“So where are you going to look out there?”
“Well, the job is in the City of Ventura, so either there or not too far from it. I’d like to look at Ojai but it might be too expensive. I’m thinking Hayley would fit in real well with the riding.”
Ojai was a crunchy, New Agey village in a mountain valley in the northern county. Years back, before we had our daughter, Maggie and I used to go there on weekends. There was even a chance our daughter was conceived there.
“So . . . this riding is not a passing thing?”
“It could be. You never know. But she’s fully engaged for now. We leased a horse for six months. With an option to buy.”
I shook my head. This was painful. Never mind my ex-wife, but Hayley had told me none of this.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said. “I know this is tough on you. I want you to know that I don’t encourage it. No matter what is going on with us, I think she should have a relationship with her father. I really mean that and that’s what I tell her.”
“I appreciate that.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I stood up off the rock. I wanted to get out of there and go home.
“Can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“What is it?”
I realized that I was improvising, running with a half-formed idea that had sprung from my grief and desire to somehow win my daughter back.
“There’s a trial coming up,” I said. “I want her to come.”
“You’re talking about this pimp you’re representing? Michael, no, I don’t want her to sit through that. Besides, she has school.”
“He’s innocent.”
“Really? Are you trying to play me like a jury now?”
“No, I mean it. Innocent. He didn’t do it, and I’m going to prove it. If Hay could be there, maybe—”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it. There’s school, and I don’t want her taking time off. There’s also the move.”
“Come for the verdict. Both of you.”
“Look, I have to get going. The cops are stacking up around here.”
Cops waiting in the office to file their cases.
“Okay, but think about it.”
“All right, I will. I’ve got to go now.”
“Wait—one last thing. Can you e-mail me a picture of Hayley on the horse? I’d just like to see it.”
“Sure. I will.”
She disconnected after that and I stared down at the soccer field for a few moments, replaying the conversation and trying to compute all the news about my daughter. I thought about what Legal Siegel had told me about moving on past guilt. I realized that some things were easier said than done, and some things were impossible.
24
At seven p.m. that night I walked down the hill and over to the little market at the base of Laurel Canyon. I called for a cab and waited fifteen minutes, reading the community notices on the corkboard out front. The cab took me over the hill and down into the Valley. I had the driver drop me on Ventura Boulevard by Coldwater Canyon. From there I walked the last five blocks to Flex, arriving at the yoga studio shortly before eight.
Kendall Roberts was busy with closing duties at the front counter. Her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head and there was a pencil stuck through it. The students from the last class were filing out, rolled rubber mats under their arms. I stepped in, got her attention, and asked if I could speak with her after she locked up. She hesitated. I had not told her I was coming by.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“I taught four classes back-to-back. I’m starved.”
“Have you ever been to Katsuya down the street here? It’s pretty good. It’s sushi, if you like that.”
“I love sushi, but I haven’t been there.”
“Why don’t I go down, get a table, and you come when you’re finished here?”
She hesitated again, as though she was still trying to figure out my motives.
“It won’t be a late night,” I promised.
She finally nodded.
“Okay, I’ll see you there. It might be fifteen minutes. I need to freshen up.”
“Take your time. You like sake?”
“Love it.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Uh, cold.”
“See you there.”
I walked down Ventura and stepped into Katsuya, only to find the place crowded with sushi enthusiasts. There were no tables available, but I secured two stools at the sushi bar. I ordered the sake and some cucumber salad and pulled out my phone as I began the wait for Kendall.
My ex-wife had come through with an e-mailed photo of my daughter and her horse. The shot showed Hayley with the horse’s face leaning over her shoulder from behind. The animal was black with a white lightning-bolt stripe running down its long nose. Both girl and horse were gorgeous. I was proud, but seeing the photo only added to my hurt at the news about the impending move to Ventura County.