Eden's Garden, page 7
Her eyes grew wide when I mentioned the police. “I don’t want the cops involved. That sounds extreme. I just want my stuff…”
“It’s okay. There’s no pressure to make any decisions right this second. It’s only an option. For now, go ahead and change while I help Camilla downstairs. When you’re ready, we’ll head out so everyone can get to work on time.” I smiled and headed for the bedroom door. “And Denisha?”
She remained in the middle of the room, still looking forlorn. “Yes?”
“Thank you for feeling like I was a safe place and person to come to last night. That means a lot to me.”
At this, the corner of her mouth tugged into a soft, sad smile. “Thanks for being that kind of person.”
“You’re welcome.” I headed downstairs, weighing our conversation. This was the most serious I’d ever seen her, and we talked often. As I entered the kitchen, the pop of the toaster resounded through the air.
“Darn things always scare me,” Camilla said, her voice a squeak. “Know what I hate worse, Ma’am?”
“What’s that?” I asked, taking a seat at the table to sip on the coffee she’d placed for me already.
“Biscuit cans.” Her chin jutted as she gave a firm nod. “Those will be the death of me.”
I laughed, ashamed to admit that they always startled me as well. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know Camilla attempted to lighten the mood with her conversation. She would have made a great counselor, if she liked people more.
“We’ll be eating while we’re in the SUV, so everyone can get to work on time.”
She nodded an acknowledgment as she pulled butter and jelly from the fridge. “What would you like on your toast, Ma’am?”
“Both is good.” I watched her make it as I worked on finishing up my coffee. When she sat my plate in front of me, I took a bite. I’d said we would eat on the way, but toast proved simple enough to wolf down now. As the driver, it’d be easier to eat so I could have my hands free.
Only a few minutes passed before Denisha came downstairs. She’d chosen to keep her jeans on, and complemented it with a shirt that sported a horse outline filled in with the American flag. Once again, seeing her without her usual bright colored clothes and wigs broke my heart. My wardrobe, though lively for me, looked dull on her.
Camilla handed her a piece of toast slathered in butter and jelly on a paper plate she’d found in my cabinet. Her friend accepted it with a small smile of appreciation that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Part of me debated calling in and keeping her home with me for the day, but I reasoned that being around all the children at her job might cheer her up. Denisha lived for those kids, and loved every second with them. Surely it would do her more good than sitting in the house moping with me all day.
When our self-appointed cook finished making her own toast, we headed to the driveway to pile up in my SUV. Rhett’s car remained in my garage, patiently awaiting the return of its owner. Thus far, I’d remembered to start it up every few days so the battery wouldn’t die from lack of use. We loaded up and headed on our way.
The silence hung heavily in the car as we drove down the interstate, like a toxic smog that threatened to bring us all down. The further we drove, the more my heart clenched in worry for Denisha, and the more Camilla’s expression fell as she probably suffered the same. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, I spoke.
“What do you girls think of going to Chincoteague in a couple of weeks? Say, second week of August so we all have time to clear our schedules? Miss Kay has a house there, and she said we could use it if I asked.”
Camilla lit up and turned to me with a grin. “That sounds wonderful, Ma’am. What do you think, Denisha?”
“Mhm.” Denisha continued to stare out the window, her face neutral.
“Denisha?” Camilla pressed, her voice louder.
“Yeah?” Though the words came out of her mouth, she sounded as far away in her thoughts as the Earth sat from Saturn.
Camilla swiveled to stare at our backseat passenger. “Ponies, Denisha.”
“Ponies?” At this, some form of life returned to my Little. I caught sight of her in the rearview mirror, sitting up straighter and pulling her attention from her thoughts to focus on us.
“Yeah, at Chincoteague. Mistress Eden is taking us in a couple of weeks. Fun, right?”
A strained second passed before she responded, and for a moment I worried I’d made the wrong choice. When she finally spoke, more of her old self returned to her voice.
