Page 5 of Tangled Trust

"America! Are you sure, Ella?"

"Yes. I need a clean break. A new start. I’ll send for you once I’m settled, Aunt Sue."

"Oh, my love. I’m so sorry."

"So am I."

I hear the crackle of the overhead speakers. My flight is boarding. Still no Sebastian. Thank God. I pay for the tea and make my way to the boarding gate.

This is it, Ella. You’re almost there. Freedom is so close.

* * *

I check the time on my phone. I’m eight hours into an eleven-hour flight. I feel like I have to pinch myself to make sure that this is real. I know the jetlag is going to have its way with me later, but for now, I’m excited.

Thank God for Google Maps. I wonder how the folks who came before us made their way around new towns and countries without getting hopelessly lost. I can’t imagine myself hunched over the bonnet of a car, thumbing over the known routes on a giant map. I’m most certainly one of those directionally challenged people who couldn’t find their own asses with a flashlight. Give me a scalpel and an X-ray, and I’ll diagnose and cut the crap out of any patient, but ask me to find a destination without Google, and I’m screwed.

You’d think that living in London for so long would have helped me garner some sense of direction, but the underground is so easy that finding my way around became a reflex. I hope I don’t get lost in LA.

I booked myself into a pretty little guesthouse near the beach before I left home. My plans are all sorted. I’m going to apply with an agency I researched that places Au Pairs with American families in LA. I sent them my credentials before I left London, so all that is left for me to do is conduct a face-to-face interview, and I’m set.

I have enough money in savings to last me at least six months, so no stress there. I opened a new account and transferred all my money about two months ago.

It’s 1 p.m. in LA when we land. It’s still Monday, so I feel as if I’ve traveled back in time. It’s an odd feeling. My legs are stiff and my body is tired, but my mind is wired. It may have something to do with the four coffees I did have and the sleep I did not get.

The skies are a perfect blue. I can tell before I disembark the plane that it’s a warm day. It’s summer here in California. Anna and I did a fair amount of traveling before we enrolled in medical school. I remember the island climate of the Caribbean fondly. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere warm.

I’m sure I can smell the ocean when I walk across the runway to the bus that takes us to the main airport building. I know Santa Monica Bay is just around the corner. Thanks again, Google.

"Welcome to LAX, Miss Jones. Are you here for business or pleasure?" an officer asks me in a thick American accent.

"A little of both?" I smile.

He looks at my papers for a while and then returns them to me.

"Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you."

This is real! I’m here. I’m free. I can hardly believe it.

I promised to call Sue and Anna as soon as I land, so I head for baggage collection and dial Anna’s number while I walk. It rings three times before she picks up.

"Are you safe?" she asks without saying hello.

"Yes. I’m here."

It’s almost 11 p.m. in London, so she’s probably snuggled up in bed.

"Oh, my giddy aunt, Ella. I’ve been so nervous all day. I even imagined Seb finding you and dragging you back home.

"Yeah, sorry. I would have called sooner, but it took me a while to get through customs."

"I’m so happy you’re alright. What’s the weather like?"

"Brilliantly warm and gloriously sunny."

"Ugh, you cow. I hate you."

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