Page 145 of Life and Death

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Charlie ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so flustered.

“Will you kids be out super late?”

I looked at her.

“No, we’ll be reasonable.”

“Don’t wait up, though,” I added.

I handed her coat to her and then held the door. As she passed, Charlie gave me a wide-eyed look. I shrugged my shoulders and raised my eyebrows. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky, either.

I followed her out onto the porch, then stopped dead.

There, behind my truck, was a monster Jeep. Its tires were as high as my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and taillights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.

Charlie let out a low whistle. “Wear your seat belts.”

I went to the driver’s side to get the door for Edythe. She was inside in one efficient little leap, though I was glad we were on the far side of the Jeep from Charlie, because it didn’t look entirely natural. I went to my side and climbed gracelessly into my seat. She had the engine running now, and I recognized the roar that had surprised me earlier. It wasn’t as loud as my truck, but it sounded a lot more brawny.

Out of habit—she wasn’t going to start driving until I was buckled in—I reached for my seat belt.

“What—er—what is all this? How do I . . . ?”

“Off-roading harness,” she explained.

“Um.”

I tried to find all the right connectors, but it wasn’t going too fast. And then her hands were there, flashing around at a barely visible speed, and gone again. I was glad the rain was too thick to see Charlie clearly on the porch, because that meant he couldn’t see me clearly, either.

“Er, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I knew better than to ask if she was going to put her own harness on.

She pulled away from the house.

“This is a . . . um . . . large Jeep you have.”

“It’s Eleanor’s. She let me borrow it so we wouldn’t have to run the whole way.”

“Where do you keep this thing?”

“We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage.”

Suddenly her first answer sank in.

“Wait. Run thewholeway? As in, we’re still going to run part of the way?” I demanded.

She pursed her lips like she was trying not to smile. “You’re not going to run.”

I groaned. “I’m going to puke in front of your family.”

“Keep your eyes closed, you’ll be fine.”

I shook my head, sighed, then reached over and took her hand. “Hi. I missed you.”