Fighting Our Way

by Abigail Davies

  “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  I smile tightly, not really knowing how to feel as she pulls me away from Dad and wraps her thin arms around me, her blond hair moving and wafting us with the smell of the same shampoo I used to use—watermelon.

  Closing my eyes, I feel like the same eighteen-year-old girl who didn’t know what to do or how to cope. Not even my mother's hugs could make me feel safe back then.

  It was part of the plan for me to have minimal contact, at least until I was settled. But a year after I had lived with Tris, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to my mom and dad properly. It’s not their fault that we lost touch. For years they tried to contact me, but other than very brief phone calls, I haven’t talked to them much which I now regret.

  It’s funny how I ran away from here but when I’m feeling at my most insecure, not knowing which way to turn or what road will lead me to the best place, I come back home.

  Home will always be home, and my mom and dad will always make me feel safe. There’s only one other person that makes me feel like that... Nate.

  I bat away the image of his grinning face and sparkling green eyes as soon as it comes into my mind. I can’t think about him now. I made the choice to pull away so I need to stick to it—for his protection.

  Mom pulls away and leads me into the house, Dad bringing up the rear as we walk up the stairs. My gaze flicks around the small hallway that leads into the home I grew up in, not a thing changed.

  The walls are still a beige color with family photographs and artwork adorning them, and the dark wood floor is still covered with the same rug that I used to sit on and build all my Lego.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie, but I have a long shift and your dad was just about to go to work, too.”

  “That’s okay,” I tell Mom. “I’ll chill out here today and then maybe I could cook something for dinner?”

  Mom tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as Dad pushes his thumbs into the belt he wears around his waist containing his cuffs and other sheriff… things.

  “Something’s wrong.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she turns to Dad. “Something’s wrong, Carl.”

  He stares at me, his eyes narrowing as he steps forward. “Sweetheart, if you need—” The sound of his cell blasting through the hallway has him cursing under his breath and when he pulls it out, his eyes flutter closed. “I’ve got to get to the station.”

  Smiling, I hitch up one shoulder in a half shrug. “That’s okay, we’ll talk later.”

  They both hesitate, but after half a minute, they say their goodbyes and I watch out of the window next to the front door as they pull out of the driveway, leaving me alone.

  Pulling in a deep breath, I step away and walk up the stairs. My stomach dips and memories of the last time I was here invade my mind. It feels like forever but at the same time just yesterday.

  Turning left at the top of the stairs, I walk past two doors—an office and a bathroom—before I come to my bedroom door. The plaque with my name still sits in the middle of the white wood, and I run my fingers over it, whispering the word under my breath.

  Pushing it open, I step inside, my Converse sinking into the plush mauve carpet as I travel back in time.

  My bed is neatly made, the same way it was six years ago, and pictures hang off a board over the desk I used to sit at to do my homework.

  The worn mattress groans as I sit on the edge, my gaze flitting around the cream walls which are covered in shelves that house all of my vinyl records. There has to be hundreds here, and I can’t help but pluck one off the shelf and walk over to my record player, putting it on and basking in the first notes of the music.

  The small crackle over the speaker from the player brings a grin to my face before the soft voice starts to sing. There’s nothing like the smell of home and the comforts of the things you grew up with. It brings me a sense of peace, so when the record finishes, and my eyes open zoning in on the door across the street, that peace evaporates.

  The dark-blue paint is peeling and the garden looks like it’s been left to grow for the whole year, no-one here to tend to it.

  I can’t tear my eyes away as my fingertips tingle and my feet itch to go over there. But I don’t, I keep my Converse glued to the carpet.

  I came here not only to draw them out but to also ask my dad for help. He was the person who helped me get out of this small town and away from them in the first place, but now I need his help to draw them out instead of escape them.

  I finally managed to pull myself away from the window after what felt like minutes but was actually more like an hour. I needed something to take my mind off everything so I buried myself in Netflix on my tablet.

  As the sky darkened and I knew the talk with my parents was coming closer, I headed downstairs to distract myself even more.

  I’m just pulling out a batch of cookies from the oven when the front door bangs shut and footsteps near.

  “I’ve missed that smell in this house,” Dad says as he walks into the kitchen.

  I look at him over my shoulder, smiling as he leans against the doorframe.

  “I made your favorite,” I tell him.

  “Chocolate and pecan?”

  I nod in reply and he pushes off the doorframe and plucks one right off the tray. He groans as he takes a bite, his eyes closing. “I’ve missed these.”

  The door bangs shut again and Mom rolls her eyes when she comes into the kitchen. “I knew I’d find you in here, Carl.” She picks up a cookie and takes a bite. “I’ve missed these.”

  “That’s what Dad said.”

  She leans against the counter next to Dad, looking around the kitchen and blowing out a deep breath.

  “Who wants takeout?” she asks.

  “I’d kill for a pizza,” I say, joining in with them and eating a cookie. They’re delicious fresh out of the oven, all warm and gooey.

