Finding Mia

by Dianne J Wilson

  “Hello, Roric.”

  His eyes bulged and he swung about looking for something. In two heartbeats, he’d regained composure. His eyes still shifted, hunting. For his blade?

  Isobel thought of it tucked safely behind the bookshelf. Keep looking, you’re not going to find it.

  Tension danced through his shoulders. He fell back on smooth. “Isobel. Full of surprises, aren’t you? Can I get you something to drink? Brandy?”

  Bel shook her head.

  “Pity.” Glass decanter clinked against crystal as he poured out a third of a cup. Regarding her with thoughtful eyes, he changed his mind, filled the glass, and downed half of it in one swallow. He grimaced. “So you didn’t like your accommodation? I thought it was perfect myself. Just no pleasing some people. Maybe we need to consider a more permanent solution for you.” He inched towards her, a lion admiring its prey.

  Bel had expected to feel fear. She shook her head with a smile. Uncanny.

  Roric must have picked up on something. He stopped and fidgeted, muttering under his breath. He threw back another mouthful from his glass and then looked her straight in the eye. “Why did you come here, Isobel? Has the young lass Mia proved too much of a handful for you? You want me to take her off your hands? Hmm?”

  “You dare even think of touching a hair on her head—”

  He flung his hands up in mock-surrender. “Touchy, touchy! My question remains.”

  A flash of red caught her eye. Hanging on the side wall off a row of hooks were half a dozen red silk ties, identical to those Mia had been tied up with. Acid rose in her throat. “I want to know why.”

  “Why? Why what? Selling kids? Good money. Single moms? Easy to mess with and get rid of. Is it all a result of my own tragic childhood? Was I getting back at society for the rotten life I was dealt? Or maybe I’m just wicked beyond belief. What do you think, Isobel? Hmm? You seem to be quite the expert.”

  Each question felt like a slap on her face. Heat flooded her cheeks. This was how she remembered him, yet someone had turned on the floodlight. Roric’s confidence that had once buckled her knees was pure arrogance, the charm—nothing other than manipulation. She ignored his questions, coming back at him with one of her own. “You dropped them off at the police station. Why let them go?”

  He blinked and she spotted it again—that feeling that she’d been unable to name. Confusion. Roric was thoroughly confused, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. His eyes lost focus. “It was the girl.”

  “Mia?”

  “That one. She got to me.”

  “How?”

  He reached up and took a slender length of red fabric between his hands and then stared at her as if measuring how tight he’d have to pull to snap her neck.

  “I’m going to level with you, Isobel. The fact that you aren’t dead means there is obviously more to you than I thought. I don’t know what’s up with that kid of yours, though we both know she isn’t yours.” His teeth gleamed in the half-light.

  A chill skittered down her spine. “Tell me about Mia.”

  He grimaced and hung his head. Even the reminder of whatever had happened unsettled him. “It was after we’d ditched you at the station. I figured you’d all be tied up in knots scouring the country. So I decided the best thing would be to stay put. We got a room in a nearby hotel and settled in to wait until the heat had died down.” His eyes were closed as he relived the memory. “I was getting antsy. Hate waiting. I wanted to finish this transaction and be rid of those three. Such a handful. I still remember the moment it hit. Ben had been whining about needing milk for his sister. It was enough to detonate my skull—his constant whining about food. I yelled at him, told him to shut it if he knew what was good for him. That little girl of yours… fearless. She didn’t want to know my trouble before then, but at that moment, she slid off the couch and came to me. She wasn’t scared of me at all. When I close my eyes, I see her in front of me—those dark eyes so serious. She crawled up next to me, and climbed onto my lap, looking into my eyes for the longest time.” His eyes were closed and goose-bumps had raised the hair all down his arms.

  He shook his head, bewildered. “She smiled. I glared at her, but she didn’t care. She stretched her arms out, took me round the neck, and hugged me. In that moment, it didn’t matter what I’d done to her, or that I’d stolen her from you.” His eyes pulled into sharp focus. He sneered at her, cutting off the memory. “It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want them around anymore.”

