Chapter 27
Daisy didn’t want to get out of the car after Lyn parked in front of Maggie’s House following the Wednesday night AA meeting. A full moon cast an umbrella of light over the tan stucco house, but claw-like shadows stretched across the sidewalk to the porch. She imagined Eric lurking in the bushes and cringed.
Earlier today, he had parked in front of Mary’s Closet in violation of the restraining order. Lyn called the police, but he left before they arrived. An hour later, he called the store. Before Daisy had the good sense to hang up, he chewed her out—something about a guy showing up at Eric’s favorite bar and asking questions about her—and about Eric.
“Who is he, Daisy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why is he asking about me now?”
“What do you mean?”
“If he makes trouble, you’re going to pay. The movie starts filming next week. I don’t need some jerk sniffing around me like a pit bull.”
Daisy didn’t know anything about a man looking for her, unless Shane was still paying a detective. The urge to see her brother quickened her pulse, but the old numbness turned her blood to sludge. In spite of Lyn’s belief that Shane was sincere, Daisy had remained hidden during MJ’s visit. Now she wanted to go to sleep and pretend Eric hadn’t called; to forget Shane; and even to ignore the God in the empty chair.
Lyn reached into the back seat. “I have something for you.”
Daisy hoped it was a photography magazine. Sometimes people donated old ones to the thrift shop.
Instead Lyn handed her a manila envelope. “MJ Townsend sent copies of old letters and a diary she found in the family attic. They’re about a woman in 1895. She could have used a place like Maggie’s House.”
Daisy peeked in the envelope, saw the old-style penmanship, and held in a sigh. History bored her to tears. “I’m not really interested.”
Lyn smiled in that calm way of hers. “Give them a try.”
“Why?”
“Because three women have read them, and we each experienced something different. For MJ, the letters were about faith. For her mother, forgiveness.”
“And you?”
Lyn squeezed Daisy’s hand. “I saw the reason I started Maggie’s House. I saw healing.”
Daisy didn’t expect to find anything special, but she wanted to please Lyn. “I’ll read them tonight.”
They hugged good-bye with Daisy holding Lyn a little longer than usual. Knowing her friend would be watching, she held the envelope against her chest, braved the shadows, and hurried into the house. She chatted a few minutes with a friend, then went to her room and tossed the letters on the bed.
After a bath, she put on her favorite pajamas—the purple ones with rainbow unicorns. Safe in her room, she settled into bed and half-heartedly skimmed the first few letters. Her bored expression soon deepened into a frown. Little Miss had a family who loved her, an education, and a career as a teacher at a time when women didn’t have careers. She possessed everything Daisy dreamed of having, yet she walked away from it for adventure and a cause.
“How stupid could you be?” Daisy muttered.
If Little Miss had been in this room, Daisy would have told her to stay with her parents and to love them. Didn’t the girl know that people died? Mothers disappeared, and fathers . . . Daisy didn’t know what fathers did, because she didn’t have one.
She read a few more letters from the father, then a letter from Thomas—a love letter so full of commitment and passion that Daisy’s heart fluttered.
“You had everything,” she muttered to Little Miss. “A mother and a father. A home. A man who loved you.”
Daisy would give anything for just one of those blessings. She thought of the father coming for his little girl, loving her enough to travel a thousand miles. Who would love someone enough to do such a thing?
Shane.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her brother had come to Los Angeles to find her. He’d hired a detective and come to Lyn for help. He knew all about her mistakes—the choices the Bible called sin—and he was still looking for her.
He knew she hated him. And still, he loved her enough to search for her.
Little Miss had been a fool, but was Daisy a bigger fool for not calling Shane right this minute? She stared at her phone for several seconds, her chest tight and her lungs burning. She wanted her brother to be proud of her, not embarrassed. What did she have to show for herself? Nothing at all—except her sobriety.
