Putting the key into the lock of the run-down apartment building where I lived with my father in Las Vegas, Nevada, I opened the building’s main door. I began to climb the dark, dingy steps leading up to the third floor apartments. As I reached the top floor, I heard yelling and the sound of numerous televisions playing through the paper-thin walls of the complex, leaving all sense of privacy a distant thought. Babies crying were a regular sound, couples arguing with one another, but you became desensitized to the chaos that surrounded you. What surprised me as I reached our floor was the sound of my father's voice, boisterous and most likely drunk.
Accelerating my pace down the hallway, I reached our apartment door, which was wide open; my eyes fell directly on the two men standing over my father, who was sunken in on our ancient brown sofa.
The past month had been agonizing for him. He was suffering from cirrhosis of the liver, but it didn't stop him from drinking as he clutched a glass bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. How he got the liquor was beyond me. He was diagnosed a year ago and told to give up alcohol if he wanted to give his liver a good chance to repair itself. Regrettably, the doctor's words had no impact on my father as he continued to drink and gamble. As time wore on, the disease caught up with him and now he spent his days barely able to move from the sofa. I knew I should have felt bad for him, but I didn't.
One blessing came from his predicament–my first permanent residence I could remember living in. It was nothing to brag about by a long shot, but it was a home.
"You owe us two thousand dollars, Nash, and that's just the tip of the iceberg!" one of the men shouted, pointing a finger at him.
They stood dressed identically in black fitted pants, white T-shirts, and sleek, black leather jackets. My stomach bottomed out when I heard the amount they demanded.
"I said I'd have it by the end of the week," my father promised. Catching sight of me at the door, he gestured toward me, drawing me into another one of his situations. "Don't you get paid on Friday, Ash?"
"That money is for rent," I adamantly stated. "We'll get kicked out if we don't pay on time. Besides, it is nowhere near that kind of money."
"Our boss ain't waitin' no longer. Get us the money—now!”
“You know Archer ain't no patient man," the other thug threatened, his gun sticking out from under his jacket.
I had met their boss once when I had dropped money off for my father. Archer was a small-time crook, especially in a town this large, but he owned enough to be dangerous, including at least one strip club and an underground gambling ring.
"I need that money, Ashley," my father stated, his eyes pleading for me to understand. "Can you get it before Friday?"
"No!" I replied, folding my arms in frustration.
"Take our television," he offered, gesturing toward the old, battered set that buzzed with static every few seconds.
"Typically, we take body parts at this juncture," the other man said bluntly as he pulled out a knife. I gasped as my father winced. "However, yours seem to be shutting down from all of the booze." Both men bellowed and hit each other in the biceps, an apparent "tough guy" reaction to the unamusing comment.
"Take Ashley," he pleaded, pointing right at me. "Take my daughter... you can use her for... for something, right?"
Everything inside of me went still and quiet as I tried to filter what my father had just said. I was pretty sure I had just heard him trying to trade me to some bookies for a two-thousand-dollar gambling debt. I almost couldn't believe what I was hearing. But then again, nothing should have surprised me anymore.
I didn't wait around for the thugs to deliberate and consider me as an option. I turned, ignoring my father who beckoned me to come back as I ran for my life. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I was heartbroken to truly realize how little I actually meant to my father and disgusted I had spent my entire life looking after him, staying by his side, in the hope that one day he would grow to love me, even just a little. If he hadn't have threatened to hurt or possibly kill the people I had grown to love, I would have left years ago. In the end, as my father fell ill, I knew I could have left at any time, but I remained to ensure he would never be able to touch one of them, but I promised myself I would go home, to Ligonier, after his passing. What just happened was the last straw. And in that moment, I knew I would never see my father again.
I didn't look behind me until I was several blocks away from the apartment, not slowing down for even a second until I was close to the fruit market where I worked. Finally, I turned around and the men were nowhere in sight. I was relieved to know that they hadn't taken him up on his offer. I slowed my pace to a walk as I reached the entrance of the store, letting myself in with the key. I wiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks, not wanting to shed a tear over that horrible man I had called my father. I felt safe for the time being, as I closed the store door behind me and locked it once again. But I knew I would have to figure out how I was going to leave this town for good.
My boss, Mr. Holt, suddenly peered at me over the counter as he finished counting the daily earnings. "Ashley? What's wrong?" he asked, worry and concern etched on his face. He was a very soft-spoken man with wrinkles about his eyes, making him appear as though he was constantly laughing.
I was relieved to see him, but my emotions got the best of me as I began to sob. "I need to get out of here. My father is trying to trade me to pay off his gambling debts." The sentence sounded completely unbelievable. What person would ever sell their own kid? Yet after I told my boss the truth, he responded in urgency, believing every word I had just said.
"I can pay you early," he didn't hesitate to say, as he began scooping up the money he was counting from the open register. "Give me an address where I can send the rest."
I nodded and grabbed the notepad near the register, writing down Ava's address. "Thank you," I wept.
"You're a good girl, Ashley. I've met your father and you're better off without him," he stated matter-of-factly.
