Becoming Grey: Episode 24

Chapter 24 

August 20, 2021 

Callie was trying to decide whether an entire toolbox counted as necessary luggage when Stuart appeared in her doorway and asked her to come downstairs. She had packed the tools individually, unpacked them because she could not remember whether she had included the wire cutters, and was now considering putting the whole case in the car. There would be something to assemble in California. There would certainly be something to fix. Unfortunately, there were also clothes, books, a small child’s considerable possessions, and the limits imposed by the back of a vehicle. She looked at the open case, then at her father. “If this is another question about the first hotel, I sent you the confirmation.” 

“It isn’t about the hotel.” He leaned against the doorframe, keeping one hand in his pocket. “Bring your shoes.” 

Callie glanced toward the window. She could see the corner of the garage roof, the fence, and sunlight on the grass, but nothing that explained his expression. “Did something happen to the car?” 

“Come down and find out.” Stuart pushed away from the doorway before she could ask another question. His footsteps went steadily down the stairs while Callie found her shoes beneath the bed, where they had somehow remained despite her having checked that space three times. He and Sally had told her she could take the older family car to California. For the past week, Stuart had been unusually interested in getting it ready, discussing tires and an appointment at Ridgemont Auto with the solemnity other people reserved for surgery. Callie had assumed he wanted one more inspection before she put Juna in it and drove west. Now she wondered whether the inspection had found something neither of them wanted to tell her. 

Sally was at the foot of the stairs with Juna on her hip. Hannah stood beside the front door holding a folded sheet of paper, and both of them looked at Callie as she came down. Juna was eating a cracker, apparently the only person not involved in whatever had happened. Callie stopped on the last step and examined their faces. “Okay. What?” 

“We have something for you,” Sally said. She shifted Juna higher on her hip while Stuart came out of the kitchen carrying a small envelope. “Before you start worrying, nothing’s wrong.” 

“That’s what people say when they’re about to explain what’s wrong.” Callie accepted the envelope and felt something hard move inside it. The shape was immediately recognizable. She looked at Stuart, who had begun smiling despite an obvious effort not to. “Dad.” 

“Open it, kiddo.” 

She tipped the contents into her palm. A Toyota key fob and a second key slid out, attached to a small ring. There was no paper explaining a service appointment. There was no familiar worn plastic around the key she had been expecting to use tomorrow. Callie turned the fob over and found the logo beneath her thumb. Behind Sally, Hannah had pressed her lips together as though she was trying to keep a comment contained. Callie looked between them. “What did you do?” 

“Bought you a car,” Stuart said. He opened the front door and stepped aside. “You should probably see it before you decide you’re angry with us.” 

The RAV4 was parked where Sally usually left her car. Its black paint caught the afternoon light, reflecting the garage, a slice of sky, and Callie herself as she came down the steps. The rear windows were dark, and the tires looked untouched. A man stood near the passenger door with his hands in the pockets of his work pants. Callie recognized Dave Larkin from Ridgemont Auto before she reached the driveway. He had been shopping at Grey’s for as long as she could remember, usually on Thursdays, and had once spent an entire checkout transaction explaining why he would not buy the store-brand coffee even when she showed him the price difference. His parents bought it, which he insisted was their own business. 

“Hi, Callie,” he said. His gaze dropped to the keys in her hand. “Your dad told me you’d have questions.” 

“He was being optimistic.” She stopped beside the front wheel and looked back at her parents. “This isn’t the car I’m taking.” 

“It is now,” Sally said. She set Juna down and kept hold of her hand. “A Toyota RAV4. It’s a 2020, but it hasn’t belonged to another family. Dave found it for us.” 

Callie walked a little farther along the side, seeing herself stretch across the black door. Through the front window she could make out the broad center screen, the stitching on the seats, and protective material that had not yet been removed from one small part of the console. This was not a vehicle somebody had traded in after getting tired of it. She knew roughly what new cars cost. She had looked at enough listings over the summer to know what vehicles she would not be considering, and she had learned to close the ones that began with a payment calculated over more years than she wanted to think about. “Mom, this is too much.” 

