He stepped out of the boat. “Tell you what. If you call your family tonight, you can ride with me for a while longer.”

She scrambled onto the dock. “For how long?”

“Until you piss me off,” he said as he tied up the boat.

“That might not get me to the next town.”

“My best offer. Work with it.”

She was almost glad he was forcing her to do what she should have done from the beginning, and she nodded.

That night she did her best to put off the phone call with various unnecessary chores until he lost patience. “Call them.”

“Later,” she said. “I have to pack first.”

He sneered. “Chickenshit.”

“What do you care? This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Sure it does. Your mother was the president. It’s my patriotic duty.”

She snatched the phone. As she punched in the number, she wished she’d been able to get her hands on his phone just once when he wasn’t watching. Even as she retreated to the deck, he could see her through the window.

Her heart hammered when she heard Mat’s familiar gruff voice. She fought back tears. “Dad …”

“Lucy! Are you all right?”

“Kind of.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t hurt you and Mom for anything.”

“We know that. Lucy, we love you. Nothing could change that.”

His words twisted the knife of guilt even deeper. They’d given her everything without expecting anything back, and this was how she repaid them. She struggled against tears. “I love you, too.”

“We need to sit down together and discuss what happened. Figure out why you didn’t feel like you could talk to us about it. I want you to come home.”

“I know. How—how are the kids?”

“Holly’s having a sleepover, and Charlotte’s learning to play the guitar. Andre has a girlfriend, and Tracy’s really pissed with you. As for your grandfather … You can imagine how he’s taken this. I suggest a stiff drink before you call him. But first you have to talk to your mother. You might be thirty-one, but you’re still part of this family.”

He couldn’t have said anything that made her feel worse about herself.

“Lucy?” It was Nealy. He’d passed over the phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Really.”

“Never mind about that,” her mother said briskly. “I don’t care if you’re a grown woman. We want you home.”

“I—I can’t.” She bit her lip. “I’m not done running away yet.”

Nealy, of all people, couldn’t argue with that, and she didn’t try. “When do you think you’ll be done?”

“I’m … not sure.”

“Let me talk to her!” Tracy shrieked in the background.

Nealy said, “We had no idea you were so unhappy.”

“I wasn’t. You can’t think that. It’s just—I can’t explain.”