The Road to You

ABOUT THE BOOK

~A Coming-of-Age/New Adult Romantic Mystery from Bestselling Author Marilyn Brant~

Sometimes the only road to the truth...is one you’ve never taken.

Until I found Gideon’s journal in the tool shed—locked in the cedar box where I’d once hidden my old diary—I’d been led to believe my brother was dead. But the contents of his journal changed all that.

The Road to Discovery...

Two years ago, Aurora Gray’s world turned upside down when her big brother Gideon and his best friend Jeremy disappeared. Now, during the summer of her 18th birthday, she unexpectedly finds her brother’s journal and sees that it’s been written in again. Recently. By him.

The Road to Danger...

There are secret messages coded within the journal’s pages. Aurora, who’s unusually perceptive and a natural puzzle solver, is hell bent on following where they lead, no matter what the cost. She confides in the only person she feels can help her interpret the clues: Donovan McCafferty, Jeremy’s older brother and a guy she’s always been drawn to—even against her better judgment.

The Road to You...

Reluctantly, Donovan agrees to go with her and, together, they set out on a road trip of discovery and danger, hoping to find their lost brothers and the answers to questions they’ve never dared to ask aloud.

In that expectant space between silence and melody, our trip began...

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”

~Martin Buber

I spent a large portion of my childhood in the 1970s, and I remember that decade with fondness if, perhaps, with a bit too much disco, oddly patterned clothing and kitchen appliances that were painted a disturbing shade of “mustard.”

But that time period wasn’t really
so
long ago...although, sometimes, it does seem like a galaxy far, far away. An alternate universe where the people of Earth did not have cell phones. Or GPS devices. Or even wireless Internet access.

It proved quite a challenge for me to write a story about missing teens set in an age when, if a family member disappeared, he or she couldn’t be tracked by the technological or forensic methods so commonplace today. An era when finding an unoccupied payphone was the only way to contact someone if you were away from home. When folded-paper maps were the main tool you had in figuring out directions on the road. And when, if there was research on a topic to be done, the public library would be your best bet for getting the resources you needed.

We have so much information available at our fingertips now, but that not-so-distant decade still holds plenty of unique gifts in its treasure box. The music back then could be pretty amazing—if you knew who to listen to on your LP turntable, 8-track player or cassette deck. It was a known fact that there were some really cool cars on the highway. And, well, the Force was with us all...

Thanks for reading this story. I hope it brings you the joy of romance, the intrigue of mystery and the sheer thrill of adventure.

“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to the truth;

not going all the way, and not starting.”

~Buddha

Chameleon Lake, Minnesota ~ Thursday, June 8, 1978

M
Y HANDS
trembled as I unlocked the cedar box in the tool shed. I listened for the distinctive click, lifted the lid and peered inside, not knowing what I’d find in its shadowy depths.

I half expected to see my old diary resting at the bottom, even though I knew it was safely back in my room. I used to hide it in here years ago, before the key to the box was lost. A key that mysteriously resurfaced this week.

But it wasn’t my diary.

Instead, I found a different book. The small brown-leather journal that had once belonged to my older brother Gideon. My only sibling. The one who’d disappeared two years ago. The one everyone said was dead.

I bit back the usual sob that always rose up in my throat when I remember him, then stared at the medium-sized box and its contents, almost afraid to touch anything. To my eye, my brother’s book seemed to have been conjured there, as if by magic. I hadn’t seen Gideon’s journal since the day he’d gone missing... What was written in it? And why, all of a sudden, had it reappeared—much like the key to this box—here, now?

Before I could talk myself out of it, I snatched up the journal and began to examine it.

Funny, even with the impression of a delicate butterfly stamped on the front cover, the book still managed to be tinged with Gideon’s masculinity. To an outsider, it probably looked like it contained some kid’s observations on nature. Something safe, simple, innocent.

And the first few pages really were ordinary. So typical of my big brother that I caught myself in a sigh, missing him. I still missed him so damned much—with every breath, every memory.

Like the way he’d grin at me whenever I saw him scribbling in it. Even if I teased him about the butterfly or keeping secrets or writing notes about his girlfriends, he’d just laugh.

“Aurora, I love butterflies and secrets...
and
girls,” he’d tell me, amused and so self-confident.

But here I was, skimming through a dozen pages, and I hadn’t found any dating exploits yet. Just details about cars and engines cluttering the first third of the journal. I spotted a step-by-step flowchart for performing an oil change. Something about the testing of transmission fluid. A procedure for fixing a leaky head gasket and the supplies needed to do so: