Together Always

by Dallas Schulze

  "You know, you have an uncle." Addie smoothed the flannel across her knee, her eyes on the aimless movement, at odds with the intensity in her voice. "He lives in Los Angeles, worked at Lockheed last I heard. Probably still there. Philip. I only met him once. He came to our wedding. Seemed like a good man." Her fingers smoothed imaginary wrinkles. "Los Angeles has a real nice climate. Your dad used to say we'd move there someday."

  Trace sat very still. Now he understood why she'd brought up his father. It wasn't his father she wanted to tell him about. It was his uncle. An uncle in Los Angeles.

  Lily couldn't stay in this place. He couldn't protect her forever. He'd known that, even while he hadn't wanted to consider the results of that knowledge. His mother, in her own soft way, was telling him how it was going to have to be. She couldn't deal with the problem head-on, but she knew something had to be done. And Trace would have to be the one to do it.

  Lily slept in his room again that night. If she thought the situation was strange, she didn't say so. She curled up on his lumpy mattress, Isaiah cuddled against her, and fell asleep instantly, content that as long as Trace was there, all was right with her world. Trace only wished life could be so simple.

  Jed had been drinking heavily at dinner, and just the memory of the way he'd watched Lily was enough to make Trace feel sick. How could Jed look at her like that? She was hardly more than a baby.

  He stirred restlessly in the hard chair. There'd been something particularly ugly about Jed tonight. Twice he'd caught Trace watching him but he hadn't looked away. Instead, there'd been a sly challenge in his eyes, as if he knew he'd win sooner or later.

  It was that look that had Trace sitting up in the old chair as midnight approached. The room was dark except for the moonlight that shone in through the open curtains. Outside, the prairie lay still and empty, at peace before winter howled down out of the north. But Trace wasn't interested in the moon-kissed scenery.

  He was watching the door, his ears strained to hear any sound in the quiet house. His hands lay in his lap, loosely curled around the grip of an old Colt 38. It had belonged to his father, and on Trace's fifteenth birthday, his mother had given it to him. She'd given him the package after Jed left for work one morning and he hadn't needed to ask if Jed knew about the gift.

  Trace's head bobbed, exhaustion winning out over tension. It was so late. Maybe he'd imagined the look in Jed's eyes. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. A floorboard creaked in the hallway, the sound loud in the quiet house. Trace's head jerked up, his eyes sharpening on the door. Another floorboard popped and he could suddenly feel the pulse in his temples.

  It could just be the old house settling. But then the floor shifted outside his bedroom door and he knew. Jed was standing out there, staring at the door, just as Trace was staring at it on this side.

  He tightened his hold on the gun, easing the safety off, aware of his sweaty pahns against the wooden grip. He lifted the gun slightly, wondering why it suddenly felt so heavy. Was Jed going to try the door?

  His mouth was dry, his tongue thick with the coppery taste of fear. There was no sound from the hall but he knew

  Jed was there, waiting, watching. Trace's head began to pound, the ache centering in his temples. For one insane moment he almost hoped Jed would force the door. In one moment of crystal-clear thought he knew he could kill his stepfather without regret.

  And still there was no sound from the other side of the door.

  Trace had no idea how much time passed while the bizarre standoff continued. It might have been hours but he suspected it could only have been a few minutes when the floorboard groaned again. He sensed Jed leaving more than he actually heard him.

  Still Trace didn't move until he heard the click of a door latch and knew that Jed had gone back to the bedroom he shared with Addie. His breath exploded out of him on a sob, making him aware that he'd been holding it so long he felt light-headed. He slumped in the chair, easing the safety back on the .38 and setting it on the table before wiping his sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans.

  "Trace? What's wrong?" Lily's sleepy voice came out of the darkness, startling him. He turned, making out the vague lump of her under the covers.

  "Nothing's wrong. I was just studying l^e. Go back to sleep."

  *'Okay." She snuggled deeper into the thin pillow and was asleep instantly, only half-awake to start with.

