Disclaimer: Not mine, just this story.
Prompt: bruise
trope_bingo Trope: secret child
Summary: Sam leaps to help a troubled young girl who seems familiar to him.
A/N: This part is much longer and is not beta'd yet. The towns of Ashville and Weston, Kansas are fictional. Although Al is mentioned this part is Sam-centric; the next part will focus on Al again.
WARNING: Story is not explicit but there is implied off-screen non-con, abuse and violence against a minor; contains under-age alcohol abuse.
EXILE
Ashville, Kansas
July 2, 2012
I
Less than a minute had passed after Sam arrived in the new time and place when he realized that there was somebody lying in a ditch a few feet from where he stood.
"Oh, boy," he moaned and rushed forward.
A teenage girl, lying on her back unconscious, her long hair fanned out in the dirt. He quickly dropped to his knees, hit with the smell of alcohol the moment he got close, and just as she began to retch he rolled her onto her side, gathering her hair back and positioning her head so she wouldn't aspirate her own vomit. He'd literally come in the nick of time.
But she wasn't out of danger yet. She hadn't regained consciousness and if it was alcohol poisoning, which was likely, she needed an emergency room. Surveying their surroundings Sam realized that unfortunately the nearest hospital was probably several miles away. The place was remote, with no lights by the road or from a nearby house. Aside from the noises the girl made which along with the stench were making his own stomach turn there was only the sound of the katydids. He would have to do this on his own.
Sam supported her and held her head as her body violently rejected the poison inside it. Her throat would be raw and sore in the morning. He cut off the thought that she might not make it until then and if she did there was no telling what damage might be done. She badly needed water. The alcohol alone was enough to dehydrate her, but this combined with the stiflingly hot night was going to exacerbate it.
When she finally stopped throwing up he made sure her airway was completely clear then took her pulse and checked her breathing.
The ditch was right next to the road and although there wasn't even the distant noise of a car approaching it was a precarious spot for them to be loitering on the ground, especially at night. Several yards away he could see the ghostly shape of a Ferris wheel, the skeleton of an empty carnival in the middle of the field. It was the nearest and only visible sign of shelter and he decided to take her there. Chances were good that there would be a pump or another water source of some kind.
He scooped her up and carried her across the field where the deserted carnival was poised to open in the morning. Besides the Ferris wheel there were locked food stands and game booths, a carousel, moonwalk and some small tents. Large signs affixed to the ticket booths listed the entry prices and informed him that he'd leaped into the future, specifically to the year 2012, sometime around June 28th, but possibly as late as July 2nd.
The carousel was the closest thing to the entrance with a roof. He set her down on the platform and sat beside her, catching his breath after his effort. Sweat was dripping down his face and he wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.
A cloud moved off and in the light of the nearly full moon he looked closely at the girl. Anger seared through him when he spied the deep bruises on her neck, imprints of fingertips where someone with great strength had grabbed her, and still more of the same bruises on her bare arms.
Sam took a deep breath and examined her carefully to determine if she had broken bones. Satisfied that she didn't he rolled her onto her side again and positioned her head so that her airway remained open. Then he kept vigil, monitoring her pulse and her breathing, periodically repositioning her from side to side and attempting to revive her, praying.
After a long while she moaned softly. Her eyes finally fluttered open, dull at first then they widened and a wild spark came into them the moment she focused on him. She emitted a muffled cry.
"It's okay." He held his hands up, fingers splayed, keeping his voice soft. "Please don't be afraid. My name is Sam. I'm a doctor."
She struggled to sit up and Sam reached out to assist.
"I'm going to give you some help, okay?" He continued speaking in soothing tones. "I'm glad that you're awake now. We need to keep you that way until this is all out of your system."
The girl mumbled something thickly. It was mostly unintelligible but Sam managed to pick out the f-word. Undaunted he gently lifted her up to sitting, bracing her against his body.
A long time spent asking questions to keep her talking passed before she finally became coherent and able to sit up on her own. Just as he expected there was a water pump at the edge of the grounds and he brought her to it once she was reasonably able to walk with assistance. He helped her clean up, drying her tears with a strip of cloth ripped from the bottom of his white polo shirt, tenderly brushing the dirt out of her hair with his fingers, coaxing her to drink a little bit of the water when her crying subsided. Then he took her back to the carousel and insisted that she remain sitting up, tired as she was.
"Sorry. You need to stay awake right now. Do you remember how much you drank?"
Unsurprisingly he received no reply. So far she had refused to tell him her name or where she lived, instead responding to each of those questions with one of her own. If nothing else it showed that her mind was sharp at least. On the other hand she didn't have a problem telling him her favorite color was purple when he asked, or that the one thing she missed more than anything was having a piano to play. So he kept her talking about the piano and music to keep her awake.
She was four when she started taking lessons.
"You started early," he remarked.
"Uncle Al encouraged me."
There wasn't another name in the world that could grab his attention like that one could and his head jerked up when she said it. The odd thought crossed his mind that maybe he'd run into his Al's niece, but he dismissed the possibility immediately. This girl was in her teens. Any niece of Al's would be much older. Or was she maybe a great niece?
Sam asked her what kind of music she liked to play, named a few of the pieces and exercise books he'd worked through when he took lessons as a kid and asked if her teachers used the same ones. He listened with rapt attention as she told him tearfully that everything changed for the worse when they sold their house and everything in it – including the piano which was what she really cared about. They needed the money they'd get for it and where they were going they couldn't take it with them. She was seven then.
As they continued talking a faint orange haze appeared on the horizon. Morning came soon after, and when the sky lightened Sam caught his first clear look at the young woman and his heart clenched at the sight.
She was even younger than he'd originally thought. Her petite body had already blossomed into the figure of a woman but her face was that of a child. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old. With profound sorrow Sam regarded her features and the bruises. Her denim shorts left the large nasty scrape up her right shin and her badly skinned knees exposed.
Her dark eyes widened in astonishment and Sam saw recognition in them, as unlikely as that seemed. Where would she know him from? His photograph did grace the cover of Time Magazine when he won the Nobel Prize for physics, but that was so many years ago and it seemed strange that this young girl would have seen that old issue yet alone had enough interest in it to remember. He couldn't imagine where else she would have seen him. The expression of surprise faded and her brow furrowed. Sam returned her piercing stare, stunned by it, especially when after a moment he realized that she was familiar to him too, though that couldn't be possible. He was sure he'd never met her before…
"You don't need to stay," she said curtly.
"Yes I do. You've still got alcohol in your system. And I'm here to help you."
Bitterly and almost too quietly for him to hear she scoffed, "You're late."
He was taken aback and he didn't speak for a while.
"Look," he said finally, "I know I'm a stranger to you but…I found you alone and unconscious by the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. You made it into the morning, thank God. But you could still be sick. What did you drink?"
Though not unexpected her reticence was frustrating.
"Do you know what alcohol poisoning is?" he persisted. "You could have died from it last night. If I hadn't come along…"
Her eyes began to glisten and she wiped them with the back of her hand. He pressed on, hopeful that he was getting through to her.
"Where did you get it? You're too young to buy it yourself."
"I was at a party," she finally admitted.
Sam brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose worriedly. God only knew what might have happened to her before she ended up in that ditch where he found her. Several ideas crossed his mind and they all sickened him. Her fellow partiers obviously weren't concerned about her safety or he wouldn't have found her the way he did. Were they all just kids or were they adults who had been utterly careless and irresponsible?
"Well, I don't think I should leave you alone yet," he said. "What's your name?"
Wordlessly she raised her hand to her neck, her fingers gingerly touching the bruises, and the expression that flickered across her face made his heart break. Ignoring him she stood up awkwardly and with one hand pressed to her head staggered towards the center of the platform between the painted horses, using them for support.
"Wait, where are you going?" He leaped up to follow, anxious that she could fall and hurt herself.
She disappeared into the control booth, emerging a minute later carrying a light purple knapsack.
