When we let go

Maddie (Chapter 5)

Miranda's plan to drive down the hill to Fresno for some shopping and a movie was perfect. I was thankful for a friend, and as we slid into the low seats of my car, I grinned over at her. Miranda had a lovely innocence about her—part of it was her youth. At six years my junior, she still seemed fresh and young, and the long blond ponytail and complete lack of makeup added to that image. Her dark-edged glasses framed her pretty blue eyes and her open smile had made me like her immediately when we'd met.

I drove the car down the narrow winding road out of Kings Grove, enjoying the way it felt to harness some kind of power that I could hold onto.

"Slow down, Speed Racer," Miranda said, gripping the sides of her seat as we roared around a curve.

I tapped the brakes. "Sorry. I like the speed."

"I can see that," she grinned at me. "I've always been a little scared of this road."

"But you grew up on this road!"

"No. I grew up in Kings Grove. And I like staying up there. Or being down in the valley. I don't like the in-between parts."

I took the next few curves a little less aggressively and Miranda stopped clawing the leather.

"I didn't figure you for a crazy driver," she said, looking at me with wide blue eyes.

"I'm not. I'm a good driver. Just a little bit aggressive, I guess. I learned to drive on Southern California freeways and then out at the track at Buttonwillow." I flashed her a grin.

"Buttonwillow?"

"The racetrack. Jack enrolled me in some driving courses when he bought me this car."

"Like defensive driving?"

"Not exactly. It was a 'performance driving clinic.' I learned how to control a skid, brake correctly, and how to ride a corner. Stuff like that."

"You're a race car driver?"

"No, I'm a woman who can handle a V8 with five hundred and fifty horses." I downshifted around a curve, neatly making my point.

"Why'd Jack care if you could drive?" Miranda asked.

"It was part of Jack's effort to mold me into the perfect woman." I glanced at Miranda. Jack was generally an off-limits topic, even for Miranda.

"I see. What exactly did that involve?"

I sighed. "Lots of little things, but in the end, he must have missed some crucial element." The valley rolled out before us, dusty brown hilltops with waves of dark green orchards curled between them.

"What do you mean?"

"If I'd been a success, he wouldn't have had to bring in a newer model."

"He cheated?"

"Spectacularly."

Miranda didn't press, but I could feel her buzzing with the effort of holding the question back.

"We moved up here to build our dream house. He parked me up here full time and went back and forth to San Diego to manage his business down there. He was supposedly moving his office to Fresno. He was going to specialize in vacation properties, cut down his hours. We were supposed to live up here and raise a family in the clean air."

"Sounds reasonable," Miranda said.

"I was to stay here and supervise the building. Because I'm such an expert at that."

"Right."

"And I did. Despite how bored I was. No lunches with friends, no shopping on Coronado and no general San Diego wonderfulness. Instead I had an exciting daily routine of staring at trees and missing my old life. I got sick of Kings Grove."