  Trace listened to her light breathing, his thoughts painfully sharp. He no longer had a choice. And he no longer had any time. Tonight Jed had walked away, but if he'd had a little more to drink, maybe he wouldn't have.

  No, he had no choice. No choice at all.

  "Lily, wake up." He kept his voice low, clenching his teeth against the nervous shivers that threatened to set them chattering. "Lily, come on. We've got to go now."

  * Trace?"

  He'd turned on the table lamp, throwing a towel over it to mute the light. In the dim glow he saw Lily's eyehds flutter and then lift. Her sleepy gaze settled on him as her arms tightened around Isaiah's scruffy form.

  *'Is it morning?"

  "No. It won't be morning for a long time but we've got to get going now."

  She sat up, rubbing her fists into her eyes. "Where're we going?"

  "Away from here. We're going to California to visit my uncle." He tried to keep his voice calm, hoping she wouldn't notice that his hands were shaking as he helped her tug a heavy sweater over her head, leaving her pajamas on under it.

  "CaHfornia?" He pulled her hair out from under the sweater and handed her a pair of jeans.

  "That's right. It'll be real nice there."

  She stood up, obediently poking her foot into the boot he held, balancing herself with a hand on his shoulder. He bundled her into a heavy coat and tugged a wool cap down over her ears.

  "We have to be real quiet, Lily. Don't make a sound, okay?" Her eyes were wide green pools of questions but she nodded.

  "I'll be quiet as a mouse."

  "Good girl." He switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Trace waited until his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and then he picked up a battered satchel with one hand and took Lily's hand with the other. The house was dark and still around them as they crept down the hallway and into the kitchen. Trace held his breath at every creaky floorboard. Once the satchel banged against a corner of the wall and he froze, but nothing happened and he tugged Lily forward.

  He hesitated in the kitchen, staring at the back door. The enormity of the step he was taking struck him. For just a moment he wanted to turn around and go back to his bed. But then Lily's fingers tightened around his and he knew he couldn't do that. There could be no going back.

  His hand was on the latch when he heard a quiet chck. He spun around, pushing Lily behind him, wishing he'd thought to tuck the old gun into his belt instead of putting it in the satchel. But it wasn't Jed's drunk and angry figure who stood in the doorway. It was Addie, an ancient flannel robe wrapped around her thin body, her hair lying about her shoulders.

  Her hand dropped from the switch of the small lamp and their eyes met across the room. Light spilled out over the counter and onto the floor, illuminating without reveaUng. In this light Addie looked almost young again, the gray in her hair smoothed by the shadows. Trace stared at his mother, wondering what he should say, what he should do. In the end, he said nothing.

  Addie came forward and the illusion of youth was lost in the stiffness of her movements, the slump of her shoulders. She opened the pantry door and pulled out a heavy paper bag, the top folded down to seal in the contents. She held it out toward Trace and he took it automatically, his eyes never leaving her face. There was a small part of him that still hoped she would tell him not to go. She'd help him protect Lily.

  "You won't have to worry about food, at least not for a couple of days."

  The hope died without taking full wing. Trace's hand tightened over the sack and he straightened his shoulders. Addie's eyes softened.

&nbs
p; **You're goin' to be as tall as your father was."

  Her eyes flickered to where Lily stood so quietly, half-4iidden behind Trace. Addie looked away and the room was

  quiet for a moment. Trace said nothing, fighting the urge to break down and bawl like a baby. His mother reached into the pocket of her robe and brought out a wad of faded green bills.

  "I want you to have this." Trace set down the satchel and reached out automatically, only reahzing what he was holding as his fingers closed over the money.

  "That's your egg money," he protested. "You can't give me that."

  "It's my money and I can do what I choose with it and I choose to give it to you now.''

  "But, Mom, you've been saving this for a long time."

  "That's so, but I want you to have it. I think you're going to have more use for it than I ever would. It's not much but it ought to help the two of you." Her voice quivered and she stopped. "I want you to have it. Trace."