"You've been sleeping here?"
It was the only explanation for why her stuff would be stowed there. She was too young to work the carousel or anywhere for that matter. She was probably sneaking onto the empty grounds every night after the carnival shut down. Last night she hadn't quite made it back.
Sam took a seat next to her on the edge of the platform, putting enough space between them so she wouldn't feel threatened in any way. He watched as she unzipped one of the pack's pockets and rummaged through it, finally withdrawing a bottle of Advil.
"You shouldn't take those when you've been drinking."
She stared at him blankly and popped two tablets that she'd already shaken out of the bottle into her mouth. He winced.
"I know you probably have a headache, but taking those while there's still alcohol in your system isn't a good idea. They can damage your stomach and liver. And you were in very bad shape before. You really need to have water and juice after drinking as much as…"
The girl spit the pills out onto the grass. "It's just a hangover. I've had them before."
"You're a little young."
"I'm seventeen," she retorted.
"Well…" Sam didn't believe her for a moment but he decided not to pursue it. "That's still young. And drinking like that isn't good for anyone, at any age. It's dangerous. Why would you want to do that to yourself?"
Abruptly she stood up, slung the knapsack over one shoulder and headed back toward the control booth. Her gait looked a little steadier now but Sam went after her, still worried about her equilibrium. He stopped and turned away when he realized that she was probably going in there to change into clean clothes.
While he waited for her to emerge he pondered what to do next. He'd saved her life but she wasn't out of danger. She needed him and he couldn't leave her alone out here anyway. Unfortunately he didn't yet know exactly what he could do for her. Maybe he was here to help her get home. Then again maybe home was where she was abused and that's why she ran away. He sighed gloomily at that thought.
He absentmindedly reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. There was cash inside as well as his driver's license. He straightened to his full height and walked to the edge of the platform to get a better view of his surroundings. The terrain was level and open as far as the eye could see, fields of green and pale gold stretched off for miles on all sides. Farms. Sam smiled wistfully. He was in the Midwest, but something about the landscape and its colors, the dry early morning heat and cloudless bright blue sky, the smell of the air gave him a sense that this was further south and west than his home state, maybe Oklahoma or Kansas.
Rows of large trucks were parked on the grass several yards away to his left, the vehicles that carried the dismantled carnival rides and booths from town to town. He figured the workers were probably staying in a trailer park somewhere closer to town - way off in the distance to his right was the outline of what looked like one, the only other thing in sight that wasn't part of the uninterrupted flatness. Maybe there was a diner or a store where he could buy food for them. He was feeling his own hunger pangs and the girl, who still hadn't told him her name or revealed much else, needed something solid in her stomach.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, turning as soon as he heard her soft footsteps behind him. Her hair fell limply about her shoulders, still filled with particles of dirt. She wore the same denim shorts but she'd changed from a black tank into a lavender tee-shirt with a white applique butterfly.
"I'm fine," she said. Her hand went to her neck once more though and a deep shadow passed over her face.
"I was going to head into town to get some food. It would do you good to drink some juice even if you don't have an appetite yet. We can go in together. Or if you tell me where you live I can take you there."
She slipped off the purple elastic that encircled her wrist and used it to tie her hair back in a ponytail. Then she knelt and set her knapsack down, unzipped the main compartment and fished out an empty water bottle and a baseball cap which she mashed onto her head, pulling the bill down over her eyes. The hat was red with the Indiana University Hoosiers logo embroidered in white on the front.
"Indiana, huh? That's where I'm from. Elk Ridge."
"I'm not from Indiana. Someone gave me the hat."
"Do you live around here?"
"You're really nosy, you know?"
"Sorry. I tend to be curious about people. And I am concerned about you."
The girl groaned and heaved an exasperated sigh. He suppressed his own sigh of annoyance, recalling what his younger sister Katie was like at this age. She rose, hoisted the knapsack onto both shoulders and went to the water pump. Sam strode after her and waited while she refilled her bottle.
"I can take care of myself," she told him as they walked toward the dusty country road. "You don't need to worry about me."
"I'm not so sure about that."
Another disgusted sound was the only response he got.
"At least let me walk with you to town. It's a long way and we're both going there anyway. You're dehydrated from last night and it's hot out."
"I have water now." She held up the full water bottle, opened it and took a sip from it.
"You're still better off not walking the distance alone. Please. I know you don't know me…and there's no reason why you would assume you can trust me, but I'd like to help if I can. I just want to at least make sure you're somewhere safe."
"There isn't anywhere safe," she said dejectedly.
Sam's mouth fell open but he said nothing. He had no idea how to respond.
"You still haven't told me your name," he said instead.
For a few minutes she hesitated. Then she said, "Alison."
II
They got a lift from a man who luckily passed by in a pickup truck and was heading through town. The diner on the outskirts consisted of two booths, a counter with eight stools and two picnic tables with umbrellas outside in the back. Alison hesitated by the entrance, withdrawing from her pocket the little bit of money she had left, all coins, counting and recounting it with an unhappy expression. After checking his wallet again Sam offered to treat her to breakfast. Despite the pain, hunger and exhaustion that was clear on her face she remained reluctant. He didn't want to pressure her so he headed inside after buying a newspaper from the dispenser out front and allowed her to make her own decision. She hurried after him a moment later.
Now they sat across from each other in one of the booths, both with a tall glass of orange juice in front of them that the waitress had brought before they even asked, listening to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the overlapping conversations of the other patrons. The air in the place was thick with the smell of frying bacon, brewing coffee and something sweet made with cinnamon. It was nine o'clock according to the clock on the wall. Two grey-haired men sat at the counter drinking coffee and chatting, a group of younger men occupied the other booth.
Sam found himself staring at Alison, unable to help himself. He couldn't place who she reminded him of, but the sense of recognition was powerful. Delicate features in a slight face, olive skin that was deeply tanned now from the summer sun, long dark hair, dark eyes, a cleft in her chin. Vague images of someone flitted through his mind and flickered out of his grasp before the face could become clear…
"What are you staring at?"
She sounded cross and Sam snapped out of his daydream with a blink. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, but he didn't avert his gaze. "You remind me of someone."
Alison rolled her eyes.
"The signs on the ticket booths say the last day of the carnival is July 2nd," he said unruffled. "What will you do when they leave?"
Silence stretched between them. She just stared into her juice.
"Here you go, folks," the waitress said cheerfully as she approached and set their plates down. "Enjoy."
He glanced at the name tag pinned to her apron and gave her a pleasant smile. "Thank you, Mary."
"Thanks," Alison echoed, keeping her face hidden.
"You're not from Indiana and you're not from here," Sam said, picking up his fork and digging into his poached eggs. "Where are you from?"
The glare she gave him made him shake his head in disbelief. Never in a million years would he have dreamed of talking or acting to an adult when he was a kid the way she did. She was obnoxious.
Well, he'd already saved her from immediate death and made sure she wasn't stranded in the middle of nowhere. He would see to it that she was recovered from last night, fed and in an adult's care, and then he'd leap out. There really wasn't anything else he could do for her especially if she didn't want to be helped.
Still, he was strangely drawn to her and he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do more. She really was just a child after all, wounded in a way that he didn't yet understand. He had to chalk her behavior up to that and be patient.
"We move around a lot," she blurted out.
He didn't ask the next question right away, busying himself with opening a packet of strawberry jam and spreading it on his toast. Alison poked at her own food.
"I know you probably don't have much of an appetite," he said after a while, "but you really need to get solid food into you. At least eat a little bit of toast."
Defiantly she pushed her plate away, picked up her glass and took a few sips of juice.
Or don't, he thought, irked.
"Who is 'we'?" He paused to scoop up another forkful of eggs. "You said 'we move around a lot'."
"So, what were you doing at the carnival in the middle of the night?" she asked pointedly, so blatantly and abruptly changing the subject that it took him a minute to decide whether or not he wanted to allow her to throw him off track. He took a bite of toast and gathered his thoughts.
