by Janie Crouch
Marilyn rubbed at her neck right under her ear. “What if someone doesn’t agree with where I want them to put the furniture?”
Annie gave a soft laugh and reached up, gently pulling Marilyn’s hand down so she wouldn’t rub her skin raw. “They’re a bunch of military and law enforcement guys. Those alpha males over there would rather face down any number of enemy tangoes than decide on furniture placement. They’ll listen, believe me.”
“I get paranoid,” she muttered.
Bree slipped an arm around her shoulder. They walked toward the building as the guys waved and jumped into the moving truck to go get the first load of furniture. “Paranoid is what we pay you for.”
If that was the truth, then they were getting it cheap, because Marilyn had it in spades.
“And don’t worry, we’ll be right with you to make sure everything goes off without a hitch,” Annie said. “This is going to be a place of miracles.”
Marilyn forced a smile. Maybe the first miracle would be everything going smoothly today.
2
“That woman could run a mission better than some of the Delta Force team leaders I know.”
Noah chuckled at his friend’s words. Walker “Trigger” Nelson should know; after all, he was a Delta Force unit leader. Noah had served with him years ago as part of the team before he’d gotten out of the Army.
The two of them were balancing a chest of drawers between them, walking it toward a back bedroom where they’d been directed by the small brunette with the soft voice.
Marilyn Ellis.
Noah knew her, or knew of her, based on what his future sister-in-law had told him. Bree had gushed about what an amazing computer student Marilyn was, then about how great she was as New Journeys building facilitator.
Given how she’d organized everyone over the past few hours, the gushing seemed justified. Marilyn obviously wasn’t comfortable giving orders and definitely wasn’t a yeller, but she was methodical and organized.
Everyone, especially he and Trigger as trained soldiers, appreciated it. Her quiet leadership made the work go much more smoothly than everyone doing their own thing.
Even if she didn’t seem to like her leadership role in the least.
“Marilyn is definitely someone with a primary objective in mind,” Noah said as they twisted to get inside a doorway. “Just goes to show that someone doesn’t have to be bossy to be the boss.”
Trigger smiled. “Hell yeah.”
Trigger and his new fiancée Gillian had driven up from Fort Hood, Texas for a long weekend getaway in the Rockies. Noah had told them to stop by since they’d be so close and then had roped Trigger into helping with the move. Not that his friend minded when it came down to it. Gillian was helping too, painting one of the rooms.
“I like your girl, Trigger.” They set the chest down where they’d been told, then went back out to grab pieces of bed frame from the truck. “Someone who will give up a full day of her weekend getaway to help out is a keeper.”
Trigger smiled. “Believe me, I already knew that. Gillian’s amazing on all sorts of levels.”
“How’d you guys meet?”
“Hostage situation on a plane in Venezuela. I’ll have to tell you that story over a few beers sometime.”
Noah nodded. “Deal. I’m buying.” They walked back out to get more pieces of the bed frame.
The new building was coming together nicely, and Noah was glad to be a part of it. The women and children being helped at New Journeys were well worth the time the men were putting in.
But hell, it was the longest Noah had spent with people outside of his family since he’d gotten out of the military. To say he wasn’t a chatterbox was the understatement of the century. Noah had always been quieter than his brother or sister, even before the military.
Watching good men—good friends—die right in front of him and not being able to stop it had made Noah even more introverted and reserved.
Trigger started to put the bed together from the pieces they’d brought in, and Noah headed back out to the large room near the back door. This was going to be the common area—he’d helped knock out a number of walls when they remodeled the place to give the area an open feel.
That’s when he’d first met Marilyn a few weeks ago. They hadn’t talked, but he’d noticed her. Noticed the way her big hazel eyes took in everything, and how she kept her back to the wall whenever possible.
That was something he did too, but he did it because of his military training. He was pretty certain she was doing it because she’d learned the hard way not to leave her six unguarded.
He’d noticed that despite her tension and unease, she’d stayed nearby during the remodel, listening to understand how things were done.
He noticed how gentle she was with her children, answering their many questions, and how patient she was when trying to explain to the crew foreman her vision for the room.
He noticed how damn lovely she was in general.
She was just as lovely today. Her soft brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail that swung every time she turned. It was obviously more in her nature to pick up pieces of furniture and boxes and move them herself, rather than direct someone else to do it. But every time she did, someone grabbed whatever she had in her arms and asked her where she wanted it.
He’d seen her wince more than once—touch her ribs, roll her wrist. Nagging injuries. He was familiar with those, too. And since this was a domestic abuse facility, it didn’t take a genius to figure out how she’d gotten them.
She’d been a different kind of soldier in a very different war.
“Zac, can you put those boxes in bedroom four?” Marilyn’s voice was gentle, soft. She was probably having to force herself to speak louder than she would normally.
“Yes, ma’am,” Zac said.
It had been a common phrase all day, even though Marilyn was probably the youngest adult here.
