Together Always Page 4

  He hugged Lily closer, backing as far as he dared. The truck loomed up behind them. The driver had the headlights on, trying to penetrate the thick curtain of snow. Trace crowded back another few inches, convinced that they were going to be run down. Instead of sweeping by them, the huge vehicle slowed. Trace could hear the change in engine speed as the driver geared down. He stopped when the cab was just level with them. There was a moment's pause when it seemed as if even the snow was waiting to see what would happen, and then the passenger side door was thrust open from the inside and a deep slow voice rasped out at them.

  "What the hell are two kids doing out on the road in the middle of a bhzzard? You need a ride?"

  Trace hesitated only an instant. He couldn't see anything beyond an outline of the man who was leaning toward them. But it was a sure bet they couldn't stay where they were.

  "Trace, Vm cold." Lily's plaintive whisper made the choice for him, not that there'd been much of a choice to start with. The stranger seemed to agree.

  "Boost her up, kid. I'll lift her in. Then chmb up yourself before we all freeze to death."

  The interior of the truck was warm. Trace hadn't realized just how cold he was until he felt the tingling in his face and hands as the warmth started to penetrate his icy skin.

  "You two okay?"

  "We're fine. Thanks, mister."

  "Name's John."

  "I'm Trace and this is Lily."

  John nodded, putting the truck into gear and easing forward.

  "Pleased to meet you. This isn't really strolling weather. Where are you two headed?"

  Trace looked up from helping Lily out of her coat, his eyes wary. "We're going to L.A. to stay with my uncle."

  "The weather is a hell of a lot better there. Does this road go straight through to the highway? I took a wrong turn a few miles back and I've been expecting to find myself at a dead end in some farmer's yard ever since."

  "It meets the main road in a couple of miles." Trace allowed himself to relax a bit. It didn't look as if he were going to have to answer any impossible questions.

  "Good. I wasn't really anxious to back this thing for ten miles."

  Trace stared out at the swirling snow as he shrugged out of his own coat, letting the warmth of the cab ease into his chilled body. If the truck hadn't come along, they would still be out there. They could have died.

  "You two seem a little young to be heading for L.A. by yourselves." The words weren't quite a question but the tone hinted at wanting an explanation. Trace hesitated a long moment. Pride forbade him telling a stranger any details of

  their personal troubles. But he couldn't risk having John decide that it would be in their best interests to return them home.

  "We've got good reason." It was all the explanation he felt able to offer.

  Their eyes met for a long moment before John returned his attention to the road outside. Trace waited without speaking, knowing that his words were being weighed somewhere behind that still expression. Studying John's face, Trace realized that he wasn't as old as he'd thought at first. Not much more than twenty-five. But his eyes were older and held depths of memory that didn't suit his young face.

  **A11 right. I'll accept that." John glanced at him again, weighing and measuring. *'Your uncle expecting you?"

  *'Yes." Trace didn't hesitate over the lie. John's eyes narrowed for a moment, as if he could see the truth, but he didn't question further. He nodded, making up his mind about something.

  ''I'm heading as far as Denver. You could catch a bus from there. You're welcome to ride along with me."

  Trace didn't say anything for a moment. They would have changed buses in Denver anyway. The money they'd save would be welcome. He didn't want to arrive on his uncle's doorstep without a penny to his name. On the other hand, he didn't know anything about John except that he'd shown up just when they'd needed help. Not much to go on. He'd heard enough stories of what could happen to hitchhikers to be a little cautious. And yet...

  He looked from John to Lily. She'd fallen asleep, Isaiah clutched tight against her chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He shifted her, easing her into a more comfortable position.

  'Thank you. We'd be obliged if you'd let us ride with you."

  *'No problem. I could use the company. A man gets a little antisocial driving one of these things." He reached for a pack of cigarettes and Ht one with one hand, keeping his eyes on the road. "Not that I'm a real sociable kind of a guy anyway, but even I get tired of my own company."