"It's a little hard to explain—"
"Don't you live anywhere?"
"No, I move around a lot, too," he admitted.
"Why?"
"Because of my work."
"I thought you said you're a doctor."
"Yeah, I am." He took a deep breath. Somehow she'd managed to put him on the defensive. "I don't have a practice—"
"Are you one of the Doctors without Borders? Like, literally?"
"You could call it that I suppose. Yes." He frowned. "Alison, where are your parents?"
In her haste to get up she nearly spilled her juice.
"Wait," Sam urged, dropping his toast on his plate and holding his hand out.
"What?" she snapped. "I need to go to the bathroom."
Her knapsack was still on her seat and he relaxed. As she headed toward the back of the diner he caught Mary's eye and ordered a coffee. Then he picked up the newspaper he'd bought, a Kansas paper, and checked the date. Monday July 2nd. The carnival would be packing up and setting off for its next scheduled destination that night. If Alison was temporarily making her home there, and he was certain she was, she would now be homeless. He blew out a breath and leaned back in his seat, troubled.
Mary brought his coffee and a small pitcher. He stirred skim milk into his cup and listened to the conversation between the two men at the counter. Apparently the people working the carnival were sleeping in trailers just outside of town and their presence had been disruptive for the locals, particularly the previous night when they threw an especially loud and rowdy party that went on well past midnight. He wondered if it was the party Alison attended, and when Mary declared with certainty that there were drugs there, he realized with alarm that her condition when he found her may not have been caused by alcohol alone.
Sam laid his teaspoon on the table and pushed his plate aside. He opened the paper and flipped the pages until he reached the local community news section. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, maybe a listing among the ads for a local youth shelter where he could bring Alison.
The article that caught his eye was short and buried in the middle of a page. It was the word 'carnival' in the title that grabbed his attention. Police were still searching for a young teenager, believed to be the daughter of a woman whose body was discovered outside of a town called Weston two weeks earlier, near the grounds where the carnival had been set up for a couple of days. They were strangers, obvious transients traveling in a
beat-up old Toyota, so the locals had easily picked them out and remembered both the woman and the girl later. Authorities were tipped off to the incident and the location of the body by an anonymous phone call. Workers from the carnival were detained for questioning briefly then released. The woman's purse was gone and the small amount of luggage left in the trunk of the abandoned car contained nothing but clothes and toiletries. They identified her by tracing the license plate. The name wasn't released. A suspect was in custody and based on the available evidence they were confident they'd caught the right man. No description of the girl was provided in the article but Sam didn't need one.
He set the paper aside as she slid back into her side of the booth and picked up her fork. Sam sipped his coffee and contemplated her from over the rim of his cup. At least she was eating now, even if it was only a few bites. Somehow he would have to draw her out and either find one of her relatives or help her get to a shelter. Wandering the roads alone was no place for a young girl. And if he was right about Alison being the girl in the article he actually needed to bring her to the police because she was a witness, and could identify both the man in custody and the woman.
His heart shattered at that thought. A witness to her mother's murder. She was right - he was late.
Leaping around in time for so many years had taught him that some things just couldn't be changed. Too many times he'd arrived after the fact - after someone died, after tragedy of some sort had occurred. He knew he wasn't there to stop those tragedies but to change something that happened in the aftermath. Understanding it didn't make it less painful though. The words 'too late' echoed in his head and he mourned what he couldn't fix every time.
She'd caught him staring at her again and she pulled her cap down as far as it would go, hiding from him. Sam smiled tenderly at the childishness of the gesture. Alison surreptitiously peered at him from beneath the bill and he brought his cup back to his lips to hide his smile so she wouldn't think he was laughing at her.
"You do remind me of someone, you know," he said, paused between gulps of coffee. "But I don't think we've met before—"
"We haven't," she said with absolute certainty.
"But I look familiar to you, too."
It was more than that though, he mused. She hadn't said too much to him, but there was something hidden between the lines of every word, and between every look she gave him, every gesture she made, like she knew who he was, as impossible as that seemed. Maybe she thought she knew and was mistaking him for someone else. Either way it was strange and unsettling.
Alison just shrugged and finished her toast.
"Did you have enough to eat? We can get something else—"
"No." She pushed the bill of her cap back up and looked directly at him again. "Thanks."
Mary glanced their way and Sam signaled for the check. He drank the last of his coffee and paid the bill then he walked outside with Alison, the folded newspaper tucked under his arm. They stood in front of the diner and stared at one another. Alison looked like she wanted to say something, he thought, but instead she clamped her mouth shut and averted her eyes. She made no move to leave him though, and he wondered if maybe she did want to talk to him – or to someone – about everything but was afraid or couldn't remember it all. He had the oddest sense that she wanted him to stay with her, even as she fought with him.
"Where will you go now?" He held his hand up at her scowl. "I swear I'm not trying to give you a hard time. I don't know where your parents are and why you're not with them – and I'm not asking – but it's just not safe for you to be roaming around alone. Don't you realize that? And maybe I can help."
"Why do you have to be so nice?"
Both the question and the not quite suppressed hurt and rage in her voice surprised him. "You'd rather I was mean?"
She shifted from foot to foot, examined her sneakers, stabbed at the ground with her toe for several minutes before answering, "Maybe."
"Why?" he exclaimed, flummoxed.
"So, is this what you do?" she asked, her eyes remaining on her feet. "You just go around all over the place giving first aid and helping total strangers?"
"Yes. Will you answer my question now?"
"Which one?"
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes but she was still looking down. "Either one would be a start."
"I'm going back to the carnival."
"You mean you want to go with them when they leave?"
"Yeah." She looked up finally and he shook his head.
"And do what? Work?"
Their eyes met and it occurred to Sam that she'd taken her mother's wallet. The article said the woman's purse was gone. She'd probably gone through whatever cash was in there already and needed more. Using an ATM was out of the question. The police knew the wallet was missing and had probably put an alert on the ATM card and any credit cards in the woman's name, in the event they were used. As soon as she tried to pay for anything with one, they would trace her.
Alison didn't say anything. She just began to walk into town and back in the direction of the carnival. Sam fell into step beside her.
"Alison, you're too young. They could get in trouble hiring you. It's great that you want to work but—"
"I just need to get to Junction City. That's where they're going next."
"And what, you're hoping they'll give you a lift?"
She quickened her pace.
Town consisted of just one main street lined with two and three-story buildings made of brick and stone, all stores and offices, and narrower streets intersecting it. In the center there was a small park with a manicured lawn, a few trees and benches, a trash can, and a monument made of brick with lettering that read 'Welcome to Ashville, Kansas, Population 190'.
He kept up effortlessly, refusing to let her evade him. "Or were you planning on sneaking into one of their trucks and getting there that way? Is that how you got here?"
"I made friends with them," she said with a nonchalant shrug.
Sam sighed. "Was it their party you went to last night? Because they didn't seem to care very much what happened to you then. Doesn't that bother you? Why would you want to even be around people who treat you like that?"
The look she cast his way was venomous. "Why is it any of your business?"
"Oh, boy," he groaned under his breath, rolling his eyes toward the sky.
He went with her into the park and took a seat beside her on one of the benches in the shade of an oak tree, setting the newspaper down between them. He'd left it folded with the page containing that article facing out and her gaze rested on it for a minute. Then she shifted uneasily and turned away.
"Alison." He wanted to just come out and tell her he knew she was the girl they were searching for, that she needed to go back, that maybe they needed her as a witness. That she should be there out of respect for her mother instead of running away and didn't she want to be there?
She reached up and ran the back of her hand across her forehead.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she muttered.
But she looked exhausted, distressed and too vulnerable. He decided that pushing her to talk about anything wasn't a good idea now and kept the focus on her physical health.
"Will you let me take your pulse so I can make sure?"
