On a sunny afternoon towards the end of April, however, Storm wandered down to the lake to do some homework. Her sisters were back at the cabin with their mom, singing and dancing and generally making a lot of noise. And so, she wandered the banks of the lake to find somewhere quiet to sit and do her work, or just ponder the things that ran through her young mind. She noticed Lucy up ahead sitting peacefully on a rock. Unsure what she should do, she just stopped in her tracks. Having been told not to bother Lucy, she didn't want to interrupt her and get in any trouble, but at the same time it wasn't her fault if the strange lady was on the path leading to where she wanted to go, and it would be rude to just ignore her, because despite everything, she had been brought up with manners. She had learned the hard way what happened if you weren’t polite.
Making her mind up, she decided she would just continue on with her walk, be polite and say hello, but not linger and then that way, she couldn’t get into any trouble. As she neared her, she could tell that Lucy was unaware of her presence. She had her cap off and her hair was tied back. The first thing Storm noticed was the long, jagged scar that zigzagged its way down her left cheek.
Deciding that it might be best to make herself known, she said a quiet, "Hello,” her footsteps gaining speed as she attempted to walk past without disturbing Lucy.
Lucy froze, realizing that the kid had seen her without her cap on. She had to have seen the scar too. She placed her hand over her heart, which was beating like it would thump right out of her chest, to try and steady herself.
She had met many a kid since the accident, and most couldn't help themselves from pointing out the obvious, or pointing literally, usually rather loudly and always in front of other people who would then turn to stare.
"I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to bother you, but I didn't know you would be here and I'm just walking through, so please excuse me."
Lucy studied her some more. The girl was polite and considerate. She felt her heartbeat slow as she breathed evenly, in and out. "It's ok, you can walk through."
"Thanks, I don't want to get in trouble. I was just going to sit over there and do my homework," she said, pointing to a spot not too far away. "I won't bother you if you want to carry on sitting here."
"Okay," answered Lucy. Not counting Rita, this was the most she had spoken to anyone this month. Usually her anxiety would spike and she would begin to sweat, searching for an escape route, but something about the kid calmed her.
For several long minutes, Lucy continued to just sit and hold her face to the sun. The heat always helped to dull any ache that her scars caused. Her leg was often stiff and painful, but it was better now that she lived somewhere hot. Her thoughts were drifting, not really thinking of anything much. When she heard the small voice speaking again, it shocked her that she had almost forgotten she wasn’t alone.
"Don't you get bored?" Storm asked from her spot on the shore. She had her books open on her lap and was trying to concentrate, but the women along the shore from her intrigued her too much.
"No." Her answer was quick and snappy. She didn’t want to open a channel for conversation, but the kid had other ideas.
"I would, I like talking to people," Storm admitted, looking up into the sky as though all the answers to life existed within her grasp.
"Clearly." Through hooded eyes, Lucy surreptitiously watched the young girl. She could almost see the cogs working inside her mind as she tried to come up with her next question. But there was a battle there too, not wanting to get in trouble. She had her hands tucked underneath her legs in an effort to keep herself quiet. Something about the gentleness of her piqued Lucy’s interest. "Why do you like talking so much?"
Storm was a little bit excited at the new turn of events. Lucy hadn’t moved, but she was talking to her. "It's how you find out stuff," Storm answered quickly in case Lucy withdrew her question or got up and walked away.
"What kind of stuff?" Lucy inquired. Knowing she was potentially opening a Pandora’s box, she stiffened slightly as she waited for the inevitable questions.
"Lots of stuff, like—" She looked around, thinking. "Why do you sit there and not here?"
That simple question threw Lucy a little, but she answered. "I just like it here."
"Yes, but why?" Storm closed her book and placed it down gently on the floor beside her so that she could twist around to face Lucy properly.
"It's my spot," Lucy answered honestly. She could feel more intenseness forming in the young girl, like she was building up to something. "What else do you want to find out?" Lucy had turned slightly in her own spot to face Storm. She folded her good leg to press against the inside of her bad one. The young girl's eyes searched Lucy's face, but she didn't fixate on the scar. "Ask me," Lucy said quietly. It was the first time someone had seen her scar unhidden and not asked her about it. She felt herself relaxing a little.
The young girl bit her lower lip gently and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, looking away across the lake as she considered how to ask the question she most wanted an answer for.
"How?" she finally said out loud, feeling brave enough to fix her eyes with Lucy’s.
"How what?" Lucy pushed. She wasn't trying to make the girl uncomfortable, but she was succeeding in doing so. "Come here." She patted to the spot next to her.
Adults telling her to ‘come here' usually meant she was in trouble, and being in trouble meant a punishment. So, she moved slowly, keeping her eyes firmly on the woman.
"Sit," Lucy demanded gently when she finally stood in front of her.
Storm sank gingerly onto her knees and looked up at Lucy, biting on her bottom lip. Her big brown eyes were so full of questions and apprehension. She looked as though she was about to be scolded and was preparing herself for it.
"How what?" Lucy asked again, her voice softer now as she studied the child. Storm relaxed, understanding instantly that she wasn't in trouble and there wouldn't be a punishment.