“I like ponies. Do you think we’ll get to see them, Miss Eden?”
“Dunno. I’ve never been before. But we’ll do our best.” I pulled into the parking lot for the bus stop and parked so Camilla could get out. “Have a great day, Camilla. Thanks for coming over last night.”
She exited the vehicle, shoved the last of her toast in her mouth, then pulled her duffle bag out of the floorboard. “I’ll call you when I get off work. Both of you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Denisha and I chimed in unison.
I waited until Camilla got to the bus shelter before heading back out. With Denisha’s help, we made it to her daycare within a few more minutes, leaving me plenty of time to make it over to the shipyard. The parking lot swarmed with vehicles of parents dropping off their children on their way to work, and I had to park near the edge just to find an open spot. The sophisticated childcare center looked more like a miniature school, and a very nice playground with different levels of age-appropriate equipment, took pride of place in the back and along the side.
“If things get rough, call me. I will have my phone on me today, okay, sweetie?” I twisted so I could smile at her and let her see the sincerity in my face. “I’ll come get you. Text me what time you get off work so I can pick you up after too.”
“Okay, Miss Eden. Thank you. I’ll see you later.” Finally, the Denisha I knew blossomed into a smile, reassuring me that bringing her here was the right thing to do. “Bye.”
She climbed out, shut the door, and made her way to the entrance where she disappeared inside. Just as I prepared to put my vehicle in reverse, a car jerked to a stop behind me, blocking me in. I watched while an older woman pulled herself out, features stormy, as she marched up to my door and beat on my window.
I cracked it, unwilling to do more. This area, though nice, resided in a city with a high crime rate. Caution only seemed right. “Can I help you?”
“You know, I think it’s sick and twisted for someone to have sex with a person like Denisha. Are you a closet pedophile?”
I jerked at the accusation from someone who could only be Denisha’s mother as shock rippled through me. “What?”
“Girl ain’t right in the head. Surely you can see that. She’s obviously disabled, and stuck in the mindset of a child.” Her mother crossed her arms as she regarded me with an intense frown. “And what you doin’ ain’t right with the Lord, either. Sick.”
Anger spiraled within me, like a fire climbing a drought-stricken tree. “Let’s get one thing straight. Denisha is not disabled. She’s not a five year old. She’s a highly intelligent woman who happens to find enjoyment from the simpler things in life. And if this is what she grew up with, then no wonder she sought some form of relief.”
Her mouth gaped open. “How dare you accuse me of being a bad mother.”
“And how dare you accuse me of being a pedophile, and your daughter of being a simpleton. She’s a wonderful, beautiful, kind-hearted woman, and I’m sorry for you that you can’t see that. Now, move your car, please, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”
“This ain’t done, bitch. I’ll have you arrested for pedophilia.” She jabbed a finger that probably would have hit me in the shoulder if the glass weren’t in the way.
I snorted at her threats. “With a twenty-six year old adult? Good luck with that one. Now, if you’d like, we can get the police involved right this minute. Okay?”
“Sick bitch!” she yelled loud enough for a few parents to stop and stare before stomping off to her car. Gravel from the parking lot sprayed my vehicle as she peeled out and I released a breath, glad her daughter didn’t witness the display. Hopefully Denisha wouldn’t hear about it either, though I doubted I’d get that lucky considering the adults who continued to stare at me.
As I pulled out with much less zest than my accuser, I wondered how Denisha ever found joy in anything with such a domineering, controlling woman watching her every move. If anything, this exchange solidified my desire to provide a safe space for my precious Little.
Chapter Eleven
The hot summer air slapped me with humidity as I walked from the parking lot to the entrance of the museum. I checked my text messages and found one from Wynn saying she and Dove were already inside.
Dove? I wonder who Dove is. A friend? Maybe a nickname for Maya. Wait, didn’t she say there would be a service dog here?
