A Thousand Miles

Part 37

Shane groaned against the throbbing pain in his head and opened one eye, trying to determine the time by the quality of the light that filtered in through half open blinds. His best guess was that it was well into the morning, if not after noon. He pushed up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, shoving one hand through his hair then reaching for his watch. Eleven thirty. Just about time for lunch.

    Good thing he wasn't hungry. There was nothing here to eat. He'd had neither the time nor the inclination to shop for groceries the past couple of weeks. But there may be enough coffee left to brew a pot. He rose and trudged to the kitchenette, turning on his laptop as he passed by. It didn't sound like many grounds remained in the can when he gave it a shake, but when he pulled the lid off the situation looked a little better. There was enough for a few cups at least. Not like he needed to make a whole pot anymore, anyway. A fresh current of grief moved through him, and he braced himself with a hand on the counter. Then he regrouped and measured out the amount he wanted, filled the reservoir with water, and turned the coffee maker on.

    He left it, chugging and wheezing, to shower and shave.

    This headache had been pounding him for nearly twenty-four hours now. He hoped a shower might help, but it didn't. The pain still throbbed when he was clean and dressed, and it was no wonder. After his dad's simple graveside funeral yesterday, Shane had returned to the RV and wept. And when the tears finally abated, he'd reached for the Bible—the same one that had been a permanent fixture on his father's lap in the nursing home—and he read it like a starving man until the faint glow of dawn began to rise, and then he slept.

    Shane poured a cup of coffee and took a careful sip, reaching to open the blinds so his gaze could take in the lush, green Tennessee hills surrounding the RV park where he'd hooked up. The towering pines outside were a far cry from the scrubby mesquites, cedar, and live oaks of the Texas hill country. Still, the most spectacular view he'd ever seen was from the top of a little hill outside Fredericksburg as he'd stood next to JoLynn observing her joy in it.

    He sighed and shook his head. No use dwelling on it. She'd made her position clear the last time he'd tried to talk to her. She wouldn't forgive him. So, now it was best to just move on.

    Shane sat and tapped his computer back to life, then opened his web browser. He'd listed the Winnebago online a few days ago. The time had come to sell it. He'd sell the truck, too, and buy something newer. Then he'd have to decide what to do. Either settle down somewhere, or keep moving, exploring. But he wasn't living for himself or his father anymore, and he needed direction.

    "Lord, show me what's next." He whispered.

    A response to the ad waited in his inbox. Someone from Nashville was interested in coming out to look at the RV this week, and was willing to pay cash. Seemed like a pretty clear sign. Shane sent a quick reply naming a day and time, then took another sip of coffee, eyeing the phone beside his laptop. Yesterday at the funeral he'd turned it off. It was probably time to turn it on again and reconnect with the world. Maybe JoLynn wouldn't hang up on him if he called her. Just to say hi and hear her voice. He powered it up and waited.

    Sure enough, he'd missed a call this morning. His chest tightened as his heart began to race. He'd missed a call from JoLynn, and she'd left a message. He pressed the phone to his ear as the message played, then he played it again three more times. She sounded so sad, like she was holding back tears when she'd said she wanted to know how he was doing.

     A sob erupted from the very bottom of his heart. He was a broken mess, that's how he was doing. But he trusted now that God would somehow put the pieces back together for him. And JoLynn had ended her message with a request for him to call her. No words had ever made him happier.

    He drew in a deep shuddering breath and called her back. She answered on the first ring.

    "Hi, Shane." Her voice sounded soft and tremulous, and it brought an ache to his throat that rivaled the one in his heart.

    "Hi. I got your message."

    During the long silence that followed she sniffed softly.

    "Shane, I'm sorry." She said quietly.

    "What on earth for?"

    "For not listening to you. For not letting you explain your side of things. I just wanted to tell you that I believe you when you said you didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. And I'm sorry I was so hard on you."

    "Thank you." He pushed the words past constricted vocal cords, then he cleared his throat. "How are you? Are you in Odessa?"

    "Yes. I'm at Dad's house." She paused. "I'll be starting work for him soon. I'm not sure what I'll be doing. But I know he'll keep me busy. Where are you?"

    "Tennessee. Near Nashville."

    "Oh." Surprise and disappointment underscored her response, and his heart lurched.

    "My father passed away."

    "What?" She sounded like the air had been knocked out of her. "When?"

    "Week before last. Friday night."

    "Oh, Shane." Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry."

    "Thank you." Shane swallowed hard as the compassion in her voice somehow laid his soul bare. "I brought him back here and had him buried beside my mom."

    "I wish I'd known. I would have come. And Curtis and Mel, too. We all would have come."

    He blinked and a tear fell. For a moment he couldn't speak. The power to do so simply was not there as the still small voice breathed into his soul.

You are not alone. You have a home.

He squeezed his eyes shut and let the idea settle. He wasn't alone. As lonely as he felt right now, he had made friends in the last few months—true and lasting friends, no matter what the situation. But as for having a home... He was just a couple of days from selling the only home he could remember. Where would home be then?

"JoLynn...?"

Silence fell between them again for a long moment before she answered.

"What is it, Shane?"

"Can I call you again?"

Another long silence erupted, during which she began to cry softly.

"Yes." She said finally. "I'd like that."

Another moment passed in silence. He could feel her reluctance, as strong as his, to end the connection between them.

"What will you do now?" She finally asked.

He took a deep breath and leaned back, glancing again at the wooded hills outside. "I don't know."

"But you'll let me know when you get it figured out?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"OK, then. I guess I'll talk to you later."

"JoLynn...I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Well," she said after a long moment, her voice barely above a whisper. "I forgive you."

He squeezed his eyes shut and expelled the burden along with a silent sigh. "Thank you. I'll talk to you again sometime soon."

"Let me know where you finally land."

"I will. Bye."

"Bye."

Shane ended the call and laid the phone on the table.  She had forgiven him. She had called him to apologize for not hearing him out, and then she'd forgiven him. But where was the peace he'd expected it to bring? The turmoil inside was possibly more acute now. She wanted to know where he finally ended up, but had said nothing of him ending up with her.

"What's next for me, Lord?" He whispered the desperate prayer, burying his face in his hands. "Where do I go from here?"