Snapshots: Meanwhile...

she woke with a shudder, hoping the wail of terror she had let out in her nightmare did not carry over into the real world.

it didn't.

she lay still at her end of the cab, giving no sign that she was awake. the roar of the semi-truck's engine and wheels as they sped across some random state was oddly comforting, as was the deep voice of the giant truck driver singing along with the music from the speakers.

she pulled the trucker's green, woolly army blanket around her closer. she knew it was still summer, but her young body felt as if it would never be warm again.

her slight movement drew a glance from the trucker. "you okay over there, little girl?"

no, she wasn't. she'd never be okay again. but she was alive. "yes, sir."

"would you like to listen to some different music? rock, or country music?"

"no, sir. i've never heard these songs, but i like listening to you sing them."

there was a touch of tenderness in his voice as he replied, "you're older than your years, aren't you, little girl? most of those songs are older than me."

she listened to the song:

i see trees of green
red roses, too
i see 'em bloom
for me and for you
and i think to myself
what a wonderful world...

the words broke her heart and made her smile at the same time. her mother had loved flowers. the First Day of Spring was an official holiday in their family. their mother would take them out of school and they would drive around all day planting flower seeds in random places: parks, roadsides, even houses that had "For Sale" signs in the yard. donnie would play fetch with yorick while she and their mother would place the seeds in the soil and pour some water from a plastic milk jug over the soil. it was their tradition; she didn't know anybody else who did this.

she resolved then and there that she would carry on her mother's tradition every First Day of Spring, no matter where she was. this sudden decision about her future made her sit up. she had a future. this was the first time since that terrible day that she had thought about the future. it had all been about how to survive the current moment, or missing her family. she had something to look forward to, now. a purpose.

"sir, where are we?"

"missouri," he told her, then added, "and i told you not to call me 'sir."

"i'm sorry, sir." she giggled. "sorry! what do i call you, then?"

he hmph'd. "i have a niece about your age who calls me 'uncle mack.' you can call me that, if you like."

"uncle mack," she tried it out. "i like that. you look like an uncle, although i've never had an uncle before."

he glanced at her. "since we're on the subject of names, i can't really continue to call you 'little girl,' little girl. want to give me yours now?"

she shook her head. "i can't. i can't let him find me again."

"who, little girl?"

"the bad man." she shivered as she recalled his face, evil even when lying there motionless, covered in blood as she made her escape. she wished he were dead but knew he wasn't. she may be only 10 years old, but she knew that evil like that couldn't be killed. he'd come looking for her again. and for donnie. she prayed that he'd never find donnie. she knew she couldn't look for donnie because that might lead the bad man to him.

the worry lines in the trucker's forehead creased even deeper. she had captured his heart and soul when he spied her behind the truck stop cafe, crying as she held her sneakers under a water faucet, trying to scrub blood off. when he knelt down and offered to help, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. he could tell that she was in trouble--bad trouble--but she wouldn't tell him what it was, nor who she was, nor where she lived. when he mentioned the police, she had screamed and tried to run away from him. he saw the pain and terror in her face and just couldn't let her run away, so he promised to take care of her and not call the police. he took her to a Wal-Mart to buy some clean clothes, then they came back to the cafe and ate pancakes. when she begged him to take her far, far away, he couldn't say no to her. he still didn't know what to do, but he would not abandon her.

"well, if you're not going to use your real name, i guess you need to pick a new one."

she perked up. "i get to pick my own name?"

he shrugged. "you'd look pretty silly being called 'little girl' when you're 50 years old, wouldn't you?"

she laughed. "yes, that would be very silly!"

"so, what's it going to be? bertha?"

"yuck, no!"

"thelma?"

"no way!"

"well, what do you want to be called?"

she put her finger to her chin, thinking hard. "this is an important decision, isn't it?"

mack nodded. "very important. you're going to hear this name for the rest of your life, so you'd better like it."

"hmmm." she thought about her promise to herself to continue her mother's tradition of planting flowers. "what about...lily?"

mack grinned and started to sing:

who's got eyes that sparkle like a lily sprinkled with dew?
lily belle.
who's got lips that's fresh as autumn rain when summer is through?
lily belle...

lily clapped her hands in delight.