Air hissed through her nostrils, then her spine weakened until she sagged like a deflated balloon. She couldn’t do this by herself. Just like when she was little, she wanted someone to hold her hand and help her across the street. That person used to be Shane.
He’d let her down, but Daisy still wanted to be rescued as if she were a child. Was that bad? Or weak? She had already admitted she was powerless over alcohol. Only God could help her stay sober. But who exactly was God?
Her gaze narrowed to the empty chair against the wall. In a rush, she popped to her feet, pulled it close to the bed, and sat back down on the mattress. Like a little girl in church, she folded her hands in her lap and pressed her knees tight.
Lyn’s God helped Lyn every day. He made her strong and kind, and he had a name. Daisy wanted what Lyn had.
“Who are you?” she said to the chair.
Silence.
She felt stupid and ignored, but she wanted answers now. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and concentrated. In her mind she saw a seagull flying over the ocean, soaring higher and higher, until it vanished in the glare of the sun. In a moment of gleaming mental light, Daisy saw the horizon—the vanishing point—and she thought of the Bible study about God’s forgiveness stretching as far as the east is from the west.
She started to cry, because the bird was flying higher, farther, taking her regrets with it. Her mistakes. The miserable choices the Bible called sin.
Her eyelids flew open and she stared again at the chair. With her insides quivering, she came to the unmistakable knowledge that God could sit in the chair because he had once walked this earth in a human body. He knew how it felt to be Daisy. To hurt. To cry. To want and to yearn. God had come to earth as a man named Jesus, the man in the Bible who loved the world enough to die for fallen women and failed men, human beings like herself and Shane.
Daisy slid to her knees, folded her arms on the seat of the chair, and laid her head on top of her arms. Tears rushed into her eyes, a torrent of them. When she cried out for grace, she spoke not to an empty chair but to her Lord. Over and over, she said, “Thank you, Jesus, for loving me. Thank you, Lord.”
MJ had found faith in the letters.
Her mother discovered forgiveness.
Lyn embraced the Healer.
Daisy met her Savior.
Wiping her eyes, she knew exactly what to do. Calling Shane wasn’t enough. She wanted to see his face when she told him her good news, and that meant surprising him in Wyoming. She had money saved from working at the thrift store, enough for a plane ticket. She could hardly wait to see his expression when his prodigal sister hugged him tight and thanked him for his prayers.
Chapter 28
On a cold but sunny Friday morning, MJ and her mom arrived at Dr. Edwards’s office for MJ’s two-week checkup after the LEEP. Knowing her mother would have questions, MJ had invited her. But mostly she just wanted her mom with her.
The physician was of average height, slightly rotund, and gray around the temples. Laugh wrinkles fanned from his eyes, but he was all business when it came to taking her history. MJ liked him a lot. He performed the exam, and now she and her mom were waiting in his office to hear his opinion.
The doctor had said very little during the exam itself, which took longer than MJ had expected. A good sign or a bad one? She didn’t know, and though her stomach was in knots, they weren’t as tight as usual.
A tap sounded on the door. Dr. Edwards came in with an iPad—a far cry from t
he raggedy paper files in Dr. Hong’s office. He greeted MJ, exchanged a smile with Olivia, and got down to business. “Everything looks good, Miss Townsend. You’re healing nicely.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She felt fine, too. In fact, better than fine. Her body practically glowed with a sense of healthy newness—and with her feelings for Shane.
On the other hand, she’d seen his face when Tracee’s husband handed him a cigar with an “It’s a Girl” label. She believed he was telling the truth about adoption, but what would happen if that belief was fully tested? She felt compelled to protect him—and her own heart, too. For now, it was wise to let their relationship grow slowly.
Dr. Edwards laced his hands on his desk. “I spoke to Dr. Hong yesterday. She filled me in on your history, and we agreed on the next step. How does a six-month check sound?”
“That’s just what I expected.”
Her mom sat straighter in the chair. “Dr. Edwards?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think the virus is gone for good?”
