She thought the dog and I were taking a short trip to Santa Fe, to have dinner at my dad’s. I told her he and his new wife were having a big dinner party and they wanted me there. I couldn’t tell her I was driving back out toward Farmington on Highway 550 to see the guy who’d saved me. I knew she was unlikely to call Dad, and he would never call her, so there was no risk in this particular fib. I wore a pair of flattering jeans, with a couple of layered long-sleeved T-shirts, silver hoop earrings, boots, and a cute short white parka. I’d put on makeup and blown my long wavy hair out straight and shiny. I wanted to look good when Travis saw me. I thought about taking off my locket, but again it seemed to warm and glow when I thought of Travis, and something inside of me told me I needed to wear it. “Be careful,” my mother said, as she always did before I drove anywhere. “Call me if you’re going to be late or if you need me for anything.” “Okay,” I mumbled, unable to meet her gaze.
