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I were a puzzle he was trying to figure out.
    Join the club. I didn’t even know what was going on with me lately. He would have to stand in line if he had questions.
    And I was going to have to figure it out here, in Alabama. Land of my father’s birth. Back end of nowhere.
    It was so weird to have Paula talk about this being my home, when I’d never been here, never even really discussed it with Dad. I knew he left when he was eighteen. As far as I can remember, he never returned, though he must have kept in touch with Paula, because she’d known about his funeral.
    The highway wound around the smoothly tumbled remnants of the Appalachian foothills. In places it dipped down between trees and lush vines that knitted everything together into a comforting canyon. Then it would crest one of the hills and, across the tops of the trees, I could see a panorama of green spread out in a dizzying vista.
    I rubbed my hands over my eyes. My body was stiff and aching and a dizzy, disconnected feeling was invading my brain and moving down to my stomach. I’d been travelling since six a.m. Eastern Standard Time – taxi, 747, turboprop commuter plane and now the soccer mom wagon. It all seemed to fall on me at once, an avalanche of exhaustion.
    â€˜Next exit,’ said Rhys, as if he’d read my mind.
    Paula glanced at him. ‘You aren’t going to wait un-til Clanton?’
    It figured she was a backseat – well, a passenger seat – driver. But Rhys took it in stride. ‘I thought the rest stop would be better for her to walk the dog. Lots of grass.’
    That was what we needed. If I could just put my feeton the ground, walk around a bit, I’d feel so much better.
    Gigi squirmed restlessly as Rhys put on the turn signal and slowed to exit the highway. By the time he pulled into the paved horseshoe in front of a swath of green dotted with picnic tables, my hand was on the door latch, braced for escape.
    I grabbed Gigi’s leash from her bag and climbed out, not bothering to put on my shoes. I probably should have been worried about glass or other nasty things, but I was mostly interested in feeling the grass under my feet, burrowing my toes down until I reached the cold soil beneath.
    Setting Gigi onto a stretch of lawn away from the picnic tables, I did just that, sinking my toes into the grass like I was putting down roots. The queasiness vanished, and a few deep breaths later, my head stopped spinning. Like magic.
    I immediately wished I hadn’t thought that. It was merely an expression, or it had been until that night in the Park with John. Before I had started second-guessing every whimsical thought that flitted through my imagination.
    Really, Sylvie? Magic?
    No, not really. I don’t think magic exists.
    Whew. Then I must not be crazy. Today, at least.
    Except then I had to worry about talking to myself. I couldn’t win.
    From behind me, I heard the car window roll down. ‘Sylvie, honey, where on earth are your shoes? Have you lost your mind?’
    The question made me laugh. After that, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear her, so I called over my shoulder, ‘I’ll just be a second, Cousin Paula.’
    Gigi, after some searching, found an acceptable spot to christen and I left her to it while I looked around. The rest stop consisted of the paved crescent, the grass we occupied, and the concrete picnic tables, all ringed by a wall of trees. The warm breeze carried a hint of the woods beyond, not really enough to compete with the stink of exhaust from the highway.
    A sign warned, ALL PETS MUST BE LEASHED , which was good advice. Done with her pee, my dog trotted persistently around the clearing, nose to the ground, which might mean that she wasn’t finished, or might mean she was checking messages from previous canine visitors.
    â€˜Don’t wander off, Gee.’
    She glanced at me – her ears pricked, her fluff standing defiantly out