I walked in and spotted them immediately. Wynn stood to the left intently studying a couple of velociraptor statues. At her side, relaxed but alert, sat a stark white dog in a service vest. As I walked up, the dog positioned itself at Wynn's back, then tapped the woman's calf with her muzzle, alerting her to my presence.
"Good morning, Wynn."
She turned without flinching, and a reserved smile welcomed me. Her demeanor, though not relaxed, certainly didn't appear as jumpy or walled off as in the past. Perhaps the dog gave her a level of confidence that helped. Or maybe she was starting to grow comfortable with me. Either way, I smiled back at her.
"Hello, Eden. I hope you don't mind that I brought Dove along. My illnesses are playing havoc on me today. I almost asked if we could reschedule, but…" She grimaced. "I know we waited a bit long to do this."
"It's okay." I held up a placating hand. "I don't mind on either account, and I would have understood if you needed to reschedule, but I am happy to see you."
She fell silent as a group of children passed by. From the tension in her shoulders, and the firm line of her lips, I could tell she expected...something. They walked on without a glance, more interested in the dinosaur exhibit than us. Once they entered the side room where growls and moans of prehistoric creatures emitted from, she visibly relaxed.
"Everything alright?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle.
"Yes." She worried at her bottom lip for a moment with her teeth. "Dove helps a lot, but in some ways using her makes my anxiety worse. There's always people who want to pet her—especially kids—or places that challenge me when I try to bring her in. Emotional support animals have given service animals even more hardships to conquer, and it makes me so angry." Her fist tightened on the harness handle, giving proof to her statement.
"I bet it does. It would be like a diabetic trying to give themselves an insulin shot and driven out of businesses for being a drug addict. You're honestly just trying to survive and people are giving you shit for it."
My words must have resonated with her. A genuine full smile spread across her lips as she nodded. "Yes. Exactly. Thank you."
Now that her voice didn't wobble or stutter, I could enjoy the full quality of it. In another life, with another career choice, the softly southern woman could have been a crooning country singer. Her voice twanged and lilted in all the right places. The cotton candy pink-tinged hair that brushed her jawline accented an oval face and ice-blue eyes. Eyes that currently sparkled over connecting with someone who validated her feelings.
"Were you wanting to see the dinosaur exhibit?" I asked, gesturing at the entrance. Signs all over announced it as a temporary one.
She stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Too crowded. Too many kids."
"I understand." And I did. Going in there meant staying vigilant that no one interfered with Dove's work instead of being able to relax and enjoy the displays. The fact she came into public at all with this kind of conflict made me admire her.
We headed to the ticket counter and purchased ours for the main area. As soon as we walked in, she pointed out a touch tank. A lone employee stood there, waiting for patrons. Perfect for an agoraphobic woman and her sidekicks.
"I love horseshoe crabs," she told me as we approached the counter-like tank. "They look so cool. If you go to the beach after a tropical storm or hurricane, you'll often find them washed up on the sand. It's so sad."
The male employee, who actually looked excited to see people interested, smiled at us. "Hello, ladies. See anything in particular here that you'd like to know about?"
I let my gaze sweep over the various creatures that swam, crawled, darted, or swayed in the water. A chunky red starfish caught my attention and I pointed at it with a grin.
"Could I touch that one, please?"
He nodded. "Sure. Just please don't pick him up. We always worry about doing damage to their suckers or brittle arms."
The cool water swirled around my fingers as I placed my hand in the tank. I liked they provided a current for them, so the water didn't stagnate. From the cleanliness and the shape the sea creatures were in, it was clear the staff took care to maintain everything. The scratchy, rough starfish felt like sandpaper under my fingertips as I stroked it a couple of times.
I glanced over to watch as the employee turned over a small horseshoe crab while he described the different parts. He handled the creature gently, and only kept it turned long enough to quickly go through his description before he returned it to the tank. The normal tension in Wynn's face disappeared as she listened to him, enraptured by the lesson. I held a sneaky suspicion she already knew most of what he said, but it didn't stop her from enjoying him.