“We got a very good deal,” Sally said. She sounded pleased in a way Callie recognized from every time a sale had coincided with a coupon. “Come look inside.” 

“A good deal on something this expensive is still expensive.” Callie pressed the button on the fob without meaning to, and the car answered with a quiet click. Juna immediately moved toward the rear door. Sally caught her gently by the shoulder while Callie stared at the keys. “What’s the payment? What did you put down?” 

“There isn’t a payment,” Stuart said. He came to stand beside her rather than leaving her to argue across the driveway. “We paid for it. It’s yours.” 

Callie turned toward him. He had the same steady expression he used when giving an employee an answer they needed to trust. Sally was looking at her with affection and a certain amount of patience. They had planned this. There had been conversations she had not heard, paperwork she had not seen, and money committed while she sat upstairs comparing grocery estimates for an apartment neither of them would be living in. She looked at the vehicle again and could already picture Juna asleep in the back, boxes fitted behind her, a preschool pickup made without wondering whether a noise under the hood required another appointment. The relief arrived so quickly that she felt ashamed of it. “You’re already helping with everything,” she said. “You didn’t need to do this too.” 

“We wanted you to have something dependable,” Stuart replied. He rested his hand on the edge of the open driver’s door. “You’re going a long way with Juna. We had the money to do it, and Dave gave us a chance to do it properly.” 

Dave nodded toward the RAV4. “This one came through an industry auction. Inventory that had been held up, a couple of faults that needed sorting, and some cosmetic work. It was cheaper to move it through that channel than keep trying to place it.” He watched Callie’s eyes go toward the front of the vehicle. “Nothing wrong with the structure. We repaired what needed repairing, checked it over, and drove it. I have the records for you.” 

“What faults?” Callie asked. She had reached the point where refusing to inspect it seemed as foolish as accepting it without asking anything. Dave opened the folder he had brought and showed her the short work order. He explained the affected components and the replacement parts, then turned to the inspection sheet. Callie followed the entries with her finger. There were dates, mileage, and answers she could understand, which helped more than another assurance that everything was fine. When he finished, she looked up at him. “You got it for less than a dealer would sell it for.” 

“Quite a bit less.” Dave closed the folder. “And I didn’t see a reason to charge your parents as though I hadn’t.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Callie knew she had already said the same thing to her father, and that repeating it did not make it more useful. Dave was looking toward Juna, who had started patting the rear door with her free hand. She wanted to know why they were all standing beside a car nobody would let her enter. “Really. Thank you.” 

“My folks bought groceries from your grandfather. I buy them from your dad. You’ve been telling me where the coffee is since you were barely tall enough to point over the counter.” His mouth lifted at one corner. “I know you’re going to school with a little girl to look after. If I can help get you into something reliable, I’m going to.” 

Callie looked down at the work order before her eyes could embarrass her. She had grown up hearing people talk to her parents that way, referring to years and favors and ordinary things remembered long after the receipt had been thrown away. She had not understood how much of it included her until she found herself standing in the driveway with a stranger who was not a stranger at all. Dave had seen Juna sitting near the office with a coloring book. He had asked Callie about school while she scanned his groceries. Apparently those small encounters had added up to something he considered worth doing. She put the folder against her chest and thanked him again, this time without trying to attach an objection. 

“Can I sit?” Juna asked. She pulled at Sally’s hand and pointed to the dark window. “In my car?” 

Hannah gave a short laugh. “Well, that settled ownership.” She opened the rear door and leaned in to look. “Your seat isn’t here yet, Junebug. You can inspect it while we’re parked.” 

Sally lifted Juna onto the rear seat and stood in the doorway beside her. Juna immediately claimed the window and began testing the distance between herself and the back of the front seat. Callie watched her for a moment, then turned when Hannah held out the folded paper. It was the vehicle information sheet she had been carrying since the stairs. Hannah had made a small mark beside one feature, though Callie could not tell why. “You knew,” Callie said. 

