by Delia Parr
“But the girls have been arrested, haven’t they?” Barbara asked. “They’ll be held accountable? Someone needs to be held accountable. Even if the gun was accidentally fired—”
“Yes, they’ve been arrested, but it’s up to the district attorney’s office to decide on the specific charges they’ll face. Remember, both of the girls are under eighteen and fall under the jurisdiction of Family Court.”
“Unless the district attorney’s office petitions the court to see that the girls are tried as adults,” John argued.
“True, but that’s something you’d have to discuss with the district attorney’s office.”
“What about Whittle?” he asked. “It was his gun. If he hadn’t left the gun behind, none of this would have happened.”
“Whittle is a whole different story. Legally, he’s an adult. The ballistics test confirms the gun that killed your son is also the gun that was used in a robbery in North Philadelphia in which a storeowner was shot and badly wounded.” She smiled for the first time since she had arrived. “If it’s any consolation to you, the investigation into your son’s death led directly to Whittle’s arrest yesterday for robbery and attempted murder. In addition, he’ll face charges for the statutory rape of Julia Radcliffe and any other charges the district attorney’s office can justify related to your son’s death. I don’t think Whittle will be on the streets to hurt anyone else for a very long time.”
John stared down at the floor and shook his head.
Her emotions in turmoil, Barbara folded her hands together to keep them from trembling. “Wh-what do we do now?”
“Go home. Grieve for your son. Let the justice system do what it’s supposed to do—find justice. How involved you become as the process unfolds is entirely up to you. I’ve seen some families of victims stay very involved, others don’t. Do whatever feels right for you and for Steve’s daughters. Don’t let anyone pressure you into anything. In the end, no matter how this case is ultimately charged or the punishment is decided, the most important thing for you to remember is to celebrate Steve’s life, not his death.”
She stood up and pressed a card into Barbara’s hand. “I put my cell phone number on the back. If you have any questions or you just need to talk, call me. Whenever,” she whispered and quietly left the office.
John suddenly got up and followed the detective into the waiting room, leaving Barbara alone with her thoughts. She had never really given much credence to the girls’ early claims that the shooting had been accidental, but she could not afford to waste any of her limited emotional energy on finding fault with the results of the police investigation. If the police and the district attorney’s office were satisfied that they had uncovered the truth, then Barbara would simply have to accept that.
The truth, however, did not bring the peace of mind she had hoped.
The truth only opened up a whole host of disturbing thoughts that led Barbara down a path littered with questions that all began with one word: why. Why had Julia lied and sneaked out of her parents’ home to go to the parties at Senior Week? Why, out of all the young men she might have met, had she met Jason Whittle? Why had she lied again and disobeyed her parents again and had Jason spend the weekend at her home? Why hadn’t she or her sister immediately turned the gun she found over to her parents or the police? Why had they gone to Philadelphia on that specific day and driven down that specific street at that specific time when Steve would be at the ATM? Why had the bullet chosen one path in a million or more that had led straight to her son? Why? Why? Why?
If she knew the answer to just one question, she might begin to understand the answer to the greatest question of all: why had Steve been taken away from them at all?
Was it mere coincidence that the lives of these girls and Jason Whittle and Steve had intersected in such a tragic way? Was it something that happened to remind everyone that evil existed in this world, an evil that claimed the good and the innocent, to test their faith? If so, was it necessary for Steve to be part of this? Or had the pastor been right when he had told her that there were no accidents or coincidences that were not part of God’s plan for the greater good?
Deeply troubled, she cradled her face in her hands, unable to pray, unable to think beyond the pounding of her heart and the throbbing in her head. She did not know why, but her spirit no longer cried out for vengeance, rather it sought understanding and acceptance, even forgiveness for the ones who had caused her and her family such grief.
She only knew her heart hurt.
When she heard a sound in the outer room, she got up and went to investigate.
John was standing at the window in the waiting room with his back to her. His shoulders shook with sobs that he was trying to muffle. She went to him, laid her face against his back, wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight as he wept.
Somehow, through faith, they would find their way to understanding.
Some way, through faith, they would find their way to acceptance.
And some day, through faith, they would be able to forgive Julia and Augusta and Jason for the roles they had played in Steve’s death.
But for now, Barbara and John needed to let go and grieve, to accept all they had learned today.
Together.
Chapter Thirty-One
Near the end of their session, Ginger had one last question for Ed Raymond, the counselor Judy had recommended. “In case Lily does not want to take Vincent home with her, I just want to be sure that anything we do or say will make it easier for Vincent to understand he’ll be staying with us, more or less permanently. We want to help him to accept the idea that he can’t be with his mother right now, but we don’t want him to give up hope because maybe Lily will change her mind someday.”
