When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1)

by Victoria Bylin

  “Of course I’ll help you.” Lyn took an iPhone out of her pocket. “Which pharmacy has the prescription?”

  “Save-Rite on Pico.”

  Lyn connected to the pharmacy, spoke to a clerk, and paid for the prescription with a credit card. Without pausing, she called another number and made arrangements for a woman named Gina to pick up the medicine. She set down the phone and turned to Daisy. “Gina will be here in about an hour. That’ll take care of one problem, but I’m concerned about Eric.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know how that is,” Lyn said, breathing out the words. “Sometimes he’s good to you. Sometimes he’s not. You think about leaving, but you love him. Besides, you don’t have anywhere to go. He’s bigger and stronger, and somehow he’s taken your money.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I’m describing my ex-husband.” Lyn re-crossed her legs. “It’s a long story, but he’s the reason we’re both here today. A friend helped me get away from him, and her church helped us both. Before she moved to Phoenix, we started Maggie’s House for women escaping dangerous situations. We have about a dozen houses here in Los Angeles. Mary’s Closet is part of that organization.”

  “My friend Chelsea shops here for her little girl. She told me a little about what you do.”

  “Would you like to know more?”

  No! Except her eye hurt and her insides throbbed with every beat of her heart. She longed to sleep away the pain. Sometimes she longed to sleep forever. Blinking, she thought of the way Shane described heaven. Perfect beauty. Perfect music. People made perfect by the sacrifice of a living Savior. Daisy had no place in all that perfection. But she also liked Fig Newtons, and she couldn’t stop looking at Lyn, who had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen.

  The woman spoke in a hush. “There’s a room available if you’d like it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Are you afraid of Eric?”

  Daisy shrugged. “He’s my boyfriend. I care about him.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Are you afraid of him?”

  Almost imperceptibly, Daisy nodded yes. When she first met Eric, he was good to her. Sometimes he got a little rough while they were dating, but he didn’t hit her until she moved in with him. Her eye hurt, but her belly hurt even more. Eric blamed her for getting pregnant, which wasn’t fair. She told him she’d missed a couple of pills. She thought of seeing him tonight and shuddered.

  Lyn took her hand. “I’d like to help you, Daisy.”

  “How?”

  “If you move into Maggie’s House, you’ll have time to recover from the abortion. You can sort out your life without being afraid.”

  The offer tempted her. So did Fig Newtons, but they weren’t important. Daisy shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Would Eric come after you?”

  Maybe, but that wasn’t why she said no. “It’s not Eric. It’s me.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t like rules.”

  “Neither do I. And you’re right. We do have rules at Maggie’s House. The rules keep us safe. If you decide to move in, they’ll keep you safe, too.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  Daisy shrugged. “I grew up in foster care. I couldn’t follow the rules even when I tried.” Twice she had run away from the Harpers. She knew drinking was wrong for a fourteen-year-old, but she liked it.

  She still did, but her thoughts took wing and landed at Maggie’s House. What would it be like to wake up and not be afraid? To eat Fig Newtons without someone making fun of her? A pain stabbed her from the inside out, filling the place where for a month a baby had lived. Daisy recalled the morning she did the pregnancy test. Her first reaction, before the fear and the dismay, had been awe at the creation of a human being.

  She pressed her hand to her middle. In her mind she heard the suction machine pulling the life from her womb. She hadn’t wanted the abortion, but she’d been too weak to fight.

  Weak.

  It was the story of her life and she was sick of it. She wanted to shatter the glass balls and set the seagulls free. She could almost see them now—a dozen birds spiraling into flight and leaving through an open door.

  She raised her chin. “What are the rules?”

  “Most of them are common courtesy.” Lyn explained that Maggie’s House was owned by a local church. Situated a block from the thrift shop, it had white stucco walls, four bedrooms and two bathrooms that had to be shared. Daisy could live there for free, and she could leave whenever she wanted. She’d have her own room and would help with cooking and cleaning.

  To Daisy, it sounded like what a normal family did. It also sounded too good to be true. “What else?”