Noah took one of Zac’s two boxes as he came in the room, then they bent to help Trigger with the bed frames, laughing as the ancient frames got stuck in a position that was the wrong bed size and they had to take it completely apart.
“Mr. Noah?” All three men froze at the sound of a little voice in the doorway.
Noah dropped down to a crouch so he was closer in height to this little munchkin as he spun around to face the girl—a tiny version of her mother with delicate features and soft brown hair. Her brother was standing just behind her, obviously uncomfortable around the men but willing to stay close enough to protect his sister if she needed it.
Noah didn’t care how old the kid was, he respected that man to man.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, little lady. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
She smiled, not showing any of the hesitation her brother showed behind her. That was good.
“I’m Eva. I’m five years old, and I’m trying to decide whether my new room should have fairies or butterflies.”
Noah smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Eva. And I don’t think you can go wrong with either of those choices.”
She nodded solemnly. “Me, too.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “This is my brother, Sam.”
Noah looked at him but didn’t move any closer. The kid was obviously struggling with his fears. Noah gave him a two-finger half salute. “Hey, buddy.”
Sam didn’t smile or wave, but he also didn’t run. Standing your ground was sometimes all that could be expected.
Noah glanced over Sam’s shoulder and found Marilyn watching the whole situation from the hallway. She was wringing her hands so hard he was afraid she might hurt herself. Obviously, she was torn between letting her children talk to him and rushing in to save them from any possible danger.
He kept his gaze on hers, waiting to see what she would do. There weren’t any words he could give that would make this situation less fraught for her. Words meant nothing when it came to building trust. Trust took action and time.
<
br /> The surprising part was that he actually wanted to build trust between them. He wanted to be a safe place for her and her children. Given how he’d gone out of his way to avoid being around people in the four years since he’d gotten out of the military, he wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about that revelation.
When she gave him the tiniest nod, he felt like he’d been given a precious gift. He nodded slightly in response and returned his gaze to the kids.
“I was wondering if we could play with your dogs?” Little Eva gave him a big smile, her front tooth obviously came out recently.
His brother Tanner had mentioned how much the kids liked Star. Noah specifically brought Corfu, his mixed breed dog named after an island in Greece he’d once visited, and her two puppies so these two kids could play with them.
The pups were at a good age for a couple of kids. Not so small that Corfu would be overprotective, but still small enough to be downright adorable.
“I’ve got them in the pen in the back of my truck. You’ll have to keep a close eye on them if we let them out. Can I trust you to do that?”
Eva nodded her head enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. We are very responsible. We will keep them in my room and play with them and make sure they don’t get into any trouble.”
Noah glanced at Sam, who also nodded, before he turned his eyes toward Marilyn, who was still watching the encounter. Still wringing her hands.
“Okay with you, Mom?”
She took a few steps closer. “They’re very gentle and love animals. I’m sure they’ll keep a close eye on the pups if you’re okay with it.”
It was the first direct words, outside of instructions on where to put furniture, that she’d ever spoken to him.
It was a start.
He looked back at the kids. “Okay, let’s go get them. Here’s the thing, Bree named the puppy she chose—”
“Star,” Sam said quietly.
Noah nodded. “That’s right, Star. But I’m not very good with names, so I haven’t named the other two puppies I have left yet. I just call them Thing One and Thing Two.”
Eva laughed. “Like in the Cat in the Hat.”
He winked at her. “Exactly like the Cat in the Hat. And Thing One and Thing Two can get into just as much trouble as the ones in the book, so be careful. And maybe while you two are watching the pups, you can think of some better names for them.”
Both the kids’ eyes got wide. Good. That should keep them entertained for a little while.
Trigger and Zac got back to work on the bed frames while Noah led Eva and Sam out to his truck. Marilyn followed just far enough behind to not make the kids feel like she was hovering, but close enough to step in if needed.
Although she was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. It was difficult to think that she could do much besides sacrifice herself to allow the kids a chance to get away.
The shadows in her eyes made him wonder how many times she’d done exactly that.
Little Eva was already spouting off possible puppy names while Sam quietly vetoed some every once in a while. Noah lowered the truck bed door and opened the large metal pen in the back. On his ranch he was often out for a full day. Corfu liked to be with him, but it had been too long to leave the puppies by themselves, so he’d created a solution that worked for all of them—a home away from home in his truck.
He handed Thing Two, tan with the black ears, to Eva, then reached and got Thing One, all black and in the middle of a huge yawn, and handed him to Sam. Corfu jumped to the ground on her own.
He grabbed a pee pad since the pups were nowhere near housebroken, and he didn’t think Eva would want her new bedroom christened in that way. The four of them headed back to her room—Eva still coming up with possible puppy names.
Noah gave them a few more basic instructions—not to let them play with matches and to put them on the pee pad if anything yellow started leaking out of their body—then told them he’d be back in a couple of hours when the work was done.
Corfu was sniffing around, and the kids were laughing and chattering to each other and the puppies as he backed out and closed the door behind him.
“Thank you.” Marilyn stood as far away from him as she could in the hallway and still be within social norms. “They love animals and haven’t had a chance to be around them much. This is going to be the highlight of their week.”
He shrugged. “The pups are generally pretty good-natured as far as little terrors go. But you’ll probably want to check in on them and make sure they are not planning any sort of world domination.”
He was shocked to hear the words coming out of his mouth, not because he didn’t think the pups would try to rule the world if they could, but because he hadn’t said that full of a sentence to anyone not related to him in years.
She smiled. And damn if the full sentence wasn’t worth it.
“I’ll keep an eye on them.”
“You know the real problem is going to be that the kids aren’t going to want to say goodbye. You’re more than welcome to one or both of the pups if you’re in the market for them.”
“Are you selling them?”
He leaned back against the doorway. “I’m not selling them, no. But like Star with Bree, I’m happy to give one of them to a good home where I know they’ll be cared for.”
Marilyn nodded solemnly. “Well, definitely not both, but maybe one… Maybe we’re finally at a place where things are permanent enough for them to have all the stuff that’s been missing from their lives.”
And what about you, gorgeous?
He wanted to ask her but didn’t. They didn’t know each other nearly well enough. He was surprised at how much he really wanted to know the answer, though.
“You bet. Ready to go crack the whip some more, boss? It’s amazing how this place is taking shape under your leadership.”
She rubbed the side of her neck and looked down at her feet. “Oh, that’s not me. Bree and your sister Cassandra are the leadership. I’m just the manager.”
His fingers itched with the need to press under her chin to lift her face, but it was way too soon. Probably for the both of them. “Well, you’re doing a great job, manager. Now let’s get the slackers back to work.”
3
Home.
Marilyn had forgotten what having one—a safe one—felt like. For months, the three of them had only had one room—at various hotels and the old New Journeys building. They’d been safe, so it had been enough…
But it hadn’t been home.
Not like their little apartment was now. The move in was complete. Thanks to all the volunteers who had shown up, particularly all the former and current military guys who’d worked tirelessly for hours, the New Journeys facility had been up and running for a week now.
She and the kids had their own little kitchen with mismatched dishes and a table that wobbled when the cardboard came un-wedged from under one of the legs. But it was theirs.
Eva had gone with butterflies. Gone overboard with butterflies—her room looked like a butterfly habitat had exploded all over the place. And Eva loved it. Loved it. Her exact words.
Sam was still considering his options. And while it broke Marilyn’s heart a little that he seemed so nervous about making a decision, she let him be. Sam’s therapist had warned her that not every trait he had was formed by the abuse he’d witnessed. Some kids were just more cautious, and that was okay.
She could give him time. Time and stability were things she finally had to give. Jared was in jail awaiting trial, so she didn’t have to worry about him. They had a solid roof over their heads and a steady paycheck to pay for their needs. They had a home.
Of course, home was shared with other people in the rest of the building—currently two single women, and one other woman with a toddler.
Marilyn’s job was part housekeeper, part administrator, part counselor. She handled any disputes, although the only ones that had taken place so far had been between Eva and Sam. She also made su
re the place was clean and well-supplied.
All the major decisions were left up to Bree and Cassandra, the founders of New Journeys. And that was just fine with Marilyn. She loved the two women, and they were good at finding funding for when it was needed and for the women and children who stayed. The two of them even taught computers and hairdressing classes—giving the women skills so they could provide for themselves once they were on their own.
So many women stayed in abusive situations because they didn’t feel like they had any other option.
Hadn’t Marilyn been the same way? If she had had any marketable skills back the first time Jared had broken one of her bones—her pinky—would she have left then, rather than suffer through four more years of hell?
God, she hoped that was true. She was already pathetic enough to have stayed as long as she had. To think that she might have stayed even if she’d had the means to get out and start over made her hate herself even more.
But she had gotten out. It had taken a coma and Jared’s arrest, but she’d gotten out for good. And her kids were okay. She was okay. She was in town grocery shopping at her leisure and she was okay. The kids were at the apartment with Bree, playing with Star, so Marilyn could take her time.
She picked up an apple and sniffed it. She had no idea why—what the heck was she going to smell about an apple that would tell her anything? She grinned. Who cared? It was something she’d seen on TV shows, so she was going to do it.
She had enough money in her checking account to be able to afford fresh fruit for her and the kids. Afford fresh meat. They didn’t have to eat stuff out of cans.
“Miss Marilyn?”
She dropped the apple from her nose, turning to find Mr. Salazar, the elderly owner of Sal’s Groceries, studying her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Salazar. I have no idea why I was sniffing the apple, I—”
He smiled. “Don’t you worry about that. As long as you don’t lick them, I got no problem with how you test to see if you want to buy the fruit.”