Page 137 of One Step Too Far

The envelope is very thick. It takes me a few minutes to work it all out. “Oh my God, this is like five thousand bucks.”

Luciana smiles. “And yet surviving the three most terrifying days of our lives... priceless.”

I don’t know what to say. My hands are shaking. “Can I at least buy you dinner?”

“You really don’t understand this gift thing, do you?”

“It hasn’t come up before.”

“How about we both do some clothes shopping tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Shopping with a friend. I’ve heard of such things. Maybe Sophie and I did it once upon a time. But it’s been so long.

“Oh, and I want you to have this.”

“Another gift?”

Luciana smiles, holds out a paracord bracelet. It’s in shades of brown and dark green, and the clasp contains a sawtooth edge, similar to the one she lent me at the beginning of our wild adventure. “In case your emergency whistle isn’t enough,” she tells me.

I snap it around my wrist, genuinely touched. “I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” Now I’m mortified. She’s been so thoughtful; here I am, the selfish one.

“Frankie, stop it.” She grabs my hand. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. This makes us happy. That’s gift enough.”

I’m going to cry. Except I’m tired of crying. So I hug her instead. Then Daisy wants in on the action, and it quickly becomes a silly, laughing affair that shifts something in my chest. Ever so slightly, but enough. I find that I can breathe for the first time in weeks.

Later, after another huge dinner, I lie in bed, fingering the bracelet around my wrist. I think of what she said. That maybe I could do something different, something I haven’t even thought of yet.

What would that be?

What am I really searching for?

We shop. Luciana looks amazing in everything. She decides she needs real cowboy boots, and then while she’s at it, ends up with a hat as well. I contain myself till we get to the giant outdoor gear store. Then I can’t help myself. I go a little nuts picking out wicking fabrics and pants bulging with pockets that can also be turned into shorts. Multipurpose clothing for the minimalist on the go. I also purchase new boots and a ton of socks.

I have a pang when I genuinely miss my old boots. I console myself that they led a good life and served me well to the end.

What is it I’m really trying to find?

More food. Many of the local establishments know us by now. We return to the steak house from that very first night, where we’re immediately told not to worry about the bill. We chatter nonstop and try not to stare at the place where Bob should be sitting or at the half of the table that should be loaded down with platters just for him.

What am I truly looking for?

Final evening before our morning checkout. We both pack, me organizing my new wardrobe into my reliable old suitcase. We indulge in a midnight snack of homemade brownies, then turn in for the night. I lie in the middle of the soft, decadent bed. I listen to the comforting sound of Daisy snoring, the small rustlings of Luciana shifting in her sleep.

Tomorrow, Luciana and Daisy will drive me to Jackson, which has many more transit options. They will then continue on for home.

And me?

On to the case of a missing eight-year-old boy the world has forgotten?

Or something else?

What am I searching for?

Paul accused me of using my cold case obsession to run away from everything. I argued I was running toward. Ten years later, I’m still not sure which one of us was right. The life I lead—my presence matters; my absence never leaves a mark. I keep telling myself I’m okay with that. But maybe, lately... Someone in Oregon loves me. A teenage girl in Boston still thinks of me. And Luciana and Daisy, they will always remember me.

It’s something, each little pinprick of connection like a distant star. Till maybe someday, I’ll no longer be just a shadow passing through, but a constellation of lives touched, people healed, differences made.

Maybe someday, I will return to Boston. Except this time, I’ll be ready for it. No longer a woman floating along the edges of life, but a woman who’s learned how to seize it with both hands. No longer a work in progress, but a complete soul who understands her worth.

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