Those Children Are Ours

by David Burnett

  Jennie peeked at her daughters. Alexis’s eyes were cast up as if she were seeking help in ending the blessing. Christa’s head was bowed, but her shoulders were shaking as if she were laughing.

  “Amen…Young lady, is prayer funny?” Her father’s voice was angry. He looked directly at Christa.

  “No, sir.”

  “No, Grandpa.”

  “No…”

  ‘Grandpa,” he roared.

  “Grandpa,” she whispered.

  “Why were you laughing if it was not funny?”

  Christa stared at him.

  “I asked you a question. Answer it.”

  “I don’t know,” she said softly, her voice shaking.

  Alexis was frowning, and Jennie tried to signal her that things would be all right.

  “Does that father of yours take you to church?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stared at her. “Yes, who?”

  Christa looked at Jennie, starting to cry.

  “Daddy, they go to Saint Phillip’s Episcopal in Charleston. Every week.”

  He snorted. “Once you move here, you’ll go to a real church and hear real praying, not some words printed in a book read by a man wearing a nightgown. You’ll learn to show respect, too.” He glared at Christa. “If you don’t learn respect at church, you’ll learn it from me. Ask your ma how I teach respect.” He looked to Jennie, as if he expected her to join him.

  “Daddy, let’s talk about something else.”

  “This is important.”

  “Daddy, they’ve never heard anyone else pray like you do. Once they are accustomed to it, it won’t seem funny. Now,” she hurried on, “I told you we went horseback riding today.” She turned to her mother. “We were at Mr. Smyth’s stable, the West Georgia Equestrian Center it’s called. You should have seen Christa ride. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch her as she jumped the, uh, the jumps.” She looked at Christa. “She was terrific.”

  She described Christa’s performance.

  “Oh my, it sounds exciting,” her mother said.

  Jennie described the trail ride next. “I had not been on a horse in years, but I think I did pretty well.” Her eyes cut to Alexis, who smirked. “All right, my horse did get excited. He did start to run.”

  “He trotted, Jennie.” Christa laughed.

  “Ma.” Jennie’s father spoke roughly. “She’s Ma, or Mom, not Jennie. A child doesn’t call her mother by her first name. It’s not respectful.”

  “She told us to call her Jennie,” Alexis said quietly.

  “Ma,” he roared. “Call her Ma.”

  Christa crossed her arms and looked at the table.

  “Daddy, don’t object to everything.” She turned to Christa. “Call me Jennie.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, the horse was going faster than I wanted him to go, and I couldn’t think how to stop him.”

  “Pull on the reins, Jennie.” Christa rolled her eyes.

  “It is Ma,” her father bellowed “You will call her Ma.”

  Christa flinched, but Jennie ignored him and laughed at the memory of being unable to think of how to stop her horse.

  “What happened?” Her mother seemed concerned. “Did you fall off? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Jennie smiled. “Alexis caught up with me and pulled on the reins.” She looked across the table at her daughters. “Still, I think I did well. Considering.”

  “Yes, you did.” Christa nodded. She stole a glance at Jennie’s dad. His hands were clenched and his face had turned red, but he said nothing. Christa looked back at her plate and began to play with her food, pushing it around as if she were eating.

  As dinner progressed, her mother asked the girls about their lives in Charleston—their friends, their school, what they enjoyed doing. “It sounds as if you have really busy lives,” she said as she began to cut pieces of pie.

  “We do.” Alexis caught Jennie’s eye. “Oh this is good,” she exclaimed as she tasted the pie. “Oh yes.” She nudged Christa. “Tasha would love this.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Who is Tasha?” Jennie’s father demanded.

  Alexis’s mouth was full, so Christa replied. “She’s Emma’s daughter. She’s going to be our sister.”

  He appeared to think about her response for a moment. Then he fixed his eyes on Alexis.

  “How old are you, girl?” His words slurred a bit.

  Alexis glanced anxiously at Jennie.

  “I’m your Grandpa, and I’m asking you a question.” He slammed his hand on the table. “How old are you?”

  Alexis looked him in the eye. “I’m almost seventeen.”

  He nodded. “Almost old enough to marry.”

  “Marry?” Alexis looked at Jennie, a puzzled expression on her face.

  “Marry,” he barked. “You’re almost old enough to marry.”

  “Askins, let’s talk about something else.”

  “I’m nowhere near old enough to marry. I’m in high school. I’m going to college.”

  “College.” He snorted. “Waste of time for a girl. All a girl needs to know is how to have babies, how to keep her husband happy, how to cook, and how to clean. You know how to do all of those things?” He took a swig from his glass.

  Alexis didn’t respond.

  “Maybe not, but once you move in with your ma, you will all come to live here, and you’ll learn.” He glanced around as if looking for something. “I’ll find you a good boy, and you can get hitched.” He took another drink. “There’s room for all of you on the third floor.”

  “Askins, we’ve been all through this…”

  “What’s he talking about?” Alexis demanded, looking at Jennie.

  “Daddy, Alexis and Christa are not coming to live with me. They are visiting, and they’ll be here for a couple of months this summer. And you know that I’m not moving in with you and Mom.”

