“You better!” Wanda waved. She stayed in her own car, still in the condo lot, as Rowan drove away and toward a place she’d never thought she’d go again and toward people who she still wasn’t sure if they’d embrace her as she was, inviting her into the storm, or keep her at an arm’s length, only there to record it all for later.
* * * *
The moment Rowan cleared the US-Canada Border by the ever-so ironically named Rainbow Bridge, she was on the lookout for a rest stop. Her hands were tense on the wheel. Her outfit—the “Tuesday one” she’d come to think of it as—was too confining. It was only a typical collared shirt with her neutral slacks and a prominent, masculine belt—but it felt like a cage. She unbuttoned the collar and ran her hand around her neck. She realized she’d left one of her f
