The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen

by Debra Kayn

  She planted her feet. "Dutch?"

  The thought of him having a condom hurt her. Was there someone else in his life he cared about more than her? What if he stopped coming back to see her and stayed away? What if she never got back to Moses Lake to find her mom?

  "What?" he mumbled.

  "Where do you live?"

  "You know where." He walked with her to the bedroom door. "I live on the road."

  "You're homeless?"

  "I ride."

  "But, this is your home, right?"

  "If I had to pick a place, I suppose it would be here." He pushed her out into the hall. "Now, go to sleep. It's almost morning."

  She went to her room, shut the door, and walked in the dark to the bed. Afraid he would leave while she slept, she stayed awake.

  Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she'd almost lost the battle when the shower in the bathroom, next door to her bedroom, came on. Not knowing if it was Rachel or Dutch, she got dressed and went out to the kitchen.

  She turned on the coffee maker and then toasted bread, putting a thin layer of peanut butter over the slice.

  When footsteps reached her ears, she climbed up on the barstool and waited to see who was the first to get up.

  Her patience rewarded as Dutch walked into the kitchen without a shirt, carrying his leather vest. She gazed up at him and tried to keep her eyes off the scar on his stomach. He never liked when she asked how he got it.

  The scar had to hurt. Though, he moved around like it never bothered him.

  He eyed her toast. She ripped the piece in half and handed it to him.

  Dutch consumed it in two bites while looking at the coffee maker. She swung her feet on the stool, trying to find something to talk about that would keep him from leaving.

  The maker stopped gurgling, and she slid down and hurried over, grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet. She could show him how he wouldn't have to do a thing around the house if he stayed. Whatever Rachel and Skull wanted him to do, she'd do for him.

  He poured coffee in both mugs. "Are you drinking coffee now?"

  "I've always drank coffee." She carried it back to the stool. "I like it."

  Sometimes, coffee was the only thing in the house when she was little. She learned to like it cold by drinking out of the cups her mom left around and had forgotten. Since moving in with Rachel and Skull, she'd learned to drink it warm and make it herself.

  "You don't want milk or sugar?" He sipped from the mug.

  She shook her head, matching him drink for drink. He leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen.

  His hair still wet from the shower, he ignored the drips hitting his shoulders and running down the front of his chest. She seldom had anyone to eat breakfast with anymore. Over the last year, since Rachel got a job, and Skull slept in, she would make her own breakfast before school. Now that it was summer, she usually sat in front of the television and listened to the music channel while she had coffee and peanut butter toast—her favorite meal.

  "Do you have a girlfriend," she asked.

  "What kind of question is that?"

  She shrugged.

  "Well, it isn't any of your business." He drained the rest of his coffee and set the empty mug in the sink.

  Grabbing his vest off the counter, he slipped his arms through the holes. She caught sight of the massive devil tattoo on his back before the leather hid it from view.

  "I'll see you the next time I'm around." He stopped beside her. "Be good, Marla Marie."

  She swirled on the stool, ready to run after him. "What if I'm not?"

  "Then, you better be afraid because it won't be Rachel and Skull dealing with you. I'll come back and punish you."

  She tilted her head. "You'd come back?"

  His gaze narrowed, and he ran his hand down his beard, gathering it at the base of his neck. "Don't push me."

  "Don't leave."

  "I need to go."

  She sulked. "If you cared, you wouldn't leave me."

  "Rachel and Skull care about you. I'm not your parent." He walked to the door.

  She followed him. He was being mean.

  "You're the one who took me away from my mom." She stopped. "I-I could go to the police and tell them what you did, and they'd arrest you."

  He slowly turned around. She pressed her back against the wall in the foyer as he appeared to grow taller, broader, and stronger.

  Dutch stepped in front of her. "Do you know what I do to people who cross me?"

  There were only two times he'd scared her. Once when he caught her behind the pool hall in Moses Lake and when he'd dumped her in Bellevue with Rachel and Skull.

  He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head. She gulped. And, he scared her now.

  "Trust me." His deep voice made her shake. "You don't want to cross me."

  He backed away from her, opened the door, turned, and walked outside. Tears sprang from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

  Afraid of losing him forever, she ran to her room and looked out the window. Outside, Dutch put a bandana around his head and rode off. She sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Her heart broke into a million pieces.

  "Marla?" said Rachel. "Did I just hear Dutch leave?"

  She raised her head and screamed, "Get out of my room."

  Rachel stayed in the hallway. "What happened?"

  "Go away." She jumped up and slammed the door. "I don't want you."

  Falling on the bed, she pressed her face into the mattress. Somehow, she would find a way to leave.

  She would find her mom.

  There was nothing anyone could do to stop her. She was going to grow up and then find her mom by herself.

  She didn't need anyone. Especially Dutch.

  Chapter 10

  RACHEL SAT ACROSS THE table from Marla. "Because you skipped school, the principal is suspending you for three days. That means you have to stay inside the house. No talking to Alyssa on the phone and no friends over to the house."

  "Whatever." Marla scooted the chair to get up, and Rachel banged the table with her fist, stopping her. "What? Go ahead and take more things away from me. I can't go anywhere anyway. You won't even let me go to Alyssa's house anymore."

