It is my hope that League members outside our alliance will not notice my intervention. However, I shall ponder a vague explanation if they do.
25
Chase the Sunset
I booked a campus visit with Newman College for Monday morning. Since my parents hadn’t returned by Sunday afternoon, I left a note in my room, explaining about my overnight trip to the mountains, just in case they checked. Which they wouldn’t. If they texted, I would respond. Nothing would seem amiss.
After tossing a duffle bag into the back of my SUV, I re-entered the house to find my genie hovering in the kitchen. “It’s time to leave.”
He nodded. “Am I a passenger or the chauffeur?”
“You’re driving.”
“You have doubtless informed your parents.”
It was funny how he asked questions as if they were statements. “They have access to the information.”
His eyebrow arched.
“It’ll be fine. Details aren’t necessary. Do you have to pack?”
“I am ready.”
We were westbound on the interstate before I remembered to ask the important questions. “I’ve never asked before, but do you have a license?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’d need one if we’re pulled over.”
“We won’t be pulled over while I’m driving.”
“Confident.”
“Realistic.”
The ride was quiet. I dozed for the first two hours.
The highways didn’t get interesting until west of Winston-Salem, when the views became mesmerizing. We’d left late enough in the day that we could chase the sunset for miles, as it highlighted the mountain peaks ahead in pink, purple, and indigo blue.
We stayed at a mountain cabin that belonged to friends of my parents, and made it into the nearby town of Damascus early on Monday. I had time to walk around the downtown area before meeting with the admissions counselor.
By ten, we were pulling onto the campus of Newman College. While I met with the counselor, Grant wandered around outside.
The tour was fun. It didn’t take long to fall in love with this small, charming campus. Even in the middle of the summer, there was so much shade from the trees that I never felt hot. The grounds were lovely, the buildings intriguingly varied.
We left Newman mid-afternoon and took an alternate route back. We stopped at a flea market somewhere in the Tennessee mountains. I bought several hand-painted silk scarves, a treasure trove of vintage jewelry, and three throw pillows covered with tatted silk.
Once we had our packages stowed in the trunk and we’d buckled in, Grant turned to me, a hesitant frown on his face. “May I ask a favor?”
“Sure.”
“As we make our way back into North Carolina, may we stop at the occasional overlook or rest area? I would enjoy a more personal experience with these mountains.”
“Of course, Grant. Stop as often as you like. We’re in no hurry.” I settled into my seat and closed my eyes, wiggling for comfort. “I want to help Scott in the morning. As long as we’re home by then, it’s fine with me.”
We pulled into nearly every overlook that the road had to offer. Grant rarely spoke—with words. Yet his mood filled the car. So intensely happy. It rubbed off on me.
I slept between Greensboro and Raleigh. By comparison with the first half of today’s drive, billboards and traffic were depressing.