With a grimace she stuck out her arm and allowed him to take it. Pleased with the rate and strength he released her wrist. Then he checked her eyes and throat.
"We can rest here in town for a while." It wasn't noon yet but it was already blisteringly hot, without the slightest hint of a breeze, the too-bright sun casting a glare that bleached the color out of everything. Even in the shade of the oak Sam felt sun-dazed and sleepy, but he sat at the edge of the bench, not giving in to his own weariness. "The carnival isn't leaving until late tonight. So you don't have to rush back out there. Okay?"
Alison nodded and pulled her water bottle out of her knapsack.
"I think you'd be better off…" He trailed off at her glance and held up his hands in surrender again. "Okay, okay. No lecture." He inclined his head, indicating the scrape on her shin and her skinned knees. "Do you have any first aid cream or ointment in your pack? It would be a good idea to put some on those."
She took a few gulps of water then lowered the bottle. "I've got Band-Aids."
He thought she might refuse to come with him when he suggested they go to the store but she didn't.
Two men stood across the way talking. Alison glanced at them askance, edging closer to Sam and keeping him between her and their line of sight as they left the park.
"Were they at the party?" he asked sotto voce but she didn't answer.
The men started walking in the same direction they were going. Sam sensed her apprehension and lightly dropped a protective arm around her shoulders. Despite the unfathomable resentment she seemed to harbor, he had no doubt Alison knew she was safe with him and he was right. After the initial shock at the contact her shoulders relaxed slightly and she settled into his touch, slipping out from beneath his arm only after they were inside the store and the men had continued past it.
Sam bought a bottle of water for himself, alcohol pads, antibiotic ointment, gauze and tape, and they returned to the park so he could tend to her scrapes and cuts. Those men were long gone and she seemed calmer as she sat down on the same bench. He knelt on the grass before her, cleaning her wounds then applying the ointment and covering them with gauze and tape. Then he handed her the tube of ointment and other supplies to keep in her pack and rose. He tossed the wrappers into the trash, wiped his hands on his jeans and took a seat beside her again.
"Do you mind if I ask what's in Junction City? Why do you need to get there?"
"Greyhound."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere. As long as it's out of Kansas. But I need to get to Topeka to do that. If I can get to Junction City I can get to Topeka and then anywhere from there." With a challenge in her eyes she taunted, "You can't help me get there, can you?"
He had to fight the impulse to tell her what a brat she was. But she'd opened the door a crack for him and Topeka would definitely have youth shelters. Maybe if he could get her to really trust him she would go willingly, maybe he could even convince her to talk to the police about what happened...
"I'll help you however I can," he said.
III
While they sat in the park they were approached by a heavyset woman named Lu Anne who, with her husband Jack, ran the bar in town. She was fortyish, attractive and well put-together, her floral print skirt, pale pink top and leather sandals casual but stylish, her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She assumed Alison was his daughter and invited them to sit inside.
"I know what it's like to be on the road," she said. "Lots of times you can't find a place to just clean up or rest. It's exhausting. The bar is air conditioned and you can cool off, use the restrooms. It's still hot out today, even if it's not hitting a hundred for a change."
Sam could only imagine how ragged they must have appeared to her, the two of them loitering in the park all dusty and sweaty, Alison with her knapsack and bandaged up legs and him…he'd forgotten he had ripped a strip off the bottom of his shirt to help her clean up during the night and he hastily tucked it into his pants to hide the frayed edge.
A tan leather tote was slung over Lu Anne's shoulder and she carried a brown bag full of groceries in her arms, which Sam offered to carry. He took the sack from her, tossing in his water bottle and the newspaper, and they left the park. The bar was two blocks away and around the corner.
It was dim and cool inside, the paneled walls and furniture made of the darkest cherry wood. Lu Anne filled two glasses with ice water and set them down on the bar in front of them, then she disappeared somewhere in the back. Sam and Alison drank their water and unabashedly considered one another in the mirror. He was struck by the way her nose wrinkled and her brow creased when she frowned, so reminiscent of someone…he still couldn't bring the picture clearly into focus, and when he struggled to recall it his mind folded in on itself and wandered far away.
Lu Anne was standing behind the bar again refilling his glass when he drifted back to awareness, and Sam realized with a start that while he'd been daydreaming Alison had gone off somewhere.
"She went to wash up." She set his glass on the bar. "I take it you came here for the carnival?"
"No. I didn't even know about it."
He began to explain that they were stranded without a car, and that they were trying to get to Junction City so they could catch a bus to Topeka or Kansas City.
There was no car rental in a small place like Ashville or anywhere near it for that matter, and no public transportation. Other than walking, the only way they would get anywhere was with a lift. The carnival was one option but Sam really didn't want Alison near the people working there nor did he want to meet them. He was sure he wouldn't be able to control his temper if he did. He was outraged at the callousness they'd displayed not only allowing this child to drink at all with them, and maybe take drugs too, but then letting her go off alone at her peril - to die if he hadn't come along.
"You got a lift here?" she asked.
He nodded and took a drink of water. Alison returned and quietly took her seat again, dropping her knapsack on the empty stool beside her. She'd taken the baseball cap off and stowed it in her pack, her hair was hanging loose now, damp and smelling of shampoo.
"Are you from around here originally?" he asked Lu Anne. After all the leaping around to different times and places, meeting so many people, he'd become fairly adept at recognizing accents but he couldn't pin hers down. She spoke with the slightest hint of a drawl sometimes, a twang at others, but she didn't quite sound either Southern or Midwestern.
"I'm from West Virginia originally but we moved to California when I was five. I've lived all over the place, even in Prague for a while. It's kind of a long, boring story how I ended up here in this little oasis though." She laughed and unfolded the road map in her hands, spreading it out on the bar between them and tracing one of the lines with her finger. "Now, I-70 is nearby but you can take local roads, too. Lots of tourists do that instead of taking the Interstate to cross Kansas. It's more scenic, it's got places to visit along the way and campgrounds, especially along this part of the route here." She tapped the spot. "I'll ask around later when folks come in. I know there's at least one person who'll be going your way and may be willing to give you a lift part of the way. Maybe I can even get you a ride all the way to Topeka."
"That would be great."
"I have some things to do before we open up this afternoon but you can both stay here as long as you need to."
"Thank you."
"What was living in Prague like?" Alison asked her.
It was the first time Sam had seen her show curiosity in anything, and he was pleasantly surprised. He left the two of them talking while he went to the men's room, taking his time, splashing cold water on his face and neck, washing off the grime and sweat. By the time he emerged the conversation about Prague was over. Alison was telling Lu Anne that her mother had left them a long time ago, right after she was born, that she never even knew her mother and that he had been raising her alone. He supposed she wanted to keep up the illusion that he was her father. But the tales she told as he rejoined them, about her mother, about things that had happened on the road, were not to be believed.
Lu Anne was listening attentively, as incredulous as Sam felt. Alison's talent for making up outrageous stories surpassed even Al's. Once more he wondered if she was a relative of his. It wouldn't surprise him given how many times he'd encountered Al or someone connected to him on his recent leaps. But when he searched Alison's visage for a resemblance to Al or Beth Calavicci he found none.
"What are you doing?" he asked when Lu Anne left them to themselves, keeping his voice down even though she was out of the room. "Why are you making up stories?"
"It's half true," Alison said coolly. "That's the key to telling a good story. Putting enough truth in so you're believable. I'm an excellent storyteller."
He shook his head gravely and said, "No, you're a prevaricator and you should stop it. Lying is a bad habit and it'll get you in trouble someday."
"I'm tired," she grumbled.
"Yeah, so am I," he replied, irritated.
They regarded each other in stony silence.
"You told Lu Anne your mother was a scientist. Is that true? What was her specialty? Physics, chemistry? Where did she work?"
"For the last few years she was waiting tables. When she managed to have a job," she said with disdain.
"How did you survive when she didn't?"
