California Girl (34 page)

“I’ve crewed with Mame and her friends. It’s fun.”

Alys stared at him. “You’ve crewed? You can fly a balloon? When
did you find time?”

Amusement softened his chocolate eyes. “I haven’t spent my
entire life in a library. My brothers and I have all helped Mame with her
various interests over the years. We’ve not flown here, but around St. Louis.
The crew doesn’t fly the balloon. The pilot does. But my brothers and I all
know the mechanics of it.”

“Wow!”
Following the path of the golden balloon floating toward the sunset, Alys tried
to imagine flying one, tried to imagine
Elliot
flying one, and couldn’t. “That has to be the perfect way to relax and escape
stress.”

Elliot laughed aloud. “You have a lot to learn about
ballooning.”

“It’s not competitive,” she protested. “You just float along
on the breeze and enjoy the scenery.”

“It
can be highly competitive and highly skilled and a lot of hard work,” he
corrected. “Mame
races
balloons.”

Alys glanced at him in alarm. “She won’t be going up there
and racing, will she?” She’d had no idea this was what Mame had in mind. She’d
thought they’d come to enjoy the sights and get a free balloon ride. While
she’d been doing her daydreaming, Mame had been off on her own trip. She should
have known that, but she’d been a little self-absorbed. Her alarm heightened.
“What if she has another attack when she’s up there?”

“
That’s
why I’m out here.” He took the hand she offered and
squeezed.

It would have been nice if he’d told her all this before
they left Springfield—but then, she hadn’t asked. Maybe she’d taken her
self-protective state a shade too far.

The taxi let them out as near to the booth as possible.
While Elliot paid the driver, Alys stared in awe at the enormous balloons
slowly inflating across the park. She saw balloons resembling Snoopy and a cat
and a beer can, beautifully colored balloons with advertising logos,
artistically designed balloons, and ordinary ones in bright yellows and blues
and reds. Stripes and patchworks and zigzags filled the enormous blue sky. With
the backdrop of mountains, the spectacle was awe-inspiring.

Openly gaping, Alys let Elliot check with attendants for
directions. She simply followed him as he wended his way past balloons in
various stages of inflation. Some were still lying on the ground while their
crews struggled to fill acres of nylon with giant fans. Other crews had turned
on their burners and the heating air was unfolding the colorful envelopes and
lifting them skyward.

“How will you find her?” she murmured, clinging to Elliot’s
arm so she could watch the sky rather than where she was walking.

“The only Jock I can remember is Jock Morton. I just checked
and if she’s crewing with him, he’s number fifty-three and is flying for some
race-car driver with the colors of maroon and gold. His space should be to the
north of the field.” He pointed toward the mountains.

Controlled chaos surrounded them. Burners roared, fans blew,
people ran to and fro locating equipment, or just kibitzing. But every person
seemed to know their duty as they tied guidelines, ran cable, and kept the area
clear while the huge balloons drifted upward one by one, grounded only by a
network of cables. Other crews still held onto the lightweight wicker baskets,
weighing them to the ground while their balloons filled.

“This is better than walking through Candyland,” Alys
marveled, swiveling to watch a fiercely painted sunset rise over her head.

“It does seem to suit you,” he replied with amusement. “I
think I see the colors over there. C’mon. Let’s find Mame.”

Bubbling with excitement, Alys located the balloon with the
race-car driver’s colors and number and ran in that direction.

“Mame!” she cried, spotting a familiar crop of red curls on
a tall, slender woman in navy slacks, wearing a maroon nylon jacket against the
evening breeze.

Whirling, Mame saw them coming. Running toward them, she
held out her arms. Alys thought she looked healthier than she had been in the
hospital.

“Thank goodness!” Mame hugged Alys and reached for Elliot,
who gave her a grave hug while she chattered excitedly. “I’ve been worried sick
about you. How’s Lucia? Did you find Dulce?”

“They’re fine, Mame. We just left Lucia in her aunt’s
hands.” Elliot looked up as a burly man with his graying fringe of hair tied
back in a short ponytail left his balloon to head their way.