The counselor set aside his clipboard. “Vincent is only eight years old, but from everything you’ve told me about his relationship with his mother so far, he seems to have adjusted quite well to living with you and your husband. Making that arrangement more secure and reinforcing his relationship with the two of you is not only important, it’s imperative. I’d also like to see Vincent. Just for one or two sessions, so if there’s a dramatic change in circumstances, I’ll be better prepared to help.”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”
“In the meantime, keep in mind what we talked about. When you’re answering Vincent’s questions about his mother, remember to ROAR, but gently,” he teased, reminding her what each letter stood for by holding up one finger at a time. “Reassure him of his mother’s love. Only answer the specific question he’s asked. Answer his questions honestly, but consider his age and his cognitive and emotional development. Respond to his feelings with empathy and compassion.”
She held up the notes she had taken. “I’ve got it. ROAR,” she murmured. The acronym inspired a mental image of herself as a lioness protecting her cub against predators, with Tyler standing guard, ever faithful and vigilant. That picture, beside the image of the carefree lifestyle they had enjoyed up to six months ago, was startlingly different, but a call to duty she and Tyler had embraced with renewed enthusiasm since he had returned from Chicago on Sunday night.
More strongly committed than ever to issuing an ultimatum to Lily that would affect all of their futures, Ginger left the counselor’s office. She sat in her car in the municipal parking lot and called Tyler at work on her cell phone to give him a rundown of her session with the counselor. She got his voice mail and left him a message to call her back. Eager to carry out the plan she and Tyler had formulated, and which the counselor had supported, she made one more call to the furniture store, then left her car and headed to the avenue.
Her first stop was Sweet Stuff, to thank Charlene again for the afternoon off and to purchase a pound of chocolate-covered pretzels and a small gift card. While Ginger wrote out the card, Charlene boxed the pretzels and wrapped the gift in bright pink paper.
Next, Ginger shopped at the stationery store, where she picked up a
supply of note cards. Then she tried several gift shops before she found the turtle night-light she had seen a few weeks ago and had the clerk wrap it up in colorful paper with a huge blue bow. Loaded down with packages now, she passed Pretty Ladies and looked in the window. When Judy waved back from behind the reception desk, Ginger hurried inside. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
Judy’s smile was forced, and she glared at the computer screen. “So did I. Unfortunately, I’m smack in the middle of an argument.” After she punched several keys with the tip of her index finger, the computer shut down and the screen went dark. “There. Take a time-out, George.”
Ginger giggled. “George? You named your computer?”
“I most certainly did. I may not be the smartest woman on earth when it comes to computers, but now it’s personal. With Candy working at another job now, it’s just me against George, and I’m not going to let him get the best of me. I will get him to do what I want when I want and how I want or he’s history, and I’m going back to using my cute little recipe box and index cards, whether the bank likes it or not.”
“I guess that means everything is still at a standstill?”
Judy let out a deep breath and shook her head. “At least until I finish my computer classes.”
Ginger laid the gift from Sweet Stuff next to the keyboard. “Here. When you try working with George again, I think you definitely need reinforcements.”
Judy grinned and tucked the box between her hands. “Bless you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“Wait. Don’t tell me you brought this because you heard me yelling at George all the way down the avenue at Sweet Stuff!”
“No, silly. I just wanted to thank you for referring me to Ed Raymond. I met with him this afternoon, and he was very helpful.”
“I’m glad, but you didn’t have to bring me anything. Not that you can take this back,” she teased and put the box on the other side of the keyboard. “I’m not finished with George yet, and I have a feeling I’ll need this.”
“Maybe you should try being a little sweeter to George.”
Judy sighed. “Maybe I should pay better attention in computer class, but it’s slow going. Candy offered to come to the salon with me a night or two, but I hate to bother her. She’s putting in long enough hours at her new job.”
“And you’re not?”
“Well—”
“Let her help you. After all you’ve done and continue to do for her, the least she can do is to help you with the computer. Give her the chance to repay you.”
Judy rolled her eyes. “You’re right. I just don’t want to put too much on her plate right now. She’s doing so well.”
“So you’ll suffer alone, with too much on your plate, so Candy doesn’t have to?” Ginger cocked her head. “What kind of message does that send to your daughter?”
Judy hesitated for a moment, furrowed her brow as if she was thinking over Ginger’s question and eventually let out a sigh. “The wrong message. You’re right again. Thanks. I’ll talk to Candy tonight about helping me with George. I guess we could bring Brian with us. He could do his homework while we work at the computer.”
“Good idea. I haven’t heard from Barbara again. Have you?”
Judy shook her head, but looked long and hard at Ginger. “You seem different today. More confident. More assertive. More in control. Maybe I should go back to Ed Raymond for a session or two.”
“He helped, but…Tyler and I have had to make some decisions about Vincent and Lily. We probably should have done something about this whole situation before now….” She squared her shoulders. “The point is, we’re ready now. I’m ready now. I’ve never been a strong or determined woman. Not like you are. But I’ve never had to be. Not until recently. Getting to know you and seeing how strong you are and how you’ve struggled to build a life for yourself and meet every challenge along the way really helps me to believe I can do almost anything.”
Judy blushed. “I treasure your friendship, too,” she murmured. “Did you say ‘anything’?” she added with a sudden twinkle in her eyes and a nod toward her computer.