  Dad orders us a couple of pizzas before him and Mom go upstairs to change out of their uniforms, and I wait in the kitchen, tapping my fingertips against the table. This is where I need to tell them everything that’s been going on. I should have done it sooner, when the first package arrived. I should have told at least Nate or Tris. I’ve been stupid to think I could handle this by myself. It’s escalated to a point where I can’t contain it any longer.

  I know I need help, and the two people that will do that without a second thought are my parents.

  The doorbell rings as Dad’s footsteps sound down the stairs. He pays the delivery guy and brings it into the kitchen, shouting for Mom as he places the pizza boxes on the table.

  We all eat in silence until finally Dad says, his voice gruff, “Tell us what’s going on.”

  Swallowing, I shuffle in my chair. “I…” My gaze flits between him and Mom, a lie on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t come out, instead I whisper, “I don’t know where to start.”

  “How about what’s happened these last six years,” he replies, a frown on his face. “The deal was for you to settle down and then get back in touch. Not to cut contact altogether.”

  “I know,” I say, my voice soft. “I was so far away from here I really thought I could be a different person—the one without the baggage.”

  “How did that work out for you?” Mom asks, her tone light, and when I look up, I see the shine of tears over her eyes.

  Leaning back against the chair, I start to tell them everything. How I ended up a few states away, found a job as a kind-of nanny. I tell them all about Tris and the kids, a smile pulling at my lips when I think about the family I was accepted into.

  “Then a few months ago, Nate—his best friend—took me out for a drink and… and I…” Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I will the tears to stay at bay. “That’s around the time the first package came.”

  “Package?” Mom leans forward, her hand covering mine.

  Nodding, I lift my gaze to Dad’s. “It was her.”

  He knows who I’m ta
lking about, because she’s the whole reason I left. I couldn’t handle the constant phone calls in the middle of the night, or the way she would watch me from across the street. The things she would say when I stepped outside the front door. I couldn’t get away from any of it, no matter what my dad did and the restraining order he had put on her.

  None of it mattered, because in her mind it was all my fault.

  I killed her baby.

  I focus on Dad as he asks, “She found you?”

  “Yeah.” My nostrils flare as a tear escapes and slides down my cheek. “Each package was worse than the last, but the final one...” Taking a breath, I wrap my arms around my middle trying to hold myself together. “She followed me and threatened the kids and Nate.”

  Mom stands up and comes to sit next to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “Oh, sweetie.”

  “Threatening how?” Dad asks, using his sheriff’s voice. I pull the photograph out of my pocket that I haven’t let out of my sight. Handing it over with shaking hands, Dad takes it from me, flipping it over to read the message. “What did Nate and Tristan say about this?”

  “I haven’t told them.”

  “What?” he thunders, bringing his gaze back up to mine.

  I stare at the furious expression in my dad’s brown eyes, biting my bottom lip. “They don’t know about any of it, they think I moved out because I wanted to go down a different career path.” Dad stands up, the chair clattering behind him as Mom rubs my arm soothingly. “I was trying to keep them safe.”

  Swiping his hand through his hair, he starts pacing, mumbling as he forms a plan. Finally, he turns back around, stopping a few feet away before he says, “We need to find her, ask her what she’s trying to achieve and then contact a lawyer.”

  I don’t tell him that I could contact a lawyer without a problem, that this particular lawyer would have helped me and protected me had I told him what was happening, instead, I nod in agreement.

  “That’s why I came home, I thought she might follow me back here.”

  “And has she?” Mom asks, her voice soft and gentle.

  “Not yet.”

  “There’s still time,” Mom says. “How long are you staying?”

  “I don’t know. Dad?” I ask, knowing I can rely on him for a plan.

  He pulls his cell out, holding his finger up, silently telling me to give him a minute as he brings it to his ear and walks into the hallway.

  “She left a week after you did, sweetie.” I turn back to Mom. “From what I heard, she was put into rehab to help her grieving.” Rehab? I raise my brow at Mom when she flicks her gaze away. “That’s what they told people anyway, but I know she was placed on the mental health ward. Not long after that her and Ryan got a divorce.”

  My eyes widen at what she’s said. Does this mean she’s unhinged? God, this makes everything so much worse. I’ve been letting a mad woman follow me. “So, it’s only her now?”

  “Yeah… I should contact Ryan and tell him what’s going on.” She chews her bottom lip. “I’ll ask your dad and see what he says.”

  If Ryan divorced her back then then I doubt he’ll be interested in what she’s doing now. I open my mouth to reply but Dad comes back in and sits down, resting his head in his hands. We all sit in silence for what feels like hours and when Dad looks back up, his face determined and his eyes shadowed with something I’ve never seen before, I realize he’ll do whatever he can to help me.

  “You have to go back if you can’t draw her out,” he tells me.

  “I know.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  A breath leaves me in a whoosh and my shoulders droop almost as if all of the extra weight I’ve been carrying around has been lifted off me. “I’m scared,” I reply, letting them see it all—the pain, the fright.

  He stands and pulls me up, crushing me to his chest. “If she hasn’t turned up by Monday, I’ll book flights for us to go back on Tuesday. I’ll help you find her; we’ll do it together.” Pulling back, he frames my face with his large hands. “I can’t get anyone to cover the station until then, but I’ll put some feelers out and find some more information, okay?”