  *'We're grateful that you came along." Trace looked out at the snow that was falling steadily outside the huge cab. His shoulders twitched in an involuntary shiver. John followed his gaze.

  '*You'd have been frozen colder than a well digger's butt by now." He took a long draw on the cigarette. "You know, if I believed in fate, I might think it had something to do with this. I've been driving this route for four months and this is the first time I've taken a wrong turn." He shrugged and his mouth twisted in a wry smile. "But I don't believe in fate."

  Trace didn't say anything. At the moment he couldn't have said whether he had any belief in fate or not. He'd never been much for religion but he had to admit that he'd sent up a garbled prayer or two when they were stumbling along in the snow. His mother would undoubtedly say that John was the answer to those prayers. He wasn't sure whether he believed that or not, but just in case he sent a quick glance upward and a mental thank-you. It didn't hurt to be careful. He wouldn't want anyone thinking he was ungrateful.

  Lily woke up after a nap of less than an hour. She blinked sleepily at John for a moment, as if trying to place him, and then gave him a sweet smile.

  "You're the man in the big truck who picked us up."

  "That's right. Did you have a nice nap?" Trace noticed the way John's face softened when he looked at Lily. He understood the feeling. There was just something about her.

  "Yes, thank you. This is a very big truck."

  "It's pretty good sized."

  "I'm hungry, Trace."

  'There's a truck stop about five miles up ahead," John answered for him. ''If you can hang on until then, I'll treat the two of you to a couple of hamburgers."

  Trace's hand closed over Lily's arm, stilling her acceptance. She looked up at him, puzzled, but didn't say anything.

  "Thanks, but we've got some food with us." His voice was stiff with pride and John slanted him a look from under dark brows.

  "Stale sandwiches?"

  Trace flushed but he didn't back down. "We don't need any charity. I've got plenty of money."

  "Let me give you a little advice. There's no such thing as plenty of money. It always goes twice as fast as you'd thought it would and only half as far. And don't let your pride get in the way of accepting a little help. Pride is a good thing but you can't let it run your life. I can tell you that from experience. And the last piece of advice is never turn down a free meal."

  He turned off the road, parking the huge truck in a lot full of similar vdiicles and shutting off the engine. He turned to look at Trace, resting one arm on the wheel. "I'm going to eat some lunch. I'd appreciate your company."

  Trace hesitated, pride warring with common sense. Lily had no such hesitation. "I'd hke a hamburger, please. But no onions. I don't like onions."

  John's expression cracked into a grin. "Put on your coat and we'll see what we can do about that order, little one."

  In the end. Trace went with them. He'd have felt absurd sitting in the truck by himself. Besides, he had to admit that a hot meal held more appeal than the cold stale sandwiches his mother had sent with them.

  They didn't linger at the truck stop. They ate and John refueled and then they were on their way again. The snow

  continued to fall, sometimes heavily, sometimes barely drifting down. Lily dozed, lulled to sleep by the smooth rhythm of the wheels. John and Trace talked sometimes and sometimes were silent. Only once did John come close to asking why the two of them were on their own
.

  *'Great little kid." He nodded to where Lily slept, her head pillowed in Trace's lap. *'Your sister?"

  "No." Trace answered without thinking and then wished he'd lied. **She's a... cousin."

  John slanted him a look that told Trace the lie had been too little, too late. "You two are a bit young to be traveling on your own Hke this."

  "I told you, I've got an uncle in L.A. We're going to stay with him."

  "Well, I don't know about an uncle but I do know someone who's running when I see him. I did it myself once. You got a good reason, kid?"

  "We've got good reason." Trace didn't add anything more to the flat statement. Just the thought of Jed was enough to make his stomach tighten. John glanced at him, the look measuring. Trace met his eyes without hesitation, man to man, not man to boy. After a long moment John nodded.

  "I reckon you do." He didn't ask any more.

