I found that hard to believe; Jed’s sharp gaze missed nothing. But I’d been wrong about a lot of shit recently. Maybe I was wrong about this too. “So you think Jed’s initials are hiding away on thissomewhere?”
“I don’t think.” Ash straightened up and moved to the other end of the bench. “I know. I was looking for them as we painted the leaves, and I found them right attheedge.”
And sure enough, as I followed Ash’s gaze, there they were, etched into the wood at the middle part of the tree. Was that symbolic of Max’s life, or Jed’s? I knew so little about them that I had no idea. “What are you going to dowiththem?”
Ash tilted his head to one side. For a protracted moment, he said nothing. Then he reached for the knife we’d used to open the cans and carved his own initials into the lightest leaves. “Yourturn.”
I took the knife and moved hesitantly to where he pointed. “What would my initials mean toanyone?”
“It’s not about that—it’s about what it means to you. You’re looking at the tree like you don’t get it, but I knowyoudo.”
I thought about what he was trying to tell me as I scratchedPAinto the wood. He’d always told me that the process of creating did more for him than the finished result, and judging by how many of his pieces he never looked at again, I sort of knew what he meant. But what did that have to do with me? I’d painted the bench for no reason other than he’d askedmeto.
“There’s a painting on the wall where Jed wants to put this bench,” Ash said. “It has leaves that disperse up into the sky and eventually become these tiny, wild birds. Jed doesn’t like the imagery, but I do. Do you think the VA board will let patients carvethewall?”
I couldn’t see it happening in the hospital I worked at, but something told me Jed could persuade a board to see things Ash’s way. And then it suddenly clicked—Ash’s vision, as sketchy as it was, came to me in a rush of perspective. He’d painted a path to freedom, and the men who sat amongst it on that bench could carvetheirown.
It was fucking beautiful, though it didn’t explain what Ash thought it should mean to me. And as I looked at him, I realized that it didn’t matter right now. I recognized the glint in Ash’s gaze and knew there was only one way I was getting to bed anytime soon. “You want to take it to the hospital now,don’tyou?”
* * *
Transportinga wet paint-covered bench to a hospital we had no access to turned out to be easier than I’d expected. Ash and I drifted back to the cabin—with a sleepy Zola in my arms—to find Jed wide awake and apparently game for an ass o’clock trip toPortland.
While Jed fed the dogs, we sprayed the bench with a special quick-dry solution. Then we loaded it into the truck and drove into the city. Oregon’s gray skies appeared as we pulled into the VA hospital parking lot, but we made it inside before the heavens opened in a brutal, dawndownpour.
Jed swiped us into the room he’d outlined for the bench. The lounge was deserted, though I detected the telltale signs of a hospital comingtolife.
“Gotta be quick,” Jed said. “I can section this area off so it doesn’t get used while the paint settles, but you need to pretty much dumpandrun.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ash said. “I’ll drive myself mad staring at itotherwise.”
We carried the bench to the wall, where the leaf picture Ash had described was hung, while Jed watched the door. I got the impression he didn’t want to see what we’d done until Ash had it set up exactly as he wanted, which didn’t take as long as I’d feared either. Ash and I slid the bench into place and carefully removed the drop cloth. And then I stood back while Ash touched up some smudged paint and signed his street moniker onto the very bottom of the tree in tiny white scrawl.Fagin.My heart flipped. I fucking loved him somuch. “Ash—”
“Whoa.”
Ash and I spun around to face Jed, who’d ventured closer while we’d been distracted. He took another step forward and squinted at the bench. “The tree of life, huh? Start at thebottom?”
“Sometimes,” Ash said. “I figured some of your guys could carve their initials wherever they wanted.” He moved to the green end of the bench and gestured up at the free-flying birds. “I’m hoping some of them will eventually see themselvesuphere.”
Jed smiled. “What about you two? You’re at the top of the tree, but you’renotfree?”
“Not always.” The words were out before I was totally aware that I was speaking. “But we’re gettingthere.”
Jed came all the way up to the bench and traced his own initials. “Aren’t we all? But as perfect as this piece is, there’s one thing I gottachange.”
I started to frown, but one look at Ash’s face told me this was perhaps something he’d expected. He put his hand in his pocket and came up with the keys tothevan.
Jed took them and moved behind the bench. He winced as he stretched his arm high above his head. I itched to help—to move behind him, maybe, and support his broken body—but I didn’t. Broken, Jed may have been, but fuck, he was strong. And when I saw Max’s name carved into one of the free birds, I kind of wanted to cry, so I was glad I’d stayed whereIwas.
While my vision blurred, I was dimly aware of Jed murmuring something to Ash. And then, when the scratchy heat had faded from my eyes, Ash’s gentle smile gave me fuckingbutterflies.
“I know,” Ash said to Jed. “He reminds me ofsomeone.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, and there was no time for me to catch up. A nurse poked her head around the door and told Jed that patients were on their way to use the room, leaving us about three minutes to section off the bench and get the hell out ofthere.
ChapterThirteen
Ash