  “You don’t have to come back with me.” There’s no conviction to what I’m saying, but I feel like I have to say it.

  “Yes, I do,” he growls. “I helped you escape once—let you run—but not again. We’re a team, and ain’t no way in hell will I have my little girl scared to go out of her own house again.”

  All of the pain and fearfulness starts to wane as I stare into his eyes, knowing I won’t be alone again. The one man who always protected me will be there.

  “It doesn’t matter how old you get, sweetheart.” He smiles softly. “You’ll always be my little girl.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and close my eyes, relishing in the protection of his arms.

  Things can only get better from here. It may have taken me a long time to reach out to the people who will always love me, but it doesn’t matter because I’m here now and I know deep down everything will be alright.

  I’m so done with her radio silence. If she doesn’t want to continue where we left off and call it a day for us then she should at least have the guts to say it to my face. It took Holland a few days to finally narrow down Amelia’s address for me since she used a fake name. It’s like she knew I’d try to find her, and she obviously doesn’t want to be found.

  If that’s the case, then fine. But she’s telling me to my face after she sees the kids she’s left behind. I’m an asshole taking the kids with me, I know that, but the gut feeling I’ve always trusted tells me she’s making a huge mistake. She’s keeping something from us all and I’m done with her secrets.

  I knock a beat on the front door of Tris’s house before opening it and calling, “Where’s my princess?” into the entryway.

  A second later I hear a squeal and footsteps padding across the hallway upstairs.

  “Whoa! Slow down before you get to the stairs!” I shout up to Izzie.

  She stops and rolls her eyes, walking down the stairs and jumping into my outstretched arms. “Uncle Nate!”

  “Hey, beautiful, where’s your dad and brother?”

  She pulls out of the hug and puts her pointer finger on her lips like she’s thinking. “I think Clay is in his room reading more books and Daddy is with Harmony in his office.”

  I place her on the floor and start to walk up the stairs. “Do you think you could tell Clay to get ready to go while I have a talk with your dad?”

  “Yeah.” She skips down the opposite hallway to me shouting, “Clay! Uncle Nate is here!”

  I knock on the office door and Tris appears, his expression full of concern and my stomach drops. If anything has happened to her— “What? What’s wrong?”

  He waves me in and as soon as I step inside, I’m faced with a red and blotchy-faced Harmony. She looks like she hasn’t stopped crying for hours.

  “Harm? Are you okay?”

  She stands up and Tris walks over to her, nuzzling her into his side. “What do you know about the foster care system?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m lost.” My gaze moves between the two of them and Tris kisses the top of Harm’s head and encourages her to sit down again.

  “I can’t sit down, I feel like I’m doing nothing for him.”

  Tris looks at me. “You know she’s been volunteering at the hospital with the babies that are really sick?” I nod. “I’ve been going along too and she—we both have gotten attached to one of them that has no parents.”

  I put the pieces of the puzzle together myself but Harmony clarifies it for me anyway. “I went to the hospital as usual on Sunday and he wasn’t there anymore. They told me not to get attached but I couldn’t help it.” She looks up at me, tears brimming her eyes. “We have to get him back, I won’t have him spend another minute in the system.”

  I blow out a breath and rub the back of my neck with my hand. “This isn’t my area of expertise,
Tris.”

  “Is there anything you could tell us? Or refer us to someone that could?” Harm asks, desperation in her voice. I can tell she loves this baby.

  I pull my cell out of my pocket and dial Marina while holding up a finger to them as I relay the situation to her. I walk over to Tris’s desk and write down a few contact details she gives me before thanking her and hanging up.

  “Okay, I have a few numbers for you to call and I’m personally getting on this case. There’s a lawyer in our firm has dealt with a few social cases before so I’ll pay her a visit and get back to you as soon as possible.”

  Harm throws her arms around me. “Thank you so much, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “To us.” Tris steps forward and grasps my shoulder.

  “I’ll do everything I can to help you guys, but from what I do know, this could be a lengthy process to try and foster this kid.”

  “Foster?” Harm asks, confused. “We don’t want to foster, we want to adopt him.”

  I try to gage Tris’s reaction to this statement but I don’t see a flicker of doubt in his expression, I only see the same love and desperation pouring out of him as I do with Harmony.

  It’s great to see my old friend back. “That’s incredible. You’re going to be an amazing mom, Harm.”

  She tears up. “I just want this all to work out. I know it’s not going to happen overnight, but Frankie deserves a loving family.”

  This is a big step for them both, they’ve only been together for a few months but I guess in the grand scheme of things, time doesn’t matter when you’ve found the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. But as much as I’m insanely happy for them, I’m also jealous I don’t have my arms around the one I want.

  Speaking of… “I’ll make all the necessary phone calls and find out where he is when I get home from taking the kids out.”

  “Thank you,” Harmony says as she dries her tears with a tissue Tris hands her.

  Tris motions for us to step outside. “I want to come and see Amelia with you, with all this going on, I really want her here.”