“Dusty and I have had our breakfast,” Willow said.
“Well, come keep me and Karli company, order a coffee, get a biscuit, shit I don’t care,” Raphael said, throwing the gearshift into park and cutting the engine. He stepped out of the truck, ready to assess the damage from the back-country ride through the woods and immediately got angered by a deep scratch that would need to be buffed out. Willow eased out of the truck and the white dress she wore covered absolutely nothing and was sheer to her skin. He could see everything the good Lord had blessed the woman with and he held up his hand for Dusty to remain inside the truck. He all but lifted Willow into his arms and shoved her back inside as well.
“This will never fricking do,” he said, going around the back of the truck. He pulled out the case which held an extra set of his clothing. Two button-down dress shirts, neatly folded were removed and thrown over the seat. “Put these on over those flimsy night gowns. Button them up as well. Good grief. We’d be arrested for indecent exposure if you walked around like that. Shit, you’re going to need some other clothes and fast. What in the entire path of Satan is this shit? What have I gotten myself into? I could just leave them here and call the cops. I could be free. On my way home.”
He paced back and forth at the back of the truck until Willow walked around it, wearing his shirt.
“These scratches can be buffed out with a bit of toothpaste and a damp rag. I’m willing to help take care of your truck when we get to your house,” she said softly, staring directly into his eyes. “This is a lot. I know it is. This is a lot for me, but you saved Karli and you have rescued us. All of this will be just fine. I shall take care of you just as you shall take care of us until it is time for us to part ways.”
“Huh?” Raphael said, unable to find anything else to say as the angelic-voiced woman talked. In his head, he scolded himself as he and his newly acquired family made their way into the diner. Karli took the inside seat on the bench and Willow mimicked his action, pushing Dusty Rose to the inside seat as well.
For good measure, she patted her hair again, knowing she looked like a bad character from a 70’s Blaxploitation flick. It had been years since she had a cup of coffee but a hot tea was more to her liking. The waitress brought over menus as Willow sat assessing the man her daughter called Daddy and their rescuer.
Raphael Hoyt had an aristocratic bearing which spoke volumes on the type of man Willow saw him to be. After six years living in a compound with men who turned nouns into action verbs, she looked forward to long discussions after dinner on books, possibly movies, and all of the wonders of the world she’d been denied for so long. More than anything she looked forward to teaching the ways of the world to her daughters, not by birth, but by love and her heart. For whatever reason, this man was sent to them, it was her responsibility to be in charge of his care. It didn’t hurt her feelings in the least that he had a whole set of clean teeth and a full head of thick black hair, and her daughter had fallen in love with him in less than 48 hours.
Willow watched Karli lean into Raphael, and without thinking, he placed his arm around her, holding her close in a protective way. He valued the child’s opinion when he spoke to her and the young girl responded in kind.
“How about a waffle with some sugar free syrup?” Raphael asked.
“That sounds good,” she said, “and maybe some cheesy eggs too, if we can afford it.”
“You can have cheesy eggs with your waffle,” Mr. Exit replied, looking up at Dusty Rose. “Get what you want as well Dusty.”
“Thank you...Daddy,” Dusty replied, not certain of the words Karli encouraged her to use when speaking to the man.
He offered her a smile and looked at Willow, who arched an eyebrow. “I’m not calling you Daddy,” she said, with a bit of attitude, which made Raphael laugh aloud.
“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” he said, looking over his new family.
Chapter Three – Representation
WILLOW RAYNE INTRIGUED Raphael. For the first time since ever, he looked forward to the eight-hour drive home, just so he would have a chance to talk to the woman. He had eight hours to go over his expectations, understand their needs, and try to make it comfortable for them all. In the interim, he still had to work and never knew from day to day how his schedule would evolve. Leaving them alone too soon worried him. Willow watched his face as he ate his breakfast.
“Raphael,” she said, getting his attention, “that ring on your pinky, does it have special meaning?”
“Not really. I just like it,” he replied, picking up a strip of bacon and biting into it.
“May I see it?” Willow asked.
“Sure,” he said, shrugging and removing the ring from his right pinky finger and passing it across the table to her. It took a Herculean effort to not react when she slipped the platinum circle on her left ring finger and smiled at him. Raphael broke into a sweat. The itching started again, and he was ready to bolt for the door.
“It’s to keep up appearances,” she said with a smile.
It was that fucking smile.
That beautiful white smile against that dark skin surrounded by a full pouty mouth made him genuinely want to leave every damned one of them at the greasy spoon where they sat. Maybe not Karli. He couldn’t leave Pooh Bear. Shit, Pooh Bear needed a Mommy because he sure as hell couldn’t do hair. The other girl, or his other daughter, had trust issues with men, which also was totally unfair, plus they had never watched television or movies. These people weren’t ready for the world they were about to go into. They needed protection and guidance.
Guidance by me?
“A Charge To Keep I Have” played in his mind. Every fifth Sunday in Church was Men’s Day and the choir stands were loaded with old men wearing bad ties. His father would come forward and as far as he understood it as a child would yell out, “Hey Charles!” The other men in the choir would respond in a monosyllabic drivel that was never clear to him. His mother had to explain to her son the name of the song was “A Charge To Keep I Have” and his father was in fact saying, ‘take charge.’
