Rescuing Wendy

by Susan Stoker

  Even as she tried to shake herself out of the funk she’d fallen into, Wendy slid down the tile to the shower floor. She curled her arms around her updrawn knees and bawled.

  Cried for all she’d lost before it was even hers.

  Cried for all she’d given up in her life.

  Cried for the unfairness of everything.

  * * *

  Jackson lay in his bed later that night, fuming.

  Something had happened, and Wendy wouldn’t tell him what.

  Her eyes were puffy as if she’d been crying, but she’d pretended everything was normal, asking how his afternoon at Jenny’s had gone.

  When he’d tried to pry, she’d snapped at him to leave her alone, that she was fine.

  But she wasn’t.

  Her phone hadn’t rung. She and Aspen had talked every night for the last few months. He’d thought it was a bit ridiculous, but now he’d give anything to hear the low tones of Wendy’s voice coming from her room as she spoke to him.

  Clenching his hands into fists, Jackson stewed.

  He’d thought Aspen was a good man.

  He’d introduced them to his friends. Had gone out of his way to help with self-defense. Had even seemed upset over the condition of their apartment building and the dangerous people who also lived there.

  Why would he do all those things if he was just going to break up with Wendy? It didn’t make sense.

  Jackson wasn’t an idiot; he knew what Wendy had done a decade ago was illegal. They’d talked about it often enough over the years. But he also didn’t care. She’d done the right thing. If he’d had to stay in that last foster home another night—hell, another hour—he wouldn’t be the same today, and he knew it. She’d saved his life, and she’d only been sixteen. He didn’t know if he’d be able to do what she did if he was in the same situation.

  Picking up his phone, Jackson contemplated calling Aspen right then and there and chewing him out. His finger actually hovered over the button before he took a deep breath and put the phone down.

  No. He needed to do it man-to-man. Wanted to make sure Aspen knew what he was giving up in his sister. Jackson realized whatever had happened between them probably wasn’t all Aspen’s fault. He knew his sister, knew she was stubborn and pretty closed off sometimes, but he’d also hoped Aspen wasn’t the kind of man to run at the slightest hint of drama. Because Lord knew, he and his sister had their fair share.

  But he was certain that Aspen would never find a more loyal, protective, and loving woman than Wendy.

  His mind made up to talk to Aspen in person, Jackson immediately began to figure out how and when he’d make that happen. Monday and Wednesday, he had robotics club. Tuesday and Thursday, lacrosse practice. Jenny had rehearsals all week as well, and he needed to be there when she was done, just in case Lars and his buddies decided to come back.

  But Friday he could skip lacrosse and head to Aspen’s condo. Well, he could have Rob take him there. Jenny’s family was going out of town for the weekend and they were picking her up right after school.

  He’d have a couple hours where Wendy would think he was at practice to have his talk with Aspen and get Rob to drop him off at home later. Maybe he’d suggest to Wendy that they should have one of their famous taco nights on Friday. She always liked those because they were easy to make, relatively inexpensive, and there was always lots of leftovers.

  Then they could watch a movie. He’d even let her pick. He hated the sad look in her eyes. Wanted to help her move past Aspen and whatever he’d done to make her so unhappy.

  His plan set in his mind, Jackson began to formulate what he wanted to say to Aspen.

  It was late by the time he finally fell asleep, but he had a plan. It would be uncomfortable, and embarrassing, but his sister was worth it.

  By the time he was finished, Aspen would regret whatever it was he’d said or done.

  * * *

  By the time Friday rolled around, Blade was miserable and completely regretted the way he’d acted toward Wendy. He was an asshole. Why did he care how old she was? He didn’t. But ultimately, that wasn’t the issue. He wanted her to trust him, and it was obvious she was hiding something big from him. And that killed.

  The bottom line was that he’d overreacted and treated her as if she was the enemy. On her birthday, no less. He could’ve backed off, let her have some space, then tried talking to her later when she wasn’t so upset. But no, he had to get in her face and push the issue.

