A Thousand Miles

Part 14

Shane picked up the remote and clicked off the DVD player as the closing credits of the show began to roll, then he glanced at his dad. The older man raised a hand and Shane leaned in close to the hospital bed to take it.

Good job, Son.

Those were the words his dad wanted to say. The same words he longed to hear.

His constant wish as a kid had been for life to be different, to have a real home somewhere permanent. But now, he'd give just about anything to be sitting beside his father in the cramped little banquette inside the RV, laboring over some equation or Latin passage, then to get it suddenly and hear his father say: Good job, Son.

Though he sat here, right beside him, Shane missed his dad.

"Jo....Jo...." His father raised his head to push the syllable out then connect it with the next one. "Lynn." He laid his head back on the pillow as if the effort of uttering that one word exhausted him.

Shane smiled. "She's invited me to meet her in Fredericksburg this afternoon. She wants to introduce me to her grandmother."

"You..." Shane's dad raised a trembling pointed finger at him. "...like...her?"

Shane smiled a little and nodded.

"She...?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm overstating it a little. It's her grandmother's eightieth birthday party. And Curtis and Mel are going along, too."

One side of his father's mouth lifted.

"OK, Mr. Quinlan, are you ready—Oh, Mr. Shane. I didn't know you were still here." Rosa Gonzales stopped abruptly in the middle of the room and blinked at him.

"Ready for what?"

"Your dad likes me to read to him in the afternoon."

Shane nodded and gave her a smile. "That's good of you, Rosa. Thank you."

"Oh." She drew the syllable out dismissively. "I don't mind. It's good for me, too."

All the years they'd spent on the road, they'd never owned a T.V. Taking turns reading to each other was how they occupied their evening hours after they'd parked somewhere for the night. His dad had a knack for finding the used book stores or a yard sale wherever they landed, and he'd always dig up some treasure for them to read together.

"I like to read." The sound of Rosa's voice chased the memory away.

"What are you reading today?"

"What we always read. The Bible."

"The Bible?" Shane looked over at his dad, the revelation sending a jolt of astonishment through him.

"Psalms." Rosa clarified.

"And you get the idea that he's OK with that?"

Shane instantly regretted the sharp tone of his voice, especially after Rosa's distressed expression registered. But the Bible and God, those things had been left behind with everything else after his mother died. Shane could vaguely remember attending church and Sunday school as a little kid. He remembered being baptized in the year before his mother died. Mostly he remembered pleading with God to heal her, to let her stay with them longer. But after the cancer finally took her, his dad had thrown every Bible they owned into the garbage. Then he'd sold everything, bought the RV, and hit the road. They never set foot inside a church again.

"Yes." Rosa answered.

"But see," Shane took a deep breath to control the indignation rising up inside at the audacity of this woman. "He doesn't read the Bible, or go to church. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even believe there's a God. I really don't think—"

With a remarkable force, his dad's hand came down on his arm, as if to silence him.

Rosa's eyes widened and she gasped. Then she crossed herself. "He listens, Mr. Shane." She laid a hand on his dad's blanket-covered legs and held her Bible close to her chest, as if to shield herself from his blasphemy. "He listens, and sometimes he cries."