2. Isla
2
ISLA
C ody’s entire face puckers up, and his cheeks go red.
“Oh no you don’t.” I pull him to my chest and jiggle him up and down in a way that’s supposed to be soothing, but it’s too late. An almighty wail erupts out of his tiny mouth, which seems too small to be making such a big noise.
I slide off the bed and pace the room, whispering lullabies into the top of his downy head. But Cody keeps on crying.
“Are you hungry?” I fed him ten minutes ago, but I unlatch my nursing bra and offer him my breast. He turns his head away and cries louder.
“Do you need changing?” I only just changed his diaper, but I lay him on the bed to check again. But when I touch the diaper, my hand comes away dry.
“What is it, sweet pea?” I hold him out in front of me with my arms straight so his crying face is level with mine. “I don’t know what you need.”
Cody squeezes his eyes shut and cries louder.
“I know how you feel, buddy.” Twenty-four hours ago, we were in a warm apartment in Charlotte with all his cuddly toys and familiar blankets.
Now we’re in a room at the top of a motorcycle club headquarters where burly men prowl the corridors and the only familiar face is a friend of my brother’s who he knows from culinary school.
Yesterday I was the fiancé of an investment banker, a new mother taking maternity leave from her marketing job, living in a penthouse apartment in the swanky part of town and planning the perfect society wedding. Today I’m a runaway, a single mom with no home address and no plan for the future.
A shiver runs down my spine. Whenever I think about the future, all I see in my mind is a black hole. I have no idea what my life will look like now. I can’t go back to my job, not when the man I just left was the CEO’s son. I don’t have a place to live. It was Ian’s apartment. My family probably isn’t going to speak to me for canceling the ‘wedding of the season’ as Ian’s mom keeps calling it on social media. Mom won’t forgive me for giving up the ‘perfect’ life and relegating her grandchild to life with a single parent.
But as I stare into the crumpled face of my unhappy son, conviction settles in my chest. “I’ve done the right thing.”
If I say it out loud, my brain might start to believe it .
I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. “I’m safe,” I say with every out breath. “I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.”
More at peace, I fold Cody into my chest. “We’re safe, sweet pea.” I kiss the top of his head and repeat the refrain until he stops crying.
“I know this all feels different, but Mommy’s here and we’re going to be okay.”
The words are as much to reassure me as they are to reassure him. He must feel the tension and unease that I’ve been carrying for the last forty-eight hours, ever since I made the decision to leave.
“We’re going to be okay.”
There’s a gentle knock on the door, and when I open it Maggie is there with a Christmas hat sitting askew on her chestnut hair.
“You ready to come down and meet the family?” She smiles kindly, and a well of emotion threatens to overspill.
I only met Maggie once when my brother Ryan graduated, but when I called my brother and told him I was in trouble, he put me in touch with Maggie.
Ryan is away in Italy, and his wife Julia is having complications with her pregnancy. I hated putting him on the spot like that. He implored me to call Mom, but I can’t. She’s been planning mine and Ian’s wedding since we were in kindergarten.
To her, our relationship is perfect, and on the outside, it looks that way. At first it was, but slowly over time Ian turned into someone quite different. It happened slowly. A harsh word there, a derogatory comment there, until it turned into daily criticism of everything I do. His tempers are swift and harsh, and I found myself creeping around the house, not wanting to say anything to upset him.
In the office he was different, charming and well-liked, but at home I saw the real Ian, the one I couldn’t tell anyone about. The mood swings, the temper, and the fear always bubbling under the surface that he could turn violent.
He’s the golden boy, the son of my parent’s best friends. The up and coming young millionaire set to take over the family business before he’s thirty.
On paper he’s a catch. Behind closed doors, he’s a mean psychological bully who’s worn away my self-esteem over the three years we’ve been dating.
I thought things would improve once the baby came along, but they got worse. His angry outbursts got more erratic and the hint of violence more present.
Two days ago, during an argument over nothing more than what the party favors should be at the wedding, he threw his drink at me. The glass hit the wall just behind my head. I’m not sure if he aimed to miss or if he meant to hit me with it. I was nursing Cody at the time and the tumbler shattered, sending sharp shards of glass over both of us.
I thought I could live with a man who got angry sometimes, but picking shards of glass out of the hair of my four-week-old baby was the wake up call I needed.
Ian walked out, and I called Ryan and finally came clean about the monster I’ve been living with. He made some calls and hooked me up with Maggie. Her husband is part of the Wild Riders motorcycle club, and they run a women’s refuge in the mountains.
