Find Me, Keep Me: A Let Me Go Novel (A Let Me Go series Book 3)

by L. L. Akers

  There they were, Ozzie running full throttle with his baggy face and long hair waving in the wind and his drool flying backwards, dragging Gabby behind him, hanging tightly onto the leash with one hand and wiping the spittle from her face with the other, yelling, “Stop, Ozzie! Stop!”

  Maybe some good could come out of her latest project after all. Gabby and Jake had been trying to have a baby now for the last year and while Gabby didn’t talk about it much, Olivia knew she was aching to be a mother. Maybe Ozzie could help fill that void until it happened for her.

  Now to just talk Gabby into taking him.

  5

  Today was the day they were all going to meet Dusty’s elusive big brother—finally. Emma was probably jittery about meeting him. Their dad had driven in the previous night to stay at Gabby’s and meet Grayson as well.

  Rickey had been excited to see his grandpa and his Aunt Gabby had asked that he stay the night too, killing two birds with one stone; giving Rickey time with his grandpa, and giving Dusty the opportunity to stay the night with Emma to try to keep her calm, as she had been a nervous wreck for the past month.

  Olivia sat at her table, and opened her laptop. Her apartment was small, with only two bedrooms. She’d had to empty the spare room for her guests, leaving only the kitchen table as a make-shift office. She opened her laptop and logged in.

  Relieved to see his icon lit up, she typed, “Hey... you out there?” and waited for an answer. She hoped he was online. Gabby would be back any time and she just wanted to tell him what had happened.

  He’d become more than only a chat buddy to her over the past three months. He was the bodiless voice that she admitted all her careless adventures to. He’d mysteriously been able to do what no man had done since her ex-husband... break down her defenses and pull open the curtain a little bit.

  She’d told him all about Billy—her ex-husband—and in return he’d encouraged her to get out and meet a new man. He was adamant that all men weren’t like Billy, she just needed to find one.

  As Olivia had unraveled her secrets to him, he’d been her only voice of reason who knew enough to caution her against what she was doing—although she didn’t listen. And she didn’t feel bad about not taking his advice. It wasn’t as if he was her boyfriend... she didn’t even know his real name. She’d met him in a Facebook survivor support group.

  After she’d mentioned she was from South Kackalacky. He’d been the only one to respond that he knew where she was talking about—as he lived in South Carolina too.

  At first, that had startled her. She’d logged off quickly, and slammed her laptop closed. She’d paced the floor. She’d stayed away for a while and lurked in a new support group. It was smaller and seemed more secure.

  Then, his avatar popped up there, too. Again, she was startled, until she reminded herself that it wasn’t only women and children that were abused. There were many men out there who were victims. However, it was rarely reported.

  And she’d found both groups, why wouldn’t he? She’d finally laughed to herself at her silliness over the coincidence. South Carolina was a big state; it was highly unlikely they were even in the same city. So she’d let her guard down a little and welcomed him as a fellow-survivor, and that was the start of their online relationship, such as it was. That had been three months ago.

  His presence there was at first jarring, being one of few males in a support group of mostly women. It was obvious from his comments that he was a man, and she was sure she wasn’t the only one a little apprehensive about that. But soon he’d won them all over with his rare but inspirational posts, and his few heartfelt comments to others who had shared. He never asked for anything for himself, only gave encouragement to everyone else.

  Even his screen name was reassuring to most of the women in both groups—maybe even hopefully romantic. It was a rather long screen name, but it was cool. FindHerKeepHer.

  Olivia guessed there wasn’t a woman in those groups that didn’t secretly swoon when they saw his avatar and his screen-name, hoping for their own knight in shining armor to find her and keep her, and give them the happily ever after that all women yearned for.

  He seemed to be online all the time. She found herself looking forward to his comments. He was an enigma. His sensitive side strangely conflicted with a witty—almost sarcastic—side.