  “You’ll need spending money, so you’ll work part-time, either at the house or here in the thrift shop. We also provide vocational training.”

  Daisy liked school. She’d been envious of Shane going to college, but she lost her chance when she blew it with the Harpers. But that was eight years ago. What would happen if she followed the rules? A long time ago, she’d dreamed about going to art school. Maybe she could learn graphic design. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” Lyn peered into her eyes. “We’re a Christian organization. No one will tell you what to think, but we hold regular Bible studies.”

  A chill shot down her spine. She’d been thirteen when Shane became a Christian. He’d been sixteen, almost seventeen. At first she liked hearing about Jesus and how God loved her. She believed what Shane said and they had prayed, but then she went with the two boys into the garage. Where was God then? Why hadn’t he stopped her? Why hadn’t he stopped them?

  She wanted a drink. Badly and right now. A martini, wine, cheap beer. Anything to keep her from thinking about Shane and foster care. She didn’t want to go to a Bible study, but she supposed she could tolerate it. “I guess that’s all right.”

  “That leaves us with just one more rule. For some women, it’s a deal-breaker.”

  Daisy hesitated, unsure. “What is it?”

  “No drugs or alcohol.”

  She’d expected a no-drug policy, but alcohol? She liked everything about it—the taste, the buzz, the escape. She tried to look Lyn in the eye, but her gaze shifted to the side. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Is it the drugs or the alcohol?”

  “I don’t do drugs, but I drink.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  Not in a million years. If she stopped drinking, she might cry. Daisy stared at her feet, saw Lyn’s plain ivory pumps, and yearned to be a different person. Could she do it? Could she follow the rules for a change? She thought of the abortion, Eric’s fists, and Shane’s hateful words. She thought of her mother’s death, the social worker taking her from the Harpers, the boys touching her. Until now, no one had given Daisy a real choice. But Lyn just had.

  Fear and longing did a wicked march along her spine, stealing her breath until her chest ached. Could she take control of her life? She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. “I’ll try to stop drinking, but I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can’t. At least not alone.”

  “But—”

  “You’re not alone.”

  Daisy wanted to believe her, but she felt as fragile as the flower bearing her name. Daisies trembled in the slightest breeze, and they burned up in the heat. She gave Lyn a tentative look. “I’ll try. I promise.”

  “That’s a good start.” Lyn reached out and patted Daisy’s knee, reassuring her as if she were a child. “We have some details to work out. Where do you live now?”

  “With Eric in West Hollywood.”

  “Does he own or rent?”

  “He rents.”

  “Are you on the lease?”

  “No. The apartment is his. I moved in with him.” She hadn’t bothered to change her address on her driver’s license or bank account. Whatever she needed to do for her maxxed-out Visa, she did online.
/>   Lyn asked a few more questions, and Daisy answered with simple facts. She would call Shenanigan’s and quit, then close her bank account, which would end Eric’s access to her money. The car she drove to the thrift shop was the clunker he drove to his bouncer jobs, not the red Miata he loved. The old car was in his name, so she would leave it at the apartment. As for her cell phone, she’d have to live without it. For now, she could borrow a prepaid phone from Maggie’s House.

  “We need to get your things,” Lyn finally said. “Is there a time when Eric is gone?”

  “He’s out now.” After the audition, he was having lunch with his agent. He wouldn’t return for hours.

  “When Gina brings the medicine, the three of us will get your things. There’s no reason to tell Eric where you are, but he needs to know you’ve ended the relationship.”

  “Should I call him?”

  “A note would be safer.”

  “All right.” Inwardly, she cringed. She loved him, and she knew how it felt to be kicked to the curb.

  Lyn squeezed her hand. “Would it be okay if I prayed for you?”

  Daisy hesitated. Shane, a Christian, had treated her like dirt. Would the women at Maggie’s House treat her the same way? What if she couldn’t stop drinking? But what if she could . . . Daisy didn’t know how, but Lyn did and she had asked to pray. “I guess it’s okay.”

