Free Ashes by Kelly Cozy

had found the house of their dreams on the very first outing, or on a casual drive-by. She knew she shouldn’t be nervous, but it was difficult. She was not sure she was doing the right thing, and neither was anyone else.
    “Canada?” Amber LaSalle had asked, incredulity in her voice.
    “Oh Jennifer, it’s so far away.” That was from her mother, who then suggested Jennifer move to Fresno for a while, until she got back on her feet. Even now, Jennifer shuddered at the thought. Things were bad enough in Glendale. How much worse would it be in Fresno, with none of a small town’s fabled charm and all of its prying and provincialism? Especially now.
    Even Cindy, the one person she thought would support her, hadn’t come through. “It seems like a real big step, Jen. You sure you’re ready?”
    No, I’m not sure I’m ready. Not sure at all. But if I wait until I’m sure, that could be weeks. Months, maybe. And I can’t wait that long.
    No, she couldn’t wait. Because any fragile peace she might have found in Los Angeles had been smashed when she had hired Amber LaSalle to represent her. Just as it had taken only minutes for the bombing to wreck her life, in the course of a morning’s news report she’d gone from the haloed icon of that March day to a scavenger hungry for whatever spoils she could get. She got the first phone call minutes after the news hit the Web. A woman’s voice snarling, “Hey, bitch. I hope you enjoy your blood money.” After a few more calls like it she let the machine answer the phone. Each night she sat, drank too much Chardonnay, and listened to the messages, every single one. Listened with a taste in her mouth not of wine but something like ashes, the bitterness of shame and the sharp tang of resentment. She never answered but sometimes she wanted to say I’m sorry, and sometimes Leave me alone, and sometimes All I wanted was to have a nice day at work and not die. What is wrong with that?
    When she pushed the Delete button for the last time each evening, her resolve to escape Los Angeles and start anew only became stronger.
    Escape. Somewhere pretty, somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. “Sanctuary,” she said aloud.
    “Pardon?” asked Katie Granville. There were in a restaurant, having coffee and pie. On the table between them was a list of possible homes, half a dozen crossed off the list already and Jennifer no closer to a decision than when she’d gotten off the plane in Vancouver.
    Nothing, Jennifer started to say. Oh, what the hell. Maybe it would help. “Sanctuary. Someplace safe. That’s what I’m looking for.”
    Katie nodded. She took a quick glance at her list, then she smiled. Pure pleasure in that smile, none of a salesperson’s calculation. “I think I have just what you’re looking for.”
    * * *
    I n Katie Granville’s blue sedan again, heading north. “It’s a bit further away from the city,” Katie said, but Jennifer was unconcerned. The drive to Vancouver might daunt a Canadian, but it was nothing to a veteran of Los Angeles’ freeways. It was mid-afternoon, and as the sun descended it burnished the trees with a golden glow, like the warmth left by a lover’s kiss. They drove north, then west, the sea ahead of them and the mountains behind them, the evergreens thinning as they neared the coast. The cool tang of the ocean filled the car. At the side of the road, a sign read Welcome to Haven Cove.
    Past a few isolated houses, and then they were in the town. “This is the main commercial row,” Katie said, gesturing around her. Jennifer rolled down her window and leaned out into the sunshine and salty breeze, looking at the businesses. Restaurants. Boating and fishing supplies. Bed-and-breakfast hotels. St. Anastasia Catholic church. Salto Family Mining Supply. The Starlight Theater, showing the latest Johnny Depp film.
    Katie turned onto a road leading away from the coast, up a gentle grade, and pointed to the left and down. “That’s the marina,”