Chapter 161

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Finally, he’d made it far enough south of D.C. to be free of the worst traffic, which meant he was only three hours from home. Maybe four; the Studebaker drove like a dream, but it wasn’t exactly a speedster, and the chokepoint bridge-tunnels that led to Virginia Beach were never traffic-free, especially this close to a holiday. The long drive had been cathartic, though, in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

It was impossible to be sitting in this car and not think of his father, and after an hour or so of fighting it, he’d stopped trying. He’d had a hundred conversations with Charles in his head, beginning with the bitter and sliding slowly back toward the happier memories the car held for them: Andy didn’t think he and his father would ever have gotten along well, but maybe, just maybe, they might have been able to start over again. It would have to do.