  In his defense, the frustration over the fact she was avoiding his questions and keeping some big secret from him had gotten to a point where he couldn’t hold back anymore. But that was no excuse for saying some of the things he had. He especially regretted comparing her to the woman at the bar. That had been a dick move.

  He’d tried calling more than once, but she was either ignoring his calls or she’d blocked him.

  He missed her. Was worried about her and Jackson. And he couldn’t do a damn thing if she wouldn’t talk to him. Let him apologize.

  He missed their talks every night.

  Missed hearing stories about “her” residents at the retirement home.

  Worried about the situation with Lars and the other bullies.

  He’d been slowly introducing her to the guys on his team, but hadn’t had time to get through them all yet. Emily and Casey loved her, wanted to see her again, and he knew the others would too.

  But unless he could fix what he’d broken, they wouldn’t get that chance.

  Work had been tense; the team had been on standby to be sent to Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. There weren’t a lot of detainees left there, but the ones who remained were some of the worst of the worst. There had been an uprising in the detention center, and because of the limited number of staff stationed there, the brass had thought they’d need to send reinforcements, but in the end, they’d sent two SEAL teams from California instead of the Deltas.

  Blade was glad, because as much as he loved serving his country, it didn’t feel right to head off on a mission without making things right between him and Wendy first.

  He’d been home for about twenty minutes and had practically worn a hole in the floor with his pacing, trying to decide whether or not to head over to Wendy’s apartment and demand she talk to him, when his doorbell rang.

  Thinking it might be Wendy, he raced to it and opened it without bothering to look through the peephole.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  It was Jackson. And he didn’t look happy.

  “Is Wendy all right?” Blade asked. That was his first thought, that Jackson was there because something had happened to his sister.

  “Not like you care, but yes.”

  Blade was thrown by the hostility in the boy’s response, but asked, “And Jenny? Lars hasn’t pulled any more of his shit?”

  The anger in Jackson’s face eased a bit and morphed into confusion. “She’s cool, and I haven’t seen much of Lars lately. We need to talk,” he repeated.

  Blade looked past him to the parking lot but didn’t see Wendy’s car like he’d been hoping. If she’d been there, he would’ve gone out and begged her to come in and talk to him. “How’d you get here?”

  “My friend, Rob, brought me. He’s waiting in the parking lot. This won’t take long.”

  Blade opened the door fully and gestured for Jackson to come inside.

  He did and turned to face Blade when he got far enough inside the condo.

  “What’s up?”

  “What did you say or do to my sister?”

  Blade studied the young man in front of him and decided to be honest. “I asked her how old she was. When she wouldn’t tell me…I wasn’t very nice.”

  When Jackson flinched and looked away from him for the first time, Blade was even more sure there was a lot more to the innocent question than he knew. “I fucked up. I know it. I’ve been trying to call her all week, but she won’t pick up. I miss her. I love her, Jackson. I love your sister with eve
rything I have, and it’s killing me that I don’t even know what our stupid fight was about. Talk to me. Please. Tell me what I’m missing so I can appropriately apologize, and it’ll never happen again.”

  Without a word, Jackson wandered into the living room and sat on the couch. Blade followed, sat on the other end of the couch, and waited. He hated that the first person who heard that he loved her wasn’t Wendy, but it couldn’t be helped. He instinctively knew he needed to win her brother over before he could get anywhere with Wendy. If Jackson didn’t want him with his sister, that would be that. Yeah, he was only a teenager, but Blade knew how close the two of them were.

  Besides, he liked Jackson. Wanted him to respect him, not look at him as if he was no better than the dirt on his shoe. Because that’s how Jackson had looked when he’d opened the door, and it sucked.

  “She just turned twenty-seven,” Jackson said in a low, even tone. “And I’m not sixteen. I’ll be eighteen in ten months.”

