Stronger than You Know (18 page)

Tara and Trent don't ask any questions. They've ordered pizza and two cartoons from the hotel.

I nibble on a slice because I know everyone will worry if I don't, but it takes me nearly an hour to eat it.

“I think I need a …” But I'm suddenly not sure how to ask for one of my panic pills. I'm still not sure how I feel about them, but taking one isn't embarrassing like it once was. It feels okay. Like I'll be able to sleep and not have nightmares. They help me function. Maybe I won't need them forever, but I need them right now.

“You know you can take half?” Uncle Rob hands me one.

“I'll take the other half.” Trent winks at me.

I shrug, bite half off, and hand the rest to him. He downs it before either of his parents have a chance to stop him.

“What?” He shrugs at their stares. “I'm curious.”

Aunt Nicole is sitting on the bed, her back against the wall. I sit next to her and rest my head on her shoulder. There's singing in the movie. Everyone's dancing and looks happy. It feels so foreign.

“Okay, Joy? Why don't you like these pills again?” Trent asks. “I feel awesome. Already.” He laughs a bit, his eyes already half closed.

“It's different when you feel like you need one.” I find a smile for him.

“I'm just so … relaxed … and happy … and tired …” He's lying on his bed, stretched out like a starfish.

“You're weird,” I say. But it really feels good that Trent gets one more small part of me.

When Aunt Nicole stands, she kicks Trent in the foot. “Don't get used to it.”

Uncle Rob takes her place next to me. “You're amazing, Joy,” he whispers. “Don't forget that. Ever.”

Right. The movie fades and the room fades and my day fades.

I fall asleep with my head on his warm shoulder.

I'm back on the stand in the courtroom. All I want is to go home.

“Tell me about where you live now, Joy.” The DA's suit today is a dark green. Still simple and boring.

“I'm with Aunt Nicole and Uncle Rob.” This is a good way to start my day.

“Do you feel safe there?”

Immediately tears come down my face. “Yes.”

“Why does that make you cry?”

“Because I've never felt safe at home before.” I shiver. Why is this simple question such a hard one to talk about?

“Never?”

“No.” I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve a few times.

“Why not?”

The defense attorney objects, but she's allowed to ask me the question again anyway.

“Because …” I think of Uncle Rob and Aunt Nicole. I think about how they turned their lives upside down for me and then said how happy they were that I was in their home. And then about Mom and how I had to sneak out of bed to do the dishes so she wouldn't hurt me. “She wasn't a mom to me. She never protected me. Ever.” For the first time since taking the stand I let my gaze wander to her. She's looking at me, but not like I'm her daughter, more like I'm a curiosity. She looks older, more tired than I remember. If she ever had any love for me, surely that love would be showing now. “You should have kept me safe. And you didn't. You never did.” I'm crying again, but I don't care. I don't bother to wipe the tears or anything. Just let them fall. And I let myself continue to stare.

The defense attorney makes another objection and I watch Uncle Rob and Aunt Nicole whisper to each other while the two attorneys approach the judge.

Without my aunt and uncle, I couldn't do this. I wouldn't be able to talk about my old life without sobbing, if at all. And now I'm facing my mother and wishing I could somehow get the answer to the only question I have for her.
Why?
Only I know that's something I'll never have an answer for.

I stare at Mom, again wondering if she even understands what my life was like compared to what it should have been like.

Mom's eyes float away from mine, but nothing passes across her face. No regret, no sadness. Nothing. Does she really not care?

My body's shaking again, but I'm breathing. And I'm not staring at my feet.

I don't know when I'll be okay with her lack of feeling toward me or if I ever will. Just like the why questions I can't answer, Mom's thought process is something I will never understand.

“Okay,” the prosecutor starts. “I was asking about where you live now. Who you're with. You can go ahead.”

I gaze at Uncle Rob and Aunt Nicole. Aunt Nicole's wiping tears again, and Uncle Rob has his arm tightly around her. “My aunt and uncle are more like parents than …”
than anything I could think of before I moved in with them.

“There were some questions asked yesterday about where you lived, and I think your answer was cut off.”

