TAUT (33 page)

I wait, or at least I try to. “And then what, Ash? Then what happened?”

“I didn’t know where Tony was. I needed to ask someone where he was. And I knew his friend’s address in Texas. I made the cab drive in circles around the airport for about an hour, then I went back and got on another plane and went to Dallas. And they thought I was crazy too. I mean,” she huffs out a sad laugh. “Carting this new baby all over the fucking world just to have a final conversation. I get it, Ford. It’s crazy. But needing this… this crazy
plan
doesn’t make
me
crazy. Desperate, maybe. But not crazy.”

I let the silence grow as I try to understand what’s happening.

What is happening? This is some sort of confession, I think. But of what?

“Anyway.” She picks the conversation back up. “His friend told me where he was, and of course, it’s in LA, so then I needed to get back there. But I figured flying was a no-go. They already knew I went to Texas, I’m sure. That’s not hard to find out. So I took the last of my cash and bought that crap car and took the least likely route back to California.”

I laugh a little. “Well, I bet you certainly threw them off your trail with Colorado.”

She smiles and laughs a little with me.

“And then… I swear to God, I was sitting there on the side of the road and the tow truck guy pulls up and asks if I need help. I had no money. Like thirty bucks, maybe. It was pretty much over for me at that point. But he said no charge, just get in the truck. So I did.”

She looks over to me and smiles. “And he took me to you. We were getting off the freeway and that tow truck guy stopped to talk to you. And when he pulled away you know what he told me?”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“He said, ‘That guy’s a fucking genius. He has all the answers.’ And do you know what I thought?”

“What?” I smile at her.

She smiles back. “I thought…
I need that guy
.”

A chill rockets through my body. I’m electrified by her words, by her admission, by her desire to have me. I look over at her and she’s gazing out the window again.

“
I need those answers so bad
, that’s what I thought. And then you appeared outside my car.”

“And then I invited you in, and kept you warm. And took you home, and bought you clothes, and played games with your mind when the last thing you needed was my fucking mind games. I’m sorry for that, Ashleigh.”

She looks back over at me and now she’s grinning. “I’m a Gamer, Ford. I like the games. I’ve gone easy on you”—I laugh out loud at this—“because you seemed a little lost too. But I don’t mind the mind-fuck. That’s part of my job, right? I’m a mind-unfucker.”

I bust out a guffaw. “Holy shit, you’re so… so… so perfect for me.” She takes a deep breath and I can feel the tension escape with the exhale. “Feel better? Got that shit off your chest?”

She nods, but she’s still looking out the window. “Yeah. But there’s more, Ford.” When she looks over at me the smile is gone.

“You can tell me, Ash. I’ll understand, no matter what it is.”

“I know you will. I know that.” She chews on her lower lip as she weighs her options.

“Is it a matter of trust? Or fear? You can keep it to yourself, too. If you want. I’m good with denial when it’s necessary.”

“OK,” she says in her Sweet Ashleigh voice. “I’m gonna hold the rest in for now. Just one more day, that’s all that’s left. In a few hours, all this uncertainty will be over.” She looks over at me again. “And that’s it. The end.”

“The end of who? Us? Or you and Tony?” This question makes her fight the tears again. I reach over and take her hand. “It’s OK, Ashleigh. You can keep that to yourself too.”

She fights the emotion and her face scrunches up as she swallows down the bad shit. “I need to for now. It’s so close, ya know. Why rush it?”

“God, that’s the truth.” I squeeze her hand again and she squeezes back this time. I’m not a hand-holder. I held her hand last night because that was her special request. But I’m not about to let go of her hand right now. This one’s for me. I want to keep a hold of her for as long as I can.

We drive like that for a while. Just silent. Kate is passed out in the back. Every time I check on her in the rear-view her little mouth is open and her head pressed up against the head support thing. Ashleigh messes with my phone as she makes a playlist, then plugs it into the cassette player. The sad music comes on, that same stuff that had her walking off in the Middle of Nowhere, Utah two days ago. “
The Naked and the Famous
,” I say absently. She looks over at me, waiting to see if I’ll protest. “It’s your day, Ash. You can listen to whatever you want. Today is all about you.”