"We got help from men a lot of the time. Men always like younger women and she was already too old for a lot of them. But I wasn't," she said casually.
Sam blinked, flabbergasted, sorry he'd asked and wanting to shake her and scold her. She was doing the same thing to him as she did to Lu Anne, mixing truth with lies, trying to shock him and in a bizarre way get attention. So he asked a question that he guessed correctly would press a button and throw her off balance.
"This is all since your mother sold the house and the piano, isn't it?"
The pain his remark caused was clear in her face and he felt a twinge of regret.
"Last night you told me how much having a piano to play meant to you—"
"Yeah, well, I was lying when I said all those things."
"No," he countered gently. "I think those were some of the most truthful things you've said since I've known you."
"You don't know me. I just said all that so you'd shut up and stop asking—"
"Hey!" It came out louder and harsher than he'd intended, enough to make her jump. He lowered his voice. "Cut that out, okay? I'm an adult and you're a kid. So stop being rude and talking to me that way. I'm tired of it. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"
Alison sulked and started kicking the side of the bar. He laid a firm hand on her forearm.
"Please don't do that."
She pouted in the direction of her water glass but obliged him, stilling her leg.
"Thank you." He gave her arm a comforting rub then removed his hand. "You know, I think you're really not as much of a brat as you're trying so hard to convince me you are."
"Yes I am," she argued grumpily.
He chuckled. "So, did you make that up about your mom?"
"No." She looked up, meeting his eye, and with earnestness said, "She really was a scientist. But she waited tables in college and once we left home…our real home…she started doing that again…trying to."
"Your real home," he murmured. "You never told me where that was."
"It doesn't matter. I can't ever go back there."
A pang of melancholy settled in his chest and he took a drink of water to soothe his own tightening throat. Although this girl's situation was different from his, he understood too well how she felt. He left the matter of where she was originally from alone but continued to probe her about everything else, genuinely curious and wishing to help her if he could, if she would let him.
"Where did you go when you left?"
"Oakland. We stayed there for almost two years. That's the longest we ever stayed anywhere. She tried to work a job in her field around there. But it didn't work out."
Every word she uttered was a quiet lament.
"How old were you then? I mean when you went to Oakland."
"Seven. After Uncle Al died she said we had to leave home. We didn't go right away…but eventually…and then my aunt died, too."
Sadness surged through him at the words 'after Uncle Al died'. He pushed the thoughts that accompanied the feeling away.
"And you've just been moving all around since then? What about school?"
"My mom enrolled me in public school wherever we went." She ran her finger along the rim of her glass, picked it up and swished the leftover water around, set it down again. "She just wouldn't stay any place. She was too unhappy."
She had been, he observed, and still was, referring to her mother in the past tense.
As for her father, she'd made no mention of him at all and Sam assumed he was out of the picture and probably had been for a long time. When she told Lu Anne about her mother leaving so long ago, that she never even knew her mother, she was actually talking about her father.
"It must have been hard for you too, always having to start again in a new school with new teachers, new kids, having to start over making new friends all the time."
"I always stayed for the first day then after that I showed up in the morning and cut the rest of the day." She looked at him and shrugged. "No one ever noticed I wasn't there."
Sam regarded her with deep sympathy. Being invisible to everybody had to have hurt her, even if it did allow her to get away with things, and that big chip on her shoulder no doubt made it more difficult for her to make friends when she got to new places.
Alison fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze and shifted her eyes away.
"Not even one of your teachers noticed you were gone?"
"They were all dimwits."
He noted the thinly disguised sadness in her voice and turned the conversation to something else.
"Who taught you so much about auto mechanics?" Although so much of what Alison told Lu Anne about 'their' adventures on the road was exaggerated or straight fiction, her explanation about the car was not. She'd convincingly and accurately described in detail a car that had some salvageable parts but was too old and broken down to repair without shelling out an exorbitant amount of money. "You really seem to know your stuff."
"My mom and I did a lot of driving long distances. We had to figure it out as we went." She leaned over, folding her arms on the bar and pillowing her head on them, her hair spilling forward to obscure her face. "I'm really tired. I don't want to talk anymore."
"Okay." He touched her shoulder gently. "Get some rest. Lu Anne said we can stay here as long as we need to."
IV
Sam didn't remember dozing off. He only realized upon waking that he'd been asleep, his elbow propped up on the bar, his chin in his hand. Beside him Alison was still bent over the bar, her face buried in her folded arms. He raised his head, reached back to rub his neck, yawned and stretched.
He'd been wondering what Alison was going to do when she got to the Greyhound depot in Junction City and he thought about it again now. She didn't even have enough money for breakfast. How was she going to buy a bus ticket anywhere?
Another fib, he concluded grimly.
Feeling the need to move he stood up. The wood floor creaked quietly under his feet as he walked around the perimeter of the bar, studying the details of the place. When they first came inside they were stepping out of the bright sunlight, eyes needing to adjust to the sudden darkness. Cooling off and cleaning up were foremost on his mind, aside from his concerns about Alison, and he hadn't really paid attention to the décor or much else, other than noticing the large TV screen mounted up high in a corner where people would have a vantage point from wherever they sat. Now he saw all the hats. There were hats everywhere, hanging on the walls, sitting on shelves between bottles of whiskey and scotch, strung on hooks descending from the ceiling, displayed in the front windows. Hats of all kind, in all colors, made of felt, wool, leather, straw; bowlers, fedoras, toques, baseball caps, a green and yellow 'John Deere' cap, a black top hat, a 1920s-style flapper hat.
It was an interesting choice for a theme and he turned toward the window. He hadn't noticed the name of the bar upon entering either and now he looked for it. From inside he had to read backwards but it was easy enough to decipher the words in the window. The Mad Hatter.
Smiling in amusement he turned back and examined the black and silver beaded flapper hat on the wall before him.
Muffled digital music suddenly sounded from the direction of Alison's knapsack, a piano and percussion salsa riff on repeat. He turned and walked back to the bar. The music had stopped by the time she'd lifted her head, pulled the pack onto her lap and finished digging through it. She pulled out a red cell phone and pressed a button on it. Sam saw her face crumple and sat down beside her again. Alison laid the phone on the bar and frowned at him.
"Do you want privacy while you call them back?"
She shook her head. He searched for something neutral to say.
"Are you hungry for lunch yet? You didn't eat much at breakfast."
"Yes."
"Okay. Let me go find Lu Anne and tell her we're leaving for a little while."
Twenty minutes later they sat facing each other cross-legged on the same park bench, a large brown bag laid flat between them, packages of bread and lunch meat, a small plastic tray with leaves of lettuce spread out on top. Sam had asked for a double-bag and the second one was behind him, filled with fruit, peanut butter and other extra snacks he'd bought so Alison would have food for later. Grocery shopping was cheaper than eating out and the food could be spread out over several meals.
"Why do we have to sit out here?" she asked, leaning forward and cutting the tomato into slices with the Swiss army knife she'd been carrying around in her pack.
"Well, I figured we shouldn't impose too much on Lu Anne by eating in her place and messing it up. And this way we can talk." He took some turkey breast for his sandwich and pushed the open package toward her.
Alison concentrated on making her sandwich.
"What if I don't want to talk?" she asked after a while.
Sam swallowed a bite of his turkey, lettuce and tomato. "I won't force you. But you haven't been honest with me, and if I'm helping you out I think I have a right to know the truth, don't you?"
He waited for her to say something. She furtively peeked up at him for a moment, and then began to eat.
"I already know the carnival is going to Junction City," she finally said between bites. She set her sandwich down on her napkin, opened her bottle of lemonade and sipped from it. "Why should I wait for you and Lu Anne to—?"
"You don't have money for a bus ticket." He let those words and the transparency of her lie sink in for a minute. "So I don't see how you're planning to catch a Greyhound anywhere. I don't think they allow anyone on without a ticket."
