Betty returned the Rent-A-Wreck to the dealer in town early Thursday as soon as the place opened. A man in a dirty T-shirt behind the counter handed her a form to fill out. Nervously, she signed a false name, C. Hook, on it and paid in cash. She started walking along Route 54 headed south, back to the Misty Pines Motel where the kids were still sleeping. 'No misty pines around here. Ain't no trees,' she said with emphasis. She tossed a round pebble across the highway, skipping it into a cornfield, baked dry by drought. 'Corn's only ankle high and it's way past the Fourth of July,' she thought. 'Bad sign.'

She looked down at the worn, misshapen sandals on her dusty, abandoned-looking feet. She wondered what a beauty shop person would say to her if she asked to have her feet done. Corns, bunions, dry patches and big yellowed toenails, thick as plywood, made her ashamed to think about a beauty specialist looking at them. My, it would be like showing off the stretch marks on her belly and breasts in a bikini at a posh beach in Miami or something. The pedicurist would probably complain to her supervisor about ever having to work with clientele like her. She had let herself go to pot.

Her thoughts returned to the motel, breakfast plans and how far they could get by bus today. Or where they would go to. There wasn't much question that it was going to be in the opposite direction of anywhere Harold could figure out.

Harold was probably still splayed all over the couch, drunk and fat and smelly, with the zipper of his pants still open. It would take him a day or two, maybe more, to figure out they were gone. Might take him a day or two to wake up. She made sure not to take more than they would need or would be noticed missing and deal with laundromats on the way.

Laundromats were good places to rest up. Wendy and Michael played with the other kids and she could study the handwritten messages on the bulletin board along with notices about clothes left over 30 days, notes about rooms for rent or rides from such-and-such to so-and-so. Betty didn't care much anymore if they went west toward California or to Idaho or to Texas or to Oklahoma. They all sounded like wonderful places with different kinds of scenery, fresh air and nice people you could chat with in diners and such. She liked being extra pleasant to the waitresses along the way, remembering the embarrassment of so many spoiled nights out. She was sure she could get a job in some small town and earn enough to take care of them, like in Alice's Restaurant. She'd get a uniform and be friendly to all the customers and get to know the regulars so she'd know their order as they walked in, calling out "Hey, Betty. How ya be?"

Their nights would be wonderful. She'd take both kids to a park and lay on the grass to show them the stars, The Big Dipper, Orion's Belt and The North Star. They would be safe and could cuddle and love and cry in each other's arms for all of heaven to watch.