“Elliot, Alys, this is Jock Morton, an old friend of mine.
Jock, you’ve met my nephew and . . .” She tilted her head with a
mischievous smile at Alys. “And this is a special friend of ours. You’re
looking happier than I’ve seen you in a while, Alys.”

“You’re looking stronger than I saw you last,” she retorted,
gazing from Mame to Jock. The two seemed quite comfortable with each other. And
very friendly. Jock had draped one muscled arm over Mame’s thin shoulders.

He offered his hand. “Glad you made it safely. After seeing what
they did to your car, we were worried. I’ve been keeping Mame close, just in
case.”

“Seeing what who did to what car?” Elliot demanded. “And in
case of what?”

Mame grimaced. “Maybe we should explain later. We thought
you’d see . . .”

Holding Mame at his side, Jock overrode her hesitancy.
“Someone slashed the Rover’s tires out in the lot so she couldn’t go back to
the hotel. Maybe it was just vandals, but we can’t be sure.”

Alarmed, Alys glanced at their grim faces, then to the
crowds of people around them. She didn’t even know who or what to look for.
Everyone here was a stranger.

“When, Mame?” Elliot asked with unnerving calm. “Have you
called the police?”

“This morning,” she said defensively. “It could have been
vandals. And of course I called the police.”

“Have you seen any purple semi cabs around here?” Elliot
demanded.

“I’m not a simpleton, Elliot. Salvador saw the Rover, that’s
why we left Lucia with you. I’m pretty sure we led him astray after that. But
surely he knows that one way or another we would take Lucia to the reservation.
He has no reason to follow any of us now that she’s safe. It has to be
vandals.”

Alys felt the tension in Elliot’s arm, knew he was working
into a major uproar, and she had no power to stop him. She didn’t even know
what he was planning that needed to be stopped.

“I’m not putting up with one more day of this. You’re both
going home where it’s safe. I’ll call a taxi.” Wrapping his big hands around
Mame’s and Alys’s arms, Elliot tugged them in the direction he wanted to go.

Neither of them budged.

“I’m not spending my life living in fear, Elliot,” Mame
admonished. “I can be mugged by vandals, die of a heart attack, or be run over
by a bus tomorrow. Today, I’m with Jock and having the time of my life.”

“Salvador’s thugs nearly ran us off the road,” he roared.
“They tore up a train station in the mountains. If they know where we are, they
could kill you out of sheer meanness!”

“You can’t hide us forever, Elliot,” Alys added, not
bothering to disengage his hand. “Besides, you’re overreacting. He has no
reason to interfere now.”

The roar of a dozen motorcycles in the parking area
interrupted any tirade that might have followed. Jock stopped to fasten a guide
line that had loosened as the balloon inflated. Watching him, Mame only turned
to the noise after Alys and Elliot did.

“Friends of yours?” she asked as the motorcycles ignored
parking limitations and scattered wherever the spirit took them. “That one
seems to have found you.”

Milo propped his bike near the roped-off area, waved in
their direction, and instead of removing his helmet and gloves, jogged clumsily
toward them.

To Alys’s surprise, Elliot started forward to greet him. Not
certain this boded well, she hurried to catch up—in time to hear Milo yell,
“There’s a convoy of Mendoza semis turning off the interstate, barreling in
this direction.”

His voice was nearly drowned out by the thunder of big rigs
speeding down the access road. Alys watched in horror as they began blocking
off all available exits.

Around them, everyone halted what they were doing to stare.

Elliot didn’t wait to see what they wanted. “Get Mame into the
balloon,” he shouted to Jock, grabbing Alys as he raced toward the balloon.

Lacking horses, the cowboy intended to rescue them with the
next best means of transportation.

The blast of a shotgun in the crowd was the worst noise
Elliot had ever heard, but the image of Mame slowly crumpling to the ground
before anyone could reach her nearly stopped his heart.

Losing hope of sending Alys and Mame safely into the air,
Elliot dropped the guide wire he was untying and ran to his unconscious aunt.
He fell to his knees beside her to ascertain that she was still breathing. Once
satisfied she was alive, he practiced Alys’s breathing technique to smother his
alarm and began a systematic search for bullet wounds.