After we touched almost everything in the tank, we cleaned our hands and headed to the next section. Dove padded along quietly, ever-attentive to her charge yet remaining almost invisible.
We walked past tanks that reached from above the ceiling to below the floor, filled with vibrant fish. One tank held a couple of giant sea turtles and another contained sharks that slid by, their unemotional eyes passing over and dismissing us while we stared at them with equal parts fear and awe.
“Sharks have always scared me,” Wynn whispered, as if afraid they might hear and act upon her confession. “Even as an adult, I have this phobia of being in the ocean deeper than my knees. I’m scared of pools too. Isn’t that stupid?”
“Of the water or…”
She shook her head and shifted her grip on Dove’s harness. “Of a shark attacking me. I know it’s not rational. I’ve never even been attacked or anything.”
“Phobias don’t have to make sense.” I shot her a grin, amused at how she and Cami shared the same fear. I wondered if they knew it. “I’m terrified of needles, which is the only thing holding me back from getting less sensible tattoos more frequently.”
At this, her expression softened. “Maya said you took her to the tattoo festival. She couldn’t stop talking about it for days. Thank you for taking her. She doesn’t have much fun these days. Not since…” She trailed off, but didn’t need to finish for me to understand she meant the accident from their military days. “She’s like a mother hen, anymore.”
I chuckled, imagining slick, sexy, rebellious Maya in a motherly role. “I’m glad she enjoyed herself. I did too. I have to admit, it surprised me she didn’t get a tattoo while we were there.”
We continued to the next exhibit as Wynn shook her head. “Her tats mean a great deal to her. She’d never get one on a whim. Besides, the next one she’s planning will take hours and she hasn’t saved up enough for it yet.”
“Oh yeah?” I held open a set of double-doors for her so we could walk into some kind of swampy area. “Do you know what she’s planning on?”
“A black horse wearing a unicorn skull mask. It has a bunch of trinkets woven into its mane. She wants to customize the trinkets to special things. Maya thinks the idea of something so morbidly beautiful is fitting.” Wynn walked into the room. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And it would fit her. I hope I get to see the finished piece. If it’s done after I leave, I want her to send me a picture of it.” I eased the door closed and turned to view the birds that flitted around us and the huge fish lazily circling about in the chest-high tanks that lined the walkway.
About half-through, a group of rowdy young men entered the room, allowing the door to slam shut behind them with a resounding boom. Wynn stiffened beside me, her face growing pale. With each loud laugh or exclamation they emitted, she huddled in on herself. Dove turned herself sideways in front of her handler, urging her backward into a quiet corner.
“Wynn?” I followed, keeping my voice soft.
Her eyes began to glaze, and when the troop of loud people passed us and banged out the exit, tears rolled down her face. Tremors ran through her entire body, and her breath came in short pants. Hands reached blindly, grasping, searching. Dove pressed her muzzle into one while I clasped the other, hoping I didn’t agitate her further with my touch.
“Please,” she whispered over, her tone frantic and begging. “Please don’t leave me to die. Please.”
“Wynn, I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.” I glanced down at the dog, wishing she could instruct me on how to help. Easy enough to know Wynn suffered from a PTSD episode right now, but the actions I needed to take to get her through it? That remained the tricky part. For a moment, I considered calling Maya for guidance, but thought better of risking having two upset women on my hands.
“Wynn, do you know who I am?” I coupled my gentle tone with a soft stroke of my fingers on the back of her hand. “Who am I?”
Her gaze flicked to me, focused, wavered. “I…I…”
“What’s my name, Wynn?”
“E-eden?” Her thick voice told me she fought back tears.
I smiled broadly and nodded. “That’s right. I’m Eden. Where are we right now, Wynn?”
This time, her gaze darted around, pulling information from our surroundings. “I don’t…” A soft cry cut off her words and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Shh. That’s okay. We’re at the Living Museum. We’re on a date together, nice and safe. Dove is here with us too.”
