“Thank you for not telling him, though.” She was sitting up straight now, looking at him, though he couldn’t make out her face. He wanted to get to a good place to stop the truck, but the river road went on narrow like this for miles so he stepped on the brake, pulled the gearshift into neutral, and turned off the engine. He left the headlights on, and moths and mosquitoes flew in half-circles in the beams, ticking at the glass. They were both quiet. Leo took a breath and spoke up.

“I’m sorry about what I said at Beatrice’s. It just came out, Allie. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Now Allie took a breath. In the dim light of the cab, she looked like she might cry.

“Why did you do it, Leo? Boys like Gerry Poitras do what you’re doing. You sounded good tonight, you should be out in California playing your harmonicas in the sunshine. I mean, God, this is the Summer of Love, Leo. Free love, not war.” Allie sat still a moment, looking straight ahead. Then it seemed there wasn’t enough air in the cab for her and she gently opened the door and got out of the truck.

Leo looked out the rearview mirror. He couldn’t see anything but night. He stepped on the brake and there she was in the red glow of the taillights, standing bell-bottomed and barefoot, her arms crossed like she was cold. Her hair looked like marmalade, her T-shirt like blood. He opened his door, walked to the back, and leaned up against the flatbed. He could barely see her in the dark, just the white smudge of her shirt.

“Why are you so mad at me, Allie? I’m not mad at you.”

He heard her step closer. A small rock rolled out from under one of her feet. She stopped. “I don’t like being blamed.”

Something small jumped in the water downriver from the bank and Leo wanted to say he didn’t blame her, but he knew that wasn’t all true and he didn’t want her to catch the lie in his voice.

“You do blame me, don’t you?”

“Allie-I miss you.”

They were both quiet. She didn’t move from where she stood, and Leo felt like he was in a bus or train with someone he hadn’t met and probably never would. He heard her walk fast back to the truck. She climbed in and pulled the door shut.

He got into the cab, started the engine, and asked her if she wanted to go home.

“You’re not going to Canada, obviously.” Allie let out a short breath. “No. I don’t want to go home.”