  Unflinching, she met his gaze. He broke away and started pacing.

  Bel decided to push. “How many others have there been?”

  He stopped pacing and glared at her—every muscle taut and his fists clenched around folds of red fabric. “I think it is time you leave.” He snapped the fabric between his hands and took a step towards her. “How did you find me? What did you hope to accomplish?” Another step closer.

  Light throbbed in her belly. She stared at him, shaking her head slowly. You don’t want to do this. Trust me.

  His eyes widened at what he saw. Bel felt unchanged, but she knew by the look on his face that Light and Life were blazing out of her with the same brilliance and intensity that made him run from Mia. Not visible, yet very much so.

  He blanched. “Get out!”

  She doffed an imaginary hat at him, tucked her toes behind her foot with a semi-curtsey, turned on her heel, and walked out the front door.

  ****

  Liam sat in the car, gnawing on his fingers. He peered through the blackness as if he could conjure up x-ray vision if only he stared hard enough. Fifteen minutes had passed since Bel’s cryptic message. The longest fifteen minutes of his life. The battle in him raged fierce: something was wrong. Rescue the girl! Trust her, stay out! God, what do I do?

  The question brought no answers, just a hint of stillness, of peace. So he stayed put, though his insides raged like wild stallions held captive by mere twigs. He gnashed and tossed, despising the five words that tied his hands.

  Sixty more seconds, and I’m going on.

  47…46…45…Every man has a limit. He’d just reached his.

  He stared at the face of his watch, counting down.

  23…22…21…forehead dripping in salty anguish.

  7…6…5…

  The door flew open. Isobel! Walking. Not running.

  Face wet.

  She saw him and her face crumpled. Fierce determination kept her walking—he could see it in her eyes. I will not run.

  Crossing the street now, coming towards him. He flung the car door open and she threw herself in. Into his arms. Sobs rose in crashing waves.

  “Bel, what did he do to you?” Panic constricted his heart, his throat.

  The girl was crying too much to speak. Shaking. “No. No!”

  Fiery anger ignited. “I swear, I’m going to rip his head off—”

  “Liam! No.” She was laughing now. What?

  Her hand on his chest. “It’s OK. I’m good.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “It’s all here.”

  35

  Detective Nass leaned forward, his face grim and a gleam of something in his eye. Admiration?

  Bel pressed stop on her phone. Roric’s voice cut short.

  “Are you willing to testify in court?” Nass asked Isobel.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then this will do.” He held out his hand and she put her mobile into it. “You’re going to have to do without this for a while.” He reached for his phone. “Excuse me, I need to get a team working on this. Bibles in the cupboard, you say?”

  Isobel nodded. “Oh, here is the key to the room they’re in. I kind of forgot to give it back.”

  Nass chuckled as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “You go on home, folks. I’ll be in touch.”

  Liam tucked Isobel under his arm and they turned towards the door.

  “By the way,”—the detective’s face remained deadpan—”good work.”

 
She walked to the car as if floating through candy floss clouds. Surreal.

  Liam’s arm around her shoulders was a fraction too tight. A tightness that shouted out loud all sorts of unspoken words. He pulled her to face him as they got to the car. Holding both her hands, he leaned over her.

  “Isobel Carter, if you ever pull a stunt like that again—”

  “I’ll do my best not to. Trust me.”

  He shut his mouth and squeezed out, “Mmm.”

  Bel laughed. The poor man was so conflicted, but thoroughly determined not to pick a fight. She changed the subject. “Now, all I need to do is figure out how to go about making Mia mine.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Of course! “Liam! With the information they’re retrieving—you might be able to find your boy!”

  He looked dazed. “Oh…yes. That, too.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “What were you talking about?”

  He brushed off her question. “Doesn’t matter. You’re right. Wow, Bel. Now there’s a thought.”

  36

  Isobel brushed Mia’s hair. It was smooth and shiny, no tangles. She’d brushed it less than five minutes earlier, but she did it again anyway.