I remember the attorney asking about who I lived with, his smug look and shiny head. “I said I lived with my aunt and uncle, and I wanted to say that they feel like my parents. They take care of me. They protect me without a second thought. It's not something I ever expected.” I stare down at the shoes Justin drew on for me, knowing this is almost over.

After a few breaths, I'm ready to look up again.

“Thank you, Joy. I think we're done with you.” The DA smiles.

I wipe the tears from my face my body weak with relief. I'm done.

The judge speaks. “Joy Neilsons is excused. We're going to break before our next witness, Richard Houston.”

My body's cold. Shivery. I need to get out. Now.

The bailiff escorts me down. I search for Aunt Nicole and Uncle Rob. I don't care if Mom's looking at me or not looking at me. My part is done. Over. For real. I'm numb and staring at my feet as I move my legs forward. One at a time.

“I'm so proud of you.” Aunt Nicole takes me in a big hug.

My eyes search for Uncle Rob. Richard is in the building somewhere. I need my uncle. I need to feel safe.

“I need to get out of here.” My voice shakes.

Uncle Rob's arm comes around me as he leads us out of the building and to the car.

I'm safe. It's done. It's over.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Time for thinking

There's too much time for thinking on the drive home. Tara's getting texts from a boy at school—she shows me one once in a while. She keeps blushing and giggling as she types into her phone. It's earned more than one odd look from Uncle Rob in the driver's seat. I'm thrilled for her.

Trent's on his phone too. I'm not sure what turned him around, but he seems so much … softer now. Calmer. More mature. I don't know. But he's easier to be around for all of us.

We don't expect the jury to have a verdict for at least a few more days. The outcome doesn't matter to me because I know Uncle Rob and Aunt Nicole will fight to keep me with them, and I won't have to leave. That's all I care about really—keeping my new life.

I lie in the backseat and stare at the ceiling. Despite feeling like Mom is just in my past, I'm not sure if I know how to keep my past behind me. Maybe my experiences should be back there, stuffed away—maybe not. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want the feeling of loss over my mother or the feeling of not being able to control what she did or didn't do for me, but getting rid of that feeling is going to take time. I sat in the courtroom and I don't know how to describe my feelings toward her. I wanted to get away, to get out. To not have to face her. But in some ways, I face her every day. I face her because she's part of each of my fears. I know my fears won't disappear overnight, but I'm ready to start letting some of them go.

In time, right? Isn't that what everyone says? It'll all heal in time. I guess what I'm ready to say is that my experiences with my mother no longer define my life, who I am.
I
define that now.

I'm the daughter of Uncle Rob and Aunt Nicole. We talked about me calling them Mom and Dad, but I find myself avoiding situations where I have to use their new names. That will come. Hopefully soon.

There are other things that are starting to define who I am. I'm the girl who draws, who does kung fu. The quiet girl. The girl who jumped in the lake with Daisy. The girl who hopes for a life filled with adventures of her choosing and even some adventures that feel unexpected. Because, for as many things as I feel like I don't have control over, there are just as many that I do.

I'm still Joy, the girl on a journey of self-discovery, and I hope to always be that girl.

THIRTY-EIGHT

A happy beginning

We pull into our driveway. In our car. In front of
our
house. It's nearly midnight, but Justin said he's up. Uncle Rob seems concerned about me walking over there so late. Aunt Nicole said it's simply that he doesn't like the idea of either of his daughters around any boys. Ever.

The streetlamps light the way, and they all seem to have halos from the misty rain. My legs aren't working right after the long drive, but I feel like a whole new person. Testifying is as close to my old life as I'll ever have to get. Ever again. I did it. I can do anything.

“Hey you,” Justin says, and I jerk my head up to see him on the sidewalk in front of me. Smiling.

“I said I was coming.” I don't even try to slow my grin. My hair is still pulled up and it feels good to be exposed like this.

“I wouldn't be much of a nice guy if I made you walk all that way.” He smirks and then his face softens. “I missed you.”

“A lot?”

“A way lot. Like … I don't know. Like I've never missed anyone.” His fingers slide through mine as soon as I'm close enough. He stays his normal distance, keeping space between us. I don't need that space anymore—or at least not as much. I think this is one of the first fears I want to try to put behind me.

