A Song for the Road by Kathleen Basi

Author:Kathleen Basi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

* * *

The trail unfolded beneath Miriam’s feet. It was uncannily quiet, with only the crickets and native grasses and trees and the sky for company. Beautiful, but a little lonely.

“Happy,” Brad had said. “You should let yourself be happy.”

She’d be satisfied with much less. She’d be content to walk with her head held high and her heart unfettered again.

How did one simply choose to be happy?

One foot in front of the other. Her feet hurt. Talia’s artistically beat-up Mary Poppins boots were not designed for long walks.

She spotted the twin obelisks marking the end of the bridge long before she reached them. They were built of blond stone, wide at the base, tapering toward the sky, with veins of charcoal running through them. As she passed between the towers, she understood why Blaise had chosen this out-of-the-way, uninspiring-sounding landmark as a destination for the trip. The High Trestle Trail Bridge really was a work of art. Massive rust-colored square frames, angled in a radial pattern, dotted the crossing and created a tunnel effect in the center of the bridge. These must be the “cribbings” Blaise had mentioned.

A bicycle bell rang behind them. “On your left!”

Miriam hugged the rail. The man passed, followed by a woman with a toddler on a seat behind her. “Beautiful day!” she said.

And it was. Miriam glanced over her shoulder. It was a long way down—and a long way across. The wind kept blowing her hair in her face, no matter how many times she tucked it behind her ears. She pulled out her phone to take a pano of the river bottoms, just beginning to emerge from the spring rise. Patches of grass and black soil peeked from the water. Birds circled low, dipping in to grab dinner. So peaceful. So quiet.

The wind grabbed the tassels of Miriam’s scarf-headband and slapped her across the face with them. Miriam chuckled and set off again, now at a leisurely amble. As she walked, she sent the photo to Dicey. Her coiled insides were finally beginning to relax.

On the far side of the cribbings, the bridge deck widened to accommodate twin viewing platforms. She stopped there and shouldered out of the guitar case, letting it rest against the rail as she took in the scenery. Momentarily her phone buzzed. Wow, Dicey said. Wish I could’ve made it.

Miriam crossed her hands on opposite arms, rubbing them for warmth. It was chilly here, much chillier than May in Atlanta, but not as cold as May in the Detroit of her childhood.

When she’d had her fill, she unzipped the guitar case and pulled it out, slipping the strap over her neck and checking the tuning. Then she looked around. There really wasn’t anywhere to sit. She hoisted herself onto the railing in the corner of the overlook platform, wrapping her feet around the bars for stability.

She closed her eyes, searching the vaults of her memory, and began playing softly, then humming “Georgia on My Mind.” How many times had she

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