Saving Ella (6 page)

             
“Ella and Eli. We kind of match.”

             
“We kinda do, we’ve got pretty awesome names.” Eli suddenly disappeared in a rush of excitement, squealing to his mother how our names ‘kind of’ matched. Floating on a euphoric cloud of childish innocence, clean and warm from the shower I wandered through a long corridor, following the incredible smell that wafted through the air. Holding my clothes in front of me like a shield, I stepped into the large kitchen. Like the rest of the shelter, it was clean, all but a few dirty dishes. A significantly round woman laughed with a loud shrill, her rosy cheeks flushed. She spotted me by the door and I shrunk back suddenly wishing I could disappear into the corridor behind me. I hated being the center of attention.              

             
“Come on in before this big oaf eats all your dinner.” Jax had his back to me, but when he heard the stoutly woman’s invite he casually turned around and smiled.

             
“Feeling a bit warmer now angel?” Flip went my heart,
stupid Ella
. He more than likely had pet names for all the women in the shelter and no doubt saved the truly heart melting sentiments for his wife.

             
“Does angel have a name?” The woman beside him asked, wiping her hands on a large apron. She gave Jax a curious smirk.

             
“Sorry Mary, this is Ella, she just blew in with the storm.” Jax lifted two plates and put them down at a tall bench in the center of the room.

             
“It’s nice to meet you Ella. And I mean it, get your skinny backside in here and get some supper before Jax eats it all. I mean look at him, he’s the size of a damn Oak, he needs all the food he can get to fill those long legs.” My eyes automatically went to those impressive legs before my mind caught up and realized what I was doing. Jax grinned, I was totally busted. I knew I blushed and hated it. I put up my shields, my determined pout behind the long veil of hair that shrouded my face falling forward around me. 

             
“Here, let me take those for you. We have a laundry room and I’ve got a few things to throw on. You have anything else that needs washing?” I shook my head and hesitantly handed my clothes over to Mary. I didn’t like handing over my possessions to others. I had so few things of my own that I preferred to take care of them myself, that way I could be sure not to lose anything. I know they were only things, material things, but things were harder to replace these days. Money was always scarce which meant being extra careful of what little I did have. Mary winked as if recognizing my hesitance.

“I will take good care of these Ella and make sure you have them back before you go to bed tonight.”

Jax was already sitting down to his own plate of food. He didn’t force me to join him, no expectations, just the silent offer of a meal. My backpack slid from my shoulders and I let it fall to my feet as I climbed onto the tall chair at the counter.

             
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian. Not that Mary minds cooking vegetables, but she’s got this thing about fattening everyone up and she seems to think that it’s done with three food groups, pig, beef and lamb.” I took a deep breath and drew in the spicy aroma of what I think was beef casserole, with what looked like real beef and veges.

             
“Yep, real beef,” Jax murmured. “Not many shelters offer the real thing, so I’m told. Most the women who stay are surprised with the food. Mary’s husband is a butcher. He provides us with enough meat to feed a small army and trust me, it tastes a hell of a lot better than the food I was forced to eat in the forces.” I cast him a sideways glance.

             
“You’re a soldier?” I asked the words so low I wondered if he would even hear me.

             
“Was,” Jax wiped his mouth politely with a napkin. “I served for nine years, right out of school. I finished up my last tour a bit over eight months ago.”

             
“You didn’t like it?” I was genuinely curious. Even though he was built like a soldier, he didn’t exactly look military. His hair was too long, his eyes too gentle and warm. He nodded towards my food.

             
“Tell you what, I’ll talk if you eat.” I glanced at my food; it smelt delicious. He didn’t need to make me a deal to force me to eat it. But the chance to sit and listen to this beautiful man was too much to refuse. I should have been scared of Jax. I was always reluctant and cautious around men and large men like this one usually just freaked me out. However, sitting here alone in this kitchen with Jax felt unusually comfortable and there seemed to be no hostility in him, no hatred or violence. Not like Marcus where the hatred in that man’s stare was almost as punishing as his fists. The violence he had brought to my world not only left me physically scarred but emotionally scarred. All it took was a raised voice for my heart to break into a panicked stutter and the violence of a fight, fists hitting, pushing, screaming all sent me into a full blown panic attack. I had other triggers too. If someone came at me from behind, I would lose my shit, the smell of cigars made my stomach turn, big men dressed in expensive suits sent me into run and flee mode, basically any memory that was associated with Marcus caused me to slip into a panic that would cause my lungs to squeeze close until I either passed out or regained control.

             
“Hey,” Jax’s gentle voice bought me straight back to Mercy’s kitchen where I realized I was rubbing my wrists as the memories threatened to drag me away from this moment. “Lost you there for a minute,” he noted. Letting my hair fall forward again, protecting me from his knowing gaze I scooped up some beef and put it in my mouth. Delicious!

             
“I didn’t hate the army. I was good at it. Moved my way up the ladder quickly, but in the end I was more interested in saving lives, rather than taking them. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in what our soldiers are doing for our country and others, but it just wasn’t for me.” I nodded as I greedily shoved food in my mouth.  

             
“I like to build things. I’ve built a lot of the furniture here in the shelter. I’ve set myself up a small construction company. Little jobs, sometimes sheds, shop fit outs. I’ve helped build a couple of homes for friends, for Mercy, even my own.” I glanced at his hands, big, strong, calloused hands. They were nothing like Marcus’s soft hands that only knew violence and hate. Jax’s hands were made to create and protect. I looked at my own hands. A little soft from my last job, eight weeks washing dishes, easy work, crap money. It had been a long time since charcoal had colored my fingers. Almost twelve months to be exact, and over the last four years there were only four portraits that had I sketched and they currently lay safely folded at the bottom of my backpack. Sketching brought me painful memories of what could have been. However much I loved to do it, I just couldn’t bring myself to keep it up.

