Free On Folly Beach by Karen White Page A

of the world.
    By mapping out every turn of her journey, Emmy felt more in control of the whole process instead of the more familiar feeling of being like a marble dropped on the floor, rolling in whatever direction offered the least resistance.
    Her parents had helped her pack her car—Ben’s Ford Explorer—and after kissing her forehead, her father had reached in to latch her seat belt as if by doing so he could protect her from every danger down the road.
    “I want you to stop every couple of hours and give us a call on your cell phone. You’ve got your phone charger, right? And an extra battery just in case?”
    “Yes, Dad. And I’ve got cash hidden in three different spots, bottled water, and my Mace.”
    “You got a full tank of gas, too. I filled it up this morning.”
    “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”
    He leaned in again and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Don’t forget to call.”
    He stepped back and Paige filled the space inside the open door but she didn’t lean in. “You got all those books from Folly’s Finds?”
    Emmy patted the box sitting on the passenger seat next to her, feeling almost as if they were old friends. “Yes, thanks. And I wish you’d let me pay you for them.”
    Paige smiled. “I figure you need them more than I do. Consider them a gift.” She looked away for a moment, the blue sky reflected in her eyes. “You felt something when you touched them, didn’t you? I’m glad. Because I don’t think I could have convinced you to go on my own.”
    Paige stepped back and shut the door with a solid thud, more final than any parting words could have been.
    Emmy swallowed twice before she could find her voice. “I left your jar of sand on the desk in the office. Guess I won’t be needing it where I’m heading.” She tried to smile but it faltered when her lips began to tremble. “Mama—” she began but Paige cut her off by placing both of her hands on the open window.
    “Don’t forget to call or your daddy won’t be able to sleep. Be careful.”
    Before Paige could pull her hands away, Emmy grabbed them and squeezed. “Good-bye, Mama.”
    Paige squeezed back, then let go, and Emmy’s hands fell useless to her lap. “Good-bye, Emmy.”
    Emmy started the engine and raised the window before following the long gravel-and-dirt drive that led away from her parents’ house, watching her father wave to her in the rearview window until the cloud of dust obscured them. Focusing on the road ahead, she flipped the radio on and turned up the air conditioner, listening to the tires roll over the road and trying not to think about how long her journey was going to be.

    THE SUNSET SKY BLUSHED IN reds and purples by the time Emmy drove through Charleston nearly thirteen hours later. She was hungry and tired, and her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth so tightly, but she wasn’t ready to stop yet. She was so close and she couldn’t help but feel that if she stopped she might not find the courage to continue.
    Crossing over the Ashley River Bridge, with the pastel Charleston skyline punctuated by church steeples behind her, she turned the radio off and rolled her window down. She breathed in the scented air that smelled green and wet to her; a smell as foreign to her as a stranger’s kiss. The road hummed beneath her tires and she found herself tightening her jaws to the rhythm of the road.
    Feeling anxious now, she flipped the radio back on, then fiddled with the dial on the old car radio before stopping on the first clear station. It was an oldies station playing music from the big-band era, and Emmy found herself relaxing. Although her parents were from the hippie generation, they loved to dance to the old music and had a cabinet full of records they’d take out from time to time and slow dance to in the living room. They’d been doing that ever since Emmy could remember, usually after she’d been sent to bed. But as soon as she’d hear the trumpets sing and the softer