  Two months ago, after Dutch had left, she'd used the computer over at Alyssa's house to search the internet for her mom's name, but there were hundreds of women named Sue Smith in Washington. She had no idea which one was her mother.

  She thought her snooping would never get back to Rachel and Skull, but Alyssa's mom ratted on her.

  "Damnit, Marla. Why can't you see that I love you? We love you?" Rachel leaned closer. "You have a family here. We're only trying to do our best."

  "You're not my family."

  Rachel's sad gaze fell to the table. "You have to accept you belong to us now. You're our daughter."

  "You're not my mom," she yelled.

  Rachel stood. "I'm the only mom you've got."

  Her cheeks stung as if slapped, and she stared at Rachel. "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing." Rachel walked away from the table and went into the kitchen.

  Not letting her walk away without answering her, she followed. "I have a mom. She's in Moses Lake. She lives on Dover Street. Her name is Sue Smith."

  She tried to think of more facts she'd memorized. "My mom's got blonde hair, and...and she's skinny."

  Rachel stopped. Staring at her back, Marla said, "She has a lot of friends. Boyfriends, because they think she's pretty. And...and, she'd hate you for taking her daughter and not giving me back."

  Raising her hands, Rachel turned around. "She's dead. Your mom would want you to stay with us."

  Marla stared in horror at Rachel, shaking her head in denial. It wasn't true. The police took her mom. H-her mom came back and was looking for her.

  "Oh, God." Rachel's shoulders heaved, and she sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't want you to know. Not yet."

  "No." Her heart pound
ed. "You're lying."

  "Oh, God. What am I doing?" Rachel turned and held out her arms. "Marla, I'm sor—"

  "I hate you." She rushed to the front door, flung it open, and ran.

  Tears blinded her, burning her eyes. Pure panic pushed her forward. Rachel was lying.

  Her mom wasn't dead. She was gone. She'd come back. She always came back.

  Running down the road, she tried to escape the information. She wouldn't go back to Rachel and Skull. She'd find her mom on her own.

  She ran off the road, jumped over the ditch, and sprinted into the woods. Deflecting tree limbs with her arms, she dodged around the thick tree trunks, not thinking about where she was going but knowing what she was running from.

  She couldn't trust anyone. No one cared about her.

  A branch hit her face. She cried out and kept going.

  Her lungs burned. Her heart hurt.

  She tripped, scraping her hand on the ground. Pushing to her feet, she stumbled. For once, getting back to Moses Lake wasn't her goal.

  Her only need was to escape the lies.

  She hated Rachel. She hated Skull. She hated Dutch.

  She fell to her knees, heaving through her sobs. If it wasn't for Dutch, her mom would've come back.

  He'd stolen her, and then her mom couldn't find her.

  A low rumble vibrated the ground underneath her, erasing the vision of her mom waiting for her in the house, opening the door, and welcoming her home. Of sitting on the floor, watching her mom sleep on the couch. Of taking care of her mom and making sure she was covered with the blanket that always remained on the back of the sofa. Of the few times her mom would hold her hand as they walked to town. Of waiting outside for her mom to come out of a friend's house. Of the way, her mom would laugh and act silly, always in a better mood.

  She pushed away the times she couldn't wake her mom or the times they'd gone without food. The secrets that she'd kept from her teachers. The men. The needles. The drapes always staying closed.

  "I see her," shouted a man.

  Marla rubbed her arm across her eyes and sat up. Every night, she wished her mom would find her, and she'd belong to someone again.

  But she couldn't depend on anyone. She was alone.

  "Marla!" Skull barreled through the underbrush.

  Dead inside, she watched him pick her up as if she wasn't there. She accepted his hug and his clumsy hands brushing back her hair and looking at her face.

  More WAKOM members joined Skull in the woods. Their attention on her.

  All the voices blended into a low rumble, much like the motorcycles they rode. Hollow inside, their concern bounced off her. They were going to keep her here. Having them take her back had nothing to do with her and what she'd learned.

  Skull put her on her feet and grabbed her hand, leading her through the woods. His rough, strong hand nothing like the thin, fragile hand of her mother.

  Chapter 11

  DUTCH STORMED INTO Rachel and Skull's house without knocking. "Where is she?"

  Because of shit going down within WAKOM, it'd taken him a week to get back to Bellevue after Rachel called him about her blowup with Marla Marie.

  Rachel held her finger to her lips and whispered, "In her room but don't go in there yelling."

  "She needs her ass whipped," he muttered.

  "If anyone does, it's me." Rachel closed her eyes and shook her head before looking at him again. "I never meant to tell her about her mom, but she kept mouthing off and..."

  "Not your fault." He stepped around her. "I should've told her a year ago when it happened. I thought waiting until she was older, she'd understand better."

  "It was her mother," whispered Rachel. "You know what it's like to believe in a parent. We never gave up on mom when we were taken away from her. We didn't care that she had no money or help in raising us."

