“I worry about one thing only,” he answered.
Iris and Attie both waited, hanging upon the suspense. When the silence continued, filled only with the roar of the wind and the comforting purr of the engine, Attie leaned even closer to him.
“I imagine you worry about flat tires, or running out of petrol, or getting lost.”
“I worry about rain,” he said, but he finally turned his head, meeting Attie’s gaze for a split second. “Rain makes the roads muddy and treacherous.”
Iris looked up at the clouds. They were white and fluffy, but a few on the western horizon were building into tall thunderheads.
“You know what they say about springtime in Cambria,” Attie drawled, also taking note of the clouds.
“I know it better than most.” Tobias pushed the clutch and moved the gearstick. It was such a smooth transition Iris hardly felt the car shift. “Which means we only have a few hours to get to River Down before that storm breaks. Goggles will come in handy right about now. Secure anything you don’t want to fly away.” He removed his hat, tucking it safely in a glove compartment. “Also, there’s rope attached to the seat in front of you, in case you need to hold on to something.”
Iris and Attie dutifully donned their goggles. As the roadster drove even faster, all hopes of conversation died in the howling air and speed. But Iris could feel the thrill of it through the soles of her boots. She could feel it hum in her bones, and she reveled in watching the land blur as they raced westward.
* * *
The clouds hung low and dark by the time Tobias drove them into River Down.
It was a small, sleepy town, tucked away in the rolling hills of the countryside. A babbling, shallow river cut through its heart, and a stone bridge connected the two halves of town: the east side that was a patchwork of markets, a library, a communal garden, a school, a small church with stained glass windows; and the west side, which brimmed with thatched cottages laced together with winding, cobbled roads.
Iris removed her goggles, taking it in. A few people were walking the streets with baskets, and they watched with bright curiosity as Tobias drove carefully down one road, then another.
“Are we almost there?” Iris asked, breathless.
“Yes, that’s it up ahead on the left, with the yellow door,” Attie said.
Iris spotted it—a two-story cottage with a stone chimney and blue shutters, nearly devoured by ivy—and as Tobias shifted the roadster down to a crawl, she noticed someone was waiting for them in the front yard. Someone with long black hair and a smile that crinkled her eyes, her red dress striking against her light brown skin.
“Marisol!” Iris cried, standing up in the cab to wave.
Marisol waved back and threw open the yard gate, standing in the street with a grin. As soon as Tobias cut the engine, Iris launched herself from the car. She raced the short distance to Marisol’s welcoming embrace. It almost felt like everything—the sky, the ground, the daily routine—was about to crumble again, and Iris needed something steady to hold on to.
The last time I saw you, the world was burning, Iris thought, clenching her eyes shut as an unexpected wave of emotion struck her chest. She hadn’t cried much the past few weeks. Indeed, she thought she had recovered from most of the trauma she had experienced, letting it hollow her out. But perhaps it had only been buried. Perhaps she had shoved it down to dark forgotten places and it had grown roots while she had been sleeping.
It was alarming to Iris at first, to feel it blister again.
She began to pull away but Marisol only held her tighter. Attie joined them, and the three wrapped their arms around each other. Iris sniffed and lifted her head, trying to hide her emotion until she saw that Marisol also had tears shining in her eyes.
“My girls, it’s so good to see you both! And you know what this calls for? Hot cocoa and a biscuit.”
“I’ve only dreamt of such since arriving back in Oath,” Attie said. “No other café comes close to your hot cocoa, Marisol. Or your biscuits.”
“Is that so?” Marisol sounded shocked as she led the girls to the front yard. She paused two steps later to call out, “And it’s nice to see you again, Tobias! We would love for you to join us for a cup of cocoa.”
Tobias was busy unloading the trunk. But he glanced up and nodded, a corner of his mouth curling in a half smile. “I would be happy to, Mrs. Torres. As soon as I tend to the car. The storm is not far off.”
“Of course,” Marisol said. The air smelled like distant rain; the wind was beginning to whistle through the narrow streets. It lifted tendrils of sable hair from her brow. “The front door will be open, and we’ll have a seat ready at the table for you.”