  Mia didn’t complain, but yawned sleepily and held her arms out to be lifted up. Bel obliged. The little girl perched on Bel’s lap, swinging her new-shoed feet. Purple leather strappy sandals with yellow daisies trailing down the top of each foot stopped just short of where the strap slipped between her big toe and the rest. Head to the side, she examined them, watching the flowers move as she pointed and flexed.

  Melindi, pale and drawn, sat opposite, hugging herself against the chill from the air conditioner.

  “What’s bugging you my friend?”

  Melindi shrugged. “It worries me that I fell for it. For him. I never thought of myself as gullible.” She bit her lip. “What’s to stop it happening again?”

  Bel thought for a moment, head tilted sideways. A thought blossomed in her mind with such gentleness, she frowned. Could it be this simple? “I think I get it, Melindi. Way back, actually it was the day I first met Roric…strangely.” She shook away the memory. “The zipper on my bag broke. It broke because I’d put too many things in it that it just couldn’t take the load. But because the zip wasn’t working, two things happened. Important things fell out, I nearly lost my purse—and things I didn’t want, went in without me noticing.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the sticky yellowy-white chocolate mess.

  Melindi frowned. “And your point is?”

  “Your husband cheating on you broke your zip. Your life was opened up to precious things being stolen and devastating things coming in. Things you’d not normally allow near you had easy access.”

  Melindi’s eyes misted over.

  “The funny thing is, Jesus doesn’t just fix our zips. He becomes the zip.”

  No words passed between them. They sat in silent camaraderie, both broken, scarred…but saved and safe.

  Isobel, a smile playing on her lips, wrapped her arms around the little girl on her lap. The fierceness of the love that Mia brought out in her was befuddling.

  “This bench is going to leave marks on my rear.”

  Melindi grinned, easing herself sideways with a groan. “Same.”

  Liam came down the passage from the social worker’s office. He was smiling. “Bel, you’re up next.” He held his hand for hers.

  Her stomach flip-flopped. Was it what he said, or how good he looked? Her cheeks grew hot.

  Mia to the rescue. She slipped off Bel’s lap and grabbed him round the knees so tightly that he nearly fell over.

  “Lim! Mine’s Lim!”

  “Come, Mia. Let’s go make Mine your Mommy.”

  “Mine’s Mommy. Yes.” She flung an approving smile at Bel, chuckled from her belly, and skipped circles around them as they started down the passage.

  Isobel hung back. “We’re going to be just fine. You and me.”

  Melindi was rubbing life back into her numb rear. She nodded. “I think you are right, Bel. Now go get your baby!”

  Mia ran ahead, singing something about cows and clouds. Down a long, empty passage, she ran. Not stopping, she kept going straight into the room where a panel of social workers waited to interview Isobel.

  Isobel stopped for a moment to breathe. She was about to step into the room, but Liam pulled her back.

  “You remember the other day you were talking about making Mia yours and I said I could relate?”

  Bel nodded, distracted and eager to get on with the interview.

  “I wasn’t talking about finding my boy.” The words slipped from his lips and hung in the air between them, tentatively wrapped in hope.

  In the background, Mia was singing for the social workers. Their laughter and applause spurred her on.

  “What exactly did you mean, Liam?”

  He was tripping over his tongue in the worst way, and Bel tried hard not to laugh.

  “What I mean is…if the position of Mia’s dad is available, I’d really like to have a shot at it. I mean, I have really grown to love that kid. She sneaked through all my defences, and I think I’d be miserable if I couldn’t see her every day.”

  Bel smiled. A tiny sting of regret barbed her heart.

  Liam stopped flapping and held her gaze. “But it goes way deeper than Mia. As much as I can’t imagine life without Mia, I don’t want to be without you, either. You didn’t sneak through my defences. You uprooted them completely. I want you, Bel. I want you to be my Mine.”

  Mia came skipping round the corner, grabbed a hand each and pulled, “Come Mines.”

  One word, so complete.

  Mine.

  Mia’s Mine. Liam’s Mine.

  And God’s Mine.

  All those weeks ago she thought she’d found Mia, but in truth, it was she who had been found.

  Mine.

  Thank you…

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