Mason nearly found us in Chicago. We’ve moved four times since then. Going from Indiana to Ohio, to Michigan, and finally, now, we’re in Atlanta. We’ve been here for three days so far. Living in a women’s shelter where Lauren spends most of her time surveilling the other residents as if they’re the criminals. I notice she makes them uncomfortable, and I have no idea why they allow us to stay. Maybe they are a part of Lauren and Andrea's organization, and that’s why they tolerate it, or they could be a little afraid of the intimidating woman.
“That’s a pretty bunny.” A little girl of about seven points at the plushie I covet more than anything.
The blanket and stuffed toy were sent to me in Chicago in pristine condition. I’ve barely let them out of my grasp since then. “They were for my daughter or son,” I rasp out, throat tight.
Her head cocks to the side inquisitively. “Where is your son or daughter now?”
Giving her a teary smile, it’s hard to get the truth past my lips. Thankfully, her mother comes to the rescue. “Callie, you can’t ask those questions.” She gives me a commiserative look that I know all too well. She’s suffered the same loss and understands the pain, the agony I live with every day of my life.
“What, Mama? It was just a question.” Whatever has brought them here, I can tell this mother has done everything in her power to protect her daughter from the darker side of life. If Callie had been touched by the poison her mother and I have been, she wouldn’t be so sassy.
“A very personal one,” the woman admonishes.
Watching them walk away, the girl being animated with her hands while she talks and the mother laughs at her antics, I pray they get their happily ever after one day. I pray they find peace.
I pray I do too.
Three
LAKEN
My fresh start.
Six months later. Jacksonville, Florida.
“Welcome to The Cup. How can I help you?” Standing in the middle of the café, there are about a dozen tables scattered around the shop, with the front counter before me, and still, I feel like I’m on display. Nobody pays any mind except the girl behind the counter taking orders.
“Oh, uhm...” Glancing around, I step forward, not wanting to talk too loudly and draw attention to myself. “My name is Laken. Andrea Shay sent me.” We’ve been in Florida for three weeks now, and I’ve finally been approved for a job and to become active in the community.
“Perfect! My name is Ophelia Montgomery. I’ve been so excited to meet you.” Coming around the counter, she pulls me in for a gentle hug, completely surprising me. “Follow me to the back, and we’ll get you started with a shirt and apron.”
She’s so friendly that I’m a little stunned by how easily she accepts who I am and why I’m here. “Thank you for helping me.” Stopping in the short hallway to the back of the shop, she turns to face me, and for the first time, it’s not pity that I see in her eyes.
Gripping my shoulders, she holds my stare. “Everyone, and I do mean everyone, needs a hand up sometimes. It takes a village to get through life.” Her smile comes off as easy, but I see a mirrored pain she can’t hide, and I choke up at her support. For the first time in months, I don’t feel like a freak, so I straighten a little taller as Ophelia continues to walk on.
“I’ve set your schedule to two days a week for now. We’ll give it a couple of weeks and then go for another day or two. I don’t want to rush you. I want you to feel comfortable before you take on more work.” I agree with her as she digs through a box of work attire for me. “A small or a medium?” Pulling out both, she holds them up to my chest before deciding. “Small.”
Slipping the shirt on over my head, I tie the apron around my waist and follow Ophelia back out to the front counter, where she shows me the price list next to the register and how to work it. The afternoon is slow as she teaches me about the different pastries and coffees and how to work some of the other machines. By mid-afternoon, there are no customers, and I’m given a break as Ophelia hands me a croissant and coffee and tells me to sit on one of the chairs out front and enjoy the ocean air as it sweeps along the boardwalk.
Sitting down, I admire the view of sand across the grass and cattails leading down the path to the serene water beyond. Closing my eyes, I block out the sounds of people and traffic and focus on the waves washing ashore. The soothing echo with the smell of the saltwater and refreshing breeze make me emotional in a way I haven’t experienced in a while.
I’ve not allowed myself to fully dissect everything that’s happened to me over the last two years. Lauren keeps telling me I’ve been through a trauma, but the truth is, I don’t see it that way. I made a choice, albeit a terrible choice, and one I regret immensely, but it was mine to make. It doesn’t feel like a trauma, so much as a violation.
Laughter catches my attention, and I turn to see a group of teenage girls walking in my direction. I’m jealous of how carefree and oblivious to the real world they are. I remember that feeling well. I wish I could go back to a time when I lacked the knowledge I have now.Ahh, to be naïve again.As they pass by, talking about boys and first kisses and their excitement about a dinner and a movie date, I realize how much I’ve missed.
I never really dated until Mason. I went to all my high school and graduation functions with the boys I grew up with. We were friends and nothing more. I had no sexual experience until Mason, and everything with him was a complete disaster. He was a tornado, and I was caught up in his storm with no way to escape. It was either risk life and limb by staying or certain death by leaving. Mason took so much from me. He took my first everything, and the more I think about it, the more I hate him. Whatever lingering love I might have still harbored vanishes.
“You look awfully angry for someone so beautiful.” Startled at the masculine voice and the shadow I now see cast in front of me, I jump to my feet and shuffle a few feet away from the stranger. I feel his eyes linger on me, glancing up and down in a curious examination of my body before speaking again. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
A strained smile thins my lips, but I still can’t meet his stare. All I see are tanned legs in basketball shorts, black ankle socks, and black runners. “It’s fine.” Gathering up my garbage, I dart around him, and I can tell he’s big from the wide berth I need to take before dashing back into the coffee shop and escaping to the back where he can’t find me.
“What the heck happened?” Ophelia follows behind, a look of concern on her face.
“I’m not sure I should be here. I don’t know if I’m ready for this yet.” I’ve served a few men throughout the day and never had this kind of reaction. I haven’t felt this sort of terror since we fled Chicago. I thought I was ready and could handle it, but apparently, I was wrong. So very wrong.
“That was only Hale Decker. He’s a cop. Nice as can be. Stops in a few times a week for breakfast before his shift. You have nothing to fear with him.” Flicking her a look that screams how much I doubt her, I grab my purse, prepared to leave. “Don’t go; not yet. Please, Laken. I don’t know everything, not even your situation, but I know Andrea, and she wouldn’t have sent you to me if she didn’t think I could help you.”
“How do you know her?” I’ve wanted to ask, but I wasn’t sure it was my business or a violation of any rules.