The End of the Rainbow (Hudson 4)

For a moment I forgot where I was and what we had done. I lay there looking up, thinking and thinking, and then I turned and saw Harley had already risen and was in the bathroom shaving. He stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist and laughed at me.

"You okay?"

"I don't know. How far did we get?"

"About a hundred and twenty miles, at most," he said. "We've got a big day ahead of us. It's about another three hundred and fifty miles."

I groaned and sat up. My inner thighs ached a little.

"Shower works, but you've got to play with the hot and cold even after you've stepped under it if someone else along the row here turns on theirs. I think. You get yourself up and started. and I'll do some reconnaissance and find us a decent place to have breakfast.'"

"Okay," I said and rose, feeling very groggy.

After my shower, I woke up. I ran a brush through my hair and got dressed quickly, glancing at my watch and realizing that hours ago. Mommy and Daddy had discovered my note. I didn't want to think about it. but I was sure by now Uncle Roy had been called and they were all meeting and discussing what to do. Harley came in as I was putting on my sneakers.

"We'll have to go about ten miles," he said. "No sense in coming back here."

"Who'd want to?" I complained. He laughed.

"They ought to charge less when you have to share the room with roaches."

"Roaches?" I glanced around and then quickly picked up my bag and stepped out of the room.

I put on my helmet and we started away. What he had found was a roadside diner. Surprisingly. I was very hungry and ordered juice, blueberry pancakes and coffee. He just had some juice and cold cereal.

"I travel better on a light stomach." he explained.

"Does your father know when to expect us?" I asked him.

"Yeah. I gave him a good idea." He took out his map and showed me the remainder of the route we were going to take. Everywhere he could, he chose secondary roads. "We'll be less obvious."

"Why do you think we need to be?" I asked. He smiled.

"You don't believe for one moment that your father and Roy haven't called the police, do you?"

"The police?"

"Sure."

"Does Roy know where we're going?"

"No, but they'll get a general alert or something going in every direction. Trust me," he said as if he had been a fugitive most of his life. "But don't worry about it," he assured me. "We'll get there."

"Did your father tell you much more about himself?""

"He told me he's a house painter and he's always been pretty busy. He said he has a woman living with him. Her name is Suze and she's Haitian. I guess he wanted me to know all that in case we arrived before he got home from work.

"The village is quite small, but he said we couldn't miss his house if we tried. It's an octagon, built back in 1869, a landmark there."

"Really?" After a beat I said. "What's an octagon house?"

He smiled and took out a pen. Then he spread a napkin between us on the table and drew a rough outline.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, an eight-sided house. His is two-story. They're very rare. Only a few thousand were originally built, mostly in New York. Massachusetts and the Midwest."

"You know so much about architecture. Harley. You've just got to do something with it and not waste your talent."

He shrugged.