  The drive to Denver was long and tedious, with little to see outside the cab of the truck. They eventually drove out of the snowstorm but the land remained gray and cold, as if to make sure they didn't forget that winter had arrived. John drove at a steady pace, his hands competent on the huge wheel. Trace found himself relaxing, letting some of the burden of Lily's care slip from his shoulders. At least for a few hours there was someone else to help care for her.

  But it was only for a short time. All too soon John was pulling the big truck to a halt near the bus station in Denver.

  "This is as far as I can take you.'*

  Trace looked at the busy station and squared his shoulders in an unconscious gesture, as if shouldering a burden.

  **We really appreciate this."

  **No problem. It was nice to have company for a while." John lit a cigarette, his eyes narrowing through the smoke. "You got enough money?"

  "We're fine." Despite himself. Trace's tone was stiff, bristling with pride.

  John's mouth twisted in a smile but his eyes showed his understanding. "You've got a lot of pride, Trace. But remember what I told you before—it can get you in trouble. Sometimes you need to be able to ask for help."

  Trace swallowed the urge to tell him that they didn't need any help from anyone. "Thank you for the ride."

  John nodded as if he knew just what was going through the boy's mind. "Like I said, I enjoyed the company." He looked from Trace to Lily, who was staring out at the bus station with wide eyes, Isaiah clutched to her chest.

  "L.A. is a big place. It's easy to get swallowed up in it." His tone carried the imphcation that if they were running from something, they'd chosen a good place to go.

  "Have you been to Los Angeles, John?" Lily turned wide eyes on him as if she were asking if he'd been to the moon.

  "Born and raised there, Lily. Only I ran away from it, while you two are running away to it. Guess the world's a strange place, huh?" He grinned at her but Trace thought he could hear pain underlying the light words. He hesitated a moment, as if debating with himself. "Look, I'm going to give you an address. If something goes wrong with meeting your uncle, you can go here and get some help." He scribbled on the back of an old envelope and then hesitated before handing it to Trace. He stared at the envelope as if seeing far more than a simple address. "The man at this

  address isn't always the easiest guy in the world to get along with but he'll help you."

  Trace took the envelope from him and slipped it inside the satchel. "Thanks, but we're going to be staying with my uncle."

  'Tt never hurts to have a backup."

  Trace lowered Lily out of the cab and then climbed down himself. They hurried across the street, stopping on the other side to look back at the big truck that had been a welcome shelter for a few short hours. John lifted a hand in farewell and Trace waved, aware of Lily doing the same. Neither of them moved until the truck turned the comer and disappeared.

  "Well, let's go in and see when the next bus to L.A. leaves."

  "John is very nice, isn't he, Trace?"

  "Yeah, he's a pretty nice guy."

  "He seems awful lonely, though." Lily looked up at him, her big green eyes shadowed. "We won't be lonely like that, will we, Trace?"

  "Not as long as we're together."

  "Are we going to be together always, Trace?" She slipped her hand inside his and leaned against him confidingly. Trace felt a funny bump in his chest and his hand tightened over hers.

  "Always, Lily. Always."

  The BUS ride from Denver to L.A. was tedious beyond belief. Lily tolerated it better than Trace did, entertaining herself with puzzles out of the book he bought her before they left Denver. During all the long hours of the journey. Trace thought about his uncle, wondering what he was like, wondering if he'd want to be saddled with two kids.

  In the end it didn't matter what his uncle would have thought, because Trace couldn't find him. He didn't work

  at Lx)ckheed anymore, his phone wasn't Hsted in any of the towns that surrounded the plant. Just looking at the phone book made Trace's head spin. There were more cities listed in one phone book than he'd been to in his entire life. And he called every one of them. Not one of them had a Philip Dushane Hsted.

  After two hours of fruitless calhng, Trace hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. For the first time since he was a boy, his eyes filled with frightened tears. If he turned his head he could see Lily sitting on a hard plastic chair, her face puckered in concentration over the words in a picture book. She believed in him. She believed in his ability to take care of her.

