Little Mercies (15 page)

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Authors: Heather Gudenkauf

BOOK: Little Mercies
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I shrug. “They’re worried about Avery. They miss her, they miss you. They want to go home. They want us all to go home.

“Will you give this to her?” I hand Adam Avery’s stuffed animal and my voice breaks. “Tell her it’s from me?” I am so afraid that Avery will think that I don’t care, that I am choosing to stay away from her.

“Of course,” Adam assures me. His eyes are red and bruised-looking from fatigue.

“Were you able to get hold of your mom and dad?” I ask.

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with my mom. They’re flying in from Arizona tomorrow afternoon. They’ll get in around four.”

“That’s good,” I say. Adam’s parents are nice people and they will be a great help to Adam since I can’t stay with Avery. He’ll be able to come home, shower, get some good rest.

But I do worry about what Adam’s parents think of me now, what Adam has told them about what happened to Avery. Will they look at me differently now? Look at me as the woman who nearly killed their grandchild?

“Did Joe get a hold of you?” Adam asks suddenly.

“No, why?” I ask. I hadn’t talked to him since the day before when I gave him an update on Avery. “He stopped here looking for you a little while ago. I told him you were at your mother’s house. He’s probably on his way over there now.”

I check my phone. I’ve had no missed calls from Joe and I wonder what is so urgent that he feels he needs to see me in person rather than just call me. By the look on Adam’s face I can tell he is wondering, too. Ever since Joe’s divorce, Adam is sure that Joe has a thing for me. I assure him that’s definitely not the case even though secretly I think Joe would have liked for us to be more than friends. “It can’t be the grand jury already,” I say, more to myself than to Adam. “The lawyer said it would be at least three weeks before they decide to indict or not.” I think of the grand jury that will decide if I’m a monster. Are they in their cars right now, driving to the courthouse to begin to hear the evidence that will decide another stranger’s fate? Are they wondering about whose life they have in their hands today? Three weeks seems so far away, but in some ways too soon. For the first time I really think about the possibility that I could be arrested for what happened to Avery, what I did to Avery, no matter the intention. I hear it all the time from mothers and fathers that I work with.
I didn’t mean to, it just happened, it was an accident, you have to believe me.

“What do you think he wants then?” Adam asks, and I see the fear in his eyes. “He wouldn’t tell me. Just said that he needed to talk to you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.” But I’m afraid I do. The newspaper article, the determination of Prieto and Caren to follow procedure to the letter. Joe isn’t just looking for me to see how I’m faring.

Adam blanches as if reading my mind. “No,” he says. “They can’t do this.”

“It will be okay,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I don’t want it to happen here, at the hospital.” I pause, a terrible thought striking me. “I don’t want it to happen in front of the kids. Oh, my God, Adam. What if they arrest me in front of Leah and Lucas?” I’ve seen it happen before with parents accused of abusing their children. I’ve even had to peel a bruised child’s fingers from her mother’s arms as a police officer informs her of her rights.

Adam shakes his head from side to side. “They wouldn’t arrest you in front of the kids. No one can be that cruel.”

Chapter 24

A
fter Ellen left to take Leah and Lucas to the hospital, Jenny stood in front of the bathroom mirror and ran a wet comb through her hair, trying, with little luck, to get it to lie smoothly against her head. She wondered if Maudene knew how to French braid. There were girls at school whose mothers carefully braided their hair. Jenny had checked out a book from the school library once that gave directions on how to braid hair in different ways. There were pictures of girls with pigtail braids and tiny microbraids lined with beads and long horsetail braids that lay against your back, but her favorite was the French braid. Jenny had taken the book home and tried to decipher the words and the directions, her fingers clumsily trying to twist her hair into smooth plaits. In frustration, she’d handed the book to her father, who tried valiantly for a few minutes, but kept getting distracted by the basketball game on television, accidently pulling her hair when someone made a shot.

“You need some help there?” Maudene asked as she paused in the bathroom doorway to see if Jenny was ready for the day.

“It’s my hair,” Jenny said with disappointment. “It just lays there. Do you know how to French braid?”

Maudene’s eyes lit up. “I used to braid Ellen’s hair all the time when she was little. She used to have hair all the way down to her behind. When she was about four years old she took a pair of scissors and cut it all off. Oh, how I cried when I saw her. All that beautiful black hair on the bathroom floor.” Maudene shook her head at the memory and laughed to herself. “Anyway, I will be happy to braid your hair for you. It’s been years since I’ve done it, but I imagine it will come back to me. Come on over and sit down and I’ll see what I can do.” Maudene led Jenny to the kitchen, pulled a chair out from the table. Jenny settled into the chair, sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap as Maudene began to run a soft-bristled brush through her hair.

“Jenny, I have someone coming over to talk with you.” Maudene said, gently gathering Jenny’s hair at the crown of her head and separating it into three sections.

