Saving Ella (11 page)

             
“Your mother?” I gently nudged her into conversation. Her eyes flared for a moment with silent fury, interesting.

             
“No. My mother didn’t do things like that.” Had her mother been the one to hurt her? I knew not to push, she needed to tell me things in her own time.

             
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s been a long time since someone made me lunch too. And it’s nothing to get excited over. It’s just a sandwich, muffin and an apple. I didn’t have to cook a single thing, so you should be safe.” Her frown disappeared with a shy smile as she leaned against the counter, holding her mug of coffee in a death grip as if worried someone might try and take it from her.

             
“Toast, with jam,” she muttered. I quickly put two pieces of bread in the toaster. I thought it best to keep the conversation light, easy.

             
“You are quite an artist. Ever think about doing something more with that?” She got that whimsical faraway look and smiled. This was good, a topic she liked to talk about.

             
“I love to sketch, portraits and landscapes especially.” She blushed at her confession.

             
“You’ve never thought about going to university to study, maybe trying to pick up work in a gallery?” She looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. “It’s not impossible you do have options.” She shook her head.              

             
“It’s not in my future anymore. In fact I am very careful not to think about the future at all. My plans usually don’t stretch beyond a few days. What I need to do to stay safe, having somewhere to sleep. My life is about survival now, not fancy dreams of art.” She was so matter of fact about it but there was no missing the disappointment in her words.

             
“You’re not safe here in Claymont?” I asked. She shrugged and emptied what was left in her mug into the sink and washed her plate.

             
“Thanks for this,” she held up the last bite of her toast. “And this,” she grabbed the lunch I had prepared for her and pushed it into her backpack.

             
“Not a problem, just make sure you eat it. You don’t need to faint to get me to fuss over you.” She blushed and I pretended not to notice as she quietly snuck away.

             
“Jax, come take a look at this.” Mercy called from the doorway a few minutes later. I followed her down the hallway and into her office where she promptly shoved a piece of paper in my face. It was a receipt for the electricity I had paid two days earlier. I shrugged.

             
“Uh-huh. And?” I knew she would be pissed that I had paid the bill, but I also knew the shelter struggled to make ends meet and relied heavily on donations.

             
“Jax, I don’t need handouts.” I laughed and threw the bill back down on top of the crazy-ass clutter that Mercy called an organized mess.

             
“Mercy’s Shelter survives on handouts, don’t be petty.” She scoffed and looked away.

             
“My son shouldn’t be paying my bills. The shelter is mine. I started it; it’s my job to keep it running.” Stubborn woman.

             
“Yeah well, consider it a donation from Carter Constructions.”

             
“Carter Constructions has already given several hefty donations this year. It’s a small company and I’m sure they can’t afford to make another one.” I shook my head. My company was doing more than alright. It was making a comfortable profit and I hardly had to stick my head in the door. I could knock together bits and pieces in my shed and drop them in to the factory as I pleased. Charlie and the boys kept the place running while I was on missions and now when I am busy at Mercy’s. Then there was the money I had accumulated in the army. I hadn’t had much cause to spend my money, other than to buy the few acres of land I owned just out of town and the small but comfortable house I had built on it. The shit I did and saw in Afghanistan might give me nightmares for the rest of my life, but it certainly left me comfortably financed.

             
“You know what
Mom
, I love this place just as much as you do. I want to be a part of it and I can afford to pay some of the bills, and if you don’t like it then tough titties.” Mercy just stared at me. She knew I meant business when I called her mom, it was like playing the guilt card.

             
“Did you just say tough titties?” She stammered and I almost burst out laughing. Mercy was a good girl, even heck was a swear word coming out of her mouth. A small smile crept into her stubbornly pissed features.

             
“I did. So suck it up and take my money, or I’ll open my own damn shelter.” Her face broke into a full blown grin and I couldn’t help but smile back. My mom was so beautiful when she smiled.

“So, tell me all about your Ella.”
My Ella? I sighed and rubbed my stiff neck.

             
“I don’t know. She seems different, special. I feel somehow drawn to her and she seems to trust me. She has scars, she showed me.” Mercy nodded eyes solemn and understanding. Mercy was acquainted with this sort of story personally. My dad had been one A grade asshole.

             
“They’re all special Jax, and they all have scars, some are worn on their skin, some deeper. I know you feel as though you let Sarah down, but you didn’t Jax. You don’t need to use Ella to make amends with Sarah’s death. Sarah was well beyond our reach when she came to us.”

             
“For starters, none of them are beyond our reach. Secondly, I’m not using Ella to make amends. I’m just trying to do what I am meant to do and be there for her, help her, like all the women.” I hesitated a moment. “Actually, she kind of reminds me of you. I mean, not in a motherly kind of way, she’s just tiny like you. And she has so many scars, all over her arms and wrists, and god knows where else. No doubt plenty of the psychological kind too.” I knew Mercy immediately thought the same thing I did when I first saw the scar on Ella’s wrist.

             
“She didn’t try and kill herself. She was a self-harmer at some point most of her scars are faint and thin, classic self-harm cuts. But the scars on her wrist were forced. Someone gave her those scars, most likely her father. She mentioned a ‘him’. She said she didn’t try to commit suicide because she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Apparently she sees this as some sort of a game and she doesn’t want him to win.” Mercy considered that for a moment.             

