Sister Agnes let that sink in for a moment.
—I have no doubt that you are angry with Daniel for taking liberties with your car. But we both know that there is goodness in him, a goodness that has been there from the beginning, but which has never had the chance to fully flourish. At this critical time in his life, what he needs more than anything else is a friend who will stand reliably at his side; a friend who can steer him clear of folly and help him find the way to fulfilling his Christian purpose.
—Sister, you said you were going to ask me something. You didn’t say you were going to ask something of me.
The nun studied Emmett for a second, then smiled.
—You are absolutely right, Emmett. I am not asking you this. I’m asking it of you.
—I have someone to watch over already. Someone who is my own flesh and blood and who is an orphan in his own right.
She looked at Billy with an affectionate smile, but then turned back to Emmett with undiminished intent.
—Do you count yourself a Christian, Emmett?
—I’m not the churchgoing sort.
—But do you count yourself a Christian?
—I was raised to be one.
—Then I imagine you know the parable of the Good Samaritan.
—Yes, sister, I know the parable. And I know that a good Christian helps a man in need.
—Yes, Emmett. A good Christian shows compassion toward those who are in difficulty. And that is an important part of the parable’s meaning. But an equally important point that Jesus is making is that we do not always get to choose to whom we should show our charity.
When Emmett had come to the end of his driveway shortly before dawn, he had turned onto the road knowing that he and Billy were unencumbered—free of any debts or obligations as they began their life anew. And now, having traveled just sixty miles from home headed in the wrong direction, he had made two promises in as many hours.
* * *
? ? ?
Once the traffic finally subsided and Sally took a left out of the station, Emmett expected her to turn and wave. But leaning forward over her wheel, Sally punched the gas, Betty backfired, and they both headed west without a glance in his direction.
Only as they sped out of sight did Emmett realize he didn’t have any money.
Duchess
What a day, what a day, what a day! Emmett’s car may not have been the fastest one on the road, but the sun was high, the skies were blue, and everyone we passed had a smile on their face.
After leaving Lewis, for the first one hundred and fifty miles we had seen more grain elevators than human beings. And most of the towns we passed through seemed to be limited to one of everything by local decree: one movie theater and one restaurant; one cemetery and one savings and loan; in all likelihood, one sense of right and wrong.
But for most people, it doesn’t matter where they live. When they get up in the morning, they’re not looking to change the world. They want to have a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, put in their eight hours, and wrap up the day with a bottle of beer in front of the TV set. More or less, it’s what they’d be doing whether they lived in Atlanta, Georgia, or Nome, Alaska. And if it doesn’t matter for most people where they live, it certainly doesn’t matter where they’re going.
That’s what gave the Lincoln Highway its charm.
When you see the highway on a map, it looks like that Fisher guy Billy was talking about took a ruler and drew a line straight across the country, mountains and rivers be damned. In so doing, he must have imagined it would provide a timely conduit for the movement of goods and ideas from sea to shining sea, in a final fulfillment of manifest destiny. But everyone we passed just seemed to have a satisfied sense of their own lack of purpose. Let the road rise up to meet you, say the Irish, and that’s what was happening to the intrepid travelers on the Lincoln Highway. It was rising up to meet each and every one of them, whether they were headed east, headed west, or going around in circles.
—It was awfully nice of Emmett to loan us his car, said Woolly.
—It was at that.
He smiled for a moment, then his brow furrowed just like Billy’s.
—Do you think they had any trouble getting home?
—No, said I. I’ll bet you Sally came racing over in that pickup of hers, and the three of them are already back in her kitchen eating biscuits and jelly.
—You mean biscuits and preserves.
—Exactly.
I did feel a little bad about Emmett having to make the journey to Lewis and back. If I’d known he kept his keys above the visor, I could have saved him the trip.