CHAPTER TWO
Olive didn’t understand anything. She didn’t remember her parents and the images she had her mind were most assuredly conjured through photographs of people she believed were her parents, not actual memories.
They’d left her with Aunt Ida and Uncle Milford, or at least that’s what she was told.
Old, lazy, and brutal when they were angry, they were not her first choice as temporary parents.
She heard her aunt call her name and she cringed from the backyard. She was hungry and all she really wanted was something to eat. Slowly, she walked toward the house. As she opened the door, her aunt shoved her inside.
“What lies have you been tellin’ these folks?” asked the old woman.
“I haven’t lied to anyone, Aunt Ida. I swear.” The old woman slapped her across the face and a man stepped up, gripping her wrist before she could connect again.
“You hit that child again, I will make sure you never see daylight,” said the deep voice. Olive looked up and stared at the face she knew. She’d seen him around her school. He was huge. Big, tall, muscular, and handsome. Even at eight she knew what handsome was.
“Mr. Robicheaux,” she whispered.
“Hi, honey,” he smiled. “Are you okay?” He looked at her arms, the fresh bruises telling him what he already knew. She immediately tried to shove her sleeves down but the top was so small for her it wouldn’t hide the bruises.
“Yes, sir,” she said looking down.
“See. Ain’t not of your business, Gabriel. You and your high and mighty family can leave us alone,” said Uncle Milford.
“That won’t be happening. We have enough evidence of your abuse that you can either go to jail or we can take Olive to live at the school and be safe.”
“We get money from the state for her,” said Ida lifting her chin as if proud of it. “We need that money.”
“Here,” said Jean shoving the check across the table.
Olive looked at the other Mr. Robicheaux and smiled.
She liked the quiet man a lot. “You get eight-hundred a month for her. She’s eight-years-old now.
That’s ninety-six-thousand for ten years.
We’ve rounded it up to one-hundred-thousand. Take it or go to jail.”
Ida and Milford stared at the check, then looked toward the torn screen door. The sheriff was standing on the front porch, two more Robicheaux boys standing beside him and one of the schools’ teachers.
“Take her. She ain’t nothin’ but trouble anyway,” said Ida.
“Olive? Do you have anything you want to bring with you, honey?” asked Jean.
“I-I have a few things,” she said.
“Okay. Miss Jessica is going to help you pack, okay?” She nodded eagerly as Jessica entered the home with the sheriff, following the little girl to her room.
Except it wasn’t a room at all. It was a closet.
A closet with a crib mattress in it, one small light outside the door, and one thread-bare blanket.
Ida and Milford weren’t living in abject poverty. They could afford a bed for the child. They were just cruel. The sheriff walked away, heading back to the front of the house where the older couple still sat, staring at the check. He picked it up and tore it in half.
“Hey! That’s ours!” yelled Ida.
“I’ve seen the living conditions for this child. You don’t deserve that and even if she stayed, I would make sure the state removed her from this home. You should be very glad I’m not dragging your asses to jail.”
Jean and Gabriel stared at the couple, Raphael and Baptiste now entering the home as well. They walked down the narrow hallway to see what the sheriff was talking about.
“We’re ready,” whispered Jessica with tears in her eyes. Olive held a small stuffed rabbit and two books. That was all. Nothing else.
“No clothing?” frowned Raphael.
“There is nothing worth taking. I’ve told Olive we have a lot of clothes for her at the school,” she said attempting to smile.
“Come with me, honey,” said Raphael, lifting the child into his arms. She was too small for her age, underweight, her skin mottled with bug bites, scratches and scars. He walked past the others, glaring at Ida and Milford.
“You don’t understand,” said Milford. “She’s an unruly child. She needs a lot of discipline.”
Gabriel was so angry, he gripped the man’s throat, lifting him from his chair.
“No child deserves to be treated like that.”
By the time they’d returned to Belle Fleur, the legal team had all the paperwork signed, notarized, and filed. Olive Pepper Sims was now a ward of the Belle Fleur School.
“This is my room?” she asked. “All of this?”
“All of it, honey,” said Rafe. “Miss Jessica is bringing up some clothes for you. You have your own bathroom, shower, everything.”
“What do I need to do?” The men all stared at her. “Do I need to clean the school? Cut the grass?”
“Olive,” said Gabriel, “you don’t have to do anything except be a little girl. Go to school, learn, and be happy and healthy. That’s all.”
She frowned, not understanding why they wouldn’t want something from her.
When Jessica returned with Elizabeth, they sat the girl down and explained everything so that she understood.
They helped her to shower, changed her clothes and then took her to the school’s cafeteria where she ate more than Alec on a Monday.
“That child has been starved,” whispered Elizabeth, holding tightly to her husband. He nodded, kissing the top of her heard.
“She won’t starve any longer.”
They all noticed that Jennifer was talking to the little girl, laughing like little girls do. Like little girls should. When they finished, they held hands and walked outside together to play.
It was a scene that would play over and over dozens of times throughout the years. Olive and Jennifer were nearly inseparable. When they both went off to college, in different locations, they continued to write and stay in touch.
Even during Jennifer’s covert operations in Europe, she would make sure to send a text or email to Olive whenever she could.
For Olive, she stayed local. Finished college with a degree in mechanical engineering and then surprised them all.
“You want a job? Here? Honey, why?” asked Skull. Moose had come with her, shrugging behind her. He didn’t know why she wanted to work here but he wasn’t about to turn her away.
“I like it here,” she said shrugging. “I like the people, I feel safe, and I like the bikes. I can help with things.”
“I have no doubt you could help with things but it doesn’t feel as though you’ll be fully using your degree.”
“Sure I will,” she smiled. “As you build more and more custom bikes, I can help with the engines, making things even more spectacular. I even have a few ideas that I think will help with the bikes we’re building for the military and police.”
Skull looked at Gunner and Razor and then back at the young woman they already thought of as one of their own.
“Okay,” they nodded together. “You can start tomorrow.”