“Obviously.” Hannah passed her the sheet. “You kept asking where Dad was. Somebody had to be convincing.” 

“You said he was looking at lawn mower parts.” 

“He looks at lawn mower parts all the time. I selected a believable category.” Hannah pushed her hair behind her ear and looked at the car. “I helped with it too.” 

Callie glanced down at the sheet. “You helped pick it?” 

“That too.” Hannah’s fingers closed around the bottom edge of the paper before she let go of it. “I put a thousand dollars toward it.” 

For a moment Callie thought she had misheard. Hannah did not earn an adult salary. She worked shifts at Grey’s, saved money, and occasionally spent several days considering whether a game was worth full price. A thousand dollars was not an incidental contribution she could have made without noticing. Callie turned fully toward her. “Hannah. You can’t spend that on me.” 

“Already did.” Hannah lifted her chin, defensive now in exactly the way Callie had seen her become when a decision was being taken away from her. “It was my savings. From working. All of it.” 

“That’s why you should keep it.” Callie lowered her voice, aware of her parents nearby and Juna investigating the seat behind them. “You worked for that. You have things you want.” 

“I wanted to do this.” Hannah glanced at Stuart, then back at Callie, and her expression sharpened. “You’re doing exactly what I said you’d do. You think because Mom and Dad bought it, they’re saying you can’t manage. They’re not. And it’s not just them.” 

Callie opened her mouth and found nothing she could honestly deny. She had been considering the apartment, the preschool place, the classes she had chosen, and the money she would have to make last. Accepting the older car had seemed manageable because it already existed in the family and she could imagine returning it someday. This one had been bought for her, with Hannah’s savings included in the price. She could not put it back without making a decision about what all three of them were allowed to give. “I don’t want you to lose everything you saved because I’m leaving,” she said. 

“Then don’t make it something I lost.” Hannah’s voice grew quieter. “I put it in for you and Juna. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to help you go.” She looked at the keys still lying open in Callie’s palm. “So you have to accept it. You don’t get to keep saying Mom and Dad did too much and forget I did it too.” 

There was no way to make Hannah’s contribution small enough to dismiss, and Callie realized that her sister had known that before she handed the money over. She had been missing Callie for two weeks before Callie had even left, walking into the room across the hall and finding fewer things there each time. Now she was standing in the driveway insisting that part of the car taking her away belonged to an effort she had chosen to make. Callie closed her fingers around the keys and reached for her. Hannah held herself stiffly for half a second, then folded into the hug with her face turned against Callie’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Callie said. Her throat tightened enough that she had to stop before adding anything else. 

“You’re welcome.” Hannah’s words were muffled by Callie’s shirt. She stayed there another moment before stepping back and rubbing at her cheek. “Also, I still want my charging cable.” 

Callie laughed, though it caught awkwardly on the way out. “It’s on the desk. I left it for you.” She looked toward Sally and Stuart, who had given them enough space without going anywhere. “Thank you. Both of you.” 

Stuart drew her into his arms before she could start explaining what she meant. His shirt smelled faintly of detergent and the garage. Callie had become very practiced at standing beside him as another person responsible for a small child, asking questions about groceries and bills and schedules. For a moment she let herself stand there as his daughter. When he released her, Sally touched her face with one hand and pulled her close with the other. They did not ask her to promise that California would work out. They had already helped her do what they could to make it possible. 

“Mommy,” Juna called from the rear seat. “Where’s the giraffe?” 

Callie turned, wiping beneath her eyes before her daughter could ask why. “In the house. He hasn’t moved in yet.” 

