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She pressed End with a stiff finger.
“Omigod,” Birdie said, palming her forehead. “How in the hell does a fourteen-year-old arrange a solo road trip to South Georgia behind her mother’s back?”
As if just realizing the magnitude and complexities of what she said, panic set in. “Omigod, my fourteen-year-old daughter is traveling alone to South Georgia.”
“Our wee Mia, she be a right warmer that one,” Angus said distractedly, while making grunting noises at the commotion outside.
She covered her mouth with the palm of her hand and blinked back tears. “Angus,” she said, realizing the potential danger of her daughter traveling alone. “We have to try and stop her.” Striding toward him, she grabbed his arm, the gravity of what Mia had done displacing the anger.
“When do you think she left? Shouldn’t we call the police and file a missing person’s report?”
“I checked the security cameras. She left a few hours ago.”
“Who did she leave with?”
“A wee lad wearing a beanie and a noos ring with a Lyft sticker pasted on ‘is car.”
“Don’t you have to have a credit card or bank account connected to a Lyft profile to be able to use their service? And, I dunno, be of legal age?”
“Aye, that tends to be the way of things.”
Birdie sat on her bed with her hand at her forehead, trying to figure out how her brilliant daughter had been able to stage such a stealthy exit.
“Do you think she’s taking a Lyft all the way to Georgia?” None of her friends could drive. They were all too young. Some still in braces.
Angus answered her question. “No, I reckin’ she be takin’ the boos.”
“Can a fourteen-year-old legally buy a bus ticket?”
“If that fourteen-year-old be Miss Mia, aye.”
“She’s a fourteen-year-old about to gain upward of a seven-year sentence without visiting rights.”
She crossed her arms over her chest as Angus continued to growl at the window. Birdie didn’t know whether to be angry or worried out of her mind.
“Angus, stop worrying about what’s going on outside. Mia. Is. Gone.”
He turned his bushy eyebrows away from the window. “Truth be told, Mia be the mither o’ mischief. A canny girl, that one.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “But no as canny as me. I be trackin’ our girl on me phone.”
Bolting toward him with a renewed level of hope, she asked, “Why didn’t you say so? Thank God.” She pulled his arm down to view the map on the screen of his phone. “Where is our little jailbird?”
“Ridin’ south on Highway 95,” he said. “After stopping at the boos station, and jumpin’ a ride.”
“How much time do I have to get to Wayward? Do you think it’s possible for me to get there before she does?” Whatever trials her daughter experienced during her trip to her small hometown, would be nothing compared to what she would endure once she arrived. Wayward was located in the Deep South. An area of the country that had long memories and short fuses. Unfortunately for her daughter, her mother hadn’t left on good terms.
“I’ve taken the liberty of makin’ proper arrangements. There be a flight to Jacksonville Airport departin’ in the morn. By the time ye fly, get a rental, and drive tae Wayward, ye be lookin’ to arrive around the same time as our wee girl.”
Birdie bit her bottom lip, torn between the thought of her daughter being safely in her arms and giving her an earful and grounding her for eternity for doing something so irresponsible and dangerous. But first, she was going to hug her and smell her hair.
Angus made his way to the doorway, pulling a much smaller suitcase into the room.
“Go on and grab ye purse. I’ve packed some things and booked a flight. I’ll be droppin’ ye off at Pearl’s to check on her. While ye be doin’ that, I’ll come back for yon steamer trunks. We’ll stay the night at a hotel, and then I’ll drop ye off at the airport in the morn and come back and set us up in Duxbury.”
Appreciation in the form of tears pooled in Birdie’s eyes. “Thank you so much, Angus. You know I can’t pay you…”
The burly Scot turned sheepish. “Goanae no dae that, lass. Tis folly tae live poor an’ die rich. We be family. You and Mr. Shepherd have been more than kind ta me. It’s only right to return the favor.”
She glanced toward the window, her expression going dark. “They’ll make up stories about us.”
“Yon two eejits couldna punch their way oot a wet newspaper,” Angus growled. “I no care what fables they conjure. Nothin’ ‘as changed. We be family.”
“Thank you,” she said, cupping his cheek. “Even though I don’t understand half of what comes out of your mouth.”