“It’s okay. There’s no pressure to make any decisions right this second. It’s only an option. For now, go ahead and change while I help Camilla downstairs. When you’re ready, we’ll head out so everyone can get to work on time.” I smiled and headed for the bedroom door. “And Denisha?”
She remained in the middle of the room, still looking forlorn. “Yes?”
“Thank you for feeling like I was a safe place and person to come to last night. That means a lot to me.”
At this, the corner of her mouth tugged into a soft, sad smile. “Thanks for being that kind of person.”
“You’re welcome.” I headed downstairs, weighing our conversation. This was the most serious I’d ever seen her, and we talked often. As I entered the kitchen, the pop of the toaster resounded through the air.
“Darn things always scare me,” Camilla said, her voice a squeak. “Know what I hate worse, Ma’am?”
“What’s that?” I asked, taking a seat at the table to sip on the coffee she’d placed for me already.
“Biscuit cans.” Her chin jutted as she gave a firm nod. “Those will be the death of me.”
I laughed, ashamed to admit that they always startled me as well. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know Camilla attempted to lighten the mood with her conversation. She would have made a great counselor, if she liked people more.
“We’ll be eating while we’re in the SUV, so everyone can get to work on time.”
She nodded an acknowledgment as she pulled butter and jelly from the fridge. “What would you like on your toast, Ma’am?”
“Both is good.” I watched her make it as I worked on finishing up my coffee. When she sat my plate in front of me, I took a bite. I’d said we would eat on the way, but toast proved simple enough to wolf down now. As the driver, it’d be easier to eat so I could have my hands free.
Only a few minutes passed before Denisha came downstairs. She’d chosen to keep her jeans on, and complemented it with a shirt that sported a horse outline filled in with the American flag. Once again, seeing her without her usual bright colored clothes and wigs broke my heart. My wardrobe, though lively for me, looked dull on her.
Camilla handed her a piece of toast slathered in butter and jelly on a paper plate she’d found in my cabinet. Her friend accepted it with a small smile of appreciation that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Part of me debated calling in and keeping her home with me for the day, but I reasoned that being around all the children at her job might cheer her up. Denisha lived for those kids, and loved every second with them. Surely it would do her more good than sitting in the house moping with me all day.
When our self-appointed cook finished making her own toast, we headed to the driveway to pile up in my SUV. Rhett’s car remained in my garage, patiently awaiting the return of its owner. Thus far, I’d remembered to start it up every few days so the battery wouldn’t die from lack of use. We loaded up and headed on our way.
The silence hung heavily in the car as we drove down the interstate, like a toxic smog that threatened to bring us all down. The further we drove, the more my heart clenched in worry for Denisha, and the more Camilla’s expression fell as she probably suffered the same. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, I spoke.
“What do you girls think of going to Chincoteague in a couple of weeks? Say, second week of August so we all have time to clear our schedules? Miss Kay has a house there, and she said we could use it if I asked.”
Camilla lit up and turned to me with a grin. “That sounds wonderful, Ma’am. What do you think, Denisha?”
“Mhm.” Denisha continued to stare out the window, her face neutral.
“Denisha?” Camilla pressed, her voice louder.
“Yeah?” Though the words came out of her mouth, she sounded as far away in her thoughts as the Earth sat from Saturn.
Camilla swiveled to stare at our backseat passenger. “Ponies, Denisha.”
“Ponies?” At this, some form of life returned to my Little. I caught sight of her in the rearview mirror, sitting up straighter and pulling her attention from her thoughts to focus on us.
“Yeah, at Chincoteague. Mistress Eden is taking us in a couple of weeks. Fun, right?”
A strained second passed before she responded, and for a moment I worried I’d made the wrong choice. When she finally spoke, more of her old self returned to her voice.
“I like ponies. Do you think we’ll get to see them, Miss Eden?”