Jenny froze. “Who?”

“It’s a social worker that Ellen works with. Her name is Ruth Johnson.” Through the mirror, Maudene saw the panicked look on Jenny’s face and dropped the braid. She gently turned Jenny around by her shoulders. “Jenny, you’ve got to trust me,” Maudene said plaintively. “Ruth did some checking. Your father has been going crazy with worry about you and the police from your hometown have been looking for you.”

Jenny couldn’t respond.

“I promise I will not let anything bad happen to you. Ruth is coming over just to talk to you.” Jenny’s shoulders relaxed a bit and Maudene once again began to gather and separate her hair.

“Do I get to go see my dad?”

Maudene pressed her lips together and looked away. Jenny had her answer. “I’m not going to a foster home,” Jenny said, trying to fill her voice with steel. “I don’t care what you say or the social worker says. I’ll run away if you try and make me.”

Maudene’s fingers worked slowly at first and then more quickly as she wove Jenny’s hair into a sleek braid. “No one is going to make you do anything.” Maudene sighed, her voice unsteady. “Jenny, you have to understand that my daughter is going through a terrible time right now. My granddaughter could die, my daughter could go to jail. I can’t have you stay here if you’ve run away from home or if you’re in some kind of trouble. I’m sorry, I could get in big trouble and it could make things worse for Ellen.”

Jenny rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’m sorry. I can leave. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Maudene wrapped an elastic band around the tail of Jenny’s braid and once again turned Jenny to face her. “I don’t want you to have to go anywhere you don’t want to go, Jenny. Just listen to what Ruth has to say. She helps kids. That’s what she does for a living.” Jenny wiped away the few tears that succeeded in leaking down her face and nodded. “Don’t be scared. I’ll stay with you the whole time if you want me to.”

“I’m not scared,” Jenny said with a final sniff. “I’ll talk to her, but I’m not going to any foster home.”

“All right then.” Maudene patted Jenny on the head. “I didn’t do too badly. Even after twenty-some years. Go take a look and see what you think.” Jenny leaped from the chair and ran to the bathroom. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, turning from side to side trying to catch a glimpse of the back of her head. “Here, use this.” Maudene handed a gilded hand mirror to Jenny so she could better see the braid.

“It’s so pretty,” Jenny murmured. “If you were my mom I would let you braid my hair every single day. I’d never cut it. Ever.”

“Grandma!” came a shout from the floor below.

“They’re back already?” Maudene wondered out loud as she and Jenny stepped from the bathroom into the hallway. “That was a quick visit.”

“Hey, Mom,” Ellen said wearily.

“Is everything okay? How’s Avery doing?” Maudene asked as she met Ellen in the middle of the stairs.

“She’s doing okay. She still has the IV, but the doctors say she’s doing better. Still has a bit of a fever though.” Ellen turned to her children. “Lucas and Leah, why don’t you two go and find Dolly and play with her for a few minutes. I need to talk to Grandma.” Jenny stepped back into the bathroom before Ellen sent her off, as well. She wanted to hear what Ellen had to say, especially if it was about her.

“What’s the matter?” Maudene asked, concern lacing her voice. “Is Avery really okay?” Jenny strained to hear what was being said.

“She’s really okay. At least right now she is. Did Joe Gaddey stop by here?”

“Joe, your police officer friend?” Maudene asked. “Why would he come over here?”

Despite herself, Jenny stepped out into the hallway, joining Ellen and Maudene on the steps. “I’m not going with any policeman, Maudene!” she exclaimed angrily. “You promised!”

“Jenny, shh,” Maudene hushed her just as the doorbell rang. “Just a minute.” Maudene rushed down the stairs, clutching the banister for balance, and opened the front door.

Jenny looked suspiciously down at the man standing just inside the doorway. He was the tallest man that Jenny had ever seen. He was wearing gray dress pants and a short-sleeved white button-down shirt that stretched tightly across his broad shoulders. A blue-and-green-striped tie sat crookedly across his chest. The look on his face made it clear that this was the last place in the world he wanted to be.

“Hi, Joe,” Ellen said. “You remember my mother, don’t you? And this is Jenny, she’s staying with my mom for a few days.”

The man gave a weak smile and rubbed a thick hand over his face and looked back and forth among Maudene, Ellen and Jenny. “It’s okay, Joe,” Ellen said at last. “You can say it.”

The man sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ellen. A warrant has been issued for your arrest.”

Realization inched over Jenny. The man was the cop they were talking about. This couldn’t be good, she thought. Cops were never good. Slowly, she began to creep back up the steps, hoping to remain unnoticed.

“What? Why?” Maudene asked confusedly, and Jenny froze midway back up the steps.

Why was Ellen being arrested? Curious, Jenny turned around and began the descent back down the steps.