MJ knew better than to ask that question. The virus didn’t “leave,” but her immune system could suppress it for the rest of her life. For the next several minutes, Dr. Edwards patiently answered her mother’s questions—at least twenty of them. When Olivia was satisfied, they thanked Dr. Edwards and left the office.
Stepping into the sunshine, MJ inhaled deeply to clear both her mind and her lungs. She and her mom walked across the parking lot, chatting about how nice Dr. Edwards was, until they reached the Volvo and the Escape, parked side by side in the back row.
“How about the Campfire Café for lunch?” Olivia suggested. “There’s something else I’d like to talk about.”
“That sounds good. But now I’m curious.” MJ took her phone from her purse and turned the volume up. There were two missed calls and a couple of texts. Hoping it wasn’t the school calling about Cody, she opened her messages while speaking to her mom. “What’s up?”
Olivia pursed her lips in a way that wasn’t like her at all. “In case something comes up, you should know I can’t watch Cody the first weekend in December.”
“No problem. Are you going somewhere?”
“Maybe. I have a date.”
“A date?” MJ forgot all about her phone.
“Well, yes.”
She tried to stifle her shock, but she gave up and did a little happy dance. “Mom, that’s great! Who is he? How— Never mind. Let’s get to the bakery so we can talk.”
“Oh, all right!” Her mom sounded annoyed, but she was grinning crazily as she unlocked the Volvo. MJ turned to the Escape, stealing a glance at her messages. A text from Lyn read CALL ME 911.
“What in the world— Mom, hold on. I have to make a call.” Frantic, MJ started to call Lyn. The two missed calls were from her, too.
Her mother laid a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong? Is it Cody?”
“No. It’s Lyn. She left a 911 message.”
The call connected without ringing. Lyn’s voice shot straight into MJ’s ear. “I need Shane now. He’s not answering his phone. Is he with you?”
“He’s in the classroom. But why—”
“It’s Daisy. She’s hurt.”
“Daisy? His sister? How— What—”
“She came to Mary’s Closet for help. She’s been here for two months.”
All this time, Daisy had been safe while Shane worried. It didn’t seem right. But that wasn’t Lyn’s fault. “You mean—”
“Yes. But she’s hurt.” Lyn’s voice fractured into a sob. “Her ex-boyfriend came here. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the ambulance just left. It’s . . . it’s bad. Shane needs to get on a plane now.”
Her mother was already unlocking the Volvo, motioning for MJ to get inside.
She gripped the phone tighter. “I’m with my mom. We’re on our way to the school to find him.”
Heart pounding, MJ silently pleaded with God to save Daisy’s life.
For Daisy, Friday morning dawned pure and bright. She ate a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast, then asked one of her housemates for a ride to Venice Pier. Camera in hand, she walked to the end of it, drinking in the serenity of a sunny winter day.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered out loud.
Three months ago, she had stood here and imagined falling off the horizon. Now she was flying to Wyoming on Sunday afternoon. Later today, Lyn would call her friend MJ to help arrange the surprise for Shane. Daisy could hardly wait.
Smiling, she remembered the gull that pooped on Lyn and how they cleaned up the mess with a twenty-dollar bill. She had more than twenty dollars in her pocket today. She earned decent money at Mary’s Closet, both clerking and selling her photographs. Today she planned to shop at the store for fun new outfits for her trip. Lyn had offered to give her the clothes and shoes, but Daisy wanted to pay, both as a matter of pride and to give back a little of what she had received.
She took a few pictures of seagulls, thanked God for her new life, and walked the six blocks back to Mary’s Closet. The thrift shop didn’t open for ten minutes, so she went to the back door and knocked. Lyn let her in, and they looked at some jeans and tops Lyn thought Daisy might like.
“I love them all!” She could hardly wait to see Shane’s face when she hugged him.
At ten o’clock, Lyn went into her office to do payroll. Daisy went to the display area, unlocked the front door, and busied herself dusting shelves. Humming quietly, she crouched in front of a rack of shoes in the front corner of the store.
