Page 3 of Finding Wonderland

Then there were other days when the crushing weight of everything that happened caught up with her again and she had to process the trauma all over again.

Not that the trauma would ever fully be processed. Mothers weren’t meant to overcome the trauma of having one of their children taken away from them, and yet, somehow, Isla had to find a way to do just that. Mason needed her to do that.

But Blake needed her, too. Her sweet, innocent little Blake. She was only five when her father decided he knew what was best for her and kidnapped her in the middle of the night. Or, well, according to his lawyer, he took her to a safer place. Ben Calloway claimed under oath that Isla was abusive to Blake, and Ben had the judge in his pocket so there was no fighting the wrongful allegations. However, Isla knew the judge didn’t fully believe him. If he had, he would have granted Ben custody of Mason as well.

Ben was only interested in Blake though. Blake had been cast in a TV show that was shooting out in Hollywood and Isla had repeatedly stated that she didn’t want her child growing up in that culture. Her ex, however, only saw the amount of money Blake would be making per episode. And since she was a minor, Ben would be pocketing all the royalties. Isla wasn’t an idiot; she knew his true motives.

Now that the trial was over and Ben and Blake were God knows where, Isla was forced to pick up the shattered pieces of her life and carry on. Not for herself. No. Had she not had Mason, Isla knew she wouldn’t have made it through the last few months. Mason gave her a reason to get up in the morning. She gave Isla hope that maybe, eventually, she could be happy again.

“Mommy?” Mason came trudging into the living room with her favorite stuffed dog in her hand dangling behind her. She had a serious look on her face, which even at four wasn’t unusual for Mason. “There’s a bug in my room.”

Isla sighed. The apartment was nice, but not great. It hadn’t been lived in in over two years and the musty smells and dusty cobwebs made that all the more apparent. She had tried to clean up the apartment the best she could, but its beige walls and sparse decor made it feel more like a seedy motel than their home.

One day. Things will be better one day.

Smiling, Isla took hold of Mason’s hand. “Come on. Mommy will get the bug for you.”

“Just don’t hurt it,” Mason added as Isla picked up a nearly empty roll of paper towels. “We can capture it and let it go outside. Right, Mommy?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

Walking down the hallway to the small bedroom, Isla said a silent prayer that the bug was already dead. She hated all bugs and spiders and reptiles. Dogs were her thing. Big, fluffy dogs. Not small, creepy bugs. Mason let go of her hand and walked toward the corner of the room. She pointed at a small brown dot on the floor.

“See, Mommy? Right there.”

“I see it, Mace.” Bending down, Isla quickly assessed the bug was already dead. Or playing dead with its four creepy little legs up in the air. “I think it’s already dead, sweetie.”

“Oh, well.” Mason shrugged before going back to playing with her toys.

After scooping up the bug into a tissue, Isla looked around the bedroom. It wasn’t much; she’d sold most of their things to pay the legal fees during the custody battle for Blake. But a bed and a small dresser remained and a small pile of books sat in the corner of the room. Mason’s favorite toys, her superhero and sci-fi action figures, were scattered around the bare hardwood floor as she played in her own imaginary world. Some days, Isla wished she still had the innocent imagination as Mason did.

Isla kissed Mason on the head before heading back into the living room. There were still a few boxes to unpack; mostly dishware. Picking up one of the heavier boxes, Isla lugged it into the small kitchen. She sighed, yet again, at the fact she didn’t even have an oven. A stovetop was all she would be able to use to make meals for the two of them. That or the microwave. She could almost feel her Irish migrant parents groaning from their graves over a microwaved meal being considered a meal. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Besides, it was all temporary anyway. One day, Isla would have a decent job and be able to afford a better place for her and Mason to call home. They’d have a large yard and a few dogs and life would be better than it was currently.

Right?

Isla could only hope so. In fact, it was her only hope aside from her appeal for custody being approved by the judge. She had her doubts, but she was forcing herself to remain positive. Blake was her daughter and Isla was going to fight to get her back.

A knock at the door startled Isla from her thoughts. She didn’t know anyone in Moonflower Cove, Maine, yet so she definitely wasn’t expecting any visitors. Wiping her hands off on her faded jeans, Isla made her way to the front door through the scattered boxes in the living room. On the other side of the door was an older woman, maybe her parents’ age, holding a wicker basket with a huge, comforting smile on her face.

“Hi,” Isla was even more confused by the stranger’s presence than before, “may I help you?”

“I’m Maggie Carlson.” The woman’s smile was one of the most comforting things Isla had ever seen. “I’m so sorry to drop by unannounced like this, but I consider myself the unofficial welcome committee of the Cove.”

Maggie Carlson? Why is that name familiar?

Maggie seemed to answer her unasked question when she added, “I own Carlson’s Cafe.”

That’s it.

Yesterday, Isla had dropped off her resume at several places around town. The owner hadn’t been at the cafe, but the woman working up front had assured Isla she’d give her the resume. While she had expected maybe a call back, a home visit was the last thing she had prepared for.

“I wanted to stop by and say I got your resume, but unfortunately, I’m not hiring right now.”

“Oh,” Isla hoped her voice didn’t sound as dejected as she felt. “I understand.”

“But I did talk to my friends, Cliff and Maureen. They run the Irish pub in town. You may have passed it. Straight to Ale?” Maggie seemed to wait for Isla to respond, so she nodded her head. “Well, I gave them your resume and they said to stop by anytime for an interview. They’re a great older couple and I know they’d appreciate the help.”

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