  And he understood. It was all she could offer him. It shamed her that she didn't have the strength to do what needed to be done, and this was the best she could do to make up for her failure. He nodded jerkily and stuffed the money in his pocket.

  "Thanks."

  Addie looked at him, her eyes bright with tears. She reached up, touching his cheek with trembling fingers. "You write when you can."

  Trace nodded, swallowing hard on the urge to cry. He was too old for tears. Besides, they wouldn't change the way things had to be. Addie looked so frail, so old. He bent to kiss her cheek, feeling the trembling she was fighting so hard to conceal. For an instant he couldn't bear to leave her. With him gone, who would protect her from Jed? Who would take care of her?

  Behind him Lily stirred, her hand tugging on his coat. "Trace? I'm sleepy. Can we go back to bed now?" The plaintive question ended on a yawn.

  Trace closed his eyes, feeling torn between the need to protect his mother and the need to keep Lily safe. There was really no choice. Addie had made her choices a long time ago. Lily was only a child. Her whole life was ahead of her and she had to have a chance of her own. He couldn't do anything for his mother, but maybe if he kept Lily safe, it would somehow make up for some of the choices she'd made.

  Addie saw the decision in his eyes and she nodded jerkily. He was doing the right thing, the only thing he could do. **You take care now. Both of you."

  '*We will." Without another word he turned and opened the back door. Cold air swept into the room and Addie shivered, wrapping the old robe closer around her thin frame. "Come on, Lily. We've got a long ways to go." She yawned but followed him without protest.

  The moon cast a pale glow over the ground, more shadows than light but enough to see by. Trace hesitated once, looking back over his shoulder. Addie was standing in the open door, her fingers knotted on the worn flannel robe, her shoulders hunched like a woman twice her age. He had only that one glimpse of her before he set his sights firmly on the road ahead of them. He didn't look back again.

  Chapter Three

  Frost scrunched under their feet. Trace hunched his shoulders inside his coat, hardly noticing the cold. He had too many other things to think about to pay much attention to the physical discomfort. The money his mother had given him felt like a lead weight in his pocket. Conscience money. He couldn't remember where he'd heard the term and he wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but it popped into his head now and wouldn't go away.

  Trace knew Addie was doing the best she could, and on one level he couldn't be angry with her. But there was another part of him that felt a deep resentment. He was fifteen. It wasn't fair that he should have to shoulder all this responsibility by himself. She was his mother and she'd failed him just when he needed her most.

  He sucked in a deep breath of cold air. If there was one thing he'd learned in his life, it was that life couldn't be counted on to be fair. Fair was something only children expected from the world. And he wasn't a child anymore. No matter how much it hurt, he had to accept that his mother had done the best she knew how. If that wasn't good enough, he'd just have to make up the difference himself.

  **Trace, I'm tired. Where're we going?"

  *'You keep hold of my coat, Lily. We're not going far tonight. Just to Hoffman's. We'll spend the night there and go on in the morning."

  *'To California?"

  *To California."

  '*How come we're going to stay at Hoffman's bam?"

  '*Just for fun, Lily. Don't you think it'll be fun?"

  *'I suppose." She sounded doubtful and he could hardly blame her. It was the best reason he could come up with on the spur of the moment.,

  By the time they got to the neighbor's property, Lily was beginning to stumble sleepily. Trace held the satchel and the bag of food in one hand and put his other arm over her shoulders, letting her lean against him.

  The bam door was open, only a crack, but wide enough for them to sUp inside without shifting it. Inside it was cold but not as cold as outside. Trace dug in his pocket to find the small flashlight he'd purloined from the kitchen and shone it around the cavernous building until he found what he wanted.

  *'Come on, Lily. We're going to climb up that ladder and sleep in the hay."

  "I'm too tired, Trace." She hung back, mbbing her eyes.

  "It's only a little ways and then you can sleep in the nice soft hay. Come on, Lily. It'll be fun." For a moment he thought she was going to argue further, but perhaps the promise of a bed at the top of the ladder won out. He unzipped her jacket enough to tuck Isaiah into the front of it, freeing both her hands for the steep climb. It seemed to take forever for her to get to the top of the ladder and Trace kept glancing over his shoulder, half expecting old man Hoffman to come running through the door with his shotgun.