  “But…”

  “No, Daddy. I’d love to have them with me, but no.”

  No one spoke for a moment.

  “College is just a waste of time.” He looked at Alexis and Christa. “Look what happened to your ma.”

  “Daddy, stop now.”

  “Alexis, honey, would you mind bringing more tea?” Jennie’s mother asked. “The pitcher is in the refrigerator.”

  “If you’d stayed home you would never have married that…man.” He spat out the word. “Drinking, running around, sleeping…”

  “Thomas was not like that, and I was not like that.” Jennie was becoming angry.

  “You could have married Tony Wade.”

  “If you hadn’t told him to run and then fired your shotgun at him.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone unless I want to,” Christa said.

  “Christa, no.” Jennie said softly as she reached across the table and put her hand on her arm.

  Her father looked her over. “You have a couple of years yet, but I’ll find you a good man, too. It won’t be hard, someone that looks like you. Your sister is a bit uppity, but she’s nice looking and I’ll manage.”

  “I won’t…”

  “You’ll do as you’re told. When you’re under my roof…”

  Christa’s chair scraped across the floor as she stood, facing Jennie’s father. “I won’t be under your roof. My home is in Charleston, and I don’t want to live here. No one can make me live here.”

  He stood quickly and stepped toward her. “What did you say?”

  “Daddy, leave Christa alone.” Jennie leapt to her feet and pushed herself between the two of them. Returning from the kitchen, Alexis stopped, the pitcher in her hand, staring at the three of them.

  “I’ve tried to be nice to you and I’ve taken quite bit from you tonight—your irreverence, your disrespect, your smart mouth. You are a child, and you will do as I say and you won’t talk back to me.”

  “If anyone tries to make me live here, I’ll…I’ll run away. No one will e
ver find me. Not the judge, not the police and not you.”

  He began to laugh as if he had heard nothing funnier in his entire life. “And what, little lady, will you do for money, for food, for those fancy clothes you love to buy?”

  Jennie put a hand on Christa’s arm. “Christa, stop now. I’ll take care of…”

  “I’ll…I’ll…I’ll sell myself. On the docks in Charleston.”

  His laughter stopped abruptly. No one spoke for a long moment.

  “You’re a wicked little girl to even suggest such a thing. If that father of yours won’t teach you right from wrong, then I will.”

  Christa stepped back.

  “A trip to the barn for a good thrashing will do you good, in my mind.” He grabbed Christa’s arm and pulled her toward him.

  “Daddy, stop.” Jennie pushed him away. “Don’t touch my daughter.”

  He drew back his hand and slapped Jennie, knocking her against the wall.

  Christa screamed.

  “Askins…” Sheila reached for him.

  As he grabbed for Christa again, pulling his other hand back to strike her, Alexis slipped between the two of them, dropping the pitcher of tea, which shattered as it struck the floor.

  “Back away,” she ordered him. “Don’t touch my sister.”

  “Daddy, stop. Don’t.” Jennie struggled to her feet, started to lunge at him, but stopped as he swung at Alexis. Alexis ducked and he pitched forward. She caught him as he fell, placed her hands on his chest and heaved him away. He stumbled, tripped over his chair, and fell backwards, the chair cracking under his weight. He bellowed as his elbow slammed against the bare oak floorboard and shards of glass from the broken pitcher cut into his back.

  “I want Daddy. I want Emma. I want to go home.” Christa backed away, crying.

  Jennie scrambled across the room and wrapped her arms around her. “It’s all right, honey. No one will hurt you.”

  “I want Daddy,” she wailed.

  “Don’t cry. You’ll be fine. He won’t hurt you.”

  Alexis stood over Jennie’s father, fists clenched, even as Jennie’s mother helped him up. She glared at him as if daring him to take another swing.

  “Alexis, let’s go.”

  As Jennie prepared to drive away, her mother ran down the front steps, holding the remains of the pie. “I’m sorry about your father, honey. You know how he gets when he’s been drinking.”

  “He’s like that all of the time, Mom. He needs help.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I know you’re right. I tried to get him to talk with that nice Dr. Wilson who you see, but he won’t.” She sighed. “Alexis, Christa, I did enjoy talking with you. I’ll see you another time.”

  As Jennie reached the end of the drive and prepared to turn onto the highway, she paused to check her daughters. Christa sat behind her, slumped against the window, her arms wrapped protectively around her body. Alexis was beside Jennie, staring straight ahead, her arms crossed over her chest. Jennie detected no sound other than the hum of the engine until Christa’s small voice startled her.

  “Your father frightens me.”

  “He frightens me too, sweetheart.”

  “What was he going to do to me? Would he have hit me if Alexis hadn’t pushed him down?”

  “I don’t know. Hitting has always seemed like Daddy’s first response to any problem.”

  “I heard my Daddy tell Emma that your father beat you once.”

  Jennie swallowed hard. “More than once, sweetie, but you listen to me. He will never do that to you. Ever.”

  “Emma would kill him.”

  “I would help her.”

  Christa laid her head against the window and stared into the darkness. Jennie could hear her sniffling in the silence.

  Alexis leaned forward. Jennie could see her angry face in the glow from the dash.