             
“There you go again.” Jax was watching me carefully. “Am I boring you?” He teased. I blushed like a school girl and rolled my eyes at my ridiculous bashfulness. We finished up our meals. Jax talked, I listened. I enjoyed his voice, it was strong yet gentle and always enthusiastic, like even the most insignificant moment was important. He told me all about the shelter and a little more about his business. He never asked questions, never pried, not once. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. When I realized we had sat talking for over an hour I was stunned that the time had passed so quickly and easily. I followed Jax back out into the common room, noticing the lights had been dimmed and most of the women had gone to bed. Eli sat at a table with an array of crayons and paper. A woman sat quietly at his side reading, his mother I assumed. I quickly made my way over to my new friend and slid into the free chair at his other side, placing my backpack safely at my feet.

             
“Mind if I join you?” Eli smiled and pushed a piece of paper my way. I could see he had drawn a very impressive looking bus. “The bus I came in on was red,” I offered. Without hesitation Eli grabbed a red crayon and started coloring. I thumbed the crayon for a long time until eventually picking it up, my fingers caressing it almost nervously like it might be a live missile or something. Then, with great hesitation I pressed it to the page. After a few testing lines my hand took over. The worry in my mind seemed to disappear, the tension in my body lost. The world around me ceased to exist. I didn’t even notice that I had reached for another piece of paper, nor had I noticed when Eli was dragged off to bed by his mother. I especially did not notice Jax sitting across the table from me, staring at me like I was some sort of mutant freak.

             
“Un-fucken-believable,” he gasped when I glanced his way. My body tensed. It sounded like something Marcus would say when he was pissed off, right before he would hit me. I reached for my backpack, flight imminent. I didn’t care that we were in the middle of a snow storm. Then I forced myself to be still and watch his eyes. No anger, just something akin to wonder. “Angel, that there,” he pointed at the scattered drawings before me. “Is fucking incredible.” The Tension began to recede and I gave myself a quiet reprimand for the haste with which my body turned to fight and flee mode. As I stared at those incredible grey eyes I realized I could easily fall for a man like Jax Carter and that scared me to death. I didn’t do relationships, I didn’t even do friendships. There was no room in my life for commitments; in fact I had never once in my life developed what one might call a close relationship, other than with my dad of course. I had some friends, before Marcus. They disappeared about the time my bad behavior reared its ugly head and then my acceptable friends were replaced with completely unacceptable ones, like my drug dealer and his stoner friends. There were boys who easily took what I offered, sex, no strings attached, simple yet unsatisfying sex. Moments where I could embrace the fact that someone wanted me, if only for a short time and it didn’t involve violence or pain. Rita was the closest thing to a friend now, and she was a five minute phone call of reassurance every few months. She deserved so much more than that, after everything she had done but it was all I could offer. Jax Carter couldn’t and wouldn’t be more than a man who gave me shelter, and the sooner I got out of here and away from him, the better.

             
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. There was something about this girl that just drew me in. Physically she didn’t look anything like Sarah, but the fight and determination I knew she had inside was one and the same. Only Sarah had reached the point of no return, she had reached the bottom, and I had failed to see it.  Perhaps my attraction to Ella was an unconscious attempt to make up for my mistake with Sarah, but as a man I certainly did not miss the way my body responded to her, the want and need were undeniable. If she were another girl in another place I wouldn’t hesitate in making a move on her, but here in the shelter was a completely different story. My position was clear, keep the women safe, keep them warm and fed, talk and listen and that’s what I would do for Ella, talk and listen, earn her trust.

I stared at the array
of magnificent drawings before me. She had drawn Eli and Annie, and a woman who I did not recognize, and lastly me. Perfect, each and every one of them, such incredible detail. While she had been busy drawing I was able to admire her closely without scaring her off. She was so consumed with the sketching she didn’t seem to notice anything around her. She barely acknowledged Eli heading off to bed. Her fingers were small and slender, everything about her was petite and fragile, but her eyes were fierce. At one point her sleeve had slipped up and I got a quick glimpse of a deep scar on her wrist. It made my stomach twist with horror at the site. Suddenly all I saw was Sarah slumped on the stark white tiles, blood oozing from deep ugly slits in her wrists. I shook off the image that would send me into a shivering mess and focused on the little Angel before me. Ella’s scars didn’t look fresh, but they bothered me. She had at some time in her precious life sunk so deep she wanted to end it. To think a beauty like Ella had almost been lost bothered me far too much. In the short few hours I had known this angel I had become a little obsessed.  I couldn’t get involved with one of Mercy’s girls. Not only was it forbidden, but the women who came through the doors had too much baggage for romantic entanglements and to be honest, I carried too much baggage for them. Most of the girls were passing through, rarely staying in town long enough for a date let-a-lone a relationship. And I didn’t do one night stands, not anymore. I couldn’t really call Selena a girlfriend, what we had going was mutually beneficial, more like I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine. Then once the itch was scratched, we both went our own ways. Not exactly a relationship but I wasn’t screwing anyone else. The thing about war and death, it really fucks with your mind. For a short time I thought losing myself in the body of a warm willing woman would fix all my problems. All it did was give me a few minutes, maybe a couple of hours if I was really lucky, of blissful oblivion. No thoughts of blood, guns, explosions or fucking hot deserts. But when it was over I was right back at the start and the ridiculous game would begin again. When Sarah died I realized how disrespectful my life had become. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with getting laid I might have noticed Sarah slipping, I might have been able to save her. I had stopped with all the women right then, Selena being the only one I allowed to return.