The Healing by Linda Byler

Author:Linda Byler [Byler, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781680994025
Publisher: Good Books
Published: 2018-09-04T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

A WARM SPRING RAIN FELL FROM BUNCHED GRAY CLOUDS ON THE day of his departure, the windshield wipers swishing back and forth in hypnotic rhythm, the tires on the wet highway hissing beneath the fast-moving minivan on Route 695, on their way to Altoona to catch the 11:45 Amtrak.

The driver was chugging coffee from a stainless steel cup with a black lid, having been out till two o’clock in the morning. “Them Amish kids,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t be so bad if they were ready to go when I get there. I waited thirty-five minutes for Lee Beiler’s boy to leave his girlfriend’s house, which made me late to pick up the girls at Abner King’s. So then I had to listen to their yakking. Ah, it’s tough, hauling these kids late at night. Chewing gum stuck to the carpet. Half-empty soda cans. Always stop at Sheetz to load up on snacks and junk. Why can’t they date in their own county, I’d like to know?”

The cell phone rang, a startling outburst of sound that caused the driver to scrabble wildly in his right T-shirt pocket. The van lurched to the left as he switched hands on the steering wheel, but kept up his speed of 70 mph, the tires hissing, sending up a steady spray of water from the slick tarmac.

“Hello,” he answered, much too loudly.

An eighteen-wheeler loomed, sending a heavy mist across the windshield. The driver flipped the turn signals, pulled into the left lane, zoomed past the tractor trailer, a concrete barrier on the opposite side, talking into the phone pressed to his ear.

“Is that right? Yeah? Well, I’ll have to check my book, but I think next Wednesday is free. What time? You said nine? Oh, eight thirty. Is that the appointment or the time you want me to pick you up? Okey dokey. Righto. See you then, Henry. No problem.”

The cell phone was dropped back into the pocket, the memo book held to the steering wheel, a pen procured to jot down the time.

John breathed a sigh of relief when the memo book was replaced, the traffic thinned, and the concrete barrier came to an end. To be wedged between a large truck and a wall of concrete, moving so fast in a steady downpour, made John break out in a cold sweat. He found himself breathing hard, a tic beginning in his right eye. He grasped one hand with the other to still the tremor that began, slightly at first, then more powerfully until he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from clacking.

He breathed deeply, then again. He glanced at his mother, seated beside him, unaware of anything amiss, calmly watching the gray, soaked countryside move past the window. His father sat in the front seat, his straw hat laid beside him, his seat belt fastened, relaxed, smiling.

John breathed in, held the breath deeply, then let it out, feeling his stomach contract, loosen.

They had decided to accompany him, afraid a bout of brain fog would impede his journey to Kentucky.

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