  She found herself grinning ear to ear at his snarky wit, when he’d randomly post on a non-serious issue. It was obvious he was kidding, as they’d all come to know him as a completely different personality on the serious posts, so it was a startling surprise when his cynical side finally popped out on the non-serious issues and posts... so ironic it was funny—coming from him—and Olivia found she enjoyed the snarky side of him as well, sometimes even laughing out loud at his remarks.

  Soon they were bantering back and forth in both groups, finding each other’s comments and replying... and it wasn’t a surprise when he’d asked if she’d like to chat privately, outside the group. She’d agreed immediately.

  She hoped to draw him out a little and try to find out his story. She felt terrible for doing it, but she was curious. Had he been a victim? It wasn’t unheard of.

  There were many male victims of domestic and sexual abuse. And factually, they rarely reported a crime against themselves. But he wasn’t telling, and it was considered bad form to ask outright. Soon, Olivia gave up on trying to get him to reveal his past, and just enjoyed having someone to talk to... about everything.

  It was seldom she ever clicked her chat and didn’t see his avatar bolded—a throbbing heart pierced by a double-headed arrow—meaning he was online. Olivia assumed he must work a desk-job, and thus was near his computer all day.

  At night, he was usually there at some point, too. Rarely a night went by without her telling him about her day. If nothing interesting was happening, he prompted her to talk about her family. She vaguely filled him in about both her sisters being survivors, as well as her mom, not using their real names, of course. Olivia liked the anonymity her screen name afforded her... she was still silently grieving for her mom, and it was nice to be able to tell their stories to a stranger... a stranger who patiently listened without judgment or pity.

  She waited for the thinking bubbles to appear to indicate that he was responding. As she waited, she realized how easily she’d accepted the evasiveness he employed on her. He knew nearly everything about her, starting with her abusive marriage to Billy and ending with... well, now. But she still didn’t know much about him.

  He always seemed to redirect every conversation back to her, or the girls she tried to save, or her family. She’d tried to amend that several times on frequent hour-long chats, but he remained a mystery. Neither had ever asked for a real-life picture of each other either—that seemed icky—like it would turn it into an online-dating-thingy, which Olivia abhorred even the thought of.

  That left her with absolutely no idea who he really was behind the throbbing pierced heart and swoon-worthy screen-name.

  Disappointed, she was about to give up and close the laptop when she saw he was typing. His message popped up. “Dragonfly, I’m here.”

  A smile spread across her face, and her pulse quickened. Just a few words coming from him lifted her spirits every time she chatted with him.

  “Hi. I only have a few minutes. I wanted to tell you I lost another one.” She inserted a sad face emoticon at the end of her message.

  FindHerKeepHer’s thinking bubble popped up again, indicating he was typing. “Ember?”

  “Yeah,” she typed. “Her manager caught her. Not a happy reunion.”

  She sat back and watched his bubbles again.

  “So sorry. You okay?” he typed.

  Olivia sighed. This is exactly what she needed. To know that someone else knew what she was doing and was concerned about her. Someone cared. Even if that someone was a disembodied line of text on the computer, it was a little reassuring that at least someone out there knew.

&n
bsp; What if she ever came up missing? Gabby and Emma would have no idea where to even start to look.

  She answered him. “I’m fine. I wasn’t here.”

  “Good,” he typed. “You need to give up on the street-girls before you get hurt. They’ll always go back anyway. They’re where they’re meant to be.”

  Olivia’s eyebrows scrunched, and her lips pushed together into a thin line. He’d never given her such a direct—and cynical—opinion before, especially about something that he knew directly conflicted with her own opinion; not to mention her life’s work. Actually, this was the first time he’d ever said anything negative and offensive about her girls.

  She attacked the keyboard with a flurry of fingers. “No. They’re NOT meant to be there. Why would you even say that?!” she typed, then sat back in her chair staring at their words in surprise before pressing the enter button on her reply.