“He needs to.” Juna patted the seat beside her with complete confidence in her authority. Sally laughed and leaned in to retrieve her, while Dave showed Stuart where he had put the second set of documents. The car remained in the driveway, no less hers because they had returned to ordinary tasks. Callie opened the driver’s door and sat down. The seat adjusted beneath her hand, the wheel felt unfamiliar, and for a moment she could not make herself touch anything else. Then she put the folder in the passenger footwell where she would remember it, reached for the mirror, and began learning where everything was. 

They spent the next hour installing Juna’s seat, going through the paperwork, and transferring the things Callie had already set aside for the drive. The registration and insurance details were ready; Sally showed her where the copies belonged and made sure Callie knew which numbers to keep in her phone. Dave demonstrated the safety controls and asked her to tell him if anything felt wrong on the first drive. Callie asked enough questions to make Hannah disappear indoors and return with water for everybody. When Dave finally left, Juna stood beside Sally and waved at his truck until it turned out of sight. Callie put the keys in her pocket and pressed them once through the fabric, still checking that they were there. 

She drove to Grey’s that afternoon with Hannah in the passenger seat and Juna securely installed in the back. At the first stop sign, she reached toward the wrong part of the dashboard, caught herself, and heard her sister suppress a laugh. The car moved quietly, the steering felt lighter than she expected, and the rear camera had given her a view of the driveway she had never seen from inside a vehicle. She was paying enough attention to every unfamiliar control that the streets went by without much thought until they reached the store. Then she saw the sign, the line of carts beside the entrance, and the customer loading two bags into the same dented truck he had been driving for years. 

“Everybody’s going to ask about it,” Callie said, pulling into the employee lot. 

“Then tell them.” Hannah unfastened her seat belt and turned to look at Juna. “We got your mom a car.” 

“My car,” Juna corrected from behind them. 

“You’ll have to put that on the insurance,” Hannah told Callie. She got out before Callie could answer, leaving her smiling as she shut off the engine. The keys went into her pocket again. She had driven to Grey’s hundreds of times as a passenger and plenty as the driver, but she found herself standing beside the RAV4 for another moment while Hannah freed Juna from the seat. Then her daughter reached for her hand, and they went through the employee entrance together. 

The old stockroom door resisted as it always did in humid weather. Callie put her shoulder against it and pushed, hearing the familiar complaint of wood and hinges. Inside, the air smelled of cardboard, produce, and the faint cold escaping whenever somebody opened the walk-in. A delivery had left a row of boxes along one wall. James stood beside them with an invoice in his enormous hand, looking at a count that had apparently offended him. He glanced up, saw Callie, and smiled. “There she is. Thought you’d leave without saying goodbye to the people doing all the work.” 

“I figured you’d enjoy having one less person to blame.” Callie bent to help Juna step around the edge of a pallet. James held the invoice higher before her daughter could investigate it. “Something wrong?” 

“They sent six cases. We ordered eight.” He turned the paper toward Hannah, who had already walked over to the shelf where the receiving clipboard hung. “Your dad said he left the change with you.” 

“It’s here.” Hannah flipped back a page and compared the order with his invoice. She found the note beneath the delivery date, then reached for the phone on the wall. “Two are on Monday’s delivery. They called yesterday. I’ll put it on the board so nobody thinks we forgot to check.” 

Beside the delivery board, the latest Smallara instructions had been pinned over an older copy, with the hospital contact number underlined. Ridgemont still had no confirmed case, but the stores kept revising their preparations. Callie had put her completed Guardian records with the documents going in the car; California’s current instructions were saved on her phone. James nodded and went back to moving the cases without asking Callie or looking for Stuart. Callie watched Hannah write the reminder, placing it where the next person would actually see it. There was nothing dramatic about the exchange. An employee had asked a question, and Hannah had known the answer. She looked entirely at home doing it, with Juna leaning against one leg and the phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear while she confirmed the delivery. Callie had always liked parts of Grey’s: the people, the familiar tasks, the occasional broken thing she could fix before it irritated anybody else. Hannah seemed to like how all those parts fit into a day she helped keep running. 

When the call ended, Callie nodded toward the clipboard. “You’re getting good at this.” 

