Becoming Calder (A Sign of Love Novel)(2)

Eli turned back to Paul and I felt his hold on me loosen slightly. He let out a disgusted sound and pushed me roughly toward Paul. "Got too many bitches on the payroll as it is. Take her." Then he turned and walked in the direction we'd come from.
Paul's hand clamped down on my wrist, and I let out a startled noise as he turned and pulled me behind him, tugging me back toward the entrance. I pulled against him, but he was built like a bear and my attempts didn't even slow him down. "Please," I said, "please, let me go." There was hysteria in my voice.
We exited through the door and the once again, bright outside world caused me to squint my eyes. Paul let go of my wrist and turned toward me. "You a runaway?"
I backed up until I felt the wall of the bus station against my heels. "A runaway?" I repeated.
Paul studied me for a minute. "Yeah, you on the run? Someone looking for you?"
I shook my head slowly, his question causing some of the barely contained anguish to seep through my pores. "No. No one's looking for me. Please, I just want to get out of here."
"What's your name?" he asked, a gentle quality in his voice now.
I blinked up at him. "Eden," I whispered.
Paul narrowed his eyes. "Where you headed, Eden?"
I stared up at him, seeing that despite his gruff exterior, there was concern in his eyes. I let out a ragged breath. "Grant and Rothford Company."
"Grant and Rothford Company? The jewelry store?"
I nodded. "Yes. Can you tell me how to get there?"
"That's only about ten blocks from here. I'll tell you how to get there, but then, you don't come back here, you hear me? This is not the place for a young girl who's alone. I think you get that, right?"
I bit my lip and nodded. "I won't come back here." If all went as planned, I'd be sleeping in a hotel room tonight. I'd have food in my belly, and it would finally be safe to cry.
Paul pointed his finger down the block. "Walk in that direction until you get to Main Street, make a right, and go about six blocks down. You'll see it on your right."
I let out a breath. "Thank you, Paul. Thank you so much. And thank you for saving me from the cockroach." I mustered up a very small smile and then turned and began to walk in the direction he'd pointed me.
As I started to turn the corner, Paul called my name and I stopped and turned, looking at him questioningly. "There are more boot stompers than cockroaches in this world."
I considered him for a minute, tilting my head. "The problem, Paul," I said softly, meeting his eyes, "is that cockroaches can survive the end of the world."
Paul gave me a small, confused smile right before I turned and walked away.

**********

When I looked up the street and spotted the sign I'd been looking for, my cold hand automatically reached into my jeans pocket and wrapped around the heavy gold locket within—the one that had the name of Grant and Rothford Company on the back—the only thing of value I had to my name. I completed the rest of the block sluggishly, hunger, cold, and fatigue overwhelming me.
I pushed the door open and was greeted by the comforting warmth of the heated store. For a second I just stood there and breathed, relieved at both having found my destination, and warmth seeping into my chilled skin. I headed toward the sales counter. But as I passed a display shelf to my right, I caught sight of a glass jewelry box with pressed flowers between the panes creating the illusion they were floating over the velvet interior. I halted, looking more closely, my eyes widening and tears immediately blurring my vision, as I instinctively reached toward it. They were morning glories. I should know, I had fifty-two of them, carefully pressed and preserved in a plastic bag in the inside pocket of my jacket. The locket, the flowers, and a small, round pebble were the only things I had grabbed before escaping. They were the only reminders I had of him. I’d left everything else I had ever known behind. A lump formed in my throat and grief swept over me, so intense, I thought it might knock me down. I reached out to touch the glass, one finger tracing the deep blue petals of the flower I was so well acquainted with. But my body was worn-down, tired, hungry, and my hand jerked ungracefully and knocked into a crystal vase sitting on the shelf next to the jewelry box. As if in slow motion, it wobbled and fell despite my unsuccessful attempt to grab it. It crashed to the floor and shattered at my feet. I sucked in a loud gasp and jerked my head up as a woman came rushing toward me, saying, "Oh no! Not the Waterford!" She brought her hands to her cheeks and pursed her lips as she stopped in front of the pile of shattered glass.