“You need a ride, missy?” His deep voice washed over me like a balm.
“Yes, please,” I said, shivering.
“Hop in,” he said, reaching his hand out to help me up the steps on the passenger side.
I shut the door and wrapped my arms around myself, and he continued to study me. “You okay?”
I looked down at my ripped pants and the dried blood on my hands. My head was pounding, and when I reached up to touch my forehead, my body jolted in pain. “I’m fine. Could I . . . do you have any water?”
He reached into a compartment next to him and grabbed a cold bottle, handing it to me, before he started driving. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t say anything right away. Then, “Where you headed?”
I thought a minute. I had no idea. “Wherever you’re going,” I said.
He gave me an odd look. “I’m heading home to Pennsylvania. I’ve been on the road ten days.”
“Pennsylvania. That sounds good.” I looked out my window at the tall pine trees we were passing and then turned to him. “Where are we now?”
“New Jersey.” He frowned and looked at me strangely, then back at the road. “You have people in Pennsylvania?”
“I’m not sure,” was all I could get out.
“I know it’s none of my business, but hitchhiking is very dangerous. Do you realize the things that can happen? Especially to a young woman?”
I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach. Was he about to tell me that I’d made a mistake getting in his truck? I said nothing.
He must have realized he’d scared me because he put a hand up. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I belong to an organization that tries to stop people from being hurt.” He glanced over at me again and looked concerned. “You don’t look too good. Kinda pale. I can swing off the highway and get you to a hospital. No problem.”
My stomach tightened as panic welled up inside of me. I was terrified but had no idea why. “No, please. I’m okay. Really. Please. Don’t stop.”
He rubbed his chin for a moment. “Okay. But when we get to Philadelphia, you get medical attention.” Ed told me later that he’d continued to drive against his better judgment, but there was something in my voice that made him keep going.
I sighed, relieved, and leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes. I felt myself drifting off to sleep when Ed’s deep voice startled me.
“What’s your name? You from around here?”
My name? I had no idea. I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to concentrate, but my brain felt muddled and hazy. Taking a deep breath, I decided to tell him the truth. It was going to come out sooner or later anyway. “I don’t know. The thing is . . .” I stopped and inhaled deeply again. “The thing is, I don’t remember anything that happened before I was walking along the road, holding my head.”
“You mean you can’t remember how you got hurt?”
“I mean I don’t know who I am. I have no memory of anything except walking and getting into your truck.”
Ed let out a low whistle. “You have amnesia?”
“I guess so.” I didn’t have enough energy to talk anymore. “I’m really tired,” I said. “Do you mind if I just rest for a little?”
“Sure. Why don’t you jump back into the sleeper? You’ll be more comfortable there.”
Maybe if I had been in a more coherent state of mind I would have hesitated, worried again that he might be a threat, but I was exhausted. Bone-tired. I craned my neck and looked around behind my seat to see a big bed inviting me to stretch out. When he pulled off the road, I crawled onto it and wiggled under a soft green blanket that smelled like fresh evergreens. It felt comforting and warm against my body, and for the rest of the ride I slept like the dead.
When we got to the house, Ed woke me. “Hey,” he said, as he gave me a gentle poke. “Wake up. We’re here.”
I lifted my head, squinting at the bright sunlight that streamed through the windows and ran my tongue across my teeth, which felt gritty. Ed helped me down from the high truck bed, and I noticed that the trailer was missing from the back of the truck. I looked at him in confusion.
“Had to drop off my load. You slept right through the stop,” he told me, taking my hand. “Let’s go inside and get that head looked at.”
We went up the walk to the house, a white one-story Cape with navy blue shutters and flower boxes at every window, separated from the large garage by a big yard with lots of trees. Pink and cornflower-blue blossoms spilled from the containers, and there was something about the house that said welcome. Before we reached the small porch, the front door opened and a petite woman with a shock of red hair held her hand out to mine and said, “I’ve been waiting for you two. I’m Gigi. Come on in.”