Storm studied her face once more. Slowly she lifted her finger to Lucy's cheek. Lucy’s first reaction was to flinch, and Storm instantly pulled her hand away, but Lucy nodded and jutted her chin out. Storm concentrated, her tongue poked out between her teeth, and as she gently touched the scar tissue she asked, "How did you get this?"
Lucy sat very still, her heart beating wildly, and allowed this young girl to gently explore her. It was a first. It confused her how easily she had allowed it. Only medical personnel had ever touched the scar on her face; she had even stopped her own mother from doing so. She wondered why this girl – no older than 8 or 9, maybe younger – how had she managed to sneak through her defences so easily.
"I was in an accident," she mumbled. Gulping air, she tried to swallow it down. It was the first time she had told another person in over 10 years.
"What kind of an accident?" Storm asked, still innocently investigating the line that drew its way jaggedly from her left eyebrow and down her cheek almost to the corner of her mouth. Lucy placed her hand on the child's fingers and pulled them gently away from her face, taking deep breaths that were becoming faster and harder to control.
"This is why I don't talk, too many questions," Lucy said too quickly as Storm tried to decide whether she should keep talking or not.
"I have a scar too," Storm blurted out, looking at Lucy. "On my arm."
"That's nice, did you fall over roller skating?" Sarcasm dripped from Lucy’s voice. She was starting to feel uncomfortable now. She could feel her heart racing, the blood pumping hard, cortisol flooding her system as her fight or flight instincts began to push to the fore.
Silence passed between them. Lucy watched her as she tried to decide something, her little face frowning while her eyes misted a little.
"No…my daddy dragged me away from Mommy and broke my arm." She looked away for a moment before turning back to Lucy. "I had to have an operation and have a plate put in," she divulged sadly as she held up her arm so the scar was visible to the woman. "It's
held together with tiny pins."
Lucy froze at the words. My daddy broke my arm. She turned back and looked at the girl. "I'm sorry that happened to you." And in that moment, she realised that this little girl had more in common with her than anyone else she had known in the last 10 years. This young kid understood pain and loss as much, if not more than she did. And what about the mother? Was this why she always looked so sad when she thought nobody was looking?
"Me too, it hurt a lot," Storm continued, trying to smile, but the sadness was too evident. "Mommy says we all have scars even if they are not visible, that some people carry them in their heart."
Lucy nodded. "Your mum sounds like a very wise lady.
Chapter Six
For almost a week, Lucy would go down to the shore every day and find Storm sitting in her own spot. They would acknowledge each other, with a wave from Storm and a nod of the head from Lucy, and then Lucy would sit in her spot and the world would continue to move around them. It was as comfortable as Lucy had been with anyone in the last 15 years, and that unnerved her a little.
Storm had made no further attempt to speak to her again, and she found that unsettling too. In fact, she found herself thinking of ways to engage Storm in conversation with her, which was ridiculous. She was a 30-something adult and this was an 8-year-old kid, for Christ's sake. But this kid had scars too, physical and mental, and she felt a connection with her. She was starting to realise she wasn't the only person on the planet dealt a shitty hand.
She didn't bother with her cap when she went to the shore now. What was the point? Storm had seen the scar and hadn't run away screaming; in fact, she had touched it. With gentleness, with care and reverence, and she had asked about it without it sounding like she was just being nosey, and she hadn’t then gone on to question incessantly either.
Today she had even tied her hair up in a ponytail. It was darker now, much more like her original colouring, but still sun-kissed. She preferred it that way to the bleached look of her youth. She felt eyes on her and looked up to see Storm looking her way.
"What?" she said to the kid, narrowing her eyes at her.
"Nothing."
"You were staring?"
"No, I was looking." The kid had a sharp mind, quick and witty, and Lucy enjoyed the repartee with her.
"Well, what were you looking at?"
"I was looking at your t-shirt, it's my favourite colour and reminded me of something else," Storm replied, getting up and walking towards Lucy. "May I sit?" she asked, pointing to the spot next to her.
Lucy nodded, and Storm sat down in a heap next to her. She crossed her legs and picked up a small pebble in front of her, examined it, and then placed it back exactly where she found it.
"What does it remind you of?" Lucy spoke quietly, still unsure of her own voice.
"My old bedroom," Storm answered. She looked up at her, and just to be clear she added, "In our old house."
"Well, maybe you can paint your new bedroom the same colour," Lucy suggested.
"No!" Storm shouted. She suddenly got up and rushed back to her own spot. Flopping down in the rock, she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them and just stared out across the lake.
"Or not then," Lucy muttered to herself, unsure what exactly had happened. They didn't speak for the rest of the afternoon, and at four p.m. precisely, Lucy stood and went back to her cabin like she always did and watched from the window as Storm stood. She then wandered off back to her own cabin further along the track.
~E&F~
At dinner that night, Nicole placed down three small plates and a bowl for herself. She dished each child a healthy portion of macaroni and cheese with some broccoli on the side. Her own bowl contained the other half of the tinned soup she had had for lunch, with a small slice of bread to go with it. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do until things settled down and she could afford to splurge a little more. The discount at the store was a godsend, and she made the most of it.