  Lyn bowed her head. “Father God, you know everything about us, yet you love us just as we are . . .”

  Daisy listened to every word, but she didn’t feel a thing. She could only think about the gin she wouldn’t be drinking, the note she’d write to Eric, and Shane and his lectures. She didn’t know which hurt more—the bruises that showed or the ones that didn’t.

  After Lyn said “Amen,” Daisy helped herself to a second package of cookies, opened it, and tried not to think about her brother.

  Chapter 5

  With Cody napping in the back seat, safely strapped into his booster seat, MJ steered down the off-ramp to Refuge. She passed the visitor’s center, taking in a smattering of RVs and a playground with a brown plastic fort. A Best Western announced a vacancy with a pink neon sign, and a billboard advertised the best steaks in Wyoming at Cowboy’s Cantina.

  She was home.

  Inhaling the dry, sunbaked air, she swayed with the curve of the highway that narrowed into Refuge Boulevard. Busy tourist shops lined both sides of the four-lane street, boasting everything from sequined cowboy hats to the finest Western art. Restaurants filled the air with the aroma of barbecue, and the sight of Annie’s Campfire Café, famous for its marshmallow-laden hot chocolate, made her mouth water.

  Little had changed in the town that mixed Western history with a modern affection for outdoor sports. A gateway to the Tetons, Refuge had a full-time population of ten thousand people, but the numbers swelled in the summer and again in the winter when the snow bunnies arrived. Recalling the change in seasons—something she missed in Los Angeles—MJ indulged in a nostalgic smile.

  She shifted so she could see her son in the rearview mirror, still snoozing but starting to stretch. “Cody, honey, wake up. We’re in Refuge.”

  He startled awake, looked out the window, and saw Cowboy’s Cantina. “Mommy! There’s a horse on the roof!”

  “There sure is.” A plastic bronco had pummeled the clouds as long as MJ could remember.

  She wished again she didn’t have to sell the house. Grandpa Jake would have understood, but she expected her mother to protest. In a way, Olivia Townsend had that right. The house could have been hers, but she gave her blessing to the change in Grandpa Jake’s will after Cody’s birth. Her mother had been extremely gracious about his decision, even enthusiastic about MJ having financial security. Selling the house now would no doubt be another failure in her eyes, one MJ intended to face in person.

  As things stood, her mother didn’t know anything about MJ’s predicament, financial or health-wise. Since Cody’s birth, they had managed only polite phone calls and a few visits. MJ knew she needed to forgive her mother for the hurt feelings, but forgiving someone who said “I told you so” at every opportunity was hard. Tonight she’d call her mother, but she dreaded the conversation.

  The real estate office came into view. Embarrassed by her car, she parked behind the brown stucco building, turned off the ignition, and glanced at Cody’s shoes. She didn’t have the energy to wrestle him into the sneakers, so she let him wear the cleats. Side by side, they walked around the corner to the front of the building. The doorbell chimed as they entered.

  Kim came down a short hall. “Hey, MJ. You look great.”

  She didn’t, but Kim did. Her hair shimmered with auburn highlights, and the spiky cut accentuated her artfully made-up eyes. Dressed in emerald green and wearing dangly earrings, she greeted MJ with a hug.

  MJ hugged her back, then introduced her son. “Cody, this is Miss Howard.”

  He gawked at Kim as if she were from another planet, then sidled closer to MJ. She was a bit shaky herself.

  Kim dropped to a crouch next to Cody. “I bet you were in the car forever.”

  He nodded.

  “How would you like to play with a toy train while I talk with your mom?” She indicated a play area in the corner of the lobby. Walled with carpeted blocks, it held a treasure trove of colorful plastic. After glancing at MJ for permission, Cody went with Kim to a kid-sized table with a Thomas the Tank Engine train set.

  When he settled, the women sat on the sofa by the window. Kim set a folder holding the rental agreement on a glass table, then folded her hands in her lap. “So—tell me everything.”

