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
“Me? Why?”
“Because I thought the most important thing in the world was to protect you, but Marshall thought the most important thing in the world was to protect your freedom. He wanted you to be free to make your own choices and live your own life—provided you didn’t try to do something truly off the beam, of course. But that was never an issue with you. You were born with a good head on your shoulders.”
“Why was it so important to him—freedom, I mean?”
“You remember how your Uncle Gil always ends that tale about Marshall’s bike ride to Key West?”
“‘And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the last time Marshall Cabot ever let anybody tell him what to do.’ That the part you’re talkin’ about?”
“That’s the biggest lie any Cabot ever told, and they’ve told some whoppers. Your daddy devoted his whole life to his family—protecting his father’s investments and making sure there would always be plenty of money, not just for the family but to keep all the mills going so poor families around there would have jobs. And the thing is, Marshall himself didn’t care about money at all. To him, it was just a way to provide for other people. He was bound and determined you would never feel obligated to live your life a particular way. He wanted you to follow your own path.”
“What about you?”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I want that too.”
“Even if my path takes me to Key West?”
“Even then. But I’m not as brave as your daddy. You have to promise to call me collect every Sunday night—maybe a time or two in between when you can manage it.”
“I promise.”
“And you remember what I told you before—there’s more to this bike ride than pedaling.”
“I remember.”
“I took the liberty of tucking a few things into your saddlebag—things your daddy told me he wished he’d had. I hope you don’t mind just a little meddling?”
“I don’t mind.”
“One more thing, son—I can’t watch you ride away. So I guess you’ll have to get up early when you go.”
nineteen
The bungalow was still dark and quiet. Peyton was careful not to make any noise as he eased open the screen door, went into the backyard, and began loading his bike for the trip. He would have to travel light or he’d never make it. Strapping Aunt Gert’s saddlebag to the bike rack behind the seat, he laid a small duffel on top of it and used an old belt to secure it.
Peyton was wearing the lightest pair of khaki shorts he had, a cotton T-shirt, his sneakers, and a UGA cap he’d picked up during a lunch break from the hospital in Atlanta. The duffel bag held a change of clothes, his bathing suit, and the small bike pump Aunt Gert had given him.
He had a sudden memory of the Ghost Tree at his grandparents’ house and the talk of a bet that he, Winston, and Prentiss had carried on before everything changed. What would they think of him now, setting out for Key West? Maybe he would call them when he got there. Then again, maybe not. After all that had happened, it seemed disrespectful to tie the journey ahead to something as frivolous as a bet.