Deserter

by Myers, Shannon

  I clenched my free hand into a fist. She wasn’t going back there.

  “Norma!” Richard looked up in surprise.

  She shook her head from side to side, nostrils flaring. “I don’t care what the church says. I cannot have my daughter’s future ruined because you—” She dumped the tray unceremoniously on the coffee table before stabbing a finger into his chest. “You got involved with trash! I kept my mouth shut, even when they took her, but I will not stand by and let her ruin her entire life!”

  “Don’t fuckin’ call me that!” I growled in response.

  “I love him!” Celia announced over the both of us. Her hand came up over her mouth seconds too late. “I’m sorry, I do. I love you, Jamie.”

  I didn’t deserve it; especially when I couldn’t give it in return. As fucked up as it was, Norma was right. Celia was throwing her entire life away for me. She was sacrificing everything—school. A career. A proper family. All I’d given up was the illusion that she meant nothing.

  I’d keep her safe, I knew that much, but I was no better than Hades; dragging her into a world so far removed from the country club that it may as well have been on a separate planet. Instead of greeting people on the street, she’d have to first consider if they were friends or foes of the club.

  She would forever be looking over her shoulder because she’d been foolish enough to fall in love with me.

  Instead of giving her the freedom she was owed, I looked up at her parents with a smirk. “It seems like the decision’s been made. We’ll have someone stop by to get her things later. Let’s go, Celia.”

  Norma stepped in between us and the door. “You’re not thinking straight, Celia. You’re young and confused. If you would just consider—”

  Richard sat alone in the den, staring down at his hands. Celia broke away and ran over to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “I love you, Daddy.”

  That was the trouble with Celia. She wasted her love on men who would never be worthy of it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Celia: 1989

  I ran my hand over the paisley wallpaper. “It’s perfect.”

  Jamie’s eyes briefly flickered over the kitchen before landing back on me. “It’s a fuckin’ dump, Celia. I can talk to a realtor and get something a little newer—”

  “No. It has so much character. And these cabinets are still in really good shape. Don’t you want to see the other rooms?”

  “Seen them, princess. I grew up in this house.” His face gave nothing away, but there was something in his tone that made me think he didn’t have many happy memories of this place.

  He’d been quiet since we left my parent’s house and I wondered if it was due to my premature declaration of love. I hadn’t meant to announce it in front of everyone, but it wasn’t as if I could take it back now. The words had just fallen out.

  My head and heart had been battling each other since the afternoon I found out that I was pregnant, and this morning had been no different.

  I knew that Betsy was right and that the most rational thing to do would be to end my pregnancy. There was a small part of me though that hoped for some last-minute intervention.

  I hadn’t been able to admit my sins in confession, but I had been kneeling beside my bed every evening to pray the rosary. When the heaviness in my chest didn’t let up, I added the Holy Spirit, the angels, and all the saints. I thought that if I left it up to a higher power, the decision would be made for me.

  It soon became apparent that with the events unfolding in Berlin and Tiananmen Square in Beijing, no one upstairs had time for a knocked-up seventeen-year-old. My problems were nothing compared to the rest of the world’s.

  On top of that, my feelings for Jamie had only intensified since discovering I was carrying his child. I wanted to believe that he felt something, despite his proclamations that we were nothing.

  Maybe I would’ve been willing to put my selfish desires aside had I not seen the fetal development chart on the back of the exam room door. I knew then that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I went through with it.

  So, maybe he hadn’t burst into the room and swept me off my feet. He wanted me—even when he thought the baby was gone, he’d asked me to be his.

  Up until now, Jamie had been seemingly lost in thought, staring at a spot on the hardwood floor. “This used to be carpet.”

  I ran my toe along a seam in the wood. “Yiayia had carpet in her kitchen and bathroom. It was thin, like the felt boards we used in Sunday school and there was always this one area, by the stove, that was stained.”

  He looked up at me with a slow smile. “Yeah, my ma had several spots like that, although she swore they were from me tracking in mud on my shoes. I told her it was—” His eyes dropped back down to the floor and his face seemed to lose its color.

  “Jamie?” I touched his arm and he shook his head as if in a daze.

  “Lost my train of thought. So, the guys are stopping by with some furniture. We’ll get dishes, a car, and the rest of your clothes tomorrow.” His eyes shuttered and I braced myself against the small peninsula when he stormed out.

  Fatigue colored every facet of my world and Jamie’s sudden changes in mood only added to the exhaustion. There were still questions I needed answered, but I hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to ask.

  How had he known where I was?

  What happened to the other girl he got in trouble?

  Why was I different?

  I went into the den, expecting him, but found Lucy and Molly instead. Lucy gave me a sad smile and opened her arms. “Hey, Celia. Come here.”

  “Where’s Jamie?” I asked as she embraced me.

  “He had to take care of some business back at the club, but we’re going to stay and help turn this place into a home.”

  “Who’s Jamie?” Molly asked from one of the bedrooms.