  Blade quickly did the math in his head. “So, you were what…six when your folks died?”

  “Yeah. And Wendy had just turned sixteen.”

  “And she got custody of you at that age?”

  Jackson looked Blade in the eye as he said, “No.”

  Everything clicked into place as if Jackson had just spent the last thirty minutes telling him the details. “She’s protecting you,” Blade surmised.

  Jackson nodded. “Yeah. Until I’m eighteen. Then we can both relax a bit. Me more than her, though.”

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  “Do you really love her, or are you just saying that to try to get me to tell you shit?”

  “I love her,” Blade returned immediately. “I don’t give a damn what you tell me, my love for her won’t change. I’m not going to do anything that will put either of you in danger.”

  Jackson nodded. “After Mom and Dad died, Child Protective Services took us both in, but they wouldn’t put us in the same foster home. Something about how they didn’t have any families in their database who wanted both a teenager and a little kid. Wendy didn’t take that well. She was good at sneaking out, did it all the time when our parents were alive. She snuck out of her foster home every night and came to mine. But eventually, she got caught.”

  “Didn’t you have any relatives who would take you in?” Blade asked, already not liking this story.

  Jackson shook his head. “Not really. I think Dad had a sister, but they didn’t get along and when she was contacted, she didn’t want anything to do with us.”

  “Bitch,” Blade murmured.

  Jackson didn’t react. “The state didn’t have any choice but to keep us apart, but Wendy did everything she could to see me every day. I was scared. I missed Mom and Dad and didn’t really understand what was going on. I was switched to three different homes, but somehow Wendy always found me. Her foster parents got fed up with her sneaking out all the time and stealing money for rides, so they told the authorities they didn’t want her anymore.”

  “Jesus, she was just a kid. She wasn’t a shirt someone could return as if it didn’t fit,” Blade bitched.

  “Anyway, so she was sent to live in some sort of group home for unruly teens or something. But she snuck out of there too. She told me that they wanted to put her under house arrest, but because she wasn’t actually breaking any laws when she left the house, they couldn’t. And yeah, the last home I was in…wasn’t good.”

  Blade’s teeth clenched at the way Jackson said that. He hated that the young man next to him had been through something obviously horrible.

  “The last night I was there was the worst. If Wendy hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what kind of person I’d be today…or if I’d even be around at all.”

  “Tell me about it?” Blade asked quietly.

  “My foster parents had a bipolar sixteen-year-old biological son. When his parents weren’t around, he’d pick on us foster kids. There were three others in that home with me. Once, he killed the family cat and hid it in the basement, and when his parents weren’t watching, he forced us down there and showed us how he’d killed it. It was awful and scary.”

  “What happened your last night there?”

  “The parents went out on a date and left their son in charge of all of us. I was six, the others in the house were four, five, and eight. Two girls and two boys. Ronald, the son, herded us all into the basement. There were dog crates down there from previous pets that had also mysteriously disappeared. I think the parents knew their son was sick, but they didn’t know what to do about it. Anyway, he made us get into the crates, then he started to fuck with us.”

  “Fuck with you how?” Blade bit out.

  “He’d poke us with sticks. Tell us he was going to leave us there all night and not tell his parents where we were. He didn’t let us eat anything and didn’t let us out even when we had to pee. We all ended up going in our pants, and he laughed at us when we cried. Then he took John, the eight-year-old, and tied him to one of the support beams with rope. He smeared the cat’s blood he’d saved all over poor John…and told him he was going to gut him like he did the cat.”

  Jackson paused and took a deep breath. Blade wanted to go to him, put his hand on his shoulder and let him know that it was okay, but he wasn’t sure what the boy’s reception would be. So, he did nothing, just sat on the edge of the seat cushion and felt helpless.

