"You said in Spokane that you understood why I needed to do this."

"I understood why you left. But it's been almost a year. I don't understand what you hope to accomplish by this."

"I'm not trying to accomplish anything." I looked at him. "Or maybe I am. I can't explain why it's so important. I just know that I need to finish what I started."

For a moment he didn't say anything. Then he shook his head. "It just doesn't make any sense to me."

"But it does to me. And that's what matters. You need to let me deal with my grief the way I need to deal with it."

"But you're not dealing with it. You're running away from it. No, you're walking away from it."

"So let me not deal with it the way I need to."

He breathed out in exasperation.

"Dad, you know what I'm going through. After Mom died, didn't you want to just escape?"

"I had you," he said. "I couldn't just walk away from everything."

"But did you want to?"

He looked at me for a moment, then stood and took his plate over to the sink. Then he went to his bedroom and shut the door.

I just sat alone at the table. Is there anyone else I can run out of my life?

CHAPTER Twelve

You should always be careful of what you say in parting.

Alan Christoffersen's diary

Over the next week my father didn't say much-at least not about my leaving. As the time for my departure neared, things between us became increasingly tense, which I dealt with by walking more. Two days before my flight back to St. Louis, my father and I were eating dinner when I just couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"My flight's Tuesday morning," I said.

He kept on eating, meticulously cutting off bite-sized pieces of flank steak, then spearing them and putting them into his mouth.

I breathed out in exasperation. "Dad, I'm leaving. Can we talk about this?"

He kept at his steak. "You've made up your mind. What's there to talk about?"

"Can we talk about why you're so angry?"

He looked me in the eyes. "Do you think that there's something magical about Key West? That the moment you reach the city line your life will just miraculously change and everything will be good again?"

"No, Dad, everything will never be good again."

He shook his head. "You need to have faith," he said.

"Faith in what?"

"That life is still worth living."

"What did you think, that I was going to come home and abandon my walk?"

My father's demeanor softened. "No. But I was hoping."

I exhaled slowly, regaining my composure. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you want me to stay. But it's not my path. At least not yet."

"If not now, when?"

I looked at him for a moment, then said, "As soon as I figure that out, I'll let you know." The room fell into silence. Finally, I pushed back from the table. "I'm not hungry." I got up and went to my room.The next morning I woke with a headache, which I hid from my father at breakfast. Most people would think it strange that we didn't say a thing about our previous night's conversation, but that was predictable. It's just the way we communicated. Or didn't.

Around noon my headache eased some and I walked two miles to the grocery store for supplies, then returned home and laid out my clothes for packing. I felt more alone than I had on the road. I desperately wanted to talk to someone. But Falene was still a vapor and I didn't dare call Nicole.

I called Carroll to see if he had any news about Falene. He had nothing new to report but said he hadn't given up. I told him I was leaving and gave him my cell phone number in case he found her. To my surprise, Nicole called later that afternoon.

"Hey," she said softly. "How are you?"

"I'm so glad you called," I said. "I've missed you."

"Me too," she said. There was a long pause. "So you're leaving tomorrow?"

"You've been talking to my dad?"

"He's my accountant," she said. "We talk every week."

"He's pretty upset."

"I know."

There was another long pause.

"I've managed to run off everyone I love," I said.

"Maybe we just all love you too much."

"Then I could use a little less love about now."

She laughed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I kind of screwed things up between us."

"No you didn't. There's nothing you could do to make me not care about you."

"Thank you," she said. "I feel the same way about you." She breathed out into the mouthpiece. "Are you feeling okay?"