“I remember one time,” Ellie says, “you told me nobody else could control or be in charge of my happiness or unhappiness. Whether they were right or wrong, fair or unfair. I still have something like that written up on a card on our bathroom mirror.”

“She does,” Eddie says.

I don’t really hear what they say next because those words spin around my mind like a hamster running on a wheel. Nobody can be in charge of someone else’s happiness. But what does that really mean? If that was true, was it pointless to try to help? What did that mean about hunting for treasure? And Ellie had just said that it was Dr. Hernandez who’d helped her, hadn’t she? So was that Dr. Hernandez charging up Ellie’s happiness or not?

Dr. Hernandez reaches across the table and puts a hand on Ellie’s wrist. “It’s good to see you again, Ellie.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

There is something primordial about driving at night. I can lie down in my loft and press my head against the front window so I have the most complete view of the night sky. The sun has been set for a little while now, and we’ll be pulling into Fort Stockton a couple of hours later than planned. But that’s okay.

It’s worth it to have a while for driving under the stars. And out here in this middle-of-nowhere stretch of Texas, the stars are thick enough to be a quilt.

It’s different, too, driving versus being still. I’ve spent basically every night on this trip looking out this window at night while everyone sleeps, even in the bigger cities where the stars aren’t as visible. But this time, with the world passing by beneath me, I feel more a part of the road and the stars and the night.

The green has largely gone away, replaced by more rocky cliffs and little tumbleweed shrubs. The treelessness is fascinating to me. It’s like the universe put all the trees in one place and all the stars in another.

There was a tiny used bookstore by the barbecue place and Dr. Hernandez bought me a book about “Black Sam” Bellamy. I picked out a book for Ruth too. A John Lennon biography. When we got back from dinner, I gave Ruth the book and Ellie gave her the take-home order of barbecue shrimp, and we both kept an eye on her until she’d eaten a bite or two. She even read a bit of the book.

Ruth’s sleeping now. I feel better when Ruth is sleeping. Sleeping is restorative. Sleeping is a good sign.

Even though we’re behind schedule, and I’m trying as hard as I can to be patient about getting to the pirate ships and our treasure box, a dinner break and a free book seem like pretty good excuses for a delay.