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“Her name is Bess. Noah is the boy. I’ll send you the contact info when we hang up.”
“I got you.”
“Thanks, brother.”
“Always.”
The call ended and I sent the text. My heart and my gut were twisted up in knots as I headed back indoors to ask Xenon what he could find on Chet Wilson.
“I’m going over to Santa’s,” Noah announced.
“Oh? I thought he was gone all day.”
“He is. I’m getting $10 a day to feed and play with Savage.”
Savage? Oh, the dog. I remembered now. “Okay, Booga. Come home in an hour.”
“I will!”
He pulled on his hat, gloves, and jacket and ran out the front door as the wind began to howl. The air felt heavy and thick and the storm everyone was talking about was close to hitting. Once Noah was back home, I’d make us some hot chocolate and we would bake some more cookies. Jayce kept eating them all with Noah on the couch at night after dinner. I snickered with the thought. Couple of Cookie Monsters.
My phone vibrated my pocket and I looked down to see a number that wasn’t familiar. A cold sweat broke out on my skin and for a second I thought Chet had my number. It was silly to think so and I swiped across, answering just to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Hi,” an older female voice greeted, “This is Lily. Are you Bess?”
Relieved, you could probably hear it in my voice. “Yes, this is Bess. How can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Papa’s. He talked to my brother and asked me to give you a call.”
“Okay.”
“I think it’s best if I tell you a little about what I do and then it will make more sense. That sound okay?”
“Sure.” I was curious. Why was she calling?
“I run a little place called Lily’s Hope in Pennsylvania. It’s a safe haven for women like me who have been through trauma.”
Trauma? Like what?
“I provide a temporary home on a farm with a lot of land that gives the women a quiet place to recover from their injuries and find others who have gone through a similar experience. There are groups that meet to encourage and provide support through the healing process as well as breakout rooms that allow an outlet for the pain and heartbreak to filter through.”
Stunned, I didn’t know what to say.
“Some paint. Others like to read and write. Some use physical exercise and bond with the animals. It’s different for each of us.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“You see, I know what they’re going through. I’m a survivor too, Bess. I was raped just like each one of them.”
Shit. My throat closed up and I choked out some kind of response, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
“You may not be ready yet to talk about what you went through and that’s okay. Someday you will and I hope when you are, you’ll think of me as a friend and someone you can confide in. I’d sure like to be there for you, Bess.”
Tears filled my eyes and overflowed, spilling down my cheeks. Her soft voice and kindness meant more than I could have expressed into words.
“Thank you.” It was all I could get out.
“You let me know if the nightmares are too much, okay?”
