Beau’s face remained still.
“Didn’t.”
He glanced at the dead Camry.
“Didn’t need to.”
Inside the store, Wanda stood behind the counter pretending she was not listening through the glass and the partially opened door.
Beau had asked her whether she knew of a place that would accept a woman and child late at night.
Wanda knew the direction and helped him confirm the address.
That was all.
He had not asked Rachel’s name.
He did not know Lily’s.
He knew only what he could see: an exhausted mother who would not leave a locked car, a child who had waved at a stranger, and a fuel tank that had nothing left in it.
Rachel finally opened the driver’s door.
Beau immediately turned slightly away, giving her space.
She stepped out, keeping one hand on the door, and picked up the nozzle.
When gasoline began flowing into the Camry, Rachel stared at the numbers climbing on the pump.
For the first time that evening, a number increasing did not frighten her.
Lily rolled down the rear window a few inches.
“Thank you,” she said.
Beau turned.
The enormous bearded biker and the eight-year-old girl looked at each other across the roof of the Camry.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Lily lifted her hand again.
Another small wave.
Beau raised two fingers from his side in answer.
Rachel filled the tank.
When she replaced the nozzle, she still had the folded receipt clutched in her other hand.
“Are you sure about this address?”
“Go there,” Beau said.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow tonight.
Just get there.”
Rachel would remember that sentence for years.
She had been trying to solve the rest of her life since leaving Georgia.
Where would they sleep tomorrow?
How would she find work?
Could Curtis find them?
What would happen to Lily’s school?
How could thirty-four dollars become rent, food, gas, security, and a new life?
Beau reduced the problem to a single destination.
Just get there.
Rachel climbed back into the Camry.
She locked the doors.
Beau did not appear offended.
He straddled his Harley, started the engine, and pulled on his gloves.
Rachel rolled the window down enough to call after him.
“Sir!”
He looked over.
“Thank you.”
Beau gave one short nod.
Then the black Road King rolled away from pump four and disappeared into the Florida night.
He never told Rachel his name.
Rachel never told him hers.
For several minutes she remained parked beneath the fluorescent canopy.
Lily climbed forward enough to look at the receipt.
“Where are we going?”
Rachel looked at the handwritten address.
“Somewhere safe, I think.”