             
“She’s confiding in you, that’s good Jax. She needs someone she can trust, someone who will do the right thing by her.” I nodded, secretly pleased that Ella might trust me enough to let me in but also noting the hidden meaning behind Mercy’s words. My relationship with Ella needed to remain professional. Ella needed that, she deserved that.

             
“I heard Selena dropped by last night.” Mercy said changing the subject and I groaned, loudly.

             
“I also heard she left pretty soon after looking pretty angry.” Mercy sighed. “Jax, the women and children who stay here don’t need your personal life played out before them like a bad soap opera.” I couldn’t agree more.

             
“I’m sorry Mercy. I didn’t invite her to drop by last night and I made sure she knew it wasn’t cool. She won’t be dropping by anymore, ever.”

             
“It wouldn’t be a problem if she had some interest in the shelter, in the people who come here for help. I get the feeling that little tramp would only drop by for one thing, and it would likely include this desk and her back on it.” My mouth dropped open at my mother’s crude description. Her furious blush confirmed she felt just as awkward saying it as I felt hearing it. I couldn’t believe my mother was talking so frankly about my sex life. It was completely and utterly uncool.

             
“Don’t say another word. You, me and my sex life is totally off limits. But just so we are clear, Selena’s back has never graced this desk or any other piece of furniture in this shelter, nor will it. Not just because that is completely unprofessional and yes, I know there might have been a time when old Jax thought differently, but new Jax doesn’t behave like that. And I called it quits with Selena, for good.” I took a deep breath. God this conversation was almost as uncomfortable as the sex talk she had forced me to have with her when I was fourteen.

             
“Good, on all counts. And Jax, I’m proud of you, always have been, even when you were old Jax, though I do like new Jax much better. Go home and get some sleep. Or better yet, go do some real work and make up that money your company ‘donated’ to our shelter.” I didn’t miss the ‘our shelter’ bit. My heart swelled just slightly at her words.

             
“Thanks Mercy,” I said quietly as I stood and wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

             
“You’re a good son Jax. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” She hugged me back, her little arms holding me tight.

             
“I love you too mom. And if this chick flick moment is over I’m going to The Pit Stop to have Benny serve my heart an unhealthy dose of grease.”

             
“Oh, that sounds good. It’s been too long since I’ve had a Pit Stop breakfast. Dave and I might stop in after our shift tomorrow for one.” Mercy was suddenly captured in a greasy breakfast fantasy as I snuck out of the shelter.

              I couldn’t believe Jax had made me lunch. As I walked to Bouquets I stared at the brown paper bag in my hand, my surroundings and walk was a complete blur. Once at work, I sat trimming thorns from rose stems and couldn’t help but cast curious glances at the innocuous bag. I barely remembered my daddy making me lunch for school. Such an innocent harmless gesture, but I found myself wanting to save that simple brown paper bag and tuck it away in the bottom of my backpack with my most prized possessions, the sketches of my daddy and the phone Rita had bought me. It was a paper bag for goodness sake!

             
“You hiding the crown jewels in that bag?” Rebecca teased. Her hair was in another difficult looking twist inspired by the fifties and she was dressed in a figure hugging dress with a skinny belt sitting high on her waist. The black apron with the word ‘Bouquets’ in a stylish yellow cursive across the front didn’t detract from the sexy look she was today rocking. I on the other hand had donned my best pair of khaki cargo’s, the only pair that didn’t have a single stain on them, a grey long sleeved thermal with my best blue t-shirt pulled over top and black converse sneakers. I too wore the mandatory black apron and today, my hair was neatly held back with a blue scarf. Rebecca was all class and I felt like a homeless woman standing beside her. I smirked at that ridiculous revelation. And now I was looking at the damn brown paper bag again.

             
“No, just lunch,” I murmured. Rebecca was great with the customers. She smiled and laughed like she was old friends with everyone who walked through her door. When an elderly gentleman came in to order flowers for his wife’s funeral, Rebecca slipped effortlessly into compassionate mode. She helped the man plan a simple arrangement of lilies, his wife’s favorite and Rebecca held him in a warm tight embrace before he left. I blinked away the stubborn tears that threatened to spill at the sight of the old man’s own grateful weeping.  The shrill of the phone woke me from my daze.

             
“For you,” said Rebecca with a mischievous smile handing me the cordless handset. It took me a moment to move, I was stunned into an imbecilic trance. I never got calls, I only made them. Once every couple of months to Rita. “Don’t worry, it won’t bite,” she laughed.

             
“Hello,” I whispered.

             
“I couldn’t wait until you called, I had to ring and check in, how are you?” Rita’s cheerful voice eased any trace of apprehension from my body. I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped my lips as I moved to the back of the store.

             
“You scared the shit out of me,” I muttered.

             
“Sorry honey. Rebecca called me last night, said you were working for her. I’m glad, she is a good person hon, and you’ll be safe there.”

             
“I like it here. The store is so warm, it smells pretty damn good, and she puts caramel in her coffee, or whiskey depending on who she’s expecting in the store. Oh god Rita, caramel and coffee, it tastes like heaven.” Rita laughed.

             
“You and that darn sweet tooth. You should be the size of a house!”

             
“Hows BJ and Larry?”

             
“There both fine honey. My little girl is home from college for the weekend and we’ve declared war on BJ. He refuses to wear his hearing aide so Renee and I are not speaking to him as punishment. He can’t hear a bloody word we say anyway. God it must be freezing there, please tell me you have somewhere warm to stay?”