She lowered the bottle, her face downcast. "I need to get out of here."
"Alison…" he trailed off, trying to figure out the right approach. "I don't know what happened but running away isn't the answer. It just makes things worse." He waited for a reaction of some sort, aware of how trite his words sounded and wishing he'd come up with something more helpful. "You're hoping they'll just let you tag along or work." She inclined her head and he nodded in understanding. "I thought so. But they can't. And anyway they're the last people you need to be around."
"How come you care so much about people you don't know?" she interrupted.
"Trying to change the subject again?"
"Didn't you ever want a family?"
Sam drew in a long breath, giving up battling her on this for now. "Yes, I did," he answered quietly. "But my lifestyle never allowed for it. I don't ever stay in one place for very long."
She scrutinized him through narrowed eyes.
"Alison—"
"Don't you get lonely?"
"Sometimes," he replied after a pause. "Alison—"
"Did you see all the hats in Lu Anne's place?" she asked and he stifled an exasperated groan. "It's called The Mad Hatter."
"Yeah, I saw them. It's a creative idea."
"She has a real flapper hat. It's called a cloche."
He smiled in spite of himself. "Do you have a particular interest in the 1920s?"
"Not particularly."
"1920s fashion?"
"No."
The digital music started up again from inside her pack, but she made no move to retrieve the phone.
"It's probably the same person calling you."
Alison didn't say anything and continued to ignore the ring. They ate the rest of their lunch in silence, surrounded by the buzz of insects, the sounds of passing cars and pickup trucks, the loud clunking from one car with a bad muffler. She wiped the Swiss army knife on the edge of the paper bag that was serving as their tablecloth, closed it and put it back in her pack. Sam tied the loaf of bread closed and placed it in the bag behind him with the other food.
"If Lu Anne doesn't find us a ride by seven tonight I'm going back out there," she announced as they cleaned up together. "You don't have to come. I'll walk or hitch, whatever."
He didn't even try to mask his frustration with her. "I don't understand why you care so little about what happens to you."
Sighing deeply he hurled the last of the trash into the garbage can and headed out of the park carrying the grocery bag in one hand. He'd walked about ten feet when he realized she wasn't walking with him and whirled around. She'd gone to sit on the bench again. Her knapsack was in her lap and she was leaning forward, hugging it to her body. Even at this distance he could see how distraught she was. The sight tore at his heart and he was back at her side in an instant. He rested a gentle hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry."
So far he'd deliberately avoided directly asking her about things like the newspaper article, the bruises on her neck and arms, or the two men she'd been afraid of earlier. Maybe it was time.
"What is it?"
Sobs wracked her body and he slipped his arm around her shoulders. When she didn't flinch or pull away he brought his other arm around, gathering her into an embrace.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
She shook her head but she allowed him to hold her. Sam rubbed her back, listening as her pain and anger gushed out and trying to soothe her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he came so late, that he wasn't in time to save her mother, that he wasn't in time to stop whatever had happened to her.
"I can't stay here." She spoke into his shoulder, her voice muffled by his shirt and her tears.
"Okay. But why is it so urgent? I realize there isn't much here…"
Her crying grew more urgent and insistent, and he held her tighter.
"Shhh, okay. It's okay. I'm going to help you," he assured her. "You asked me, and I will…but…you've been fighting with me every step of the way and that has to stop, okay?" He felt her nod. "If Lu Anne hasn't found us a lift by ten o'clock tonight we'll go out there and try to leave with the carnival. It shuts down at eleven but then they'll have to pack up. So that should be plenty of time for us to catch them. But I'd rather find some other way, and I won't leave you by yourself. You're still too young to take care of yourself alone and you have no money. When we get to Topeka I'll bring you to a shelter…or we can contact one of your relatives…maybe the one who's been trying to reach you." He paused. "It is a relative…"
"My aunt," she answered finally, raising her head and brushing away her tears. He kept a supportive hand on her shoulder as she shifted and sat up.
"What's her name?"
"Kate."
"Don't you like your Aunt Kate?"
"She was always very kind to me. But I haven't seen her in a really long time. My mother didn't stay in touch with anyone."
"Your mom just took you and kept running, huh?"
Alison looked at him through moist eyes, her chin quivering. "She didn't want to be the one waiting and wondering anymore."
Again there was something in those words and her expression that bordered on familiarity, even blame, and it startled him.
"I can see why you might feel strange talking to your aunt again after so long," he said, recovering his train of thought after a minute, "but you've got her name and number programmed into your phone so—"
"No, it showed up and I recognized the area code. I don't even know how she got this number."
"Well, she must know something's wrong and she's looking for you. How many days has she been trying to call you?"
Alison averted her gaze. More tears flowed down her cheeks.
"Alison, I know how much you're hurting and I'm truly sorry for it. But you're hurting at least one other person too. Don't you think it's cruel to leave your aunt hanging this way? Someone who you said was always very kind to you? She's worried about you, with good reason, and with you not picking up the phone she's probably imagining the worst right now."
"Probably," she admitted, head bowed.
"Well? Is that what you want?"
"No."
They sat quietly and she slowly calmed down. He withdrew one of the napkins from the grocery bag and handed it to her. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
"What about calling your aunt back?"
"I will."
"Please don't wait too long."
Alison nodded and he didn't push it.
"How about we go back inside where it's cool now? Maybe Lu Anne's already made contact with someone who's driving our way."
"I don't want to walk yet."
With a sinking feeling Sam noted her posture, the way her body was subtly curled in as if she wanted to make herself as small and invisible as possible. She needed far more help than he was capable of giving.
"Okay," he said, keeping his tone as light as possible and smiling kindly. "We can wait until you're ready to go."
For a long time they sat there, saying nothing. Now and then tears streamed from her eyes again, and he kept a comforting arm around her shoulders. When the music of another incoming call started playing on her cell phone he pleaded with her to answer it. She looked at the number flashing then at him, let the riff play two more times and took the call.
V
The afternoon was waning by the time they finally left the park bench and walked back to The Mad Hatter. A crowd had already arrived, mostly men. They talked and laughed loudly, and Alison flinched the moment they stepped inside and the noise accosted them. Understanding how vulnerable she was feeling, Sam gently steered her to a small table in the corner, furthest away from the fray.
Alison's call with her aunt had been a tearful one. When it ended it took Sam a good fifteen minutes of soothing her until she stopped crying, then another half hour just sitting before she finally settled down enough to walk back to Lu Anne's place. He was completely worn out.
He still didn't know the details of what happened – he'd walked away during the call to give her privacy, though he kept her in sight – and he doubted she'd ever share them with him. It didn't matter really. He could piece together that a vulnerable woman and her even more vulnerable young daughter were victimized by a brutal stranger while traveling on their own. Somehow Alison alone miraculously got away with her life, traumatized but still alive.
Maybe she hadn't explained anything to her aunt either. But at least they'd made contact and there was some sort of plan being formulated. According to Alison, her aunt was calling a close friend who lived somewhere between Topeka and Kansas City, to ask her to meet her and stay with her until she could book a flight.
Sam was going to leave her at the table while he went to the bar to order their drinks, but she got up and trotted after him, too afraid to be left alone. Lu Anne greeted them with a warm smile and he ordered two Cokes. He would have preferred a beer but decided it was probably better to refrain from drinking anything alcoholic while he was looking after Alison.
"I've got someone willing to give you a ride but there's a catch," Lu Anne said as she set the drinks on the bar. "She's not leaving here until tomorrow morning, late. But she can take you all the way to Topeka, even Kansas City if you want to go that far."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alison look at him and nod. Her aunt's friend lived closer to Kansas City than to Topeka. But Sam shook his head doubtfully.
"We don't have a place to stay tonight. I don't think anyone would appreciate us sprawling out on the benches in the park."
"I've got room upstairs. I can't get away before midnight so you'll have to wait down here until then, but at least you'll have a place to rest. Anyway, she'll be happy to have the extra company along for the drive. I'll introduce you later."