Ginger backed away from the reception desk and held up her hand. “Don’t push it. George is a problem you’ll have to handle without me. I have to leave to get Vincent at school,” she teased and hurried out the door.
That night, while Tyler tucked Vincent into bed, Ginger set the kitchen table again. Instead of plates and utensils, she lined up all the paperwork she needed at her fingertips to implement the plan that would force Lily to make a decision. Lily would have to take Vincent fully into her new life, or he would continue to live with Ginger and Tyler—on their terms, not hers.
Either way, Vincent would have the most to gain. The first option, which would reunite him with his mother, was the ideal. Lily had yet to demonstrate, unfortunately, that she wanted him in her life. Thanks to Tyler’s fact-finding mission in Chicago, he and Ginger had enough sad documentation now to corroborate much of what Vincent had reported about living primarily outside of his mother’s home for the first eight years of his life.
Still, Lily was Vincent’s mother. If she was prepared to start over and to make a real home for her son, as she was apparently ready to do for the child she was carrying, Ginger and Tyler were prepared to let Vincent go.
If Lily refused, then Ginger and Tyler were equally prepared for the second option and to dictate the terms under which Vincent would remain in their custody.
In her mother’s heart, however, Ginger knew which option Lily would choose.
She surveyed the paperwork, arranged in chronological order, to make sure nothing was missing and sighed. What sad testimony to the life Lily had lived in Chicago. Her ability to deceive her parents about how she was living and raising Vincent in the past explained how readily she could deceive her in-laws now. Ginger had a copy of Vincent’s birth certificate, in addition to a statement from three of Vincent’s caregivers whom Tyler had been able to locate. A list of jobs Lily had held after leaving the teaching job the second year she was in Chicago included full-time positions in sales and waitressing and part-time jobs, the most lowly of which had been bartending. Another paper listed five addresses where Lily had lived. The last document was the custody agreement Lily had sent them months ago, giving Ginger and Tyler the legal right to raise Vincent, to enroll him in school, and to secure medical treatment for him, if necessary.
Once Ginger was satisfied nothing was missing, she used a fresh notepad to list the points she needed to cover with Lily, then put that document at the head of the table. On impulse, she filled a glass half-full of water, and put it in the center of the table, just as Tyler walked into the kitchen.
“Is he asleep?” she asked.
“I’ll go back up and check again in ten minutes to make sure, but I think he is. What’s with the water?”
She smiled. “Just a visual image I wanted to keep in mind.”
“As in the glass is half-full?”
“Exactly. The glass is half-full because I know that with God’s help tonight, we’re going to do what’s best for our grandson.”
“We said we’d call Lily tonight, but there’s no guarantee she’ll take our call. She might not even be home,” he cautioned.
“It’s her cell phone. She’ll have it with her wherever she is,” Ginger countered. “If she doesn’t take our first call, we’ll leave a message and then another and another until she realizes she either has to call us back or wait and answer the phone when we call again. I’ve done this before, when Vincent had that trouble at school, remember?”
He glanced at the paperwork on the table. “You were a lot less sure of yourself then.”
“Weren’t you?”
“I guess I was.” He shook his head. “My grandmother used to tell me that people were ‘too soon old and too late smart.’ I hope we’re not too late…for Vincent’s sake,” he murmured, still clearly troubled by what they had learned about Vincent’s life
in Chicago.
She crossed the room and gave him a hug. “My grandmother used to tell me something, too.” She leaned back and looked into his eyes. “She said never to be afraid to make a mistake. Just don’t make the same mistake twice. We made lots of mistakes raising Lily. Both of us. We can either wallow in self-pity and guilt or we can try to fix those mistakes by making her accountable for her life and holding her to it. And if Vincent is going to stay with us, then we have a second chance to make sure we don’t make the same mistakes with him. This time we’ll do it better and we’ll do it together.”
He took a lock of her hair and brushed it back over her shoulder. “I think my grandmother was right,” he whispered.
She bristled and tried to pull away, but he tugged her into his embrace. “Don’t get all bristly. Hold still. I’m trying to give you a compliment.”
With her eyes wide, she looked up at him. “By telling me we’re old and stupid?”
He laughed. “No. By telling you something else my grandmother said.” He cleared his throat. “She said, ‘Tyler, that girl’s got a good heart and a good soul. You better marry her, because if you don’t, you’ll be making the worst mistake of your life.’ So I did. Bless her heart, she sure knew what she was talking about. I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve you, but I’m very sure I wouldn’t want to find out what my life would have been like without you.”
Battling tears, she pressed her cheek against his heart. “I love you.”
He gave her a squeeze. “I love you, too. Now let’s call our daughter. Do you want to do the honors or should I?”
She sighed. “It’ll probably take hours until we reach her. Let’s alternate and take turns. Maybe if she gets a few messages from each of us, she’ll be more likely to call us back tonight.”
“Go ahead,” he urged. “You can make the first call while I go upstairs and check on Vincent. You’re the one who usually calls her anyway.”
She glanced back over her shoulder at the table. “Where’s the cordless telephone from the bedroom? I thought you were going to bring it down with you so we could both be part of the conversation.”
