I sigh quietly as we drive along the bumpy dirt road, memories popping up like hazy smoke as we pull into town. I pass the creek, a regular meeting spot for my buddies and I in our teens, where we drank and sang by the water, the old barn that looks like it's about to fall.The sky turns dark gray, then shifts to an angry black.
Rain. It pours down the windshield like tears shed by a grieving god. I glance into the rearview mirror, at the little angel that came into my life five years ago. I bite my lip, hard, as I watch her sleep. Her long, dark curls, so much like her mother's, fall into her closed eyes, her little chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Red freckles dot her nose and cheeks, making her look even more innocent than usual.
My Alyssa.
My fist clenches on the steering wheel and I speed up a little, heading toward the little inn that will keep us sheltered, for at least a few days. The past three days, the trek here, to my town, had been a long and hard one. It had been a stuggle not to turn back, especially with Alyssa's pleas and scared questions: "Daddy, why are we leaving? What about Mommy? We need to go back!" Her pleas had sliced through me like a knife.
Enough of that, I tell myself. You needed to get away from her, keep Alyssa safe. It was for the best.