When he looked more closely, he saw that Caleb had circled the towns where they had spent the night and written in some of the more notable things they had done along the way. In Missouri, “enormous pancakes” was written in Caleb’s neat penmanship. In Oklahoma City, he had written “so many dogs.” Little messages like that were penned in along the entire route, and Peter could imagine Caleb rotating the map around on a table, trying to make sense of it, swearing up a blue streak. “Caleb,” he said. “It’s nothing,” Caleb muttered, which was as good as one of his rare I love yous.