“But why?” Maudene asked incredulously. “I thought they were going to let the grand jury decide and that won’t happen for a few weeks.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I kind of figured it might happen this way.”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “They’re following protocol to the tee on this one, Ellen. And moving fast. Prieto is feeling the pressure. Has some child advocacy groups hollering for your arrest, and the press wants to know what he’s going to do, so he moved ahead and filed charges.”

Jenny watched while Maudene went to her daughter and folded her into her arms, and for a moment she forgot about her father, her grandmother and the possibility of foster care.

Ellen’s face was pale and she looked as if she might start crying. “Joe, are you arresting me right now?” Ellen asked the man.

The cop lowered his head as if ashamed and pushed his large hands into his pockets. Jenny spied the gun in his holster and thought of her father. “No. When I found out what was going on, I talked it over with Prieto and he agreed to let you come to the station and surrender yourself. That way I don’t have to put you in handcuffs.”

“Right now? Do we have to go right now?” Ellen asked, looking around the house wildly as if trying to find an escape route.

“No. You have to turn yourself in tomorrow morning by six. That way, your booking will be done before the jail starts its regular daily duties. You’ll see the judge for a bond hearing and hopefully be home before the day is over.”

“Will you stay with me?” Ellen asked the man, her voice trembling with fear.

“For as long as I can.” Jenny peered with interest as the police officer awkwardly patted Ellen on the back. This cop didn’t seem as bad as the ones that her dad talked about. This one seemed almost human. “You should call your lawyer right now, figure out how you’re going to pay for getting bonded out.”

Jenny’s eyes shifted to Maudene, who was leaning against the wall for support, helpless tears streaming down her face. Jenny scurried down the final few steps and went to Maudene’s side as Ellen hugged and thanked the man and Jenny watched as his face crumpled in pain.

“Oh, my God,” Ellen cried out once the door shut behind the policeman. “What am I going to do?” Maudene reached for her daughter, and Ellen pulled away and ran up the stairs. Jenny heard a bedroom door slam and, in stunned silence, Maudene lowered herself into a chair, covered her face with her hands and cried. For a moment Jenny stood awkwardly behind Maudene and then began to rub her back in slow circles the way that Maudene had done for her while she was throwing up in the bathroom at the Happy Pancake. Then as Maudene’s crying subsided a bit, Jenny went into the kitchen, pulled out a glass and filled it with ice and cold water, ran a clean washcloth beneath the tap. Jenny returned to the living room, where she carefully held the glass out to Maudene.

There was another knock at the front door. “I bet if you ignore it, they’ll just go away,” Jenny advised.

Maudene blew her nose noisily into a handkerchief. “If only it was that easy.” She stood and Jenny followed her to the front door.

“Hi, Mrs. Sifkus, I’m Ruth Johnson. I work with Ellen.”

“Please come in,” Maudene said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hi, Jenny,” Ruth said, extending a hand to Jenny to shake. Reluctantly, Jenny held out her own hand. “You are one lucky girl,” Ruth said, smiling down at her. Jenny wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement. She had been called a lot of names in her short life, but lucky wasn’t one of them. “You have a lot of people very worried about you and hoping that you’re okay.”

“Is my dad coming?” Jenny asked hopefully.

“Can we sit down a few minutes and talk?” Ruth addressed Jenny as if she was the adult. Jenny liked that.

“Can Maudene sit with us?” Jenny thought she might like this Ruth person, but she’d still feel better if Maudene was there with her.

“Of course,” Ruth assured her as they moved toward the living room sofa. “I did find out some information about your father. He is very worried about you, Jenny, and he’s been trying to find you and wants to get you back to Benton,” Ruth explained, and Jenny sat up straight in anticipation. Ruth held up a finger. “There’s more. Jenny, you know your dad was arrested, don’t you?”

“But it wasn’t his fault,” Jenny said in a rush. “I saw the whole thing.”

Ruth nodded in agreement. “That’s what your father said, as did the witnesses.” Ruth paused a moment and looked kindly at Jenny. “But your father did something wrong when the police came. Instead of listening to the police officer, your father hit him.” Jenny felt sick. “Your father will have to stay in jail for a while until things get straightened out. Maudene here agreed to let you stay with her for a few more days.” Ruth turned to Maudene. “All we have to do is a background check and if it’s approved you’ll be approved as what is called a
suitable other
in order to legally have Jenny stay with you until other arrangements are made.”

Ruth turned to Jenny. “There’s more. Your father needs some special help. Do you know what an alcoholic is?”

Jenny stopped listening and looked down at her feet. Once again, her toes were grimy and dusty in her flip-flops. Maybe Maudene would take her to Walmart to get a pair of tennis shoes—she couldn’t wait to throw these things away.

Ruth lightly touched Jenny on the shoulder, “Jenny, do you know?” she asked again.

“My dad,” Jenny said in a long, shuddering breath.

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