The apartment was sparsely furnished. There were no pictures or posters on the walls, or knickknacks on the shelves. It had the feel of temporary occupancy, a place that could be vacated on the spur of the moment.
Ashley kept a few pictures on her nightstand. Jerry thought he might have seen them in Ashley’s dorm room at the Academy. In one photograph, Terri and Norman Spencer smiled at the camera from the front lawn of the house in which Norman was murdered. In another, Terri and Norman flanked Ashley, their arms over her shoulders, large smiles plastered on the face of each member of the family. The last photograph had been taken after the district soccer finals. It showed the Eisenhower team with Ashley front and center holding the championship trophy. The pictures made Jerry sad. He tried to imagine what life must have been like for Ashley since she fled to Europe. Lonely was the first word that came to mind. Ashley had not known Italian, she had no friends, and she could not confide in anyone or get too comfortable in one place. Yet she had survived. She was tough.
Ashley found a pillowcase and some sheets and led Jerry into the room with the pullout sofa.
“You’re in here,” she told him. “I’m going to wash up while you settle in.”
Jerry put his clothes in the dresser and set up his bed. When he was done, he joined Ashley at the kitchen table. She had changed into a T-shirt and shorts and was sipping some wine.
“Want some? It’s a good local chianti.”
“No thanks. I’m exhausted. One drink would put me out.”
“I’m strong. I’d get you into bed.”
Jerry laughed. “How long have you been living here?” he asked.
“Five months. It’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place.”
“Made any friends?”
“A few. There’s a women’s football club. I’ve been playing for them. They don’t know my real name or anything about me. They think I’m taking a year off from college.”
“That’s good, that you have friends.”
“It’s made me feel like I belong, but it’s hard living a lie. I have to be careful to keep my fictitious life straight. I’ve made my story simple but I always have to be on guard.”
“Where do you play?”
“There’s a men’s pro team in town. We use their stadium. There’s a league. We play games on the weekends. Our crowds are small, but they’re enthusiastic. It’s fun.”
“Do you still have your old stuff?”
“I’m rusty but I’m holding my own.”
During the next hour, Ashley filled him in on what she’d done since fleeing the States. At some point, Jerry started to yawn. A few times, his eyes closed.
“It’s time for you to go to sleep,” Ashley said.
“Good thinking. I’m so exhausted I’m afraid I’ll pass out.”
Jerry stood up.
“It’s good seeing a familiar face again,” Ashley said.
“It’s good seeing you again, too.”
They were standing close together. They both felt awkward. Jerry wanted to kiss her goodnight but was afraid she would misinterpret his action. Suddenly he remembered something that gave him an excuse to break the tension.
“I brought you something.”
“What?”
“Wait here.”
He went into the guest room and rummaged around in his suitcase. When he returned he was holding a folded sheet of paper.
“You know how I told you I found the file my father kept on your father’s case?”
Ashley nodded.
“I found this in it. My dad wrote it to your dad after he graduated from college. I thought you might want it.”
Ashley took the letter.
“Well, that’s it for me,” Jerry said. “See you tomorrow.”
Jerry left the kitchen, and Ashley put the wineglasses in the sink with some plates that were left from lunch. As she washed the dishes she thought about Jerry. The first time they’d met he was in his mid-twenties and she was a teenager. They seemed ages apart. Now he didn’t seem that much older.
She could hear Jerry moving around in his room, settling into bed. It was odd having someone else in her apartment, especially a man. She had not let herself get involved with anyone since running from Portland. Not that she would ever get involved with Jerry. He was her lawyer. Their emails had mostly been about business, although he always asked how she was doing and offered her encouragement. She didn’t know much about him, anyway. He didn’t wear a wedding ring but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend. And he was educated. She didn’t even have a high school diploma.
Ashley shook off her thoughts and went to her room. She wanted to read the letter but waited until she was in bed. There were two holes in the top of the paper. They’d been made so it could fit on the metal prongs in a file. The copy had been made with carbon paper and the letter had been typed on a typewriter, not a word processor. Some of the words were smeared.
Dear Norman:
I wanted to drop you a note to thank you for inviting me to your graduation ceremony at Portland State. I was very moved when you carried Ashley on stage to accept your diploma. I know that this must have been a terrific moment for you, but it was also a terrific moment for me. Law is a tough profession. There are a lot more downs than ups. But seeing you, your daughter, and Terri, and you holding that diploma, made up for a lot of disappointments. As you know, I have a son, Jerry. Some parents want their son to grow up to be the president of the United States or the quarterback of a pro football team. I want my son to grow up like you. You have been an inspiration to me. Good luck with your teaching job next year.
Congratulations again,
Ken
Ashley’s throat constricted as she read the letter and she fought to keep from crying. There was a picture in one of her folks’ albums of Norman Spencer carrying her onto the stage at Portland State when he accepted his diploma. She had seen it a few times but never appreciated the sacrifice that her father and Terri had to make to bring about that moment. Then her father had made the ultimate sacrifice when he rescued her from Joshua Maxfield.
Ashley closed her eyes. She thought about the last moments she’d shared with her father, something she had tried to block out since the night he died. He had been in pain; he had been on the verge of death, yet he had smiled, because he knew that she would be safe. If she stayed here she would be safe, but her father had not sacrificed his life so she could grow old hiding in a small, dark apartment.
Ashley got out of bed and walked into the hall. The door to the guest room was closed. She knocked on it.
“Yeah?” Jerry said. He sounded half asleep.
“Can I come in for a second?”
“Sure.”
Ashley opened the door. Jerry was under the covers. She stood in the doorway.
“This isn’t a life, Jerry. I have to lie all the time, I’m always looking over my shoulder. I can’t have any real friends. Sometimes I wonder if Joshua Maxfield is interested in me anymore. What if he doesn’t care and I’m holed up here, scared to death of someone who doesn’t even think about me anymore?
“And there’s Casey. That’s very…confusing. I’ve gotten used to having no one, but now I find out I have a mother.” She looked down. “I want to go home.”
“Then I’ll take you. We can leave whenever you want to go.”
“I want to go as quickly as possible.”
“We will. I’ll take you home.”
Chapter Twenty
Look at this,” Jerry said as they walked toward their gate in the airport in Florence.
They were in front of an airport shop that sold magazines and books. One shelf had paperbacks in English. Jerry walked over to it and took down a copy of Sleeping Beauty. A black-and-white photograph of a smiling Casey Van Meter graced the cover.
“Have you read it?” Jerry asked.