“I was already good at it.” Hannah capped the marker, though she looked pleased. “People are noticing.” 

James laughed from the other side of the pallet. “That she was.” He set a case down and came over to squeeze Callie’s shoulder. His hand was warm and heavy. “You send us a picture when you get there. With the kid in it. Nobody needs a picture of an engineering building.” 

“You haven’t seen the engineering buildings,” Callie said. “They’re pretty good.” 

“Still want the kid.” He crouched far enough to offer Juna a fist to bump, then stood with a grunt he pretended had nothing to do with his knees. Callie hugged him, catching the smell of coffee and the clean cotton of his work shirt. He had been at the store nearly as long as she had been alive. Somewhere in her memory, he was still the enormous man who lifted a box out of her way so she could run through to find her father. Now he stepped aside so she could lead Juna onto the sales floor, reminding her to say goodbye to the cashiers before they got busy. 

The store continued around them. A cart rattled across an uneven stretch of tile. Someone asked Hannah whether the peaches were still on special, and she answered without checking. At the service counter, an employee produced a card Callie had not known anyone was signing, with a grocery gift card tucked inside. She read the names while Juna tried to see whether anything else was in the envelope. There were jokes about California weather, requests for photographs, and one instruction to eat something that had not come out of a vending machine. Callie thanked them and found herself explaining the RAV4 when somebody mentioned seeing it outside. Saying her parents and Hannah had bought it was easier the second time. 

Near the office, she opened the small drawer where she had left a spare cable and found a folded note she had written for Hannah. It explained where the copies of the store files were backed up and how to run the little report Callie had made to stop them entering the same figures twice. She handed it over, pointing out the one step that mattered. Hannah read it and put it into the binder instead of losing it beneath a stack of receipts. “I’ll call if I break it,” she said. 

“You won’t break it. If it stops working, send me what it says before you start clicking things.” Callie glanced at the old office computer and resisted the temptation to check something she had already checked on her last shift. “You don’t have to wait until I’m home.” 

“I know.” Hannah rested her hand on the binder. “I like working here, Cal. I’m not just doing it because you’re going.” 

Callie looked at her sister, hearing the distinction she had been trying to make for weeks. “I know you do.” 

“Ridgemont University has business management. I can do that and keep working.” Hannah shrugged, suddenly unwilling to sound too earnest. “Dad acts like every time I know something, it’s a shocking event. I’m looking forward to having paperwork that says I know things.” 

Callie smiled and leaned against the edge of the desk. The office was crowded with all the objects that had accumulated because somebody might need them again: pens that only worked at certain angles, a stapler nobody liked replacing, a mug Stuart used for spare screws. She would miss the place. She did not want to spend her adult life in this chair. Hannah was looking at the binder as though it belonged among the things she intended to learn, and Callie felt relieved that loving the same store did not require them to want the same future. “You’ll be good at it,” she said. “The degree. Running this. All of it.” 

“Tell Dad.” Hannah picked up the envelope before Juna could pull it from Callie’s hand. “Come on. We have to get you packed. You’ll start checking the printer if we stay here.” 

Callie let herself be led out. At the stockroom door, she looked back once and saw James moving another case while somebody came through from the sales floor with a question. The store had been here before her and would be here tomorrow morning when she was driving away. Hannah pushed the door open without waiting for it to cooperate, and Juna announced that she knew where their new car was. Callie followed them into the afternoon light, the card from the employees held carefully beneath her arm. 

August 21, 2021 

By seven the next morning, Sally had packed enough food to make Callie suspect she distrusted the existence of groceries west of Minnesota. There were sandwiches in a cooler, fruit in a separate bag, and crackers where Callie could reach them at a stop without dismantling the luggage. Juna’s backpack sat beside the door with the wooden spoon inside and the bedtime book in the front pocket. Her stuffed purple Ridgeback had spent the night in her bed and was now under one arm while she inspected the line of belongings being carried outside. She had asked whether they were leaving four times. Each answer had been followed by somebody remembering another thing to bring. 

