“Are you all right back there, Kathleen?” Martha glanced in the mirror and Kathleen produced her most reassuring smile.
“Never better.”
She’d been a great deal better, but Martha was already anxious enough and to admit how she felt would stimulate a flow of follow-up questions that she wasn’t able to answer. She’d never been a person who shared each and every feeling. And how could she share something she didn’t understand herself?
Her dizzy spell had shaken her up. What if that had been it? She would have died not knowing what was in those letters. And perhaps that would have been a good thing. What if the contents upset her? The events of that summer had shaped her. She’d made the hardest decision of her life and she’d believed, truly, that she’d done the right thing.
But what if those letters told her otherwise? Without opening them, she had no way of knowing.
She should have destroyed them. If something happened to her on this trip, someone else would open them.
She thought about it. Hands tearing through sealed envelopes. Curiosity. Shock, maybe. Revelations. Those hands would probably belong to Liza, who would never dream of disposing of letters without first reading them in case they contained something important. It w
ouldn’t sit well with her sense of responsibility.
The secrets of Kathleen’s past would be exposed in a way she couldn’t control. They would reveal a picture she couldn’t yet see. And she knew that no matter what they said, those letters would only be part of the story.
Kathleen knew the beginning of the story, but not the end. There could have been any number of outcomes and the only way to find out was to open those letters.
The thought made her physically uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat.
Brian was the only person who knew the truth. He was the only person she’d shared everything with, and even then it had taken time and gentle coaxing.
Her chest ached. How she missed him. His wry sense of humor. His quiet way, and his wise counsel. He’d been gone for five years and yet she still found herself turning to talk to him in the night.
She’d never fully shared herself with anyone except Brian. Not even with Liza. She’d protected herself for so long it had proved an impossible habit to break.
Until now.
She felt a twinge of guilt that she’d shared more of her past with Martha than she had with her own daughter.
In front of her Martha and Josh were engaged in conversation about where they should stop for lunch and what they should eat.
“Catfish and crispy tater tots,” Josh said and Martha pulled a face.
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s good old Oklahoma food. Cover the fish in cornmeal, fry it. Delicious.”
Martha shook her head. “Not convinced. Not a big fish lover to be honest. And a kitty-fish doesn’t tempt me to change my mind.”
“How about onion burger? They used onions to bulk out the meat during the Great Depression and their attempts at economizing led to the most delicious burger.”
“That sounds better than catfish.”
“I’ll order catfish and you can try it. You should try everything once.”
“That’s what I thought about marriage and look how that turned out.”
“You’re also driving Route 66 for the first time and that’s turning out okay, isn’t it?”
Kathleen saw Martha smile at him.
After the drama of the night before, they’d developed an easy camaraderie. It seemed that her funny turn had forced them together in a way she’d failed to manage with her heavy-handed attempts at matchmaking.
Oh how well she remembered those days of flirtatious looks, the air heavy with sexual tension and anticipation.
It cheered her to think that although her own life might be a tangled mess, at least Martha’s was looking hopeful.