It was his turn to take charge.
“Appearances are everything, especially knowing how nosy Ms. Wilson next door can be. She’s always got something to say,” Raphael responded, hoping he’d maintained his cool points. “Ladies, we need to hit the road and get home.”
He raised his hand for the check, wishing both Willow and Dusty had eaten more food. Since they hadn’t it meant another stop for lunch, which would delay their arrival home. More than anything, he wanted to sleep in his own bed. Raphael ordered half a dozen of biscuits to go as well as pieces of whole fruit, a few bottles of water, and four packs of peanuts.
“Shit,” he said, looking at Willow and Dusty. “We’re going to have to stop anyway to get you some clothes. You can’t walk around my house like that...it’s not right.”
“Thank you,” Willow said.
“Thank you,” Dusty Rose replied.
“Thanks, Daddy,” Karli interjected.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, paying the check and passing the goodies to his pretend wife. He led them out of the diner to the truck, checking around to see if there were any signs of being followed. Satisfied, he unlocked the truck. Willow attempted to climb in the back. “No, Willow, you sit up front. You’ve got shotgun.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, helping the girls get situated in the back.
Fully loaded and backing up, Raphael looked over at her. “It will give us a chance to talk and get to know each other, as well as help me understand how you ended up in a commune.”
“Yes, there is a lot to discuss. I’m familiar with this modern world but the girls were born at the commune and know nothing of the outside world. I’m terrified for them,” Willow said. “As much as I wanted us to be free, it is the rest of it that held me in place. Starting over is tough as a single person, let alone a mother of two.”
“Don’t worry, we will see you through this,” Ra
phael said, feeling confident that his words were true. “So, tell me your story. How did you end up at that place, what is the deal with the girls and who the hell is Him?”
WILLOW’S MIND WENT back in time before the ugliness which invaded her life. It was 2008 in Lawton, Oklahoma at the death of her father, where the two sisters stood, looking down at his body. The sadness still filled her soul when she thought of how it all went awry.
2008 LAWTON, OKLAHOMA
Willow and Flower Rayne thanked the mourners and well-wishers who paraded by them at their father’s funeral. Words of comfort were mumbled in their faces while comments of pity were spoken behind their backs. Taylor Rayne, a former Army Major, raised his girls with a tight hand after the death of their mother. It was Flower who became a thorn in his side.
“Daddy, I need to live a little. I want to see more of America. Please, just let me breathe,” Flower had whined to her father a month before he took ill.
“Flower, there are bad people in the world. There are men who would rather see you dead than not be at their beck and call. You don’t understand this world or this country enough to roam free on a land known for freedom,” he cautioned.
Flower Rayne didn’t listen to her father or her big sister. Two months after Taylor’s death, his youngest daughter bought a bus ticket to Kentucky to become a vampire, a member of a clan led by a 16-year-old named Vesago, who had formed a small cult outside of Murray, Kentucky 10 years prior. Although the leader of the clan had been sentenced to death row in 1998, there were still rumors of the clan being active and living in a commune outside of Louisville. Only now, the group was led by a Proderick Hymn, known to his followers as Hymn and often mistaken by those less literate who referred to the charismatic leader as Him.
Flower Rayne, feeling lost, flocked to Hymn and became a part of their group. However, a year later, she found out the leader was not who she believed him to be and tried to escape. Unable to get away, she made several attempts to get word to her sister Willow to come and save her from the evil-hearted people who ran the commune.
It took two years for the message to reach Willow since after the death of their father and the departure of their sister, she too was traveling the countryside. A noted teacher of Family and Consumer Education, Willow found herself in high demand on the high school and junior college circuits. Lately, she been booked by retreats to offer a one-day session on crafting for money. Her eyes went to Raphael bringing him to the present.
“Basically, I was a glorified Home Economics teacher,” Willow said to Raphael. “I traveled throughout the Midwest teaching young women the art of caring for the family home. My specialty was the use of simple crafting to generate butter and egg money.”
“Simple crafting, what does that mean?” Raphael asked.
“Sewing, glue gun, and glitter, plus how to get all the dinner items on the table at the same time, balancing the household budget, that kind of thing,” she replied. “I was like a black June Cleaver.”
“And your sister, Flower?”
“She was a confused young woman who wanted our father to take care of her forever. So, she sought out a father figure, whom I’m still convinced took her life,” Willow said in a hushed tone. “Hymn is a charming man with a black heart. I also firmly believe that the two in the back seat are his children, but there is no way to tell without DNA testing.”
Raphael listened to what she was saying, yet not saying. “How did you end up at the compound?”
“Once I got word, two years later, that she was trying to reach me, it was 2012. The compound is very secretive and very few know of its location, so I traveled to Louisville and started asking questions and hoping to find Flower,” she said solemnly. “Hymn got word that Flower’s sister was asking questions, so he did the research on me and booked me to come teach at the compound, even paid my speaking fee up front.”
