The Red Roots (17 page)
The last corner of Isla’s heart was saved. Brought to life.
She and Reed started a family; one with love and truth. Isla’s tainted tree was burned to the ground, and nothing but ash remained. She didn’t know all the secrets, but who really did in a family? Everyone perceived truth differently. Isla wasn’t innocent. Like any family, stories would prattle on during reunions and Easter brunches. What Isla knew was beyond those bloodstained lines, and what she knew was others needed The Abigail House. It wasn’t just a shelter, but also a facility equipped with therapists, employment aid, and housing assistance. It even had a wing dedicated to pregnant women and those with young children.
Reed slid his arms around Isla’s waist as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Let’s get inside. You’re shivering.”
“Thank you, Reed.”
“For what?”
“For loving us.”
He dipped and kissed her lips.
Soft.
Slow.
Isla drifted into his affection. Reed was patient, and they had made great strides with intimacy. She loved those moments with him.
He escorted Isla into the building. A reception of food and drink filled the first two rooms, along with city council members and local business owners. Jules sipped punch with two of her best friends. Reed shook hands with the press. Isla stood near the front entrance taking it all in.
The pale yellow walls were Jules’ choice, and after Isla added grey and white accents, Reed hired a local artist to paint canvases of patterned art which left the entry of the building warm and inviting.
Someone lightly tapped her shoulder. “Excuse me?”
Isla turned around. “Yes?”
A woman with a swollen cut lip laid her hand atop her round stomach and stared at the floor. “I—I was told I could come here for help.”
“Of course. Please come in.” Isla escorted her to a small office. “Would you like something to eat?”
The woman nodded.
“Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
Isla weaved through the guests, gathered a plate of food and a bottle of water. She returned back to the office and handed the plate of fruit and little sandwiches to the young woman. Isla sat down across from her; the woman shoved a strawberry into her mouth.
“I know this is your opening, but I’m scared and I don’t want to go to the police.”
“I understand, and we’re here for you. Let me get some information from you, and I’ll get you settled in a room,” Isla said and grabbed a pen and paper. “Your name?”
“Olive.”
She wrote down what the woman felt comfortable sharing with her.
“Boy or girl?”
“I don’t know, but if it’s a boy I’m thinking Samuel and if it’s a girl, I love the name Abby.”
Isla looked up. “Abigail was my mother’s name.”
Olive smiled, and Isla’s chest lifted to the heavens.
When the paperwork portion was complete, Isla brought her to the second floor. She went over the guidelines, menu, and schedule of the therapists. Isla opened the door, exposed brick and stained wood beams outlined the room. White curtains covered the windows. Sleigh beds were dressed in cotton sheets and plush comforters, and clear crystal globe lights hung from the ceiling.
“Fresh linens are always available. You’ll share a room, but for now it’s all yours.”
“Wow.” Olive skimmed the space. “It’s real pretty.”
“Make yourself at home and if you need anything my cell phone number is in the book next to the bed.”
“Thank you.” She perched on the bed and rubbed her belly. “Is it alright if I take a nap?”
“Of course. I’ll come back and check on you in a bit.” Isla turned to leave the room but stopped. “Olive?”
“Yeah?”
“Know that you are loved. You and your baby are loved. Always.”
Remember: The assault is not your fault. You are the survivor of a crime.
*Women Helping Women*
We
are
loved.
Be the voice.
Break the cycle.
The End
To my husband: You are my life.
To my son: You are my light.
To my parents: You are my heart.
To Erin: You are my sister soul.
To Stephanie: You are the good twin and the best editor in the world.
To Jennifer: You are my voice of reason.
To Dana: You are my sanity.
To Candy: You are my happiness.
To my author group: You are my safe place.
To my readers: You are my success.
To my dearest friend: You are my inspiration. Thank you for entrusting your story to me.
Andrea Johnson Beck was born in Sioux City, Iowa. From a young age, she enjoyed telling stories. Many her dad recorded. Writing was her creative outlet and at 10-years-old, her first poem was published in an anthology. Always curious, Andrea read and watched what was considered risqué in the 80’s and early 90’s, such as, books by VC Andrews. Dirty Dancing and Top Gun (snuck downstairs) raised questions and were brought to her parents for clarification. Understanding their daughter’s need for answers, they always replied truthfully.
Her curiosity and rebellious disposition has carried on. Andrea credits the strong woman in her life who guided her through difficult times. That and writing. Blogging about her marriage, her quirky son, and homeschooling helped her connect with others around the world.
Life On Awesome Street is a shared website between Andrea and Logan. Most topics revolve around homeschooling, the autism spectrum, and mom humor. She’s a columnist for Home & School Mosaics. In the past she has written for In-Depth Genealogist and Home Educating Family.
In 2012, Andrea self-published her debut novel, Deadly Deception. A year later, the book was acquired by Montlake Romance and re-released in October of 2013. Deadly Deception hit #4 on the Amazon Best Seller List in overall paid fiction in the Kindle Store, it was right behind the Divergent Trilogy. Her second novel, Deadly Revelation, released April of 2014 and was #1 in Organized Crime and Crime Fiction and continues to hold a spot in those categories.
Andrea and her son collaborated and released a short story, Hush, Mary in October of 2014. Also, the mom and son duo are writing homeschool and autism spectrum books together. Over the years, Logan has impacted and inspired many with his own personal stories of how he accepted and embraced his quirkiness.
Andrea lives in North Carolina with her husband Phil, son, and their deaf dog, Bear. Sarcasm is the oxygen they breathe, as is love and humor.
Find her at:
www.andreajohnsonbeck.com
Releasing in late 2015 . . .
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Talk shit about Crosby’s family,
And
She
Will
Kill
You.