“So, what did you get up to today, Storm?” she asked, taking her seat at the head of the table. She didn't like it much when her eldest took herself off somewhere; anything could happen. It wasn't safe for them to be wandering too far, but she knew that she needed to start giving Storm a little space. Today though, she looked a little down, and that worried Nicole.
"Just sitting," she replied quietly before sliding her fork, loaded with macaroni, into her mouth.
Nicole studied her a little before gently probing some more. "Must be a nice spot you found, you were gone all afternoon, I got a little worried." She broke up the piece of bread and dropped each bit into the soup.
"Sorry Mama, I was just along the shore," she said. Looking down at her plate, she followed it up with, "Just in front of Lucy's cabin."
"Storm, baby, I've told you don't go bothering that lady." Nicole spoke gently, but she needed to be firm with this, they couldn't afford to be upsetting anyone or drawing attention to themselves by creating a problem.
"I'm not, I just sit there and read my books," she replied honestly. "Sometimes we talk though, is that so wrong?" She looked up at her mother with the exact same brown eyes. Mirror image.
"She talks to you?" Nicole put her spoon down, intrigued and a little more concerned. Trust wasn’t something that came easily just now. Rita had been clear that Lucy wasn't anyone to worry about, but as a mother, that was her job.
"Well I talked to her first I guess, but she replies and we talk about—” She thought about the best word to describe what they talked about and settled on “Stuff."
"What kind of ‘stuff'?" She was not surprised that her 8-year-old child had managed to get a woman who didn't speak to people to talk to her; Storm just had that way about her.
"Well, did you know she has a scar on her face?" Storm confided, drawing her finger down her cheek replicating Lucy's scar. "Like this."
"No, I didn't," Nicole said, shaking her head. "Is that why she doesn't talk?"
"I don't know.” She shrugged. ”I didn't ask her why she doesn't talk, I just asked her how she got the scar?"
"Hmm, ya know baby sometimes you shouldn't ask people things they might prefer to keep private." She picked up her spoon again and began to eat her food before it got cold.
"I know, but she told me to ask her, so I did."
"I've finished, Mommy, can I go play now?" interrupted Rain, holding up her empty plate as proof, completely uninterested in the conversation her older sister was having.
"Me too!" Summer piped up, her little goofy grin showing off her toothy smile.
"Go on then, don't make a mess though." Nicole smiled as her two youngest hopped off their chairs and ran to their bedroom. They didn't have enough toys to make a mess right now, but that didn't seem to bother them, the innocence of youth so encapsulated in them both.
Turning her attention back to Storm she asked, "So what did she say?"
"She was in an accident, I think she has other scars, but I didn't ask her, you can see them though when she moves and her shirt lifts," she said, showing on her own torso where she saw it, but then she hesitated a moment before adding, "I told her about my scar."
"You did? What did she say?" Nicole was surprised as her daughter rarely opened up to anyone about it, not that she had had much opportunity before now. She hoped that it would be good for Storm to talk about it.
"That she was sorry that it happened to me."
"Did you tell her how?" Nicole coaxed gently.
Storm looked down at the table, embarrassed? No, anxious.
"It's okay if you did, baby. It isn't a secret or something to be ashamed of. You—” She stopped and corrected herself. “We did nothing wrong, okay?" She cupped her daughter’s cheek reassuringly and smiled.
Storm nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, I told her daddy did it when he grabbed me." Her little face grew red and tears pricked at her eyes. When her lower lip began to tremble, Nicole moved from her chair to kneel beside her and wrapped
her arms around her.
"It is all going to be okay, baby. I promise, Daddy can't hurt us now, and he doesn't even know where we are, remember? Plus, we have a new name now too, so don't you be worrying," Nicole assured her child for the hundredth time, still trying to convince herself too that Paul Nixon would not find them
Chapter Seven
Saturday morning found Nicole behind the counter at Rita’s store when Lucy came in for her weekly shop. She had taken to the job quite easily, and it was helping her get back into the groove with social interaction. The store wasn’t so busy that it was overwhelming, but there was enough footfall of traffic that she had plenty of gentle interaction each shift. But the strange woman in the hat always made her a little nervous. She wasn’t afraid of her, that wasn’t it at all, but something about Lucy brought an inhibition to Nicole that she wasn’t used to.
“Good morning,” Nicole mumbled, averting her eyes as Lucy wandered in and grabbed a basket.
“Hi,” Lucy muttered back in reply before she dodged quickly down an aisle.
There was nobody else in the store. Nicole followed Lucy up and down the aisles. Picking up tins that had been placed in the wrong spot, she checked dates on the dustier-looking ones and gave them a quick wipe if they were still saleable. Quick glances towards the tall, skinny woman made her skin heat.
“Anything I can help you with?” Nicole asked Lucy quietly. “I…I’m new and need the practice finding things,” she said with a smile she hoped would convey honesty and friendliness. She was trying to find her own feet again with making new friends. Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew with Lucy though. “Nicole,” she reminded her.
The Meant to Be Collection Page 3