Only it’s full, since apparently Ian isn’t the only one who turns into a mega asshole at this time of year. So here I am on Christmas Day, staying in one of the spare rooms of a motorcycle club. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
But the people I’ve met here so far seem nice. Arlo, Maggie’s husband, called around, and by the time I arrived there was a bassinet, diapers, baby toys, and clothing waiting for me.
Someone made up a bed in a spare room, and I fell into a fitful sleep late last night with Cody waking up every few hours fussing at the unfamiliar surroundings.
I want to stay in this room and hide, but I need to say thank you to the women who pooled together to get me the things I need.
I take a deep breath and give Maggie a shaky smile. “I’ll come down.”
Maggie puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe here, Isla, and everyone is friendly. You’re under the protection of the club now.”
Under the protection of the club. Her words make me shiver. I don’t know these men; I don’t know what they’re into. But Ryan wouldn’t have sent me here if it wasn’t safe.
“Come on.” Maggie hustles me toward the door and I follow .
A few hours later, I’m seated at the long table that is made up of smaller tables pushed together. The meal was excellent, the most I’ve eaten for days, and I’m drowsy.
I barely spoke to anyone all night. I’ve kept my focus on Cody and making sure he has what he needs. There are a lot of kids here. It’s more family oriented than I thought an MC would be. The women are kind and the men are terrifying. Lots of beards and tattoos, although some of them are clean-shaven and very much the ex-military men that Maggie’s explained they all are. A motorcycle club full of veterans. No wonder Ryan thought I’d be safe here.
Across the table from me sits the man in the wheelchair who was in the gym when I first arrived. I try not to look at him as I feed Cody.
When I arrived yesterday, exhausted from the train, he was a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. His muscular body was sweaty with exertion as he pushed himself to the limit.
I long to ask him what happened to his legs, but it wouldn’t be polite. Besides, he’s not spoken to me, not like some of the other men who have politely asked about the baby. They’re new fathers, proud to tell me about their own little ones and offer advice on why Cody might be crying so much.
I know why he’s crying so much. Because he senses his mother’s unease.
I’ve kept my head down, and they probably think it’s because I’m furtive and scared, but it’s not. I’m so damn embarrassed to be in this situation.
I grew up with all the advantages of life: two parents with good jobs, a beautiful home in a nice neighborhood, in a wealthy country. I have a college education and a professional job. I’ve had every advantage; I should be kicking it at life. And yet, I still ended up here, a single mom on the run with no idea what her future holds.
If I told the carefree Isla of a few years ago that she’d be spending Christmas with her baby in a refuge after escaping an emotionally abusive relationship, I wouldn’t have believed myself. I’m so embarrassed I can’t look anyone in the eye.
Cody gives a yawn, and it sets me off. I haven’t been sleeping well with all the feeding and attention he needs and then the excitement of the last few days. It’s early, but I long to be upstairs on our own.
I stand up and catch Maggie’s eye. “I’m going up to bed.”
I’ve already been told they won’t let me help with the clearing up. There’s a lot of fuss made over new mothers here, and I’m grateful. I can concentrate on caring for my baby and getting him what he needs. Right now, what he needs is for both of us to get some sleep.
I hold Cody close and cross the room.
“Isla.” I turn at my name to find the man in the wheelchair holding out one of my muslin cloths. He’s got deep blue eyes that remind me of the ocean where we used to vacation as children. “You dropped this.”
“Thank you.” I take the cloth and he holds onto it a little too long, so when I pull it out of his hands, he doesn’t drop it.
“You’re safe here.” His voice is gravelly, deeper than someone his age should sound. I guess he’s a few years older than me, but there are lines around his eyes like he’s been through more than a man in his twenties should. “I’ll personally make sure of that.”
His gaze is determined, and I’m reassured by his look. I’m reminded of his hard torso glistening with sweat that I glimpsed at the gym, and heat creeps up my neck.
“How did you know my name?” We weren’t introduced at the gym, and he hasn’t spoken to me all evening.
He smiles, and in that smile I see the shadow of a carefree boy, perhaps the young man he used to be before whatever horrendous thing happened to his limbs. “I made it my job to know. If I’m providing protection for you and Cody, I had to know your names.”
He glances at Cody, and his expression softens. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, let me know.”
Protection. The word warms my chest. I’ve spent the last few months with a growing sense of uneasiness. And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel truly safe.
“Thank you.”
He drops his hold on the muslin cloth, and I tuck it into my arms under Cody.
“Goodnight,” he whispers as I turn away.