  There was a difference. Their mom tried her hardest to support two kids. Marla Marie's mom was a heroin addict who put the drug before her child's health and welfare. He'd protected a ten-year-old child from any more harm coming to her by a neglectful mom. If another man had found a starving child as beautiful as Marla Marie, she wouldn't be sitting in her room pissed off at the world. She'd be a thirteen-year-old child who was dealing with a past of rape, abuse, and not able to see that she was lucky to be alive. At the very least, she would've followed her mom's choices and stuck a needle in her arm to escape the harsh life she was given.

  "I'm taking her away from the house for a while." He looked at his sister. "I'll bring her back tonight."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To do what needs to be done."

  Rachel closed her mouth and slowly nodded. His sister wasn't happy with how he chose to take care of the problem, but she knew her place and would allow him to do what he thought best without giving him a fight.

  He walked down the hallway, knocked on the bedroom door, and opened it before Marla Marie could answer. She sat on the bed with her eyes closed. Her lack of response caused by the headphones over her ears plugged into an old radio beside the bed.

  Striding across the room, he was halfway there when she opened her eyes and reached up to uncover her ears. Her lack of surprise or excitement slowed him down.

  It was as if she had no feelings at all.

  No matter how she acted with Rachel and Skull, she'd always welcomed him back.

  He glanced at her bare feet. "Get your shoes on and grab a coat. You're coming with me."

  She unfolded her legs and slid off the bed. Her jaded response at seeing him pissed him off. Whatever was going through her head was going to stop. She had a home. A family. There was nothing going on in her life now, except news of her mom's death, that would cause her to mope around.

  His sister wanted to pussyfoot around Marla Marie. Rachel couldn't compare their childhood to Marla Marie's life and take pity on her. Marla Marie needed discipline, guidance, and love. Now more than ever.

  Everything Rachel was doing was done for the girl. Marla Marie needed to see what was right in front of her face.

  Once she was ready, he walked out of the house. He handed her the helmet that he usually carried on the back of his bike unless he traveled through a state that required him to put the brain bucket on.

  She never eyed him curiously for letting her ride. Besides the one time he'd brought her back when she ran away after putting her with Rachel and Skull, he'd always refused to let her ride on the back of the Harley and had strict instructions that nobody else in the club was allowed to take her for a ride.

  Big enough to hold on and follow directions, she could go with him. He gave her instructions on what she needed to do. Then, he straddled the bike and flipped the footpegs down. She climbed up and wrapped her arms around him. Making sure she settled; he started the Harley and rode away from Bellevue.

  When he'd arrived, he had no plans on where to take her. He only knew she needed a break from living at the house where they tended to coddle her. She needed a fast wakeup to see that she had a better life with Rachel and Skull.

  Over the first few miles, he paid attention to her arms, her slight weight pressed against his back, her short, slim legs molded around his hips. She seemed too little to sit a motorcycle properly, and he worried that she would let her mind wander and let go for a second at her age.

  A second could kill her.

  Three hours later, after several stops to let Marla Marie stretch her legs and dealing with her giving him the cold shoulder, he arrived in Moses Lake.

  It wasn't until he was halfway through town, next to McDonald's golden arches, that she understood where he'd brought her.

  Her arms tightened around him, and she was almost able to touch her hands together in front of him. Now that he was here, there was no protecting her. She needed to see where she came from.

  Going down the main street, he passed the pool hall where the Moses Lake Chapter had their clubhouse. An MC brother dipped his chin in front of the building, and Dutch
held out two fingers, not here to handle business.

  He was on his own time and had something more important to take care of today.

  As he followed the road with the field to his left, Marla Marie's body stiffened behind her. Despite her young age when he'd kidnapped her away from everything she knew, she remembered where she'd come from. She was back on familiar terrain, probably remembering it as a child would a favorite toy she liked to play with and always thought was better than it was in reality.

  Two more turns and he pulled into the driveway of the house her mom had rented under the welfare program. He turned off the bike. Marla Marie never let go of him.

  He patted her lower leg. "Hop off."

  She slid off the seat and stood, staring at the house. He had no qualms about trespassing because three years ago, as soon as he'd settled Marla Marie in with his sister, he'd approached the owner and convinced him to sell the house for the amount of money he flashed in front of him.

  He had no plans for the place. At the time, he wanted to protect himself. If the cops investigated a missing child and contacted the house owner where Marla Marie last lived, asking questions, he wanted to be aware of what was going on.

  Every few months, he had one of the WAKOM members swing by and adjust the heater's temperature and check the place for problems.

  Besides that, the house sat empty.

  Getting off the bike, he flipped through the keys on his keyring until he found the right one. Then, he handed it to Marla Marie.

  "Go ahead and go in." He followed her at a slower pace.

  The front door gave her trouble, but she managed to open it on her own. Looking back at him, she hesitated at the threshold. He lifted his chin, motioning her to go.

  She stepped in alone. From the door, he watched her stop in the living room. The furniture that came with the house remained. The same things she was used to seeing. The same belongings she probably thought her mother had owned but were no more than second-hand purchases by a guy who wanted to make a buck or two a month renting it out to poor people.

  Suddenly, Marla Mae rushed out of the room. He swallowed, recognizing that hopefulness in her face. She wouldn't find her mom waiting for her in the other room.