Page 6 of Veiled Amor

And an extra hot shower.

They were the only things Lucia had on her mind while she drove for six more hours that day.

She drove until she was too exhausted, so she booked a motel. As soon as she washed the road grime away in the weak shower, she fell into asleep on top of the bed. Waking after 2 a.m., shivering and dying of hunger. After pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie, she raided the vending machine of all their crackers and chips. A bed picnic was what she needed.

Lucia had been unaware of how lonely yet fulfilling running away would feel.

For the first time in years, her possibilities were endless.

And it felt good.

She didn’t quit traveling for four days. Putting over a thousand miles between her went some way to easing her mind.

In truth, she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Would she be fleeing for the rest of her life?

On the fifth day, Lucia only stopped that night to refuel and get something to eat and she found a diner after she’d filled up with gas.

“What can I get you, honey?”

“The soup and sandwich look good. And an ice tea, unsweetened if you have it, please.”

“Do you want fries or homemade chips?”

“Salt and malt vinegar chips if you have them.”

“You got it, won’t be long, honey.” The woman smiled and trudged back to the kitchen. She didn’t take notice of the eight other people in the diner while she sipped on tea and fed the food into her hungry belly. Once again, she took out her phone.

Scared to switch it on.

She wouldn’t put it past her father to have a tracking app or chip in the sim card. Not as though he’d given her reason to trust him, ever.

The same for her credit cards. She had them in her purse but had been using the cash she’d squirrelled away. Lucia was her father’s daughter, even if he didn’t think she had a brain in her head, because she’d always been planning on fleeing. She was hesitant to dip into the inheritance left by her grandmother, so sure her father would trace her through the bank account.

Her aim now was to settle for a month or two. To find a job and restock her savings. She didn’t need much. She was a child of privilege, but she didn’t have a spoiled mentality.

On the sixth day, a glass of diet lemonade and a half-eaten toasted sandwich in front of her, the same diner lady refilled the coffee and asked, “who is it you’re running from, honey?”

Lucia’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

The diner lady smiled and nodded to the cell phone in Lucia’s hand. “You look at that like you want someone to climb out of it. Seen it repeatedly in a place like this where people pass through. You all have the look of someone who is hiding.”

“Would you believe an overbearing father who wanted to marry me off?”

The diner lady clicked her tongue. “I had one of those myself. Oh, a long time ago now. I left home and didn’t look back. I married my Cliff. Been grumpily married for thirty years now.”

“Do you regret running away?”

“Not for a day. He missed out on his grandbabies. That’s on him because he’s too stubborn to say sorry. Are you in danger, honey?”

“No,” lied Lucia with a smile, and the diner lady went on down the row of booths with her coffeepot.

She didn’t know what her father would do.

Or how many men he might send looking for her.

Was she in danger? Probably. It didn’t mean he’d lift a hand to her. Her father had darker ways of punishment than to leave a bruise.