Beneath Wandering Stars by Cowles Ashlee;

Author:Cowles, Ashlee;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2016-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

“Café con leche,” I groan to the barista behind the counter. He responds to my demand for this last of the legal stimulants with a cocked eyebrow and a knowing smirk. I’m not hung over, but I didn’t get much sleep, which means I feel (and look) like Death.

Katja throws back her espresso. “What time are you hitting the road?”

“I need to take the first bus out or I’ll lose an entire day of walking,” I say, stirring three packets of raw sugar into my coffee. I can already tell it’s going to be a three-packet kind of day.

Pilgrim purists that they are, my friends will continue on foot, which means we won’t cross paths again until Germany. After we finish our coffees, we say our auf wiedersehens. Jens turns about six shades of pink when I wish him good luck figuring out if he has “the call,” before casually suggesting that he give me a ring if he ends up choosing girls over God.

Apparently Death-Warmed-Over Gabi is also Extra-Bold, No-Filter Gabi.

Speaking of higher authorities, when I board the bus, my father calls. I hesitate to answer. He hasn’t called me once, but I can’t imagine Dad would want to chat unless it was about something serious. That leaves two options: really good news or really bad news. I’d rather choose Door Number Three: not knowing either way. The other paths are too final.

As the phone vibrates in my hand, a lump forms in my throat. My eyes fix on the blur of the passing scenery, which is orange, dusty, and flat.

The dreaded meseta.

I answer on the final ring. “Hi, Dad. What’s up? Has Lucas improved?”

My chipper words pour out like a tidal wave of optimism I have yet to feel.

“Nada, Gabi. No changes.”

Dad’s frigid words harden into an uncomfortable silence. The acidic coffee sloshing around my empty stomach starts to eat it. That lump is now stuck, as though I inhaled a handful of the copper dirt lining the camino. It feels like every swallow for the rest of my life will be like forcing down a mouthful of saltine crackers without any water.

“Dad, I never meant to—”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now, Gabriela. You are not my main concern. Not when we have more important matters to discuss.”

“What happened?” My question comes out as a croak. If Dad isn’t calling to chew me out for disobeying direct orders yet again, that means a major decision is about to be made, and Mom is too torn up to dial the phone.

I didn’t want to know the outcome, but I already do. The words slam against me like a blow to the head: life support. “How much longer . . . .”

“His condition is worsening. The doctors think Lucas may be slipping into a vegetative state.” My father’s voice cracks. I can practically hear the tears sliding down his face. “Once that happens, there’s only a slight chance he’ll come out of it. And if I have to deploy suddenly, I can’t leave your mother to deal with this alone.

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