She smiles at that but her mood is somber.

“Where do you live? I mean, here, in So Cal, where do you normally live when you’re here?” I need to get something out of her before we get to LA, otherwise she might slip away.

She tilts her head, like she’s thinking about this for a moment, then shrugs. “We don’t have any houses in LA right now. But there’s a condo in downtown San Diego and the family house in Rancho Santa Fe.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “That’s swanky.”

“Where’s your house?”

“Bel Air.”

“Very swanky,” she says back. “I think Bel Air trumps
El Rancho
.”

“Did you go to school there?”

“No, a day school in La Jolla.”

“Swankier.”

She laughs at this. “I went where I was put, so it’s not like I had a choice.”

I don’t know what to say after that. The whole Tony thing is just hanging in the air between us. Even Ashleigh seems a little bit uncomfortable. We pass by Barstow, blow through Victorville, make our way through the hills they call mountains out here, and then suddenly LA is looming in the distance. The gray haze of smog that lingers over the tall buildings looks even more ominous with the overcast sky and the traffic begins to slow considerably as we approach the 10. Californians freak out on the freeway if the weather changes. A little rain is a big deal, so I hope the fuck we get off the freeway before it starts pouring. “Westwood, right?” I ask Ashleigh.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You have an intersection, or an address you can put into the phone GPS?”

“Just take me to Strathmore and Kelton.”

“Kelton, huh? Not sure where that is. Strathmore is over by UCLA, right? Do you have an address?”

“Strathmore and Veteran. Just take the 405 up to Wilshire. That’s close enough.”

“So you won’t give me an address?”

“It’s my day, remember?” She turns her head away a little more, essentially ending the conversation.

The traffic is horrific so it takes a good hour to get over on the west side of town. I get off at Sepulveda and head towards the hills, because the traffic getting on the 405 is a nightmare waiting to happen. “My house is not far, Ashleigh. You sure you don’t want to go there first, rest up a little and then make a plan?”

“No,” Sweet Ashleigh says. “I’m good. Just take me there now.”

I fight the street traffic for a few miles, then turn on Wilshire and take it up to Veteran. Ashleigh gives directions. Left, straight, right, left again. “Stop,” she says.

“Where?” I ask, slowing down. There’s no parking here, the place is a clusterfuck of cars and apartment buildings.

“Just pull over here.”

I go up a half a block and then whip a bitch and pull into a red zone.

We sit.

And then she’s a blur of motion. She’s out of the car and walking back to the cargo area. I get out as she opens the tailgate and pulls out the stroller and then throws the diaper bag and her purse in the bottom area where there’s room for baby supplies. I just stand there, not quite accepting what’s happening. “Ashleigh, where are you going?”

She ignores me, just unbuckles Kate’s seat and hauls it over to the stroller. She fits it on top of it somehow, like it locks into place, and then folds the canopy over Kate’s eyes because a few drops of rain are falling. When all that’s settled she finally looks up to me. “Thank you, Ford. I am so, so happy that I met you. We’ll have to get together again sometime—”

“Whoa. Hold on. You’re just taking off? No address or phone number?”

“I’ll give you my number, call me later, we can make plans.” I fish out my phone and place it in her waiting hand and she types in some numbers.

“What’s this number go to, Ashleigh?”

“My cell,” she says, like this phone actually exists. “I don’t have it on me, I need to get another one. I’ll probably do that right after I take care of stuff. So just call me later.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to wait? Just in case?”

She shakes her head. “No, Ford. I’m sorry it’s so rushed, I just need to go.” And then she grips her stroller and walks up the sidewalk to one of the apartment buildings. I watch her for a few seconds because I’m actually unable to move.

She just walks away.

When she gets to the door she grabs the handle and pulls, but it’s locked. She glances nervously over her shoulder at me and waves. Then someone comes out the door and they hold it open for her.

I stand there like an idiot.

She just fucking left.