  After a moment, Jackson continued. “John was crying so hard he had snot running down his face, and the girls were hysterical. I was trying to figure out a way to run and get help, assuming at some point Ronald would let me out of the cage to do something to me too. But then Wendy was there. She’d snuck out of the group home again and had come to visit me. She used to throw little rocks at the window of the room I was staying in, and I’d crawl out onto the roof and slide down a tree and we’d sit in the backyard and talk.

  “But when I didn’t answer after she threw the rocks that night, she said she looked in every window and everything was dark in the house. She was going to go back to the group home, figuring the foster parents had taken us all somewhere as a treat, when she saw the light on in a basement window. She looked in and saw what Ronald was doing. She broke into the house and ran down those basement stairs as if she were possessed. She had a baseball bat in her hand. I guess Ronald was so surprised to see her that he just froze. She walloped him across the stomach and he dropped like a stone. She hit him a few more times, and I heard something break when she hit him in the legs.”

  “Jesus,” Blade breathed.

  Jackson ignored him and went on. “She untied John and got the rest of us out of the cages. She took us upstairs and locked Ronald in the basement. He was screaming and crying, but she told us to ignore him. She sent John and the girls up to their rooms, telling them to call 9-1-1, then she took my hand and we walked right out the front door.”

  Jackson lifted his head and looked Blade in the eyes. “She kidnapped me, Aspen. Took me right out of that house and we didn’t look back. We had nothing. No extra clothes. No food. Nothing to drink. She brought me back to our house. The one we had when our parents were alive. I guess the authorities were still trying to settle all the legal shit with it because all our stuff was still there. I wanted to stay, but she said we couldn’t. I remember sitting in my old room and crying because I didn’t understand why we couldn’t live there.

  “Wendy helped me pack a bag with things that I wanted to take with me. Didn’t even complain that the toy cars and stuffed animals I filled it with weren’t practical. She put clothes for both of us into her own backpack, used the hidden key to unlock the safe under Mom and Dad’s bed and got our birth certificates and some money that was there. Why the lawyers or police hadn’t already found the safe and taken it, I’ll never know, but thank God they hadn’t. Then we left. Wendy bought bus tickets and we rode for three days and nights on that stinky bus until we got to Florida.

  “We lived on the streets for a month befor
e Wendy finally found a job. It was only bussing tables, but she lied about her age and they agreed to pay her in cash. We lived in a shitty motel for two years. She finally decided it was time to move on and we went to Louisiana. She didn’t have any proof of what grade I was in, or anything to show that I had ever been in school. But she went to the elementary school near where we were staying and said she’d been homeschooling me. She had some forged papers about my supposed progress, and in order to prevent anyone asking questions about my age, made me a year younger than I really was.

  “They tested me, and I was placed into the second grade, even though technically, according to my age, I should’ve been in third. Wendy did her best to teach me while we were on the run, but she worked a lot and we were so scared someone would figure out she was underage and take me away. Looking back, it seems silly to worry so much about someone questioning why I tested into the second grade when according to my age I should’ve already have mastered that information, but Wendy was really worried that any little thing that seemed off would make the authorities question her, so she told them I was younger than I was.

  “We’ve moved around a lot since then, but when she got the job here at the retirement home, I could tell she really liked it. So, we stayed. I’ll be eighteen in less than a year, and then no one can take me away from her and put me back into foster care. But the thing is…she’s probably in a lot of trouble for what she did. If it was just her, a runaway teenager, no one would care. But she broke into that house, hurt Ronald, and kidnapped me. I might be free when I turn eighteen, but she’ll always have to look over her shoulder.

  “So, that’s the long and ugly story about why she wouldn’t tell you how old she was. Twenty-seven. She took over looking after me when I was six and she was sixteen. She never finished high school, never got her GED, and she’s been more of a mother to me than my own was. I don’t remember much about my mom, but I’d do anything for Wendy. Even come over here and tell you that you fucked up. Big time. You’ll never find anyone else as loyal and protective as her. Sometimes people have a good reason for not wanting to talk about themselves.”