“Dunno. I’ve never been before. But we’ll do our best.” I pulled into the parking lot for the bus stop and parked so Camilla could get out. “Have a great day, Camilla. Thanks for coming over last night.”
She exited the vehicle, shoved the last of her toast in her mouth, then pulled her duffle bag out of the floorboard. “I’ll call you when I get off work. Both of you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Denisha and I chimed in unison.
I waited until Camilla got to the bus shelter before heading back out. With Denisha’s help, we made it to her daycare within a few more minutes, leaving me plenty of time to make it over to the shipyard. The parking lot swarmed with vehicles of parents dropping off their children on their way to work, and I had to park near the edge just to find an open spot. The sophisticated childcare center looked more like a miniature school, and a very nice playground with different levels of age-appropriate equipment, took pride of place in the back and along the side.
“If things get rough, call me. I will have my phone on me today, okay, sweetie?” I twisted so I could smile at her and let her see the sincerity in my face. “I’ll come get you. Text me what time you get off work so I can pick you up after too.”
“Okay, Miss Eden. Thank you. I’ll see you later.” Finally, the Denisha I knew blossomed into a smile, reassuring me that bringing her here was the right thing to do. “Bye.”
She climbed out, shut the door, and made her way to the entrance where she disappeared inside. Just as I prepared to put my vehicle in reverse, a car jerked to a stop behind me, blocking me in. I watched while an older woman pulled herself out, features stormy, as she marched up to my door and beat on my window.
I cracked it, unwilling to do more. This area, though nice, resided in a city with a high crime rate. Caution only seemed right. “Can I help you?”
“You know, I think it’s sick and twisted for someone to have sex with a person like Denisha. Are you a closet pedophile?”
I jerked at the accusation from someone who could only be Denisha’s mother as shock rippled through me. “What?”
“Girl ain’t right in the head. Surely you can see that. She’s obviously disabled, and stuck in the mindset of a child.” Her mother crossed her arms as she regarded me with an intense frown. “And what you doin’ ain’t right with the Lord, either. Sick.”
Anger spiraled within me, like a fire climbing a drought-stricken tree. “Let’s get one thing straight. Denisha is not disabled. She’s not a five year old. She’s a highly intelligent woman who happens to find enjoyment from the simpler things in life. And if this is what she grew up with, then no wonder she sought some form of relief.”
Her mouth gaped open. “How dare you accuse me of being a bad mother.”
“And how dare you accuse me of being a pedophile, and your daughter of being a simpleton. She’s a wonderful, beautiful, kind-hearted woman, and I’m sorry for you that you can’t see that. Now, move your car, please, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”
“This ain’t done, bitch. I’ll have you arrested for pedophilia.” She jabbed a finger that probably would have hit me in the shoulder if the glass weren’t in the way.
I snorted at her threats. “With a twenty-six year old adult? Good luck with that one. Now, if you’d like, we can get the police involved right this minute. Okay?”
“Sick bitch!” she yelled loud enough for a few parents to stop and stare before stomping off to her car. Gravel from the parking lot sprayed my vehicle as she peeled out and I released a breath, glad her daughter didn’t witness the display. Hopefully Denisha wouldn’t hear about it either, though I doubted I’d get that lucky considering the adults who continued to stare at me.
As I pulled out with much less zest than my accuser, I wondered how Denisha ever found joy in anything with such a domineering, controlling woman watching her every move. If anything, this exchange solidified my desire to provide a safe space for my precious Little.
Chapter Eleven
The hot summer air slapped me with humidity as I walked from the parking lot to the entrance of the museum. I checked my text messages and found one from Wynn saying she and Dove were already inside.
Dove? I wonder who Dove is. A friend? Maybe a nickname for Maya. Wait, didn’t she say there would be a service dog here?
I walked in and spotted them immediately. Wynn stood to the left intently studying a couple of velociraptor statues. At her side, relaxed but alert, sat a stark white dog in a service vest. As I walked up, the dog positioned itself at Wynn's back, then tapped the woman's calf with her muzzle, alerting her to my presence.