I was a twenty-three-year old woman, not a little girl anymore, but I didn't correct him; I just smiled at him gratefully as he called me a cab.
After locking up the store, Mr. Holt stood beside me as I waited for my ride to arrive. "I want to see you get on the bus, so I will travel with you if that's okay," he explained. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you." I nodded, overwhelmed by his generosity.
He was as good as his word, staying silently beside me the whole way and then at the station. He bought my bus ticket himself, tucking the extra bills into my hand as we stood at the bus door.
"I'll send you your final paycheck," he promised. "Let me know when you make it there safely."
"I promise," I smiled sadly, giving him a hug. He stiffened as if unused to the affection. I let go and climbed the steps. I turned and looked back down at him. "I know we didn't know each other all that long, but I will never forget your kindness. I don't know how I will ever repay you"
"Just get somewhere safe my dear and be happy. That will be payment enough and may God bless you with all you deserve,” he waved goodbye.
As I climbed aboard the bus, my heart felt weightless. Waving to Mr. Holt from the window as the bus pulled away from the station, I knew I was finally getting away from a life that had caged me for far too long. As the bus finally hit the highway, I felt as if I finally took my first breath in what felt like forever, my body beginning to relax.
I opened my purse, placing the money Mr. Holt had so kindly given me into my purse and took stock of my only belongings in the world: two hundred twenty-five dollars and change, some fruit flavored Tic-Tacs, a cherry Chapstick, the worn, dirty, much-loved copy of To Kill a Mockingbird given to me by Meg all those years ago, and the small white bible I had be gifted by Pastor Graham and I treasured as if my life depended on it.
I smiled, taking it out and leafing through it. The well-read text was comforting and I felt something deep within my soul opening up, as if a hole with
in me was about to be filled. I was about to return to the people who loved me–I was finally going home.
My father never really tried to take care of me. He didn't have the ability to think about or love anyone, other than himself. But the people of Ligonier could and I was headed straight for them.
I thought of each person individually–Meg, Aiden, Ava, Pastor Graham, and Sharon, and my heart swelled with joy and love. But like always, my mind wandered to the one that consumed most of my thoughts... Eric. Would he be there by some chance? Had he moved on? Of course; no one would be pathetic enough to wait around for a girl he only spent one summer with. I had even witnessed him moving on with that girl outside the bar back in Memphis.
For so many years, I tried to move on, to not ruminate about him. But every day I failed because I knew I would never find another Eric. I gave him my heart years ago, and he never gave it back.
As the sun began to disappear on the horizon, I got comfortable in my seat, closed my eyes, and allowed a peace to fall over me. I knew the moment I reached Ligonier it would be the start of a new life. I wasn't privy to what that would look like just yet, but it was still welcoming at the same time.
As the bus rolled down the highway toward home, I finally fell into a deep, relaxed sleep for the first time in my entire life. I no longer had anything to fear. I had finally said goodbye to the monster in my life.
Chapter Sixteen
Ashley
After thirty-two hours on the road, I finally arrived. As I stepped off the bus, I found myself unsure of where I should go. It had been such a long time since I had seen anyone. What if they were angry with me for staying away and never being in contact? And would they even want me here?
I walked through the main center of town, getting a feel for the changes that had taken place since I was last there. A few new stores and restaurants had opened and some of the houses had been renovated, but all-in-all, it was the same town I fell in love with all those years ago. The sense of belonging and knowing it was where I belonged warmed my heart. No matter how I felt about just stumbling back into town, I was home.
I made my way into the park in the center of town that held the town gazebo, usually used as a stage for performances and annual gatherings. I climbed the steps and sat down on the top one. I took in the familiar places, all the while trying to muster up the courage to head over to Ava's B&B. Not a day had passed in all the time I had been away in which I didn't think about Ava and Sharon.
As I looked about my surroundings, one thing in particular caught my complete attention since I had never seen it before. Standing at least six feet tall next to the gazebo was a sculpture made completely of wire. Its intricate design expressed that of a man holding a woman. Scattered about the metal frames were little metal butterflies soldered together and shaped like hearts. The piece was beautiful and I couldn't help but stare at it, unable to look away from the familiarity of its subjects.
I stood from the step and descended, walking over to the sculpture. I weaved my fingers throughout the parts, examining every detail, unable to tear my eyes away. There was something so intimate about the pose. Making my way down to the stone slab the sculpture was secured to, I gasped and covered my mouth. Etched in the base was the two-word title–Ashley's Dance.
Did Eric create such a magnificent piece–and dedicate it to me? Unshed tears begged to be released as I fell to my knees in front of the sculpture, remembering our last night together as if had just happened.
After hours of sitting in front of the sculpture and running my fingers over it time and time again in awe, I was starving, my stomach begging to be fed. I also knew that I was just sitting there prolonging my short walk to see Ava. Reaching up, I touched the sculpture once more before standing. I promised myself to visit it again as soon as I could.
I was finally free of my father, yet my nerves held me captive with the anticipation of seeing my friends after such a long time away. I had always been with my father, even though he wasn't much of a parent; Ava was the one person who offered me whatever I needed for so long. So then why was I freaking out about seeing her now? I knew I was being ridiculous.