  Goodness! This is our first disagreement, she realized.

  Usually he was very short on words, but she couldn’t ever remember a time he’d encouraged her to give up on anyone or anything.

  He must be worried about me, she realized in surprise.

  Her anger turned to relief and she smiled as she quickly deleted her reply and instead wrote, “I’ll try to be more careful who I bring home next time.” She tagged a smiley face onto the end. “We leave for Bald Head Island in a few days. I’m looking forward to a break.”

  She watched his thinking bubbles as he typed and reminded herself not to mention anything else about Bald Head Island. She’d already told him all about the wedding and the island, and even posted pictures for him to see to try to entice him to want to go there. She’d all but outright asked him to go. He hadn’t taken the bait yet, but she felt like he would.

  In the past few weeks, the idea of finally meeting the man behind the avatar—face to face—just once, had snuck into her subconscious. And maybe seeing him more than once... depending on how it went. She was surprised to find she finally felt something... more than a friendship, for a man. Just a little spark of something... else.

  That was a first for her since her divorce.

  If she could just talk directly to him, they might hit it off in real life like they did on the computer. And maybe she could even kindle a flame from the long-forgotten cold ashes of her love life.

  His bubbles stopped and his message appeared. “I hope you’ll relax and pamper yourself some.”

  Okay, so still not biting... she thought.

  “I’m going to miss chatting with you every day. I hear the Wi-Fi on the island is very spotty. I may not be able to get a connection,” she typed.

  He quickly tapped out, “I’ll miss you too. But if you can’t get through, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

  Be where? Olivia thought for the thousandth time. She’d never had the nerve to ask him where in South Carolina he lived... Was it close? Same town? Surely it wasn’t the same town. That would be too much of a coincidence. But she was afraid that if she asked, and he answered, she’d feel obligated to tell him where she was, too. And that was not happening. She wasn’t ready for him to know exactly where she lived.

  Meeting on an island, with her sisters’ men around her was the perfect scenario... a once in a lifetime chance. She’d feel safe. And if he turned out to be some nut job after all, Dusty and Jake would quickly take care of the situation. She’d told herself she wouldn’t directly ask him to go, but she didn’t want to miss this opportunity. Plus she’d already told Gabby she might be meeting him. Gabby would never leave it alone...she’d said from the beginning there was something shady about him. She would drive her crazy. She wished again that she hadn’t mentioned him to her meddling twin sister.

  She ran her hands through her hair and drew in a deep breath. Releasing it, her fingers attacked the keys before she could lose her nerve.

  “You’re welcome to come, you know. You can bunk with the groom’s brother. I hear their golf courses are world class, and they have kayaking tours and tennis courts. Maybe you need a break too?”

  He quickly answered—too quick...

  “Dragonfly, I wish I could, but I can’t. We just got a package in, and I’ve really got my hands full here. Plus, I don’t do sports. I prefer to watch them on TV with a bowl of popcorn and a cold beer.”

  Olivia let his words sink in, unsure how to answer. He’d said no. No meant no. No was no. And who was ‘we’ that he referred to? Probably none of her business. She better not ask, although she’d also like to ask what kind of package. He’d never mentioned anything about his work before.

  She sighed.

  Another message appeared, “You go. Spread your wings and fly. Find some peace there... and maybe a man. You need to stop spending every minute flittering around from one person to the next trying to fix them. Spend that time relaxing and spoiling yourself.”

  She cringed in embarrassment as she read his answer. Not only did he not want to meet her, but was he suggesting she meet someone else? She could feel her face burn.

  She scolded herself aloud, “It’s not like I was asking him to be my date. He doesn’t think that! This is not a rejection! Stop analyzing!”

  To him, she slowly tapped out, “Yeah. I’ll kick back and not worry about my girls for a while. Well, gotta run. Got that family thing today. Talk later?” she asked, knowing already they would. She didn’t need to even ask.