"Good morning, Wynn."
She turned without flinching, and a reserved smile welcomed me. Her demeanor, though not relaxed, certainly didn't appear as jumpy or walled off as in the past. Perhaps the dog gave her a level of confidence that helped. Or maybe she was starting to grow comfortable with me. Either way, I smiled back at her.
"Hello, Eden. I hope you don't mind that I brought Dove along. My illnesses are playing havoc on me today. I almost asked if we could reschedule, but…" She grimaced. "I know we waited a bit long to do this."
"It's okay." I held up a placating hand. "I don't mind on either account, and I would have understood if you needed to reschedule, but I am happy to see you."
She fell silent as a group of children passed by. From the tension in her shoulders, and the firm line of her lips, I could tell she expected...something. They walked on without a glance, more interested in the dinosaur exhibit than us. Once they entered the side room where growls and moans of prehistoric creatures emitted from, she visibly relaxed.
"Everything alright?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle.
"Yes." She worried at her bottom lip for a moment with her teeth. "Dove helps a lot, but in some ways using her makes my anxiety worse. There's always people who want to pet her—especially kids—or places that challenge me when I try to bring her in. Emotional support animals have given service animals even more hardships to conquer, and it makes me so angry." Her fist tightened on the harness handle, giving proof to her statement.
"I bet it does. It would be like a diabetic trying to give themselves an insulin shot and driven out of businesses for being a drug addict. You're honestly just trying to survive and people are giving you shit for it."
My words must have resonated with her. A genuine full smile spread across her lips as she nodded. "Yes. Exactly. Thank you."
Now that her voice didn't wobble or stutter, I could enjoy the full quality of it. In another life, with another career choice, the softly southern woman could have been a crooning country singer. Her voice twanged and lilted in all the right places. The cotton candy pink-tinged hair that brushed her jawline accented an oval face and ice-blue eyes. Eyes that currently sparkled over connecting with someone who validated her feelings.
"Were you wanting to see the dinosaur exhibit?" I asked, gesturing at the entrance. Signs all over announced it as a temporary one.
She stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Too crowded. Too many kids."
"I understand." And I did. Going in there meant staying vigilant that no one interfered with Dove's work instead of being able to relax and enjoy the displays. The fact she came into public at all with this kind of conflict made me admire her.
We headed to the ticket counter and purchased ours for the main area. As soon as we walked in, she pointed out a touch tank. A lone employee stood there, waiting for patrons. Perfect for an agoraphobic woman and her sidekicks.
"I love horseshoe crabs," she told me as we approached the counter-like tank. "They look so cool. If you go to the beach after a tropical storm or hurricane, you'll often find them washed up on the sand. It's so sad."
The male employee, who actually looked excited to see people interested, smiled at us. "Hello, ladies. See anything in particular here that you'd like to know about?"
I let my gaze sweep over the various creatures that swam, crawled, darted, or swayed in the water. A chunky red starfish caught my attention and I pointed at it with a grin.
"Could I touch that one, please?"
He nodded. "Sure. Just please don't pick him up. We always worry about doing damage to their suckers or brittle arms."
The cool water swirled around my fingers as I placed my hand in the tank. I liked they provided a current for them, so the water didn't stagnate. From the cleanliness and the shape the sea creatures were in, it was clear the staff took care to maintain everything. The scratchy, rough starfish felt like sandpaper under my fingertips as I stroked it a couple of times.
I glanced over to watch as the employee turned over a small horseshoe crab while he described the different parts. He handled the creature gently, and only kept it turned long enough to quickly go through his description before he returned it to the tank. The normal tension in Wynn's face disappeared as she listened to him, enraptured by the lesson. I held a sneaky suspicion she already knew most of what he said, but it didn't stop her from enjoying him.