Placing my hands on my hips, I nodded to myself, knowing it was time to pull my big girl pants on and make the short journey to the place that was always filled with love and happiness. I wasn't a victim, and there was no way I was going to allow my father to have me living my life scared any longer. He wasn’t going to win, I spurred myself on with my inner pep talk. And with that final word, I marched on towards the bed & breakfast.
My inspirational rally didn't last long. I began to question what the heck I was doing as I neared Ava's. I mean, what person just returns after six years away? Me, that's who. The place looked exactly the same as the last time I was there. My heart swelled with joy as I slowly climbed the porch steps and opened the front door.
The moment I walked in, the sweet aroma of homemade pancakes greeted me and my stomach growled. The sound of the bell ringing over the door brought Ava out of the kitchen in a matter of seconds. The moment she entered and our eyes met, she paused. And there we stood, motionless as we both gazed at one another, taking in the surreal moment we found ourselves in. No words were needed as our eyes told stories of longing, relief, joy, confusion, and love.
"Ashley!" Ava yelled, breaking the silence. Rushing forward with her arms wide open, she wrapped me tightly in her embrace. "I tried to put out a missing persons report on you, but nothing ever came of it," she cried, her lips planting sweet butterfly kisses all over the side of my face.
"He never wanted to return," I explained.
"Is he here?" she asked, pulling away and searching the room apprehensively.
"No," I replied, my voice laced with disgust. "He tried to trade me in exchange for his gambling debts, so I got on a bus and took off. He won't follow, I can promise you that."
Ava looked relieved. "Well, you are staying here with Sharon and me, where you belong," she announced.
"I can pay. I don't want to take a room away from your B&B," I insisted.
"That's not necessary. You will stay with us in the house out back," she confirmed, placing a hand on my cheek. "I am just so glad you're okay." She looked like a concerned mother and was close to tears again.
Just then, Sharon cautiously peered around the kitchen door; I had matured and changed a lot over the years, and I must have looked like a stranger to her.
"Ava? Is it okay?" Sharon asked hesitantly.
"Yes," Ava assured her sister while wiping the tears from her own eyes. "Everything is fine, sweetheart. Come and say hi to Ashley. You remember Ash, don't you?"
Sharon cautiously stepped into the dining room and stood before me shyly. She reached out a finger and touched a strand of my hair. "Can I braid your hair? I missed you, Ashley," she said, hugging me around the middle.
Ava and I burst into tears, a fresh set of emotions running high in the moment. In all the years I had come back to town, this was the first time Sharon had ever shown physical affection towards me. It was beautiful and much needed, solidifying my decision to return to Ligonier.
"Of course you can," I replied.
"Sharon, how about we get Ashley something to eat and then you can braid her hair? She's going to be staying with us."
Sharon nodded her head in agreement. "Do you like pancakes, Ashley?" she asked, running ahead to the kitchen.
"I love them!" I shouted back to her.
"Pancakes it is," Ava declared, walking into the kitchen right behind her sister. "I'm going to call the twins and Pastor Graham to let them know you're finally back."
I noted the lack of Eric's name in the sentence and my heart dropped for a second. I figured when Graham arrived I would, in a roundabout way, ask him about his grandson. I at least needed to know if he was happy. I had to know.
Chapter Seventeen
Ashley
Ava quickly got to work on a batch of pancake batter and then let it sit to thicken bef
ore leading me out the back door of the B&B and towards her house.
The home was so sweet and quaint; a small, white two-story cottage, yet to me it was enormous, at least three times the size of the apartment I had just vacated days ago. The surrounding garden boasted an assortment of vibrant blue bells, daffodils, and snapdragons as jasmine sprouted up the gutters; it was an intoxicating array of flowers and was just so beautiful.
We entered through the front door and Ava quickly showed me through the kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom. Taking the staircase to the second floor, we entered the first door on the right.
The pastel pink room was the type of room I had longed and dreamed for as a child; lace curtains draped the windows while above the double bed a mosquito net hung like a veil, barely touching the ruffled fuchsia bedspread adorned with decorative pillows. In the corner of the room sat a white desk and wooden chair next to a tall bookcase chockfull of books.
"I know I was being presumptuous, but I always hoped as a little girl you would come to live with us," Ava quietly admitted.
"Are you saying you decorated this... for me?" I asked, stunned and feeling a little overwhelmed by the sentiment.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. This room has always been yours." She took my hand and guided me over to the closet and slid open the doors. "I don't know if any of these will fit, but every year I buy some clothes and stock the closet, just in case by some miracle you came back here."
If I had ever doubted that I was loved, now was the time to squash that thought. I finally had a home, a family, a bedroom, and a closet full of clothes–more than I ever had in my twenty-three years living with my father. It was all too much to comprehend. I took a few steps towards the bed to sit down before I collapsed.
Ava rushed to my side, pulling me into a hug as she sat down beside me. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to scare you. I... I just wanted you to be with Sharon and me so much, but I may have gone a little crazy." She let out a small unsure laugh.
Where She Was Loved Page 10