  They’d been friendly in high school, but MJ had no desire to share the details of her life. Instead she chatted about the drive and how Refuge looked the same. Kim talked about business. Not only did she sell real estate, she owned a bed and breakfast.

  She crossed her legs with natural ease, folded her hands, and tipped her head, turning the spotlight back on MJ. “Cody’s adorable.”

  Kim waited for an answer, but MJ didn’t oblige. Being a single mom no longer carried a stigma, but Cody’s lack of a father embarrassed her. She hated not having the answer to the question he’d someday ask.

  Who’s my father?

  MJ didn’t have a good answer. She had gone to a party with Nicole and met a guy whose name was lost in a fog of rum and Coke. Disposing of her virginity had seemed like the best decision she ever made—until it happened. At that moment, she had felt violated, embarrassed, and alone.

  Shaking off the past, she focused on the business at hand. “Did you speak with the renter?”

  “He didn’t return my call, but he’ll be here at two.”

  MJ glanced at the clock. He’d be arriving any minute, and she wanted to freshen up. “Where’s the ladies’ room?”

  “Down the hall.”

  MJ stood and called Cody. “Let’s make a pit stop.”

  Her son scrambled over the carpeted blocks and together they went to take care of business. As she washed his hands and face, he squirmed and water splattered her T-shirt. Hoping it would dry quickly, she brushed her hair and dabbed on lipstick. She didn’t look like a landlord, but she knew how to be professional. She had done a good job managing SassyGirl. Too bad the chain went bankrupt. She could have taken accounting classes and moved into management.

  Sighing, she inspected herself in the mirror, squared her shoulders, and reached for Cody’s damp hand. “Let’s go, kiddo.”

  They arrived in the lobby just as the glass door swung wide and in walked a man with startling blue eyes.

  Her mouth gaped.

  His brows arched.

  Yesterday when they met, stubble had covered his jaw. Today he was clean-shaven and dressed in a button-down oxford that matched his eyes. Khakis emphasized his long legs, and his dark blond hair was neatly combed away from his angular face. She couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders and muscular arms, the way he stood tall with an air of confidence. He loo
ked nothing like the middle-aged history teacher she’d been expecting, though she recalled the stiff way he picked up the coins she dropped.

  Kim held out her hand. “Shane, it’s good to see you.”

  So S stood for Shane.

  He accepted Kim’s hand and greeted her, but his eyes darted back to MJ. They were full of questions and bright with undisguised pleasure.

  Kim gazed at him with her made-up eyes while apologizing for what she called “a little mix-up.”

  To MJ, the mix-up wasn’t little. She was prepared to negotiate with a stranger, not the man who bought the shoes on her feet. She wanted to thank him, of course. But she also wanted out of the negotiations about the house. S. Riley made her want to smile and flirt—and to forget she was facing a hysterectomy. She didn’t need a romantic complication in her life and neither did Cody. She had to terminate the lease, but she was sorry about it. He’d been kind to her, and she was repaying him with a big inconvenience.

  Kim moved on to the introductions. “Shane, this is MJ Townsend. She owns the house you rented.”

  “We’ve met.” With a twinkle in his eyes, he offered his hand. “L is for Laundromat.”

  She clasped his fingers, felt the warmth of his grip, and told her racing pulse to slow down. “S is for Shoes. Thank you. It was a wonderful gift.”

  His gaze dropped to her feet and her toes curled. He focused back on her face and smiled. “They fit.”

  “Perfectly.”

  He turned to Cody, who was staring up at him wide-eyed. S. Riley’s face relaxed into a smile. “You have on the cleats.”

  “I like them best,” the boy answered.

  “Me too.”

  Kim interrupted. “So you two know each other?”

  “A little,” Shane answered.

  Kim waited, but neither of them explained further. With a wave of her hand, she indicated the sofa. “Let’s sit and I’ll clue Shane in to the problem.”

  MJ needed to tell Kim she had changed her mind about the arrangement. She also had to get Cody settled again with the toy train. When Shane headed to the couch, she murmured to Kim, “I need to talk to you.”