After we touched almost everything in the tank, we cleaned our hands and headed to the next section. Dove padded along quietly, ever-attentive to her charge yet remaining almost invisible.
We walked past tanks that reached from above the ceiling to below the floor, filled with vibrant fish. One tank held a couple of giant sea turtles and another contained sharks that slid by, their unemotional eyes passing over and dismissing us while we stared at them with equal parts fear and awe.
“Sharks have always scared me,” Wynn whispered, as if afraid they might hear and act upon her confession. “Even as an adult, I have this phobia of being in the ocean deeper than my knees. I’m scared of pools too. Isn’t that stupid?”
“Of the water or…”
She shook her head and shifted her grip on Dove’s harness. “Of a shark attacking me. I know it’s not rational. I’ve never even been attacked or anything.”
“Phobias don’t have to make sense.” I shot her a grin, amused at how she and Cami shared the same fear. I wondered if they knew it. “I’m terrified of needles, which is the only thing holding me back from getting less sensible tattoos more frequently.”
At this, her expression softened. “Maya said you took her to the tattoo festival. She couldn’t stop talking about it for days. Thank you for taking her. She doesn’t have much fun these days. Not since…” She trailed off, but didn’t need to finish for me to understand she meant the accident from their military days. “She’s like a mother hen, anymore.”
I chuckled, imagining slick, sexy, rebellious Maya in a motherly role. “I’m glad she enjoyed herself. I did too. I have to admit, it surprised me she didn’t get a tattoo while we were there.”
We continued to the next exhibit as Wynn shook her head. “Her tats mean a great deal to her. She’d never get one on a whim. Besides, the next one she’s planning will take hours and she hasn’t saved up enough for it yet.”
“Oh yeah?” I held open a set of double-doors for her so we could walk into some kind of swampy area. “Do you know what she’s planning on?”
“A black horse wearing a unicorn skull mask. It has a bunch of trinkets woven into its mane. She wants to customize the trinkets to special things. Maya thinks the idea of something so morbidly beautiful is fitting.” Wynn walked into the room. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And it would fit her. I hope I get to see the finished piece. If it’s done after I leave, I want her to send me a picture of it.” I eased the door closed and turned to view the birds that flitted around us and the huge fish lazily circling about in the chest-high tanks that lined the walkway.
About half-through, a group of rowdy young men entered the room, allowing the door to slam shut behind them with a resounding boom. Wynn stiffened beside me, her face growing pale. With each loud laugh or exclamation they emitted, she huddled in on herself. Dove turned herself sideways in front of her handler, urging her backward into a quiet corner.
“Wynn?” I followed, keeping my voice soft.
Her eyes began to glaze, and when the troop of loud people passed us and banged out the exit, tears rolled down her face. Tremors ran through her entire body, and her breath came in short pants. Hands reached blindly, grasping, searching. Dove pressed her muzzle into one while I clasped the other, hoping I didn’t agitate her further with my touch.
“Please,” she whispered over, her tone frantic and begging. “Please don’t leave me to die. Please.”
“Wynn, I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.” I glanced down at the dog, wishing she could instruct me on how to help. Easy enough to know Wynn suffered from a PTSD episode right now, but the actions I needed to take to get her through it? That remained the tricky part. For a moment, I considered calling Maya for guidance, but thought better of risking having two upset women on my hands.
“Wynn, do you know who I am?” I coupled my gentle tone with a soft stroke of my fingers on the back of her hand. “Who am I?”
Her gaze flicked to me, focused, wavered. “I…I…”
“What’s my name, Wynn?”
“E-eden?” Her thick voice told me she fought back tears.
I smiled broadly and nodded. “That’s right. I’m Eden. Where are we right now, Wynn?”
This time, her gaze darted around, pulling information from our surroundings. “I don’t…” A soft cry cut off her words and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Shh. That’s okay. We’re at the Living Museum. We’re on a date together, nice and safe. Dove is here with us too.”