Bellowing curses, Jock tripped over guide wires and crashed
through the screaming crowd to reach Mame. People scattered in all directions,
some diving for cover, others fleeing for the parking lot.

The balloon crew crushed together in a protective circle
around Mame’s fallen figure. Behind them, Elliot could hear Milo and his gang
hurling curses and shouting threats as they closed in on the man with a shotgun
attempting to escape through the crowd.

He didn’t even have to look up to know when the shooter’s
fellow drivers muscled their way through the throng to rescue him. The roar as
a melee of flying fists broke out between the bikers and truckers warned of the
ensuing brawl.

Despite his concern for Mame’s unconscious state, Elliot
turned to warn Jock about the loose guide wires. As he started to speak,
another terrifying cry rose over the roar of the brawl.

“El-l-lio-o-t!”

He swung in time to see the hot-air-filled maroon balloon
starting to rise. No one had turned off the heat. It tugged on the loosened
guide ropes—while Alys scrambled to climb over the high wall of the basket.

On the ground lay the woman who had taught Elliot all he
knew about life and love.

Behind him, Alys fell back into the basket as the balloon
tilted dangerously under the force of its abandoned burners. Another guide wire
tore from its mooring with the movement and the balloon rose. She’d break her
neck if she jumped now.

Elliot’s life ripped right down the middle.

In the distance, he could hear the wail of a siren. The
fistfight had escalated into pandemonium. No one seemed to notice the balloon
except him.

He couldn’t let Alys go.

With a shout of warning and a prayer for Mame, he leapt
toward the basket rising skyward.

At his abrupt leap, the crew finally woke to the danger.
While some stayed to guard Jock and Mame, others raced for the loosened
ropes—but with a full head of air, the balloon couldn’t be halted.

Catching the gondola’s rim, Elliot vaulted inside to turn
down the burner.

Too late. The balloon had already gained sufficient
momentum. The final wire tore loose of its mooring and the basket was skyborne.

Thrown off balance by the abrupt jerk to freedom, Alys threw
her arms around him and hung on. Elliot circled her shoulders and glanced
downward. Jock was with Mame. Ambulance attendants were racing through the
crowd with a stretcher. It looked as if Milo was sitting on top of the
shotgun-toting truck driver while the rest of the drivers and bikers fought it
out.

And he was up here, high above them. With Alys. And no power
whatsoever over what was happening below.

He could turn off the burners and let the balloon down, but
it would be risky in that crowd.

Alys was shaking so hard that he had to help her sit down.
Ascertaining the direction of the wind and the clear expanse of airway ahead of
them, he dropped down beside her and hauled her into his arms. She buried her
face in his shoulder and shuddered with the force of her sobs. He wanted to cry
with her, but he’d forgotten how.

It helped to let her do it for him. It was as if she were
his other half, expressing the fear and sorrow exploding inside his chest. He
was terrified he’d lost Mame this time, but holding Alys, knowing she was alive
and well and needed him, kept him grounded.

“It’s okay, we’re safe,” he reminded her, cupping her face
with his hand, feeling her tears on his fingers. “The ambulance will take Mame
to the hospital. We just need to land this thing so we can go after her.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t do this anymore. How do people live
like this, loving and losing the ones they love? It’s tearing me in two.” She
wept harder, clinging to his shirt with a fist.

“Mame’s a fighter. She’ll need your positive vibrations when
we get back.” He didn’t know what else to tell her. The gentle rising of the
balloon rocked them, providing the comfort he could not.

Had he been on the ground, he’d be tearing his hair out,
ordering the medics to the duties they already knew, fighting his helplessness
in the only way he knew how—with his knowledge. Or maybe chasing in a bloody
rage after the villains who had made his life a living hell—when the police
could do it far better than he could.

Up here, he could do nothing at all. He could steer the
balloon to the nearest flat field, but they had no ground crew racing after
them, no one to help them tie the balloon down, no one to pick them up and take
them back to town. Eventually, Jock’s crew would fight their way through the
melee to come after them, but not yet.

For the first time in his life, he had to let go, to let
events happen without him. With Alys in his arms, it didn’t seem such a bad
thing.

Except, of course, he couldn’t keep her.