  “Definitely,” he responded, and then he signed off, his screen name fading before her eyes.

  6

  Olivia looked around the room, barely acknowledging the mess—she could deal with that later. She looked down at her clothes, covered in long dog hairs and tried to dust it off with her hands. It wasn’t coming off.

  She sighed. She was ashamed at getting caught crying by Gabby. They’d lived through hell, and survived to walk out the other side. They were survivors. They weren’t weak anymore. She hoped Gabby realized it wasn’t weak to cry for someone else—it was human.

  She walked into her bedroom and closed her door, stripped off everything and quickly changed into a casual, long dress. She threw a light denim jacket over it, while sliding her feet into flip-flops. Her hair was still a mess from having lain on the couch all morning—sulking—so she ran a brush through it and twisted it up into a messy bun.

  There, she thought. Now it looks intentionally messy. She brushed on some blush and dabbed some shine on her lips and was ready to go.

  She gave herself a final look in the mirror, rubbing her lips together to spread the shine. She looked at her unmarked face. The bruises were still there; but deeply hidden away. No amount of healing could ever fully remove them. They were a part of her now, and she carried them silently, hoping one day they would fade away and take the memories with them. Maybe then she could move on with her own life and find happiness.

  She thought about Ember. She was so young; the same age as Olivia herself had been when she’d finally left Billy. It wasn’t too late for her.

  And I’ll be damned if I’m giving up on her, she thought as her jaw hardened and she grit her teeth.

  She was glad Gabby had dropped the idea of calling the police. She couldn’t do that. What Gabby and Emma didn’t know was the girls she’d been taking in to her home weren’t from her new job, where she counseled battered woman and directed them to shelters.

  The girls that had been living under her roof were street girls. Some people called them hookers. These girls didn’t usually come looking for help. Olivia found them. More times than not, the girls had hit the streets fleeing from an abusive father, uncle, brother... and were easily taken in by the smooth-talking men with a warm place to sleep, food and pretty clothes. It wasn’t until they were violently forced to ‘work’ by the same gentle-handed man that had taken them in, that they realized their situations were worse than when they’d started.

  Olivia searched out these girls online, and sometimes even on the streets. Gabby and Emma had no idea she spent her lonely nig
hts on the internet, sometimes even posing as someone else.

  She answered the crude advertisements, and cruised the survivor groups, hoping to extend a hand to a victim. Sometimes she made virtual friends and offered to help, and sometimes—if answering an advertisement—arranging to meet them for a ‘hook-up,’ only to surprise the girl when she realized Olivia wasn’t there for some kinky afternoon delight... but to offer them an out: hope, a temporary room, and a possible new future.

  She’d found and pulled six girls from the streets so far this way, and things had been going well until the last few months. She’d lost all of the last three girls she’d brought home.

  Regardless of what Olivia was seeing... progress in leaps and bounds, both inside and outside changes shining from within these young girls... she’d still come home the last three times to find the girls gone and the house wrecked. It was so frustrating.

  Gabby and Emma would be furious at the risks she’d taken doing this. It was a dangerous game, dodging the managers—no one used the word pimp anymore—while trying to talk to their girls. But she had to... she just had to take her chances. Her online screenname had spread on the internet, and on the street as well. As Gabby had said, but for different reasons, she thought to herself. She’d sent dozens of girls to the many shelters with their promises they’d come and see her for counseling, and sometimes they did.

  Unfortunately, shelters filled up quickly—or they didn’t take the pets some women refused to leave behind—and Olivia found herself unable to send the girls back to the street, where’d they’d sell their bodies to get by, or home where they’d be met with fists and feet.

  She didn’t mind sharing her small apartment. She set hard rules and firm boundaries, and most complied. None stayed for more than a week or two. A few had left for a better life, but maybe the others were going back to their old life. The thought of that made her sick. She could only open the door for these women; it was up to them to walk through it.