  “Moving here? What is that about, Jennie?”

  Jennie sighed as she wiped a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It’s just Daddy. He has been after me for years to get full custody of you two and bring you to live in Whitesburg. Then, his plan is for me to sell my house and the three of us will move in with him and we’ll be a big, happy family.”

  “So this is all a game and your demand for visitation was just your opening move?” Jennie could hear the hostility boiling inside Alexis.

  “No, Alexis. It’s Daddy’s delusion. It’s not my plan. I never planned…”

  “And I was almost ready to think about liking you.”

  “I’m calling Dad.” Christa’s voice distracted Jennie, preventing her from deciding if Alexis was serious.

  “Daddy?” Christa had her cell phone to her ear. “I’m scared. I want to go home. Can you come to get me?” Jennie’s eyes began to water as she listened to Christa’s account of what had taken place. “Thank you. Bye…Daddy is coming. He was driving back to his hotel so he’s already in his car.”

  No one spoke for the remainder of the trip. When they reached Jennie’s house, Alexis and Christa went to their bedroom and packed. Then they sat silently in the living room, waiting for their father.

  Jennie observed them from a chair by the dining table. Christa stared straight ahead, periodically biting her bottom lip and wiping her eyes. Alexis’s body was tense. She would stare at the door for a few moments, then glance around the room, through the window, tapping her left foot against her leg. When she turned toward the dining room, Jennie could see the scowl on her face.

  She knew that she could call Thomas, meet him at the door, even, and refuse to let him take the children. She had a court order for the entire weekend. But what would she gain? Any good will that she had accumulated had vaporized with her father’s behavior. Requiring the girls to meet the letter of the law would do nothing but make things worse.

  The slam of a car door told them that Thomas had arrived. Christa flew through the door, wrapping her arms around him, tears pouring down her face. Alexis silently picked up both of their duffle bags and strode out to the car. The door closed behind her.

  Jennie sat on the sofa, dabbing at her own tears. A few minutes later, the bell rang. Thomas stood on the top step when she opened the door.

  “Can I come in for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Jennie stood back so he could enter.

  Thomas looked around the room. “The girls were right. Your home is very pretty.”

  Jennie’s mouth dropped open. “They told you that?” she asked in a tone of unbelief.

  Thomas nodded.

  “Sit down, Thomas. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No thanks. I shouldn’t stay long…It’s been an interesting weekend, I hear.”

  Jennie sighed. “It has at that.”

  “Jeffery Ingram?” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

  “Thomas, nothing is going on between me and Jeff. There has not been for years. Jeff has had…trouble. He drinks a lot. He has trouble holding a job. Sometimes he crashes here. I told you this in court.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “I changed the locks. He rang the bell. He pounded on the door. When I answered, he pushed his way in…He won’t be back.”

  Thomas nodded. He seemed to relax a bit. “Your father hasn’t changed.”

  Jennie shook her head. “He never changes. I had thought…I had hoped that he would behave…differently. Stupid, I guess. I’m so sorry. I never meant…”

  “I hear that you tried to stop him.” He touched her cheek. “Your face is bruised.”

  “I tried. I tried to keep the conversation on safe topics, but I guess with Daddy there is no such thing. I…I grabbed his arm, tried to pull him away, but he was too strong.”

  “That’s what I heard.” He looked over his shoulder at the door. “I know that they are yours until tomorrow…”

  “No, take them. It’s over…” She threw her hands in the air helplessly. “It’s all over.”

  “If it helps, they seem to have really enjoyed the afternoon.”

&
nbsp; “I’m glad. Tell the girls that I’m sorry about the other…events.”

  “Neither was your fault, you know. It sounds like the men in your life never change. I’m glad you have.” Thomas turned to go.

  “Thomas.” She put a hand on his shoulder and he turned. “You are right, you know, the men in my life haven’t changed.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “When you rang the bell I thought you were going to scream at me, tell me I was unfit to be around children, blame me for all that happened, tell me that I was just the same as I was when I left you…But you didn’t. You are as nice as you have always been.”

  She could see him blush, even in the dim glow from the porch light.

  “Thank you.” He smiled. “Good night.”

  She stood at the door, listening as Thomas drove away, taking her girls with him.

  ***

  Jennie wandered into the kitchen. How she would love to have something to drink. How she would love to get completely soused. How she would like to…

  She wondered if Jeff was still hanging around town.

  Jennie shook her head violently to clear those thoughts from her mind. She had sworn off both of them a decade ago.

  She found the pitcher of tea in the refrigerator and poured a tall glass. Sipping it, she wandered through the house. What now? If she couldn’t protect her children from her father…She thought of Emma, the goddess of war slicing her way through an entire army, and she sighed.

  I’m nothing like her. I suppose that’s why I bristle when the girls mention her name. I could never be like her.

  It was simply too late. Too late to be a mom. Too late to stand up to her father. Too late for anything.

  Through a window, she saw the glow of lights at the Monroe’s house across the street. Mr. Monroe would have a bottle of Jim Beam. It had once been her favorite. He would pour her a glass. She was slipping on a fleece to run over when the telephone rang.