She walked away to take someone else's drink order and Sam stared after her for a long moment. He wasn't a cynical person by nature, but the extent to which Lu Anne had immediately gone out of her way for them and continued to do so, and now a place to stay and a ride directly to where they needed to go literally falling in their lap – it was all too good to be true. But there was nothing sinister in it, as far as he could sense, and his instincts were usually right. And the sooner he could get Alison reunited with her aunt – or in the care of anybody besides him – the better. If Lu Anne's contact could take them all the way to Kansas City in one trip it would make things that much easier.
They carried their drinks back to the table and sat quietly for a while, sipping their sodas and staring at the television screen up in the corner. Lu Anne had the news playing with the sound off, but large letters across the bottom of the screen informed them that the temperature would climb back up to one hundred degrees the next day. He'd apparently leaped in on a day when it had dipped to ninety-seven after four or five straight days of three-digit highs.
Sam shifted his attention back to Lu Anne, watching her work. Earlier in the park she had told him that she ran the bar with her husband Jack, but all evening she tended the bar and the tables alone. Food orders were made at the bar as well and then Lu Anne called them into the kitchen.
"Jack must be the cook," he murmured, more to himself than to Alison.
"Lailah's the cook," she corrected him.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Yeah? How'd you know that?"
"Lu Anne told me before. She has a couple of people working in back and helping her with stuff, but she works the bar alone. I don't know if there is a Jack. Maybe she made him up."
"Huh?" He shook his head. She really was a strange young girl. "Why would she do something like that?"
"Lots of reasons. A lot of times my mom lied and said that a man was with us, but he was somewhere else or meeting us later or something. It's protection. If you make a guy think there's another man around he'll go away and leave you alone." After a long pause she added, "Sometimes," and her face darkened.
He asked her about her earlier conversation with Lu Anne, about Prague and if it was a place she wanted to visit someday, nudging the conversation toward a lighter topic to ease her brooding and keep her spirits up. Alison really wasn't so bad when she wasn't being snotty and fighting with him. When it came down to it she was probably a good kid. She was intelligent and had interesting things to say. In some ways she reminded him of his little sister.
They found out later that Lailah the cook was also their ride. When she emerged from the kitchen at around midnight she came over to their table with Lu Anne. She was in her mid-thirties, Sam estimated, tall and slim, dressed casually in denim capris, a black tunic and leather sandals. Her light grey eyes were striking in contrast to her bronzed skin and black hair. A large clip held her hair back and up off her neck.
"Lailah Kalb," Lu Anne said. "This is Sam Beckett and his daughter Alison."
Sam started at the mention of his last name. He no longer disclosed it to anyone unless it was an extraordinary situation, like when he met Al on one of his leaps. He'd only told Lu Anne his first name.
"Good to meet you," Lailah said, pumping his hand and then Alison's. "You need to go to Topeka?"
"Or Kansas City," he replied, regaining his composure, "if you're going that far."
"I am. I'll be leaving pretty late in the morning. Sorry you have to wait. Where are you staying tonight?"
"They'll be here," Lu Anne answered. "I'm letting them stay in the apartment upstairs. Do you mind keeping an eye on things while I get them settled?"
"Not at all."
Lailah told them she'd pick them up there at around eleven, eleven-thirty the next morning then she went and took her place behind the bar. Lu Anne motioned for them to follow her.
"I used to live above the bar," she said, leading them to the back. They went along a hall, past the restrooms and through a doorway at the end, then turned a hard right and climbed a narrow carpeted staircase. "I've moved…somewhere else…but decided to keep the place for occasions like this. Comes in handy when someone can't make it all the way home, too. It's getting them up these stairs that's the trick though. One time I had to carry a guy up here…over my shoulder…in a fireman's carry. And he wasn't small. I didn't think I'd make it but I did. I was pretty proud of myself." The keys on the ring in her hand jangled lightly as she inserted the correct one in the lock and unbolted the door. "I kept the electricity on but never connected a land line, so there's no phone. But there's central air conditioning. I'll stay here with you tonight, in case you need anything. I've got two bedrooms and a couch in the living room. One of you can take the other bedroom and one of you can stay on the couch."
The main room of the apartment was large and only sparsely furnished. There was a wide window and dull beige carpeting covered the floor from wall to wall. It didn't feel at all like a home. It was as if Lu Anne had moved in for only a month or so, never settled in then just left the place not even half-furnished. There was no lamp in the room, just a light fixture overhead. A couch, a television on a stand and a bookcase with a couple of books but mostly empty space on each shelf made up the entire complement of furniture in the living room. Alison immediately went over to the shelves and examined the titles.
Lu Anne showed Sam where the kitchen and the bathroom were located. She opened the cabinet over the bathroom sink.
"You're in luck." She held up a toothbrush, still in its unopened package, and giving him an enigmatic smile she set it on the narrow ledge over the sink. "There's a tube of toothpaste in the cabinet."
She led him to the extra bedroom, which had the same beige carpeting as the rest of the apartment. A bare mattress sat on the floor with no box spring, some empty red milk crates were stacked up along one wall and a pair of old skis rested upright against another wall in the corner. The room contained nothing else.
"How did you know my last name anyway?" Sam asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. "I don't remember telling you."
"Your daughter told me."
"My…?" he began, stunned.
After a beat he caught himself and quickly recovered. If Lu Anne noticed his reaction she didn't show it. She breezed past him and back out into the hall, beckoning him to follow her over to another door. It was a closet and she took bedding and towels down from the shelves and piled half of it into his arms. There was one more door at the end of the hall, her bedroom obviously.
She dropped one of the pillows and a set of linens on top of the mattress in the extra bedroom, then she led him back out to the living room. He set the bedding he was carrying down on the couch.
"I'm downstairs if you need anything. I'll talk to you later if I get back before you turn in. Otherwise I'll see you in the morning," she said, then bid them goodnight and left, shutting the door behind her.
Sam turned to Alison, who had plunked herself down on the couch and was rummaging through her knapsack. He took a seat beside her.
"Your name is Beckett?"
Alison's movements ceased momentarily but she didn't look up. "I gave Lu Anne your name."
She went back to riffling through her bag, self-consciously now.
"How did you know my name?"
After another few moments of digging through the pack she finally said, "You told me."
"No, I didn't. I only told you my name is Sam." She peered inside her bag and said nothing. He stared hard at her but she still wouldn't look up. "How could you know?"
"I don't know," she muttered. She pulled out her cell phone, still not looking at him. "I have to call my aunt and let her know I'm going to Kansas City not Topeka."
"Isn't it too late?"
"It's earlier where she is."
Sam waited while she made her phone call, which was considerably shorter and much easier this time. She told her aunt she had a ride to Kansas City and that they would be there the next afternoon.
"Well?" he persisted when she hung up.
"Wait, I have to add this," she said distractedly, punching several buttons on the phone.
"Alison."
She tossed it back into her pack in a huff. "My aunt gave me her friend's number so I can call her. I had to program it in."
"You're done now?"
"Yes."
He pinned her with his eyes but she averted her face then stood up, dropped her knapsack on the floor and crossed over to the window.
"What a weird place," she said irritably. "I can't wait to get out of here."
Sam rose and joined her at the window, refusing to be put off. In the bright moonlight he could see the backs of the buildings that lined the street running parallel to the bar. He turned to face into the room, leaned back against the sill with his arms folded and tilted his head toward her, trying to catch her eye once more.
"Alison—"
"I saw it on your license."
"My license?"
"Yeah. I took your wallet while you were asleep before."
"What?" His hand flew toward his pocket then he caught himself. He glowered at her. "No you didn't. I had it when I paid for lunch."
She was still focused on something outside – or pretending to be – and wouldn't look at him when she answered. "I put it back before you woke up. I didn't take any money. I just wanted to see if I could do it."