Maggie arrived with her car packed and a cup of coffee wedged into the console. She parked behind the RAV4, got out, and stopped in the middle of the driveway. Callie had sent her a picture the night before, but the vehicle apparently required inspection in person. Maggie walked around the rear, looked through the open cargo door, and raised her eyebrows. “Okay. This is considerably better than the picture.” 

“Dad took the picture.” Callie shifted a box closer to the seat back. “He was mostly trying to show you the tires.” 

“Solid artistic choice.” Maggie reached for the bag Callie had left on the ground and found a space for it. “My mom cried twice, my dad tried to give me another road atlas, and I forgot the coffee until I was already in the car. But I’m here.” 

“You said goodbye?” Callie asked. She had imagined Maggie at her own house all morning, going through some version of what was happening here, and had nearly called twice before deciding to let her have it. 

“Yes. Properly.” Maggie closed the cargo door far enough to test the fit, then lifted it again. “They’ll call us before lunch. Mom told me to tell Sally we’re not allowed to eat only drive-through food.” 

Callie gestured toward the cooler. “They appear to have coordinated.” She looked through the back window at Juna’s seat, making sure the bags had not crowded it. Nothing loose could tumble onto her daughter, and the things they needed for the first night were where Callie could get them without unloading everything. There had been fewer boxes than she wanted and more than she expected. Her parents had agreed to keep the rest until they worked out what she really needed. The circuit diagram was packed flat among her clothes. The tools were in a small case, selected individually after all. 

Luke arrived while Stuart was checking the last straps. He came up the driveway carrying a paper bag and announced that he had brought breakfast, despite Sally having already fed everyone and packed two possible follow-up meals. Juna took this as an invitation to investigate. Luke gave her a small pastry with Sally’s permission, put the bag on the porch rail, and looked at the RAV4. “You realize you’ve ruined my Boston departure. I was going to make my parents take a picture of me beside a suitcase.” 

“Still can,” Callie said. “It’ll be very moving.” 

He examined the driver’s side window, then nodded toward Stuart. “Nice choice.” There was something sincere beneath the joke now, and Callie watched her father acknowledge it without turning the remark into another explanation of the car. Luke moved to help Maggie rearrange a bag behind her seat. He had been talking about Boston as though it was next door all summer. This morning he looked from one packed vehicle to the other and seemed to have run out of things to say about how easy visits would be. “You two send me the hotel when you stop,” he said. “Not just a picture of some mountain and then silence for six hours.” 

“You’ve become my mother,” Maggie told him. She took the bag he had moved and set it back where she could reach it. “Congratulations.” 

“Somebody has to manage you.” Luke glanced toward Callie. “And call when you’re settled. I want the tour.” 

Callie nodded. “You too. Show us Boston.” She went over to hug him before he could make the moment louder than it needed to be. His arms closed around her, and he held on long enough that she felt the change in him. For years they had been able to end a day assuming there would be another lunch table, another message about meeting up, another time he would appear and wave both arms until she noticed. Now she could feel him trying to account for the distance with the strength of a hug. “I’ll call,” she said against his shirt. 

“Good.” He released her and bent toward Juna, who had pastry on her chin. “Do I get a goodbye, or are you too busy?” 

Juna passed Gus to Callie and raised both arms. Luke lifted her, enduring a warning that he was not allowed to squeeze her food. She gave him a quick kiss near his cheek and asked whether he was coming in Maggie’s car. He explained that he was going to his own new school, in Boston. Juna considered that, then told him he could have his own spoon. Luke accepted the provision with appropriate gratitude before setting her down. When he straightened, he rubbed one hand over his mouth and looked toward the two cars again. 