The doorbell chimed and she stood. “May I—” Eric. The greeting shriveled on her tongue.
“Hello, Daisy.” His dark eyes fixed on her face, the pupils dilated in spite of the bright lights, a sign he was high on something. Staring hard, he flexed his fingers into white-knuckled fists, relaxed them, and flexed them again. And again.
Daisy shifted her balance to the balls of her feet and prepared to run, but Eric had her cornered. Lyn was alone in the back and as vulnerable as Daisy. Somehow Daisy needed to warn her without alerting Eric to her friend’s presence, then trust Lyn to call 911. But anything she said or did—except submission—would light Eric’s short fuse.
Daisy refused to submit.
If she couldn’t convince Eric to leave, she’d run for the street. A busy convenience store was a block away. If she reached it, she’d be safe.
“Do you need something?” she said in a soothing voice.
Eric lowered his chin. “I want to know what the”—he dropped an f-bomb—“is going on.”
“I don’t know.” She faked concern, anything to cool his temper. “What’s up?”
He prowled around the store, touching things, smirking at her, daring her to tell him to stop.
She inched toward the front door, but he lunged at her. Before she could scream, he clamped his left hand over her mouth and twisted her arm behind her back. She stomped on his foot and kicked his shins, but the drugs made him numb to pain.
Effortlessly, he dragged her toward the front door. The shelf of seagull paperweights loomed on the right. She swiped at it, grabbing one as the others crashed to the floor. Surely Lyn would hear the noise and know something was wrong. And maybe Daisy could smash Eric’s head with the leaden glass.
He dragged her kicking to the sidewalk. Furious and starved for air, she tried to bite his hand.
“You—” A filthy name.
He flung her against the hood of his Miata. She rolled off and ran, but he grabbed her from behind. Whirling, she smacked him in the jaw with the hand holding the paperweight. He jerked back and she tried to sprint, but he caught her again. Her arm nearly came out of the shoulder socket and she screamed.
“Shut up!” He hurled her with even more force against the trunk. Her chin banged on the cold metal. Pain shot through her chest and lungs. And worst of all, through the rear window she saw a girl with red hair in the passenger’s seat—her replacement.
“Run!” D
aisy cried as she pounded the glass.
The girl climbed out of the car. Not fast. Slowly. Her pupils were as dilated as Eric’s, and on her wrist was the diamond Rolex. Daisy couldn’t escape Eric, but she could help this girl. As he pulled her off the car, she shoved the paperweight into the girl’s belly.
Startled, the girl took it.
“Keep it,” Daisy cried. “Remember this place.”
Eric’s fist slammed into her jaw. Her feet flew out from under her, and her head smacked against a brick planter. Pain exploded in her brain, blinding her. She tried to curl into a protective ball, but her body refused to move. Eric’s boot slammed into her ribs. The crack of bones—her bones—echoed in her ears.
The door to Mary’s Closet flew open, and through a haze she saw Lyn’s pretty shoes. Fighting for consciousness, Daisy tasted blood and smelled burning rubber as Eric’s car squealed away from the curb.
Lyn dropped to her side. “Hang on, baby. Hang on.”
Daisy blinked once. Twice. Somehow the sidewalk turned from blood-soaked concrete into blue sky, where a single gull flew toward the horizon.
Friday afternoons in the classroom had a special kind of buzz. Students and faculty alike eagerly anticipated the pep rally and football game, and the coming weekend promised sleep and relaxation. Shane was particularly pumped up. Tomorrow he and MJ were taking Cody to the nature center north of town—an official family date.
But first, he had to finish the school day, particularly the review session with his fourth period American history class. He was standing at the dry erase board, blue marker in hand, when a startled hush settled over the classroom. Turning to the door, he saw Mrs. Townsend striding toward him, her expression carefully blank.
Shane lowered his arm. Something was wrong. MJ. She’d seen the doctor this morning.
When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1) Page 28
