I turned and watched until her small, weary frame disappeared into the shivering patches of rolling asphalt.
Despite Doc’s big, comfortable Plymouth, the narrow, potholed roads jostled us. Soon the road opened wider, became new and smoother, and we passed green pastures and meadows with grazing cows and horses.
We talked a little, and I told him about my job and chatted about books, then confided in him about the state wanting to send me to the children’s prison.
Doc said, “There’s plenty of girls your age with jobs, and a lot are child brides growing families of their own. With you living on your own now, and making a living, and undisturbed, I would think that the court would look favorably on you and leave you alone. You say you were assigned an attorney?”
“Yes, sir. It’s Mr. Morgan. He’s going to try and help me stay free until I can be with my parents again.”
“I know Bob well. Good man. I’m sure he’ll do right by you.”
I was more worried about what the social worker over in Leslie County would do.
Doc made small talk about the spring weather, home, and Millie, and just when I got up the courage to ask him to be my guardian, he said, “We’re going to visit her relatives in Sweden for six months later in the summer. It’ll be something else, a grand adventure, but I’ll sure miss home.”
I stared out the window, dismayed, feeling foolish that I’d thought the newlyweds wouldn’t mind being burdened with me.
I turned back to him. “Doc, did you ever hear of a man named Byrne McDaniel?”
He rubbed his hand over his chin, thinking. “Can’t say that I know him.”
“He received his emancipation when he was just fourteen after he got a job. I’m soon to be seventeen.”
Doc held up a finger. “I’m not familiar with the laws. But talk to Bob about seeking it. As I said, there’s plenty of young married women around and some widowed living on their own. With you holding down a respectable job, there should be no reason why you can’t have it. And why any judge wouldn’t grant it.” He glanced at me.
I shifted my gaze out the window, worrying that my color and being a female might be the reasons why I couldn’t. Worse, I was plagued by Judge Norton’s harsh words and fretted about the judge and social worker over in Leslie County holding a grudge.
Doc quieted and turned on the radio, tuning it until the voices climbed over the static. The announcer talked a little about the news, then introduced a preacher named Reverend Daniel Cox. The man gave his sermon, then other preachers told theirs over the miles falling behind us.
At times, I found myself lulled into sleep and fought to stay awake.
Doc stopped once to have his automobile filled with gasoline. We used the public restrooms and freshened up, then Doc bought us colas. At the counter, Doc pointed to a row of candy bars. “Millie’s favorite is the buttercream and orange flavors in the Seven Up bar, and mine is the Chicken Dinner bar there.” He plucked up the nut roll and Millie’s favorite and placed them on the counter to pay. “The reminder of Hoover’s old promise of ‘a chicken in every pot.’” He grinned. “I bet yours is the chocolate bar over there.”
I smiled and pointed to the Bit-O-Honey bar, and he put the candy next to his and Millie’s.
The attendant filled the tank and washed all the windows. When I tried to give Doc gasoline and candy-bar money, he pushed it away, saying, “It’s on me. I’ve been wanting to visit you and Bluet for a while. It’ll be nice to see her again.”
I tried to recall the last time he’d visited us over in the Cumberland and realized it’d been over a year now.
“Much obliged, Doc,” I said, slipping the candy into my bag for later.