Blackwater Savior Part II

Blackwater Savior: Part II

Published by: Inger Iversen Books, LLC

All of the situations and characters in this novel are fictional. Any similarities to actual people or situations are completely coincidental and wholly unintentional.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

In the grand scheme of things, Mia didn’t know who she had become or where her life was headed. However, as she lifted the clippers to her head and gripped a fistful of her hair in the other, she grasped the reality of what she was about to do to herself.

An exasperated sigh sounded from the corner—one she ignored. “It is just hair.” Though the sister’s voice sounded soft, Sister Margarite’s tone revealed her annoyance. “If you want it back, the Lord will allow it to spring from your scalp.”

“I think you miss the point, Sister.” Sister Velda’s indulgent tone lent a little strength Mia’s way.

She wasn’t pulling a Britney Spears. Though her life had been turbulent to say the least, Mia had placed herself on a journey to recovery. It hadn’t been easy. As a matter of fact, Mia believed it was easier to stay the broken woman she’d become in Mark’s care; to hide behind fear and pain, because recovery was rough. Learning to reintegrate into a world that continued to move as hers had stayed stagnate had become a hurdle in her journey. It was easier to allow others to make choices for her, and even easier to refuse to leave her bed in the morning. The sisters, save for a few, catered to her, bent over backwards even. Being a victim had proven an easier way to live than actually surviving her past.

However, when Spooky would come to visit, the nuns had no problem detailing her every non-move throughout the process. And if anything, Mia couldn’t stand the sadness and disappointment that stained Spooky’s rough face each time they met. When she promised she would try for him, his anger reared and he reminded her to live for herself, to heal to become whole. Though she agreed, secretly, she woke up every morning and remembered the words he’d spoken to his vice president for her, the trouble he got into and was still in—for her. And so, every morning, she woke, bathed, ate, and tried to face the day without thoughts of her past. Easier said than done, but she was working on it.

For instance, right now. She glared in the mirror at what Mark had made her do to her hair. To Mia, there was nothing wrong with chemically straightening one’s hair. As a teen, she’d taken many different hair journeys, loving them all, but there was something about her natural curl pattern that had won her heart over three years ago. She had stood in front of the mirror with a fistful of hair the same way she was now. Then, she shaved her head to move to a natural hairdo, but today was different.

Mia pushed the clippers through her hair with ease, enjoying the sight of the straight locks as they fell to the ground. Wisps of hair clung to her clothes, but she banished them to the ground with a quick flick of her wrist. Something in the act felt freeing.

She thought back to the day Mark had brought the perm home for her and mocked her curls, using something she loved most about them against her, their wild and free essence. “It doesn’t look professional. I can’t have you seen with me with your wild curls flying around your head like a damned trapeze act.”

Each pass over her scalp erased a piece of his troubled past, seemingly allowing her to breathe easier. She smiled. A bubble of laughter escaped her throat, and it actually felt … good. A giddy sensation overtook her, and in moments she was admiring her new do in the mirror. Turning her head from side to side, she marveled in the fact that she’d shed ten inches of hair in a matter of moments. Her heart felt lighter, but darkness still lingered there. Everything could not be fixed by shaving one’s head. As she caressed the soft buzzcut, she momentarily wondered if Britney Spears had realized the same thing during her breakdown.

“Well, now that that’s finished, perhaps I can convince you to lend a hand in the gardens with the other sister today?”

Mia whirled around to see Sister Ellen standing in the doorway. Her all-white habit and bible in hand were a comforting sight to Mia. The sister’s odd relationship with Spooky had always intrigued her. Spooky gave a respect to the sister as if she’d in some way earned it, but Mia hadn’t figured out where or how the bond was created between the two.

Mia stepped over the pile of hair. “Sure, what are we planting today?” Lifting the trashcan, she began to throw away her hair.

“No, Mia. It isn’t always about planting something new, dear.”

Mia glanced up at the sister, confused by her words.

“Some days, it’s about tending to the things that have already grown.” The sister turned away. “I’ll let the sisters know that they can expect you in a few moments.” She disappeared from the doorway and down the hall.

Mia continued to clean the mess she’d made. This happened more than Mia cared to think about. The sister had been dropping little self-healing hints, hoping that some if not all sprung to life within Mia. The jury was still out, however, she welcomed the kind words.

After showering and changing, Mia made her way down the ornate stone staircase and to the kitchen. The scent of apples baking caused a ripple of hunger to course throughout her belly. Hunger. An issue she struggled with more than others, and still kept her from enjoying food as she used to. Her ability to go without had been strengthened by Mark’s hand. Many night’s she lay awake from the pains of hunger. Yet, she’d survived.

After unlocking and pushing open the heavy wooden door, Mia walked down the path leading to a verdant, sprawling garden owned by the sisters. She took the path, lingering a moment at the entrance. Fall had finally made its appearance after a long, harsh summer, and Mia watched as leaves drifted to the ground. She took in the fresh air and enjoyed the cool weather on her skin. Pushing open the wrought iron gates, she was met with a more than welcomed surprise.

A large, well-honed body knelt amongst the verdant grass in the garden. Sizable, calloused hands worked gently with delicate chrysanthemums. The beautiful flowers had bloomed a few weeks early and had become a welcome haven for Mia’s tired soul. She watched as Spooky gently pulled dying leaves and weeds from the flower bed. He knelt, his dark clothes and thick soles boots nestled into the earth as he diligently worked with the other nuns.