  Trace squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths and trying to think of a next step. It hadn't occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to find his uncle. All his hoping and planning hinged around them having a place to go, somewhere to stay. With a few phone calls, all those hopes and plans were gone and he had to start over again.

  "Is something wrong. Trace?"

  Trace opened his eyes, bhnking away the shameful tears. Lily was standing next to him, her eyes questioning. "Nothing's wrong. I.. .can't find my uncle right now so we're going to be on our own for a little while."

  "Is your uncle lost?"

  "Yeah, I guess he is. We'll keep looking for him but we'd better find someplace to stay until we find him."

  "Okay." She slipped her hand into his. "Isaiah and me are hungry."

  "You are, huh? I guess we'd better find you something to eat." He gave one last look at the phone. But he was out of places to call. Maybe some food in his stomach would spark some new ideas.

  But a meal didn't make a difference. They were still alone in the middle of a very big city with nowhere to go and no

  one to go to. Trace pushed his fears away and tried to think of the next step. They needed someplace to stay. A motel seemed the obvious answer. But it wasn't as simple as it seemed.

  He hadn't thought about the picture he and Lily made. Both of them a little scruffy from travel, a worn satchel their only luggage. No one wanted to rent a room to a couple of kids. They tried five motels before he finally convinced a clerk that they were waiting for their parents, who would be arriving the next day. That solved their problem for that night, but it didn't take care of the following night or the night after that.

  The money, which had seemed like more than enough in Oklahoma, disappeared with frightening speed. No matter how carefully he spent, the worn bills kept dwindling. Thanksgiving came only a few days after they arrived in California, and Los Angeles celebrated the holiday with clear blue skies and sunshine. Trace and Lily celebrated with turkey sandwiches and coleslaw eaten in a park.

  Christmas came more quickly than seemed possible. There was something unnatural about seeing the garlands and Christmas lights when there was no snow on the ground. But Trace had more to worry about than the weather. The money wasn't going to last much longer. They had to move from motel to motel, never staying longer than a few days in one place. The story that they were waiting for their parents wore thin quickly. The clerks would begin to look suspicious and then they'd start asking questions
, and Trace had no doubt that the next step would be to call the police. The police meant the Welfare Department, and that meant he and Lily would be separated. So he always took Lily and moved on before that could happen.

  They spent Christmas at an old motel in Santa Monica. There was no tree but he bought a cheap doll, wrapping it clumsily and leaving it beside Lily's bed for her to find on

  Christmas morning. He almost wept at the look of excitement on her face when she saw the present, because he knew it couldn't possibly be anything she wanted. And yet the excitement didn't fade when she saw the simple baby doll with the impossibly bright blue painted eyes.

  *'Oh, Trace, she's beautiful." She cradled the doll in her arms, looking up at him with a happy smile. "I'll call her Esmeralda and she'll be friends with Isaiah."

  Trace looked at her and he wanted to tear the doll away from her and throw it in the trash. She shouldn't be spending Christmas in a run-down hotel, receiving a doll from Woolworth's as her only gift. She should be living with a loving family, people who'd give her the things she deserved. She should have been the angel in the Christmas play.

  Sometimes he thought maybe Lily would be better off if the Welfare Department did find them. Maybe they'd find her a good home, a real home. Or maybe they'd send her back to Oklahoma. One way or another, he'd lose her forever. She might have been better off without him but he couldn't bring himself to let her go.

  "I have a present for you. I made it myself." She reached under her bed and pulled out a coloring book, opening it to the back and tugging out a raggedly torn piece of paper that had obviously once been attached in the book.

  "It got a little wrinkled." Lily smoothed the sheet of paper on the bed, her face intent.

  "That's okay. A few wrinkles never hurt nothin'."

  "I was going to wrap it only I couldn't figure out how." Trace took the scruffy piece of paper from her and solemnly studied the crayon drawing. It wasn't difficult to recognize the sticklike figures. Bold strokes of black crayon flowed around the head of the smaller one and tucked beneath one arm was a pink dog. The other figure was much taller. Yellow crayon had been streaked through with brown