The Girl of Sand & Fog (42 page)

CHAPTER 33

Two
years later

I
drive down the bumpy gravel road in the center of a dust cloud that moves with
Bobby’s Aston Martin and makes it damn near impossible to see through the
windshield.

After wandering from state to state by car,
stopping where we want, doing what we want—Bobby usually just getting to know
people and locales, and me filming whatever catches my eye—we’re finally back
in California.

Three months ago we started working our way down
the coast from Seattle back to Pacific Palisades and our families. Our home
state has changed a lot in the two years we’ve been gone. There’s been a lot to
film and experience.

I crank up the air conditioner in the car. Fuck,
it’s dry in the Central Valley of California. Hot. Dusty. No rain. Maybe people
would start taking the drought seriously if more people could see this or at
least watch my vlog and films.

I roll to a stop in front of a small adobe
ranch-style house in the middle of a clump of barren earth in the middle of
nowhere.

That’s what the center of the Golden State feels like.
The middle of nowhere. The land before time. Or maybe I should say the land
before urbanization. A strange, brown, uninhabited piece of earth completely
unlike the trendy, elite coastal towns I was raised in.

I grab my notepad from the passenger seat beside
me and jot that down. I might need it for the next installment of ‘Forgotten
California’, my hard-hitting documentary series I upload each week on my
rehabilitated serious-news-only
Kaley’s World
website.

Yep, that’s what I do now. I make serious films
with serious subject matter, but I post them on
Kaley’s World
because,
what the heck, after I destroyed my dad’s house in a streaming live video it
still gets a shitload of traffic. I cringe, even more embarrassed today about
that stunt than I was immediately after I did it, trapped in the shitstorm of
being an Internet sensation. Why shouldn’t I put the continued traffic on the
site to good use? And raising people’s awareness of the tragedy happening in my
state because there is no water is good use.

I lean over the steering wheel, looking up
through the windshield. Bobby is sitting on the roof of the house, shirtless,
drinking a beer with the old man we met in town last night.

My features soften from my fast-rising emotions.
I never know what Bobby is going to do on this strange journey we’ve been on.

Last week, we made an impromptu stop at a water
distribution station in a tiny town thirty miles out from Fresno and Bobby
spent the day working at a relief center, handing out water. I got some great
footage there, but it blows my mind that there are people in California without
running water now who have to go to relief centers to fill buckets and get
bottled water.

In the richest country in the world there are
people—usually the poor. The poor are always first to be hit—without water.

Shameful.

I jot down a few more notes and slap my journal
closed.

I patiently wait for Bobby to climb down from the
top of the house. The vision he makes causes a smile to claim my lips.

Bobby can’t drive by a person in need without
spending time with them. Trying to help. Trying to understand their life. Or
just working his tail off, like it looks like he did today given what a hot,
sweaty mess he is.

I’m not sure how the random acts of kindness fit
into this journey for him. But then, I don’t need to understand it. I love him.
That makes everything OK and something we just do.

Today he’s helping an old, weather-worn man fix
his roof.

Tomorrow—who knows?

The only thing I know for sure is that I am and
always will be in love with Bobby Rowan. That’s the most important thing this
two-year journey has taught me.

My phone rings. I rummage through my tote, check
the caller ID and then swipe answer.

“Hey, Pop.”

My dad’s laughter floats through the receiver.
“You sound cheery. How’s my girl? Where are you?”

“In California. Just north of Fresno. Everything
good at home?”

“Good. We all miss you. You coming home anytime
soon?”

I smile. “Bobby and I discussed that last night.
We are. We’re heading back to Pacific Palisades tomorrow. We should be home in
a few days.”

“It’s only—what?—a five-hour drive from Fresno.
Why a few days?”

I laugh. “I film things along the way. Haven’t
you seen my documentaries on my website? I can’t believe that Mom hasn’t been
showing you the installments of my California drought coverage.”

My dad laughs, amused. “Yes, I’ve watched your
vlog. I’ve read your online articles. I’ve seen your films. And, no, your
mother didn’t have to show me. I can spy on you kids as well as Chrissie can
without her help.”

“Oh really. Since when?”

My dad’s laughter grows stronger. “Since you took
off with your boyfriend and it’s the only way I can keep tabs on my girl.”

My smile spreads across my entire face.

“I really do miss you, Dad.”

“I miss you, too, Princess. So why don’t you come
home?”

I make a playful groan. “I am. Jeez, you’re
starting to get as bad as Mom with the guilt and pressure thing.”

“Ah, speaking of your mother, Chrissie told me to
tell you that she got that letter you were expecting, scanned it and e-mailed
it to you.”

My heart stills. “She did? I haven’t seen it yet.
Wait, Pop, I want to open my e-mail and make sure Mom didn’t foul up and that
it’s there.”

“What’s going on, Kaley?”

I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Nothing. It’s just some research I wanted that I couldn’t get online. Hold
on.”

I grab my tablet, connect to the car mobile hot
spot—oh please, let it work here in the middle of nowhere—and then log on to my
e-mail. Relief shoots through me as it starts to load.

I scan my loading e-mails.

There it is.

I click open the attachment.

I quickly read it.

My heart stops.

“Oh God.”

“Sweetheart, are you all right?”
my dad
asks, suddenly sounding concerned.

“I’m OK,” I mumble as I continue to read.