She took in his large and imposing figure as he stood, wiped his hands on his pants, and then moved down to the next row of flowers. He amazed Mia in nearly everything that he did, and she often wondered how such a dangerous man could deal such a delicate touch. She wanted to believe they were too different, as if they each had existed in a different time or even been born on neighboring planets. However, in reality, their pasts connected them through a darkness she sought to forget. Conversely, it seemed that Spooky accepted and even embraced his murky past.

A dull ache throbbed in her chest as she took a few steps forward. The man before her was seemingly at home in the lush garden. His normally stiff posture and keen eyes softened when he turned and watched her approach his as if she hadn’t shorn her head like sheep.

“Well, if it isn’t my moon, sun, and the stars between …” Spooky crooned. His accent became deeper with each compliment, his eyes grew darker in appreciation as he looked her up and down.

Mia gently rubbed a palm over her soft stubble. “It is moon-like,” she quipped.

Spooky grinned, his scarred face contorting into a mask of pure joy. “Ah, it also brings out your bright eyes and allows the sun to kiss your face.” Spooky turned away, and muttered a soft string of words under his breath. Still, she caught them, “As I wish I could.”

Mia fell silent. It wasn’t as if she didn’t find Spooky attractive or think that his lips weren’t as kissable as he claimed hers to be, it was the sole fact that his touch, as did any other, brought pain. Her eyes fell. She watched as the shadows covered the grass when the winds pushed the clouds in front of the sun. That was exactly how she felt in this moment. Spooky, her sun and fresh air, dragged away by the drudge of her past.

Kneeling before her, Spooky tilted his head to catch her gaze. “I am sorry.”

Mia shook her head. “Don’t be.” Straightening, she pointed to where Spooky had been tending garden. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah, I was hoping you’d walk with me.” He lifted a hand to her.

Mia, knowing the routine, grabbed the bottom of his cut and allowed him to lead the way. “Good. I’ve been waiting to speak to you about something.”

Spooky grunted. “As have I.” His tone, which had lowered, sent a shiver up Mia’s spine.

What does he mean? They walked a few yards away from the working nuns and under the shade of a Bur Oak tree. Mia released Spooky’s cut and placed a hand on the bark of the tree. Slipping off her shoes, she carefully walked around the tree, avoiding fallen fringed acorns. The shade cooled the grass beneath her feet. Crouching down, she ran her fingers through the cool blades.

Spooky glanced at her, his gaze seeing so much more than she’d ever planned to reveal. “I feel as if there is something on your mind.”

Tucking her feet beneath her, she sat down on the cool grass. “You made a promise to me when you first took me—”

Nostrils flared and his fair skin flushed. “Nìor rug.”

In their time together, Spooky had taught Mia some his native tongue. However, she didn’t need a translation of his words this time. His posture stiffened and fists balled. He always told Mia that she was free to leave him and never look back if she so pleased. And though Mia felt trapped in with the nuns, the key to her freedom was and would always be Spooky. His denial spoke to her in a way that saddened her. “I’m sorry. I misspoke. I didn’t mean ‘when you took me’ but when you rescued me—”

“Aye.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, Spooky groaned. “You owe me nothing, and we aren’t to speak of that day again.” His large hand reached for her. Just as skin would have met skin, Spooky dropped his hand to his side, a sadness filling his gaze.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, a restless ache returning. “Spooky. Let me finish, please.” Mia looked up into his eyes shaded by the tree. She would break his heart in this moment, but she needed this more than air. “You made me a promise, and I am not sure if you’ll keep it.”

His face fell. “Will I ever wash Mark’s blood from my hands in your eyes?” His saddened voice pulled her gaze from his.

“Yes.” She was eager to move on from the idea of Spooky killing Mark; she didn’t judge him for it, nor did she thank him. Why should she have? Mia cared more for Spooky’s freedom than she did any fear Mark wrought from her. She didn’t care if Mark continued to roam the earth as long as Spooky was free and clear of his wrath. There had been plenty of times that Mia prayed for his death, but after time away from his starvation and torment, Mia had nothing but time, and a clear mind … to think. And she’d learn that there was more to fear from Mark and his kind than Spooky would ever know. Memories surfaced, reminding her of the day she was taken and who she believed had played a role in that fateful day.

“Aye. And I promise never to break a vow to you again.” He stood before her, head up and shoulders back, proud and unyielding.

Her heart pounded, and her chest ached at the sight. “You never made the vow to me.”

She had spoken to Hope once over the phone, but they’d never spoken about Spooky, only the parts of themselves broken by a monster and the fear that certain wounds would never heal. Mia had cried for so long that day she worried she would never be able to stop. Eventually, she had. She’d learned to consume food without trepidation, to smile without hesitation, and to speak without first running lines in her head. For all of their help and support, she was so very thankful, which made her decision so very difficult. Spooky’s eyes widened, his adorable lips thinning as he realized where she was going with this.

Closing his eyes, he crouched down beside her. “Aye, I did. Is that what you’re asking of me, Mia?” It was rare that he called her Mia. Most days, it was an array of endearments, priceless gems, or even artifacts.

Her heart sank at the thought of never hearing his accented voice call her his moon, sun, and stars.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“No.” His cold tone brought her gaze to his. “You will not keep your eyes down and shy away from me. Of all people, you have nothing to be ashamed of when calling in a boon.” He stood and walked away from her for a moment, and Mia was relieved that she didn’t actually have to say the words. She’d never asked a man for money other than her father, and that request was only met when she supplied him a detailed list of her needs and the promise of receipts.

Mia looked into Spooky’s eyes, her heart still thrumming. “Spooky. Will you please give me money and a car, and allow me to leave you and this place?