They checked the first overnight stop with both phones lying on the porch rail. Callie had the confirmation saved, the address downloaded, and the next stretch of the route ready. Maggie had matched it in her own navigation app. Neither of them expected to spend the whole journey exactly where a screen predicted they would be, especially with Juna, but having agreed places to end the day meant they would not be trying to choose a room when everybody was tired. Stuart asked about fuel stops. Callie explained that they would stop together whenever either car needed it, and Maggie added that bathroom requirements would almost certainly intervene first. 

“Mine,” she clarified, when Sally looked toward Juna. “I’m not blaming the child. She’s probably going to be the efficient one.” 

Callie smiled, but she still felt obliged to explain. “There might be times we have to stop twice in an hour. Or just get her out of the seat for a bit.” 

“Then we stop twice.” Maggie picked up her phone. “I like stretching. I like bathrooms. I like snacks. This is an arrangement that serves several of my interests.” She looked directly at Callie. “You don’t have to keep warning me that Juna is coming. I’ve met her.” 

Juna looked up from beside Hannah. “I’m coming.” 

“See? Informed consent.” Maggie smiled at her and went to her car to connect the phone. Callie got into the RAV4 and paired hers with its system, then answered Maggie’s call while both vehicles remained in the driveway. Her friend’s voice came through the speakers, clearer than Callie expected. Juna stood in the open rear doorway beside Hannah and immediately wanted to know where Maggie was hiding. Callie showed her the car behind them, and Juna waved at the sound as though it might see her. They tested the connection, ended the call, and agreed that Maggie would lead them onto the highway. They could talk when they wanted, hang up when they needed quiet, and choose the next stop without either of them trying to read a text while driving. 

Callie went back inside once more. The house was cool after the driveway, with the smell of coffee lingering in the kitchen and one clean plate drying beside the sink. She checked the counter, found the medication bag exactly where Sally had told her it was, and picked it up. Beyond the kitchen, the stairs led to her room. She had already checked it, and going up again would not put back the things she had packed. For a moment she stood at the bottom anyway, listening to the voices outside. Then she put the bag against her chest and went out to join them. 

Sally met her at the door. “Got everything?” 

“Probably.” Callie looked at the bag, then at her mother’s face. “I don’t think I can make that answer more definite.” 

“Then anything else can wait.” Sally drew her into a hug. Her hand moved over the back of Callie’s head, smoothing hair that had already escaped its tie. “Call us when you stop for the night. And whenever you want to. It doesn’t have to be something important.” 

Callie held on, feeling the familiar shape of her mother’s shoulder beneath her cheek. She could call from a hotel, from the apartment, from outside a preschool room while wondering how long she should wait before asking whether Juna had settled. She would still have to decide what to do after the call. Sally knew that. It was part of why Callie could leave her without feeling that she had to pretend to be less afraid. “I will,” she said. When she stepped back, her mother kept hold of her hands for another moment before turning toward Juna. 

Stuart was beside the RAV4, looking at the luggage through the rear window. He did not discover another thing to check when Callie approached. Instead he reached for her and hugged her tightly enough that she felt the keys in her pocket press against his side. “Proud of you, kiddo,” he said. His voice was rougher than it had been while discussing the route. 

“I haven’t done the college part yet.” Callie tried to smile against his shoulder. 

“I know.” He held her a moment longer. “Proud of you now.” 

She closed her eyes and stayed there until he let go. Behind him, Sally was crouched in front of Juna, listening to instructions about looking after the toys remaining in the house. Stuart joined them, promising to keep the ones she had left in the living room available for her visits. Juna hugged him around the neck and informed him that he could not take the little purple car to the store. He assured her he had his own transportation. Callie found herself laughing while wiping at her face, and did not bother trying to hide either thing. 

Hannah took Juna to the RAV4 and helped her climb in. Her backpack went on the floor where Callie could reach it, the book checked one last time, the wooden spoon safely inside. Hannah stood with one hand on the edge of the door while Callie buckled the straps and checked the fit. Juna held Gus against her chest and looked toward the empty passenger seat. “Hannah sits there.” 