I pull him closer. Our stomachs touch. My chest presses against his. All those electric tingles are back, the ones like from our last night on the porch together.

Our breathing is all I can hear. He tilts his head to be even closer.

I close my eyes. I'm strong. I choose this. “I really, really want a kiss from you.”

His cheek rests against mine, and I want this from him. I want his arms around me. I want him to be close to me. Justin's lips press against mine, so softly—too softly. I part mine and kiss him again and then again. And now my arms are pulling on him more tightly, and I can't imagine why I'd ever want to let him go.

“I'm dizzy.” He chuckles, breathless. His lips touch my cheek as he talks.

“I'm okay now. Really, actually okay,” I say. He feels good. I'm still holding him as close as my arms will allow. “Or heading there anyway.”

“So I can hold you the way I want to?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm …” But I'm dizzy too.

His arms tighten around me and I love the feeling. It's not suffocating—it's warm and it's what I
want
. I tilt my face toward him and his lips meet mine again.

And right now, I totally deserve this. To be this happy. He's falling and I'm falling too, and I'm determined to love every minute of it. Because, even though I really want him to catch me at the bottom, if he doesn't, I have people who will.

THIRTY-NINE

The sort of end

The hall is the same dingy white as I remember. There are dark, tense voices. Someone's coming my way. I don't care. I'm not in a hurry. My legs feel okay. Strong. I take about ten steps to the door, pull it open, and step outside into the sun. Just like that.

“Yahtzee again?” Trent frowns and raises an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah.” I smirk. “
I
got home on time, so I get to choose.”

He chuckles. “Fine, fine …”

Caitlynn laughs next to him. She has a kind face, bright eyes. I liked her immediately.

“Apparently you always win anyway, right?” I raise a brow at him.

“I used to.”

Until me. I know this is true.

“So are we ready?” Dad asks.

“Yep.”

“Hurry, up. I got curfew.” Justin kisses my cheek.

I blush at his very public display of affection.

“Dad, aren't you going to call her on that?” Tara winks as my eyes catch hers.

“Call me on what?” I check each of the faces around the table.

“No PDA allowed in the house,” she explains.

“Is it really public if we're in the house?” I look toward Mom and Dad as I pass out the scorecards.

“Yes.” They answer at the same time. But both are smiling and look at me with more love than I ever expected.

Justin looks down embarrassed. Tara and Trent laugh.

Justin's hand reaches for my leg under the table, squeezing my knee to show he doesn't mind the teasing and that he's happy to be here. This is my normal.

And it's true what I read about joy. It's the kind of happiness that not only fills you up but spills over. Really, all you have to do is look for it, and then have the strength to let it in. And believe it or not, that's the hardest part.

Acknowledgments

I woke up one Saturday morning with the first line of this book stuck in my head and had nearly a third of the book written over that weekend. Joy's story wouldn't let me go.

Joy's backstory came about because of a case that my husband brought home from his work as a prosecutor. That case ended in the death of the child, rather than the happy ending like Joy's. There's a bench in my children's school with a plaque that holds this child's name, and my heart breaks a little every time I see it.

Huge thanks to my husband, Mike, who is always a big champion of my writing. He fell in love with this story and said, “Yes. This is it. This has to get out into the world.”

Always a thank-you to Heather Hubb—the girl who works for shoes.

A special thank-you to authors Kaylee Baldwin and Rachael Anderson, who were among my first readers for this story; and to my agent of awesomeness, Jane Dystel, who wrote me back the day after I emailed her with the MS saying—Let's move forward with this.

Big hugs to author Christa Desir, who kept telling me to hold on to this book until the timing was right—I can't thank you enough. I held on to this manuscript a lot longer than I ever thought I'd be able to.

When a character is this close to your heart, the idea of editing can be terrifying, but Wendy McClure's guidance on this was amazing, as was Kristin Zelazko's, and made me know, once again, that my Joy found her perfect home.

A massive thank you to all the lovelies at Albert Whitman from the editors to the designers to the publicity peoples … Seriously. Thank you.

And lastly, thank you to my parents who are still among the most amazing people I've been privileged to know. You may have not known a
thing
when I was in high school, but you now seem smarter every year. So. Weird.