His shoulders sagged. He didn't have the energy to deal with this anymore.
"I don't understand what you gain from making up a story like that."
But he did understand actually. She was doing it to deflect him.
"Look, it's late and I'm tired. I'm going to bed," he said wearily. He walked away, leaving her standing at the window, and began to spread the sheet over the couch. "I'll sleep out here on the couch and you can have the bedroom."
A minute later, as he was slipping a pillow case on the pillow, the television went on behind him and he whirled around to see Alison standing in front of it. He flung the pillow onto the couch and strode over to her.
It took an effort to keep his temper in check. Before he spoke he reminded himself how much this girl had been through and that she was asking for attention and help in the only way she knew how. "Didn't we agree you wouldn't fight with me anymore? Or lie?" he said in an even voice.
"I'm not fighting." She kept her back to him but he could hear the pout in her voice.
He sighed, defeated. "Alison, I'm exhausted and out of patience. So I'm going to call it a night. Do you want to stay out here so you can watch T.V. or do you want—"
"Time," she said suddenly.
"What?"
"You were on the cover." She still wouldn't face him but she turned off the television.
"Time…you…Time Magazine? That issue is from a long time ago, before you were born. How did you come to see it?"
"I spent a lot of time in libraries."
"Looking at thirty-year-old magazines?"
She shrugged and finally turned to him with a bored expression. "I ran out of things to read."
He frowned dubiously at her then scrubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know whether to believe you or not anymore. I can't believe you would remember it."
"I remember everything I read," she bragged.
Sam listened astonished as she went on to describe the article in full detail.
"Do you have a photographic memory, Alison?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you just tell me before?"
"That I have a photographic memory?"
He glared at her impatiently. "That you knew me from the magazine."
She looked away again. "I didn't think it mattered."
Sam fell silent and studied her thoughtfully. She wasn't making it up. But it still didn't explain why he also somehow recognized her.
"Well, it's been a long day for both of us," he finally said kindly. "You should get some rest too. Do you want to sleep out here on the couch or in the bedroom? You get first choice."
"The couch."
He bid her goodnight and went to get ready for bed. When he finally stretched out on the mattress ten minutes later he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
It was still the middle of the night when Sam woke abruptly, not sure if he'd been dreaming or if he'd actually been hearing the sound of muffled voices and moans through the bedroom door. He went out to check and found the apartment empty. Alison wasn't in the living room and Lu Anne wasn't in the other bedroom. A sense of alarm surged through him until he caught sight of the patch of light purple peeping out from behind the couch. Alison's knapsack was still on the living room floor.
Something drew him to the window. He opened it quietly and peered down into the yard. Lu Anne and Alison were sitting on the grass together in the moonlight, engrossed in a serious conversation. Alison was crying – he knew even without seeing or hearing – and Lu Anne had a comforting arm around her shoulders. Relief filled him as he watched them. Maybe Lu Anne could be more helpful to her, and there was no doubt Alison would have an easier time confiding in her about certain things than in him or any man.
Sam closed the window and returned to the bedroom. He slept through the night this time.
VI
It quickly became clear as they sat together at the kitchen table the next morning that Alison and Lu Anne had bonded. More than that, they seemed to share some deep secret now, if the discreet looks and smiles they exchanged were anything to go by. It made Sam uneasy for a reason he couldn't rationally explain, as if somehow it involved him without his knowing, which seemed ridiculous. He shook the notion off after a minute.
At ten-thirty Lailah called at the apartment with her five-year-old daughter Aliya in tow and the two of them joined them for a breakfast of peanut butter and banana sandwiches prepared from the food stuff Sam had bought the previous day. Lu Anne brought up a carton of orange juice from downstairs while Lailah made coffee.
When they'd finished Lu Anne insisted that she would clean everything up herself so they could get on the road. She walked them downstairs and out to Lailah's white four-door Nissan. They said their goodbyes and he thanked her for all the help she'd given them. Alison hurried after Lu Anne when she turned to go. Sam smiled fondly as he watched her throw her arms around her and they shared a meaningful embrace.
The trip to Kansas City was long but mostly quiet and uneventful. Now that Alison had gotten whatever she needed to off her chest with Lu Anne she was much more pleasant and easier for him to deal with. Or maybe it was simply that they weren't alone for most of the day. Lailah had to stop several times for Aliya, and they pulled off the highway into a town that was somewhere near the halfway mark to have lunch. They reached the city by five and Lailah left them off at a luxury hotel in the downtown area, where Aunt Kate's friend Sarah had told Alison she would meet her.
They sat together on one of the plush couches in the fancy lobby and Alison fidgeted nervously. She had no idea what Sarah looked like. She said Sarah would find her. Sarah knew to look for a girl wearing a red Hoosiers cap and holding a purple knapsack. Sam knew she was anxious about living in a new place too, with an aunt that she hadn't seen for many years. Not to mention that her Aunt Kate probably knew what happened to her mother and may have been planning to make her talk to the police. He wanted to reassure her that everything would be okay but his own mood had sunk too low and he knew the words would just sound empty.
A sense of deep dissatisfaction weighed on him. Today had gone by so quickly. He regretted how abruptly it was all ending, even if he had been at his wits' end with Alison not even twenty-four hours ago. The formality and distance, even the calm between them was disconcerting, almost…
anti-climactic…after yesterday's intensity and constant emotional sparring. It ate at him that he still didn't know why she was so achingly familiar too, and he felt a longing to stay with her so he could dig further and discover the answers he was seeking.
She would be okay. He knew it in his gut. Her aunt would care for her and she would be okay now. Yet so much about this leap felt disturbingly unresolved and he knew it would haunt him forever.
Alison must have felt him staring at her again. She turned quietly and met his eye, her face inscrutable, and he wondered if the shift between them as well as the specter of their imminent parting bothered her also. He had a feeling it did.
"Do you know where you're going next?" she asked suddenly.
"Wherever I'm needed."
"How do you know where that is?"
"It's difficult to explain."
An expression of profound sadness settled over her features and he felt a pang of remorse at his inability to help her further and ease her pain. But there was too much to do and so much he didn't know about her, and it would take too long to figure it all out. She needed to be with someone who knew her already, someone who was family. He'd saved her life and gotten her here safely, he'd done all he could and he had to be satisfied with that.
"Alison?"
The woman approaching them was in her late fifties, early sixties, neatly dressed in a beige linen pantsuit, her blonde hair worn short. Sam and Alison both stood up to meet her and Alison introduced him by his first name only.
"Your Aunt Katie is flying out tonight and she'll be here tomorrow afternoon. She booked a suite for us. We can check in now." Sarah turned to Sam. "Are you staying here?"
"No, I need to get moving. I just wanted to make sure Alison was safe."
"Well…thank you. Katie was really frantic about her. Alison told her that she'd met someone who was helping her but…she was still worried of course."
They shook hands then Sam turned to Alison. Her discomfort was obvious and she kept herself hidden from him. The bill of her cap was pulled all the way down again and she peeked out at him from beneath it. He was going to hold out his hand but he realized the handshake wouldn't be welcome so he just nodded to her. "Take care of yourself, Alison, okay?"
"Bye," she said quickly and turned to follow Sarah. Sarah stopped and said something quietly to her and Alison turned back to him. "Thank you, Sam."
His throat constricted as he watched them walk to the front desk. He waited while they checked in and he didn't leave the hotel until long after they had disappeared into the elevator bank. Then he went outside and strode away, quickly putting as much distance between him and the hotel as possible.
Something was changing. He couldn't put his finger on whether it was something inside him or something about the nature of his leaping that was being forever altered, and he didn't understand why the change had occurred. He only knew that this leap was inexorably pushing him off one track and on to another, and his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of it.
Sam stopped when he reached a park several blocks away and sank down onto a bench. He sat there until well after it had grown dark, watching people pass by and regaining his equilibrium. Then, finally feeling ready to go on, he leaped.