Holy shit.

Right there.

Names of parents.

Their dates of birth.

Location of birth.

Even a last known address.

My heart is racing so fast I can hardly breathe.
I turn off my Surface and set it aside. I wonder what Bobby is going to think
of this. Maybe I should have asked him, instead of filling out the forms myself
pretending to be him and submitting them to the Los Angeles Department of
Social Services for his adoption file.

Too late now.

“Kaley, what’s going on?”

Fuck, I just left my dad hanging. “Nothing.
Everything is good.
I think we’ll be home no later than Friday.
Filled with news and definitely ready to see you.”

“News, huh? What’s going on, Kaley?”

He sounds super concerned now.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that last part.

When did my dad get so suspicious?

My cheeks warm. “Nothing. It’s just an
expression.”

A long pause. “Not buying it. You can explain
when you get here. See you soon?”

“Soon, Dad. I promise.”

Click.

I set my phone back into my tote just as Bobby
starts crossing the driveway toward me. I grab my camera, pop from the car and
quickly snap some pictures of him.

He gives me a pained look.

I smile as I watch him open the passenger door.
“That one I’m sending to Linda,” I taunt across the roof. “That picture she’ll
love. You looking like a construction worker. I bet she uses it for the
Christmas card.”

He leans, arms on the car, shaking his head at
me. “Very funny. Why don’t we use it for our Christmas card? Our first one as
Mr. and Mrs. Rowan.”

I copy his posture with my arms on top of the
car. “Say that again.”

He smiles. “Which part?”

My eyes widen. “The good part.”

“Mrs. Rowan,” he says in a husky, exaggerated
way.

I bite my lower lip. “I love hearing that. I wish
people still called each other Mr. and Mrs. I could hear that all day and never
get tired of it.”

He arches a brow. “Then why haven’t you wanted to
tell our parents we got married last month?”

“Because I want to tell them in person.
Especially since we got married without them.”

“Who should we tell first? My mom? Your mom? The
moms together? Or all our parents together?”

I gnaw my lower lip as if trying to decide, but I
already know. “My dad. I want to tell my dad first and I want to be alone with
him when I tell him.”

The expression softens in his eyes, a tender look
of understanding and approval. “OK. Your dad. Alone. First.”

I love that he gets that without asking me to
explain.

“Thank you. My dad, then you have to tell
everyone else all on your own.”

“Kaley—”

I climb into the car before he can finish and
Bobby settles in the passenger seat. I turn on the ignition and head down the
road.

He grabs from a cooler a chilled bottle of
Gatorade, twists off the top and downs nearly half of it. He leans back against
the headrest.

“God, I’m exhausted. That man was over seventy
and I could barely keep up with him. We started at 8 a.m. and just finished now
without a break. I don’t know how he does it.”

I laugh. “You probably do more during your nights
than he does. He’s more rested in the morning.”

His lids lift and the look in his eyes sends a
current through my veins. “I definitely have a hotter wife.”

I lapse into silence and debate whether I should
tell him the major news I’ve been keeping from him for weeks.

I park at the motel we’ve been staying at, the
only one in the gas and food stop exit near the 99 Freeway that pretends to be
a town. I stare at the run-down building. Maybe I should wait. This is not a
romantic, marital kind of setting, and I want this to be a perfect memory for
us.

This
is not perfect. The motel is
clean, but that’s about all I can say for where we’re staying tonight. Yep, I
should wait and not do it here.

Bobby opens his door and sighs. “I’m so tired I
don’t know if I can make it to the room.”

I laugh. “You better. I don’t think I can carry
you.”

He shakes his head. “Do you know that old man
offered to pay me today? He got all emotional when I wouldn’t take his money.”

My brows hitch up. “Really, how much?”

Bobby grins. “Forty bucks.” He laughs. “I’m
driving an Aston Martin—we really need to unload this car and get something
else—and he offers to pay me because I helped him today with his roof. I hope
that isn’t the way our country has become and I just don’t know it. That people
don’t help people unless they’re paid to.”

“Most people aren’t as good as you, Bobby.” I
slip my hand around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. I ease back enough to
smile in his eyes. “I love you.”

He sort of droops into me. “I love you, too,
baby. But don’t think you’re getting any tonight.”

I laugh. “Wasn’t planning on it. And I think I’ve
already gotten more of you than I should.”

He frowns, lifting his head to study my face.

Shoot, why did I make that last joke?

I climb quickly from the car, hurrying toward our
door, and then slip the key into the lock. Keys. A definite indication we are
somewhere not pricy and stylish.

I flip on the light, enter our room, and drop my
stuff on the desk.

I turn toward Bobby as he closes and bolts the
door.

I lie on my side on a bed and watch him start to
undress.

“There are two beds,” I say. “Since you don’t
want to give me any, maybe we should each sleep in separate beds tonight. You
really do look worn out. But you really do look hot when you’re a sweaty mess.
I may not be able to resist myself and jump you even though you are exhausted.”

Laughing, he puts a kiss on my head. “Just let me
take a shower. I might get a second wind.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not counting on it with the
way you look.” I crinkle my nose. “Or the way you smell. Nope, you’re the one
not getting any tonight.”

“You’ll change your tune once I’m clean,” he says
in a sexy, half whispering voice.

“You are so conceited, Bobby.”