  My eyes filled and I turned away, rapidly blinking in an attempt to stop the flood. In addition to my emotions going haywire, my breasts ached at the slightest pressure. Even the water from the shower head this morning had been too much.

  It seemed I couldn’t figure out my biker any more than I could my own body.

  “I see.”

  I didn’t.

  In the small exam room, I’d had a lot of time to think and come to terms with raising a child by myself. It wasn’t ideal and I knew that my parents wouldn’t be there to support me, but I’d accepted my fate.

  Jamie had given me hope, only to snatch it away hours later.

  “Hey, I know he’s hard to figure out, but he does care for you.”

  “Who is Jamie?” Molly asked again, this time from the hallway.

  I swiped a thumb under each eye and replied, “Grey. Look, Lucy, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not sure I can do this.”

  I briefly wondered how much my mother would gloat when I came crawling back only hours after leaving.

  A truck pulled up and she reached for my hand, pulling me out to the backyard. “That’ll be the boys, here with some furniture. Let’s talk out here. Sit.”

  She directed me into a worn lawn chair, before pulling up another for herself. Molly was momentarily distracted by the bikers, giving us a moment of privacy.

  “Jamie didn’t have the best childhood, Celia. I don’t know how much he’s told you.”

  I shook my head. “He hasn’t told me anything.”

  She nodded. “I figured as much. Well, his daddy joined back when Wolverine ran things. Sure, we had a few guys who were a little rough with their families, but nothing like Donald. He seemed to take pleasure in tormenting Mary and Jamie. Mary took the brunt of it, until…” Lucy pursed her lips and looked away.

  “What happened? Please, if you want me to understand him, you have to tell me.” I needed to know that I wasn’t the reason for his sudden absence.

  She swallowed. “Donald beat her pretty badly and Jamie witnessed it. He had to stay with us while she recovered and Wolverine warne
d Donald that the next time he laid a hand on his Ol’ Lady, he’d send him to the Reaper. We didn’t know—not until later, anyway, that Donald had taken Wolverine’s advice to heart.”

  I placed a hand on her arm. “But, that’s good, right?”

  “No, Celia. You’re not hearing me. Jamie took his mama’s place.”

  I sat in stunned silence. How was I supposed to get him to open up to me? Up until I met him, I’d never encountered violence. My parents were overbearing and constantly bickering, but my father had never raised a hand against either me or Mama.

  Lucy continued. “Jamie’s life has never been easy and it’s hard for him to trust people. Wolverine took him under his wing, but he’s never shown that he could care about anyone… until you.”

  On cue, the tears began again and this time, I let them stream down my cheeks. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lucy. He doesn’t. I thought he did, but I don’t think he’s capable of it.”

  “He needs time, Celia. You’re not only his Ol’ Lady now, you’re his partner—”

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “I don’t even know what an old lady does, Lucy! So, we get married and then what? I gave up college and—and a normal life for him!”

  Lucy’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “First of all, him claiming you as his Ol’ Lady doesn’t mean he’s gonna marry you and, secondly, if you hold on to this attitude that you’re better than the other women or that you settled for this life, you won’t have any friends.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “So, I’m like his whore?” I brought my head down to rest against my knees as waves of dizziness washed over me. “He could just wake up one morning and decide he doesn’t want me anymore?”

  “Celia, I became Wolverine’s Ol’ Lady in the sixties, while women were marching for equal rights. People don’t understand how we could accept being a man’s property. They don’t see that my Ol’ Man never ran that club on his own. I shouldered the burden and quietly guided him when needed. No one knows the power we wield.”

  It was clear that I had no idea what I was doing when I agreed to be his. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being the property of anyone. My father had always said that because he made the money, he made the rules. Mama had happily agreed, spending her days dining at the country club or taking trips with her girlfriends. The complete lack of oversight was what led to me being taken by bikers in the first place.

  Daddy was a law-abiding citizen.

  Mostly.

  Jamie made his own laws.

  I was so afraid of turning out like my mother that I never saw the noose until it was wrapped around my throat.

  Lucy got up. “I’m gonna see if they need any help. Just think about what I said. And, Celia?” She paused near the back door. “Jamie’s never had anyone good stick around. Part of what makes him a great leader is that he’s always waiting for things to fall apart.”

  * * *

  If I had any illusions about how powerful of a man Jamie was, they were shattered by the end of the day. Men came and went for the better part of the afternoon, delivering furniture, hooking up the telephone; a few even stocked the fridge with food and beer.

  I’d made myself scarce while they moved in and out of the house, wondering what it was Jamie expected from me. Lucy said when Wolverine ran things that she’d been tasked with keeping the other Ol’ Ladies in line and ensuring that any drama stayed away from the club.

  Up until now, my job had consisted of going to school and earning good grades. I’d never had to consider grocery shopping or meal planning; and I’d certainly never managed grown women.

  Given my frosty reception at the gathering, I had a sneaking suspicion that no one was going to listen to a seventeen-year-old girl—even if she was involved with the club president.

  With the exception of Lucy, Betsy had been the only other person to show me kindness. I made a mental note to invite her over once we were settled and get her thoughts on the club and the other women.

