in thatregard.”
Daisy frowned. If that hadn’t changed, then what had? She was hinting atsomething.
Betty stepped back to allow hertopass.
“Greg’s not feeling so well these days,” Betty said. “He’sresting.”
“Is he sick?” Daisyasked.
“He’s sick all right, but you can’t cure what he’s got with a bowl of chicken soup. Trust me, I’vetried.”
“They why ishesick?”
