Read The Road to Grace (The Walk) for Free Online Page B

hard ground, I was out before I knew it. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost a quarter to nine. I groaned. “Pamela.”
    I went to the bathroom and washed my face, then went outside and knocked on Pamela’s door. She answered immediately. “I wondered if you’d changed your mind.”
    “No. Sorry, I fell asleep. Are you ready?”
    She had probably been waiting for several hours, but she only nodded. “I’m ready.” She stepped out, shutting the door behind her. “Thank you.”

     
    Wall Drug is not the single store it started as—it’s now a long row of buildings that look like a cross between a strip mall and a movie studio’s back lot western town. Wall Drug’s restaurant was located near the middle of the complex.
    I held the door for Pamela as we walked into a large dining room separated into two eating areas by an open kitchen and a long row of cafeteria-style tray rails.
    The seating area closest to the street had an ice cream bar and pastry counter with pie, brownies, and other confections, including a platter of their famous “free for veterans” cake doughnuts.
    The wood-panel walls were hung with cowboy art: paintings of cowboys, horses, and Native Americans. They were all for sale, which was true of pretty much everything in the building.
    There was only one couple in the dining room. Pamela followed me over to a table in the southwest corner of the room—opposite the other diners.
    “We can sit here,” I said. “What do you want to eat?”
    “Whatever you get is fine,” Pamela replied.
    After looking over the hand-scrawled menu board, I ordered a couple of Cokes, two cups of chicken noodle soup, and French dip sandwiches. I paid for the meal and went back to the table where Pamela was sitting quietly. For a moment we just looked at each other, then I clasped my hands on the table in front of me. “What did you want to talk about?”
    Pamela took a deep breath. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
    After a moment I said, “Why don’t you begin by telling me why you abandoned your daughter?” My words sounded harsher than I had intended.
    She nodded. “All right.” She looked down for a long time. When she looked back up at me, her eyes had a dark sadness to them. “I want you to understand something. What I’m going to tell you isn’t an excuse. It’s a reason. If I could do things differently, I would.” She looked into my eyes to see if I understood.
    “Okay,” I said.
    She settled a little into her chair. “I should start at the beginning.” She took another deep breath. “I was too young when I married Sam. I was only eighteen. Way too young. My life at home was so terrible, and I suppose I was just looking for a way to get out. My parents were always fighting. They were always screaming and shouting at each other. Sometimes their fights would turn violent. Once the neighbors called the police, but when they arrived, my parents just yelled at them. The police left shaking their heads. It was madness.”
    “Were they ever violent with you?” I asked.
    “My mother hit me a few times. But seeing them hurt each other was worse. I used to hide in my closet withmy hands over my ears so I wouldn’t hear them. But of course I heard every word. I always thought it was my fault. I know that’s not rational, but children aren’t terribly rational.
    “This pattern went on my whole childhood. I don’t know why they didn’t get counseling or just leave each other. They were just sick, I guess. Or their relationship was. It was their cycle. But I never got used to it.
    “When I was old enough, I got a job waitressing at a pancake house. I worked as much as I could, and when I wasn’t working I’d hang out with my friends. We would stay out really late, and I would sleep over at their houses. For months I barely went home. I hadn’t really run away from home, I just stopped going there.
    “The first time I went home after I’d been away for more than a week, I