I will tell you about the last few days and perhaps you will understand.
Wednesday night we stopped at a motel with only minutes left till sunset. I pulled into the carpark and turned off the engine and sat there a moment in the quiet. A red neon sign and a single streetlight shone weak over the empty lot, their colors reflected in a dozen dark windows. I looked back down the road for any sign of pursuit but there was nothing to be seen. Pages of discarded newspaper dancing in the wind were all that moved.
I touched my daughters shoulder to rouse her and she woke with a start, eyes wide and body rigid in the passenger seat.
"It's okay honey." I took her hands and met her gaze. "Lilly. It's okay, we're safe. It hasn't found us. Just time to stop for the night."
She nodded and when she was calm I got out and went to ask for two rooms. A white haired man no younger than 70 was at the desk reading a tattered novel with the cover missing. He took the name I gave him and payment without so much as a word in reply and I accepted the keys and returned to the car. The light was fading. Lilly stood beside the vehicle waiting for my return, coat zipped tight to her neck and hands tucked into cuffs. We took a case each from the trunk with clothes and essentials and carried them to our rooms.
The temperature had dropped again and our breath clouded in the cold air. The glow of the sunset and the streetlight and the neon sign cast our shadows in triplicate, dark shapes come alive at our heels like tethered ghosts.
Inside we ate sandwiches and chips bought at a gas station then Lilly showered and dressed for bed. She had been quiet since I'd woken her and I knew she was thinking of something to ask me and I knew what it would be.
"Can we call mom yet?" her words hesitant, hopeful.
"I told you already sweetheart. What did I say?"
"I don't know."
"Yes you do. Come on Lilly. I told you it would be weeks till we could call her, didn't I? It's only been a week. I'll tell you when it's time, alright?"
She didn't answer just looked down and away, biting her fingernails as if I hadn't asked her to stop it a thousand times. I poured her drink and handed it to her and when she finished I took away the glass and washed it in the bathroom sink. She stayed silent as I finished repacking her bag for the morning.
"Are you angry with me?" she finally asked in a small voice. I turned and saw she was fighting back tears, saw them welling in her water blue eyes.
"No, no of course not." my own voice cracked at that sight of her, my girl, 7 years old and this was her life but I did not know how to change it for the better. "I just need some sleep is all sweetie, okay? We both do."
I took a seat beside her on the bed and put an arm around her and she pushed in close against my chest. I wanted to say something more, anything more but I couldn't find the words.
"Dad?"
"What's wrong honey?"
"Can you stay in my room tonight, please? I'm scared."
"You know I can't honey. I'm sorry. I'll stay until you are asleep, okay?"
A disappointed sigh and a muffled "okay."
A few minutes later I felt her drift off, breathing grown heavy and slow, her grasp on my shirt become only a touch. I heard a car approaching and tensed but it passed by without slowing, the sound receding into the distance until it was only in my imagination. I slid from the bed and tucked her in, brushed her hair from her face then turned down the light and gathered my things.
