She picked up the last of the placards and her big denim bag, and climbed up to the surface. Miguel was already in his truck, engine running. She put the signs in the back under the tarpaulin cover and closed the tailgate.

Miguel didn’t look at her when she got in beside him. “Looks like it’s going to rain here. I hope it’s dry in Omaha,” she said.

He put his arm across the seat and backed onto the dirt road. “Why don’t you ask Adam to make it stop? He seems to be second only to God on this earth.”

“Are you going to be like this the whole trip?” she snapped.

“Probably. But then, I’m not perfect like Adam Hatten is. I have things in my life that I can’t control.”

“And you think Adam doesn’t? What’s your real problem? Is Gabby pestering you?”

Miguel took a moment to answer. The rain was starting to come down and he turned on the wipers. “Yeah. They’re all on my case. Aunt Forey wants Gabby to be part of this bakery idea. And...” He looked at her. “My dad wants me to return home. My—” He swallowed. “My youngest brother just got drafted.”

Vera reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do more to stop this war. Maybe I could—”

He held her hand tight, his other one on the steering wheel. “I know. We’re both doing what we can.” The rain was pounding on the roof and Miguel used his sleeve to wipe the fog from inside the glass. “Couldn’t we talk about something else?”

Vera reached down to her bag and withdrew a book. The Drifters by James Michener. “It’s about a young man who runs away to escape the Vietnam draft.”

“It sounds like what I need to hear right now.”

“He and his friends go to places like Mozambique and Marrakech and Pamplona.”

“Like you and Adam are going to do.” Miguel’s jaw was clenched.

“Yes, we are,” Vera said firmly. “If you can’t handle that, then—”

“Read the book!” Miguel said. “We have hours. Wait! Is anyone in there named Adam?”

“I doubt it. But if you want to hear that name, we could stop somewhere and buy a Bible.”

For a second, Miguel looked angry. Then his eyes sparkled. “Read me something I haven’t already read a hundred times.”

Vera laughed and the bad humor between them was gone.

As she began to read aloud, the rain came down harder. She used a cloth she found in the glove box to help Miguel keep the steam off the windshield.

They were still an hour from Omaha when the truck started to rattle. “That’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Very bad. We have to stop.” The rain was so hard they could see just a few feet ahead of them. “I can’t pull over to the side. Somebody will run into us. Are there any towns nearby?”