Ready-made Family

AFTER TWO DAYS ON THE road, getting lost, breaking down and spending her remaining cash at McDonald's to quiet the kids during the final stretch of their trip, was it possible that Lia Pogue's luck could get any worse? Absolutely. Her empty stomach gnawed as she watched the ambling approach of her second worst nightmare. "Mom, you're crushing the map." Lia's ten-year-old son, Howie, tugged the gas station freebie out of her grip and refolded it with a pinched look of concentration. He'd been giving directions from the shotgun seat since they'd crossed the Mackinac bridge into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, taking the job too seriously, as he did most tasks. The cop circled Lia's idling car, slowing to study the back end. She didn't suppose he was admiring the vintage rust on the 1980 Impala they called "the Grudge" or the buckety-buck of a motor misfiring on its ancient pistons. Surreptitiously she rubbed her sweaty palms on her knee-length denim shorts, trying to keep the kids from seeing her nervousness. Was the uniform cop writing down her license plate number? What if it had already shown up on some sort of Most Wanted list? That's not possible. Larry doesn't know we're gone--yet. "Mom?" warbled Sam from the backseat as her eyes followed the police officer's circuit. Because she knew what was at stake, she'd forgotten to act jaded. Her mascara-thickened lashes had widened in alarm. "Everything's all right." Lia had repeated some variation of the phrase for the past few days. Longer, actually, but she didn't want to go there right now. She said it so often that the words came out even when it was clear that everything was wrong. Everything except the most important fact: they were free. Maybe not for long. The cop tapped on her window. She exhaled. "Don't talk," she told her kids before rolling down the glass. The Grudge had crank windows. For once, she was glad. She had something to do to distract herself from the tight ache wanting to burst out of her chest. The officer tipped back his cap and peered into the car, taking in the jumble of discarded clothing, children's toys and fast-food trash that had accumulated during the long drive "Yes, sir." Don't volunteer information. "Ya, well." He smiled, clearly a small-town cop because he didn't flinch when Lia reached down beside her, toward the seat. He was looking at the map clenched in her son's lap. "Gotchyerselves lost, eh?" She sucked on the straw of Howie's Coke to wet her dry mouth. "Sort of." "Whatcha looking for?" The neighborly cop leaned an arm on her car door. "I can give you directions to anyplace in the whole U.P." He was young, blond and rather goofy-looking with a Barney Fife face that was all nose and Adam's apple with not much chin in between. His accent was even heavier than her old friend Rose Robbin's--"ya" for "yeah" and "da" for "the." Nothing threatening about him, but Lia didn't relax. Fugitives couldn't afford to let down their guard. "Thanks, but we'll be fine." She didn't want him to know where she was headed. If Alouette was as small as Rose had said--and it certainly appeared to be from their hillside vantage point--he'd find out soon enough. Lia didn't see any need for currying interest, even friendly interest. Not from any of the locals. After the first curiosity had passed, she hoped to knit her family into the fabric of small-town life so well that no one ever noticed them again. Howie shoved his glasses up his snub nose. "This map doesn't show Black--" Lia gave him a look so fierce his voice froze midstream. The cop tilted his head. "Sounds to me like you're lost." The car's engine rattled ominously. Lia hadn't dared shut it down while they'd searched the map. If she didn't put the Grudge into gear soon, it might give out again. She thrust the soft driAlexander, Carrie is the author of 'Ready-made Family ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373781539 and ISBN 0373781539.