“And you went to the compound,” Raphael said, exhaling deeply.
“No, I was escorted to the commune with my traveling trailer of teaching goods,” she said chuckling. “I don’t care for hotel rooms so I traveled the roads in my camper. The same camper became my prison for six years.”
“I’m so sorry to hear this.”
“Don’t be. Hymn had a job for me and that was looking after those two. They were by my side at all times,” she replied, looking in the backseat, “well, with the exception of two days ago. I was out of my mind with worry.”
“How did she get away from you and end up with that Mongoloid Theodore?”
“You know Theodore?”
“No, I ran into him at a rest stop. His dog was barking at the bushes, which let me know someone was hiding in there, so I moved my truck over and distracted Theodore so whoever was in the bushes could slip inside,” Raphael said.
“Smart move and Karli is a smart girl. I taught her to know what to look for, the right things to say, and to read men’s eyes,” Willow said. “Kindred Seoul is his name. He’s the second in command and jockeying for position.”
“He’s the one who sent that child on date night?” Raphael asked, thinking of ways to terminate the man’s employment at the commune.
“He lied and said Hymn wanted to see the girl. I usually go with her, but...I dunno what happened. It was all a blur. Then she was gone,” she said, looking in the backseat and smiling. Willow lowered her voice, “I think she may be my sister’s child, which is why I never left. Six years I stayed there taking care of her and Dusty, hoping that one day we could get away, and you showed up, and I am forever thankful.”
“What makes you thinks she’s Flower’s child?”
“There were no other Black women at the commune when I arrived. The age would fit the timeline, and she’s the only bi-racial child there,” Willow said.
“You disappeared off the face of the earth and no one missed you? I find that hard to believe,” Raphael inquired.
“Believe it. After our father died, and he kept such a tight rein on both of us, the freedom to just go, hit the road, and not look back was liberating. That’s why I didn’t look for Flower at first, because I too was free, well for a short time, and then ended up being back in a different kind of prison,” she said, looking at him. “Mr. Hoyt, I will not be locked up again, so if that is your plan, I’m going to let you know right now, it won’t work.”
Raphael asked her to open the center console. There were several disposable phones. He suggested she pick one.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” Willow asked.
“You now have a cell phone and can call for help anytime you wish to. If you want me to drop you and the girls off at the nearest police station, I can do that as well. This is not obligatory on my part, but you taught Karli well. I have given her a nickname and kissed her forehead, and she calls me Daddy, so technically, she’s kinda mine,” he said chuckling.
Dusty Rose sat forward in the seat, “Daddy, when we stop, will you kiss my forehead and give me a pet name, too?”
“Sure thing, Punkin’ Puss,” he said, laughing at the ludicrousness of the whole scenario. His eyes cut to Willow.
She shook her head no. “I don’t ever need a pet name from you, just to let you know. I’m telling you up front.”
“You certain? I don’t want you to feel left out,” he said, allowing the chuckle to rumble deep in his throat.
“Honestly, you don’t look like you have a sense of humor,” Willow quipped. “You remind me of one of those hitmen in the movies. The weary anti-hero comes home from a day of philanthropic deeds and you’re sitting in his study with a Barretta in your hand, saying, ‘It’s time to die Mr. Bond.’”
Raphael squinted, looking at the road then glancing over at her with a scowl. He didn’t like her attitude. He all but told her so, “Listen here, there are several things I never joke about and one is James Bond. Just make sure you are very clear on that, Ms. Willow Smarty Pants,” he said with a huff and puff as if he were going to blow her afro down.
“I work in Human Resources,” he said with all honesty.
“You don’t seem to have the mannerisms for a HR Manager, unless you’re the person who handles difficult terminations,” she said, looking over at him using a mock managerial voice. “Oh, Mr. Wellington is going to make trouble for us. Someone please get Mr. Hoyt on the line. Then Mr. Wellington comes home and finds you in his study with your legs crossed holding a Barretta. Mr. Wellington, your promotion has been denied, and here’s your pink slip!”
Raphael didn’t find any bloody humor in it all. She sat there moving those luscious lips like Mr. Ed after getting a giant serving of peanut butter. The weird thing is that she was so on the money about him with the James Bond reference, which happened to be his favorite type of movie and favorite character ever, which the lady magically pulled out of midair. Sensing his discomfort, Willow got quiet.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive. I’ve been starved for conversation and witty repartee for six whole years. Outside of the kids, I pretty much lived in isolation from the other women except on the days when I had to teach or on laundry day,” Willow said. “Most of the women there have given up on life, were running away from something, or simply no longer cared to think for themselves. They were sheeple.”
Raphael wanted to ask the hard questions but didn’t want to pry too soon, “Karli said the police came on Fridays. Did you spend a great deal of time talking with Hymn?”
“Hymn kept me at arm’s length as well. I was there to teach and look after Karli and Dusty Rose. The other younger girl’s mothers lived on the commune, but they were the only two without moms, so they became my chicks to tend in my nest,” Willow said softly. “I know that’s not what you’re asking, but...”
Blind Copy (The Technicians Series Book 5) Page 4