“Not today,” Callie said. She kept her voice even, though Hannah had gone very still beside her. “Hannah’s staying with Grandma and Grandpa. We’ll call her when we get to our stop.” 

Juna looked at her aunt. “You come after?” 

“I’ll visit,” Hannah said. She leaned in and kissed the top of Juna’s head. “You have to find out where the good pancakes are first.” 

Juna nodded, satisfied with a task she could understand, and began adjusting Gus so he could see out of the window. Callie stepped back and closed the door. Hannah watched through the glass for another moment, then turned toward her sister. She had spent the morning carrying things, finding things, and answering Juna’s questions. Now there was nothing left she could do to postpone the moment. Callie reached for her before either of them tried to make it into a joke. 

“Thank you for the car,” Callie said quietly. “For your part.” 

“You already said that.” Hannah’s arms tightened around her waist. “Don’t forget the game night.” 

“I won’t.” Callie rested her cheek against her sister’s hair, then pulled back enough to look at her. “And send me what happens at the store. Even the boring stuff.” 

“Most of it’s boring.” Hannah wiped beneath her eyes and took a breath. “I’ll make you a report. You like reports.” 

Callie laughed and touched her shoulder once before letting go. Maggie was saying goodbye to Sally and Stuart behind them, her voice losing some of its usual briskness. Luke stood beside the porch with his hands in his pockets. They had reached the point where another minute would become another ten, and nobody would know how to finish. Callie opened the driver’s door, put the medication bag where she could reach it, and sat behind the wheel. Her family remained on the driveway while she fastened her seat belt and checked Juna in the mirror. The little girl waved at Hannah with Gus’s paw. Hannah waved back. 

Maggie’s call came through before she pulled away. Callie answered with the steering-wheel control, and her friend’s voice filled the space between the front seats. “Ready?” 

Callie looked toward the driveway. Sally had put an arm around Hannah. Stuart stood on her other side, and Luke lifted both arms in the enormous wave that had once found her across a crowded school hallway. She raised her hand, waited until Maggie’s car moved ahead, and eased the RAV4 after it. At the end of the drive she stopped, checked the road, and looked back once. They were all still there. “Ready,” she said, then turned onto the street. 

For the first few blocks, Juna pointed out things she recognized. Grandma’s favorite flowers. The house with the dog that barked at bicycles. A truck she believed belonged to somebody they knew, though Callie had never seen it before. Maggie kept the conversation ordinary, asking whether the air-conditioning was comfortable and announcing that the first song on her playlist had betrayed her by being terrible. Callie answered in pieces, her attention moving between the car ahead, the road, and the rearview mirror. At a light, she saw the edge of a Grey’s sign beyond the cross street. The signal changed before she could do more than recognize it, and she followed Maggie onward. 

The houses grew farther apart. A strip of commercial buildings gave way to fields, and the sky opened over the road in a way Callie had known all her life. She checked the distance to Maggie’s car and let it increase a little as they gathered speed. The keys rested out of sight, the car moved steadily beneath her hands, and the familiar town was slipping behind them without asking whether she had finished feeling everything she ought to feel. Her daughter was humming to the stuffed dog. Through the speakers, Maggie began describing a sign she had misunderstood spectacularly enough that Callie had to ask her to repeat it. 

“Mommy,” Juna said after a few quiet minutes. “I want crackers.” 

Callie glanced at her in the mirror. “We’ll have some when we stop.” 

“I support this request,” Maggie said. “Not urgently. Just establishing my position.” 

Callie smiled and settled her hands more comfortably on the wheel. They had sandwiches, crackers, two loaded cars, and a room waiting at the end of the first day. She could still hear Hannah asking her not to forget, and she knew there would be moments before California when she wanted to call home for no reason she could explain. Ahead, Maggie’s car held its place on the road. Juna began telling her giraffe that they were going to a new house, and Callie listened while her friend asked whether she wanted music for a while. She said yes. The song came through softly beneath their conversation as they continued west. 

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