Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
“He ever tell you how he did it—bike to Key West, I mean?”
“No, can’t say that he did. Matter o’ fact, he never talked about it at all, except for one time when he first got back. Bunch of us boys was takin’ a water break from a pickup game, and your Uncle Gil went to tellin’ us all about the bike ride to Key West: ‘Marshall did this and Marshall did that.’ Your daddy stayed pretty quiet until Gil started tellin’ us he rode that bike all the way down there and back. That’s when Marshall spoke up and said no, he only rode the bike down there—like that wasn’t impressive enough. He told me he started back but didn’t make it far—hopped a train in Miami so he could get back to St. Augustine and your mama. Then he took a bus to Savannah.”
“Is there still a train to Key West?”
“No, not anymore. Hurricane blew it away. But it was there when your daddy made his trip. Come to think of it, the railroad was all that was there. Marshall woulda had to ride his bike down the railroad track—and part of it ran over a seven-mile bridge out in the middle o’ the ocean. He woulda had to make that crossin’ between trains. It’s a highway now, o’ course. Trains don’t run to Key West no more. Can you even imagine—ridin’ a bike for seven miles right out in the middle o’ the ocean? And I hear the water down there’s a color like you ain’t never seen. I’m gonna have to make that trip one o’ these days.”
Peyton grinned at the chief. “Me too.”
“I got a feelin’ you’re gonna be thinkin’ about makin’ that trip more and more as your daddy gets better. You ever decide to up and ride down there, I want you to take this with you.” The chief reached into his pocket, took out a piece of yellow notebook paper folded into a square, and handed it to Peyton. “You ever strike out for Key West, I want you to carry that along, okay?”
“Sure.” Peyton put the note in his shirt pocket. “Mind tellin’ me what it is?”
“Let’s call it a letter of introduction to the police and fire chiefs in all those little towns you’ll be passin’ through. I’m just askin’ ’em to look out for you and put you up if they can.”
“Seriously? Wow, Chief, thanks. You think they’ll do it?”
“I would if a fellow law enforcement officer asked me to. Gotta believe there’s folks down there that’ll do the right thing when the opportunity presents itself.”
“You really think I can do it?”
“I really think you’re gonna do it. You’ve just got sense enough to wait for the right time. And don’t you worry, Peyton. It’s comin’. Things are gonna turn around here in a little bit.”
seven
It was late on the day after surgery when Peyton and his mother were called to his father’s bedside. They were standing just outside the entrance to a special ward for neurology patients. “You sure you want to go in, son?” his mother asked.