I get back in the truck and stare at the dashboard. I look over at the apartment building door and strain to see inside, but it’s the wrong angle from here. A cop car pulls up next to me and rolls down the passenger window. I roll mine down as well, and a few raindrops hit my arm as I wait to see what they want. “You can’t park here,” one of the officers inside says.

“I’m leaving,” I tell them. “Just get out of my way, I’m leaving.” They pull up a few cars and then stop again, waiting to see if I pull out. I do. I whip a bitch and go the other way. If they are conscientious cops they should probably pull me over for that little move. Check out why the fuck I’d do something like that right in front of them. Maybe threaten me a little, write me a ticket. But they don’t. I check the rear-view and they’re already gone before I get to a little curve in the road, so I whip another bitch and pull over again.

“What the fuck just happened?” I just spent a week with a girl and her baby. Everything was awesome and now… she just walks away? I grab my phone and call the number she put in.

Errr-reeee-eeeeet. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please hang up and try your—

Fucking figured that much. The girl lives in Japan, she has no LA area code number.

I let out a long breath and shake my head. “Fuck!” I look down at the building again. I can’t see shit, too many trees. And I’m just about to pull out and go see if I can get inside and somehow figure out where Tony lives when I see the stroller going down the road towards Strathmore. I watch and wait and when she gets there, she crosses that street and then continues down Strathmore towards Veteran.

I pull out and drive slowly after her. Where the fuck is she going?

I pull back into the red zone I just left and park the truck, then jump out and walk after her. This is a fairly quiet neighborhood, so there’s no one around. When I get down to Strathmore and look for her, she’s already walking around the corner of Veteran. I jog after her because obviously this was not the building where Tony lives. She gave me the wrong address so I wouldn’t know where she was going.

When I get to the corner I almost expect her to be gone, disappeared like a ghost. But she’s still walking. And if the clouds weren’t black with the threat of a storm, she’d look like just another mother out for an afternoon stroll with her baby. I follow, staying back quite a ways, and she goes past a slew of apartment buildings. I jog a little to catch up and she crosses another driveway leading into the one of the large complexes that line one whole side of the street. I’m just about to give up being stealthy when she stops, looks both ways, and crosses Veteran. I keep walking, my eyes glued to her small body as she maneuvers the stroller over the curb and then approaches a gate in the long wrought-iron fence that lines that side of the street.

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

My heart crashes as she turns the handle and pulls the gate open, props it against her hip, and pushes the stroller through.

I want to drop to the ground, that’s how much this hurts me. My chest is one gaping hole right now, and I don’t even know how to process what I’m seeing.

Because Ashleigh just walked into the Los Angeles National Cemetery.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Tony is dead.

Tony is dead.

That’s all I think about as I run back to the Bronco.

Tony is dead.

He didn’t leave her, he fucking died while serving. And she was left overseas in a foreign country, all alone, pregnant, trapped.

My hands are shaking so bad when I get to the truck I can barely push the key in the ignition. The Bronco starts up and I take a breath to calm my racing heart.

Ashleigh. I need to get to her. Now.

I pull out and almost hit a fucking UPS truck. The guy honks and screams something derogatory at me as he passes by.

Calm down, Ford. Fuck. You’re no help to her if you’re dead too.

I follow the same route I did walking, but when I get to the gate it hits me. There’s no way to get in on this side of the cemetery. I have to go all the way down to Wilshire and drive around. I try and look for Ashleigh and the stroller, but I can’t see her and pay attention to the traffic at the same time. The turn lane I need to be in on Wilshire is impossible to get to because the far right lane is also the fucking on-ramp to the 405 and it’s backed up past the street I’m currently on, so it takes me almost ten fucking minutes to make it to the cemetery entrance. I drive in cautiously, trying to decide which way to go. This place is massive—nothing but white headstones. Row after row after row of white headstones.

I decide to hit the gate where she came in and go from there. That’s just straight back from the entrance, so I drive slowly, looking out both sides as I creep along. A large thunderclap jars me for a second and then the bolt of lightning that follows send eerie shadows across the darkening sky. I get to the end of the road and it just curves around in a loop so I stop and get out, then climb on top of the truck and look out over the sea of dead soldiers.