  They reached the top without incident and Lily was asleep within minutes, covered with an old blanket Trace had found in one corner. Rumor had it that Jimmy Hoffman

  had always brought his girlfriends up here before he left for college. From the supply of blankets, Trace could believe it was true. He could only be grateful. He curled up next to Lily, shivering more with reaction than cold.

  His life would never be the same after tonight. He'd taken the first steps down a road whose ending he could only guess at. It was not a reassuring thought, but tiredness won out over worry and he fell asleep at last, not waking until the roar of a truck engine outside woke him to morning light.

  They picnicked in the hayloft, eating the thick sandwiches Addie had packed for them. Lily was in good spirits, giggling at the hay that clung to Trace's hair. He looked just like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, she informed him. Trace amused her by doing his best to imitate a rubber-legged walk. He wasn't very successful but his attempts drew peals of laughter from Lily. Despite his worries, he felt his spirits rise. Whatever happened, he'd been right to take her away from that house. He was old enough to know just how frightening a step he'd taken and young enough to feel some optimism about its outcome.

  That optimism faded as they crept out of the barn and started walking along the road again. It was cold. The sun was up but its light seemed weak and filtered, giving little warmth.

  **Trace, why are we going to California?"

  **My uncle lives there."

  **Are we going to walk all the way?"

  **Nope. We're going to catch a bus just as soon as we get to town."

  Lily came to a halt in the middle of the road. Trace stopped and turned to look at her, trying to rein in his impatience. "What's wrong?"

  "Trace, we're going the wrong way to get to town."

  "We're going to another town, Lily."

  "How come?"

  He hesitated a moment and then decided that it would be easier to tell her the truth than to try to think up a reasonable lie. "Because I don't want anyone we know to see us."

  She considered that, digging the toe of her boot into the hard ground.

  '*How come we snuck out last night? How come your mom or Uncle Jed didn't dri
ve us to catch a bus like Mr. and Mrs. Lauder did when I came here?"

  "Jed doesn't know we're leaving."

  "Are we running away?"

  "Yeah, I guess we are."

  "How come?"

  "I... just thought it would be a good idea." How could he possibly explain the reasons? "Do you mind?"

  "Nope." She shook her head, sending her hair flying under the knit cap. "Long as you're here, it's okay."

  "You're going to like Cahfomia, Lily. We both are."

  "Okay." She hitched Isaiah higher under her arm and tucked her hand in Trace's. Her confidence in him terrified Trace. She believed in his ability to take care of her far more strongly than he did.

  They continued walking. Trace kept his eye on the horizon. Heavy storm clouds were banking to the north and he watched them uneasily. He knew what they could mean. To be caught in a snowstorm in the open could be fatal. It was just past noon and they were still several miles from town when the first fat snowflakes began to fall.

  They were deceptively soft, harmless seeming. They floated to earth gently, only a few at first and then a few more until the ground was covered with a thin layer of white. Trace scanned the area for some shelter but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but prairie and more prairie. They had to keep walking. He set his teeth and pulled Lily closer to him, sheltering her as much as possible.

  The snow thickened with frightening rapidity. A wind kicked up, driving the increasingly heavy snowfall in diagonal curtains across the roadway. It took all Trace's concentration to make sure they were staying on the road. Lily stumbled along beside him, clinging to his coat, her face muffled in a scarf, only her eyes exposed. If she was frightened, she chose not to say anything. Trace was just as glad. He was too scared himself to be able to offer her much reassurance.

  He was just beginning to wonder if they should stop and try to build a shelter of some sort when he heard a low rumble coming from behind them. It took him a moment to realize what it was. A truck. If they didn't get off the road, they could be run down, yet they couldn't risk falling into one of the drainage ditches on either side of the road. He wasn't sure he had the strength to pull them out if they fell in.