  By late afternoon, the men had finished up and the house was quiet. As much as I wanted to curl up on the new bed for a nap, my work was just beginning.

  I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the concept of cooking; I just hadn’t taken the time to learn how to make anything beyond Ambrosia salad and cocktail sausages in barbecue sauce.

  My mother was the chef, managing multiple bubbling pots on the stovetop, while something delicious baked in the oven. I’d watch her while doing homework and wonder how she looked so graceful doing it. Where Yiayia had believed that cooking was a contact sport, Mama was methodical and her kitchen, pristine.

  I snagged my purse and a spare key from the kitchen counter before heading out into the sunshine. I’d go get a few cookbooks and see what I could come up with

  “Welcome to the neighborhood,” an older man called from across the street as he mowed his yard.

  “Thank you,” I waved back, unable to wipe the grin off my face even if I tried. “You hear that, baby?” I patted my tummy. “We’re part of a neighborhood.”

  I imagined summers spent on the front porch, watching our baby play in a paddling pool while visiting with the neighbors. Jamie would man the grill and talk sports over beers with their husbands. Mama and Daddy would come around once they saw how good we were together.

  This was going to be a good thing for us.

  Twenty minutes later, I was rethinking my decision to walk to the library. I’d gotten turned around three separate times and the sun that I’d welcomed, now beat down upon my face with brutality. A sticky trail of sweat ran along my spine and I wanted nothing more than to lie down in the shade.

  There were probably libraries near Jamie’s house, but I yearned to see a familiar face. I needed just one thing in my life that hadn’t changed; just one thing that would remain the same.

  A slight twinge of pain gripped my abdomen as I passed the tattoo parlor and I paused to lean against the worn brick. A drop of sweat fell from my forehead and onto the pavement.

  My body was just reminding me to slow down.

  That’s all it was.

  I could’ve sworn I heard the distant rumble from a motorcycle as I took the remaining steps toward the library, but when I looked around, the street was empty.

  Sharon, the afternoon librarian, looked up from her desk as I walked in. “Goodness, Celia. Did you swim here?”

  “Worse. I walked,” I said with a contented sigh as the air-conditioning blasted against my damp skin.

  Her brow furrowed. “Your house isn’t that far. Are you coming down with something?”

  “No, I moved. I actually live over off Twenty-sixth now. Just past—”

  “You walked fifty blocks to get here? Celia, it’s a wonder you don’t have heatstroke! You could’ve gone to the Murphy branch; it would’ve been closer.”

  “I know, I just—” I swallowed until the lump in my throat passed. “I just know where everything is here, and I couldn’t cheat on you with a new librarian.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not out at the club, soaking up every second of fun before you leave us to make your mark on the world.”

  The reality of my situation hit me full force, nearly knocking the air from my lungs. I hurried toward the bookshelves near the back with tears blurring my vision.

  Just as I got used to the idea of playing house, I was reminded of what it was I was giving up.

  Everything.

  I’d just pulled a cookbook free when my abdomen tightened again. It was a dull cramp, like I was going to get my period, which should’ve been impossible given my situation.

  I grabbed another cookbook at random and added it to the stack in my arms before venturing toward the health section like I was sneaking inside after curfew.

  Sharon was deep in conversation with a couple of women when I walked back up with an armful of books.

  “Find what you needed?” she asked with a smile.

  I nodded and wiped my damp palms ag
ainst the front of my dress while focusing on a Babar the Elephant poster behind her head.

  She scanned the cookbooks before sucking in a startled breath when she reached the pregnancy books. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t have to say a word. I knew exactly what she was thinking—another bright girl, betrayed by her uterus.

  My face burned bright, but I refused to look down or act ashamed. Despite the fear gnawing at my gut, I’d chosen to keep this baby and I didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

  “Have a good day, Celia. If you need anything… just let me know, okay?” Sharon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Thanks.”

  Heavy clouds lined the horizon and the air around me crackled with electricity as a storm approached. I couldn’t distinguish whether the distant grumbling was from thunder or phantom bikers.

  I tucked the plastic bag of books under my arm and waited for a break in traffic before crossing the street. If I was lucky, the storm would hold out until I made it home.

  Lightning darted across the sky and the first few drops of rain fell in response. I quickened my pace, pausing at the end of every block to catch my breath.

  “Ten down… forty more to go,” I muttered.

  The skies opened up a few seconds later, drenching me and any hope I had of getting back to Jamie’s without looking like a drowned rat.

  A turquoise Chevrolet truck pulled over near the sidewalk and a man called through the open window, “Need a ride?”

  I shielded my eyes from the downpour and peered through the open window. Tattoos covered the arm holding onto the steering wheel, but the man had a friendly smile.

  Sensing my hesitation, he added, “I work at Inked on Broadway. Saw you leavin’ the library. Storm won’t let up for a while yet.”

  Hopefully, he hadn’t been working the afternoon Jamie and I christened his office. Neither one of us had been particularly quiet.