Broken Like Glass (18 page)

I’m looking out the window of Chrissy’s office for the last time.
It’s September, but in true Texas form it’s still as hot as it was in August. The sky is baby blue and the sun coming through the glass would be enough to melt me into the carpet if it weren’t for the air conditioner.

My cast is off, but some of my bruises are healing slow. My ribs still ache from time to time. Daddy remains in jail, much to my surprise.

Chrissy and I have spent time talking about what happened that day in the cabin, and she knows why I stabbed daddy. He was going to hurt me and I reacted. The reason I’d had trouble recalling it was, as Chrissy put it, my brain’s way of dealing with the idea that he would hurt me.

“What was it like being at home with your dad when your mom would leave you at home with him?” Chrissy asks.

As I stand there, I think hard. It’s a crippling emotion as I begin to purposefully recall the times I spent with my daddy. “Well, you already know that he was real sweet to me until I got to where I could talk good, somewhere between five and seven.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“He’d call me names. Say hateful things like I wish you were dead or I wish you’d just go for a walk and never come back. It’s why I was in the woods that day.”

Chrissy exhales sharply. “When you got lost?”

“Yeah. He told me to go and not come back. It’s why she beat me. ‘Cause I whispered it’s what daddy told me to do.”

“So, she knew?”

“She knew. She just loved him more than me.”

“Did he ever beat you or put his hands on you?”

“Sure. Just in places no one could see.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Lilly?”

“Who woulda believed me? Remeber? You knew him since you were little and he was the nicest man ever?”

“But if you had marks?”

I turn to face Chrissy. The look on her face and the sympathy in her eyes make me bristle with anger. “It would have been my word against his and if no one believed me, what do you think he would have done to me if I’d told and no one took me away from him? I wouldn’t be standing here because he’d have killed me for sure.”

“I understand. I just wish someone could've helped you.”

I stroll to the chair facing Chrissy and sit down. “Chrissy, most of this stuff I’ve buried so far down that it’s hard to recall sometimes. Most of it feels like it’s not real.”

Chrissy nods. “It’s your way of protecting yourself from hurtful memories.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s Papa’s way of giving me peace. I can’t change the past. I can’t make it different.”

“No, but I can understand if it makes you angry.”

“I was. Am. Oh, I don’t know. I’m frustrated more than anything. I should be able to just pick up and move on.”

“Lilly, no one can do that.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Chrissy says. “You’re allowed to feel angry, betrayed, hurt, let down, and frustrated. Not just allowed, you have a right to feel them.”

“I know I am. I think I’m just confused. I’m torn between wanting to be angry and wanting to do what Papa wants me to do.”

“What does Papa want you to do?”

I fold my hands in my lap and look down at them. Papa and I have been having talks on the porch at night. I can feel the well of tears pooling in my eyes. “I hurt. I want Papa to let me be angry and mad. I want to be bitter. I want to hold on to what’s happened to me, but Papa says that doing that will make me feel worse. I don’t know how I could possibly feel worse.”

Chrissy simply nods her head.

“I want to be happy and forget all this ever happened, but at the same time, I feel like if I let it all go I’m saying what happened was okay. That it makes it okay what daddy did to me. I want those people that hurt me to get justice.”

“But what does Papa say?” Chrissy asks.

I look at Chrissy and chew on the inside of my cheek. “Papa says I need to forgive them. That I need to let go of the hurt and anger. It’s the only way to be truly free.”

“You did that with Bo.”

“Bo didn’t nearly beat me to death.”

Chrissy shakes her head. “No, he didn’t.”

“Daddy hurt me more than one time and deeply.” The ugly cry that had been sitting at the edge come spilling over and I can’t stop it from pouring out.

Chrissy jumps out of the chair and envelops me in a hug quicker than I thought possible. “It’s okay, Lilly,” she says softly.

I don’t know how long I cry, but she never lets me go until I’m done. Talking to Papa, Mrs. Pendleton, Uriah, and now, Chrissy, the past few weeks has helped, but it’s also thrown a light on my past I wanted to keep hidden creating an emotional volcano, building and building until I couldn’t hold it in anymore. When I stop crying, Chrissy holds me by the shoulders. “That’s been a long time coming, huh?”

“I guess so. All this talk of the past.”

“You know, not talking about things, hiding them? It only makes it worse. It makes you feel like you deserved it, but you don’t. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I guess.”

“No,” Chrissy says sternly. “No. No guess. You didn’t.”

“Bad things happen to everyone, Chrissy.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right. It just means it happens.”

I nod quietly.

“You listen to me, Lillian James. None of this stuff was your fault. None of this had anything to do with you. You were a child. I don’t know how I would've handled it.”

“Same as me. You just would have.”

Chrissy shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You never know. I hope you never do. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Her eyes water. “No, I wouldn’t either. Knowing what I know now, you are perhaps the strongest person I’ve ever met. I don’t know if I could have made the choices you have.”

“I didn’t see any choices.”

“That’s what makes you strong. Where others would have seen choices, you saw one path.”

“That doesn’t make me strong. I just did what Papa told me to do.”

“Not everyone would have done that.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Chrissy stands and pulls me into another hug. “I do.”

She lets me go and I look at the clock. “It’s way past my hour.”

“It’s all right, Lilly.”

I look down at the floor. It embarrasses me to let my emotions get the better of me. Chrissy must feel it because when I look at her again she’s smiling. “I guess I should get going. Uriah’s probably outside wondering if everything’s okay.”

“I’ll see ya next week?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Chrissy’s shoulders bounce as she laughs. “Yes, but I hope you will. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you next week.”

Uriah and I go to dinner two towns
over as a celebration of my release from therapy. A few days earlier, I’d finished my required number of therapy sessions. During court, Bo and Chrissy had both vouched for me and since my daddy had nearly killed me, Judge Kringle seemed to think my actions were, albeit rash, justified in light of what happened.

Talking with Chrissy had been good for me. I’d learned about myself, gotten things off my chest, and Chrissy and I had ended therapy as good friends. I have a real friend. The notion still boggles me.

The steak house Uriah and I are in is super nice. I’ve got my best dress on and he’s in nice slacks and a polo shirt. He’s so handsome and he looks better now than he did in high school.

I’m checking out the menu. Everything looks good. I find a meal that calls to me: a small steak, baked sweet potato fries, and baked apples. My mouth waters just reading it.

Our waiter takes our order and leaves. Uriah is looking at me funny. “You okay, Uriah?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure. You’re looking kinda…”

He pops up from the chair and gets down on one knee. My eyes bug out. I know exactly what’s happening and it throws me for a loop. Uriah pulls a little velvet box from his pocket, and looks up at me. Those green eyes sparkling. It makes me melt.

“Lillian James,” he says and opens the box, a beautiful little ring sits nestled in it. “I have loved you since the first time I saw you. I love your spirit, I love your ways, I love the way you love Papa, and most of all I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

I put my hand to my mouth. I’m almost too shocked to speak. Uriah is looking at me with those big green eyes full of love and hope. “Yes,” I say. It pops out without any thought whatsoever. He’s trusting me with his heart as much as I’m trusting him with mine.

Uriah slips the ring on my finger and grabs me up out of the chair, swinging me around. I’m holding on for dear life and I’m thinking: thank you, Papa.

About the Author

EJ
McCay lives in a small West Texas town with her husband, two girls, and three cats. When she isn’t writing, she is listening to music, watching the best movie ever, Princess Bride, or the best TV show ever, Chuck. If you’d like to keep in the know, follow her on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/EJMcCay
or on Twitter @ElizabethJMcCay.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to say thank you to my beta readers. Your encouragement meant the world to me.

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