by Lisa Dyson
*
WHEN SHE RETURNED to Poppy’s, the first thing Callie did was strip down and shower until she felt clean again. Between the heat and the disgusting trash, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to wash it all off.
Before leaving the community center, Callie had told Poppy that she wouldn’t be around for dinner. She was sure Poppy wondered what was going on with her, but she only said there would be leftovers in the fridge if Callie changed her mind.
In truth, when Callie smelled dinner cooking after she’d showered, she realized she was starving. Maybe she could bring her dinner up to her room. That would satisfy her hunger and Tyler wouldn’t be upset about her being around his daughters.
There was a knock on her door.
“Come in.” She’d been reclining on the love seat by the window when Tyler opened her door and entered. She immediately sat up, her feet touching the floor.
“Hi.” He stood right inside her doorway, his hand on the doorknob. He wore his work uniform that somehow still looked fresh. It was black pants and a short-sleeved white shirt with epaulets, a gold badge on his breast pocket and an embroidered patch on one sleeve. His tan made him look even better in that short-sleeved, white dress shirt. Although not a look you’d find in GQ.
“Hi.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, not wanting to reveal how she felt about him not wanting her around his girls. Although, maybe he’d changed his mind and that was why he was here.
“I wanted to let you know that, for the next two days, your service hours will be at the community center. Poppy said everyone enjoyed having you today and they are spending the next two days doing a deep clean on the building.”
Great.
When she just looked at him, not saying a word, he continued. “Then on Friday, they open the center to serve dinner to those in need. So you’ll be cooking or doing whatever they need you to do.”
She still didn’t speak.
“Any questions?”
She shook her head.
“Is there something wrong?”
Should she ask him the question burning in her gut? She spoke before thinking it through. “Why don’t want me around your girls? What are you afraid of?”
He stepped farther into her room and turned away to shut the door for privacy. When he turned back to face her, his expression was serious.
“My girls have been through a lot before we came back to Whittler’s Creek. I don’t know the details of your arrest, but I know it had to do with malicious destruction of property.”
“That’s the charge, but I didn’t do it. I just have no way to prove my innocence.”
“That might be true,” he said, “but I can’t forget that you had quite a reputation for being a hothead when you were growing up here.”
Callie straightened. “A hothead?” What was he talking about? Her hands clenched so tight that her short nails dug into her palms. As a young child, she’d vented her frustration, but she’d soon learned that behavior only made matters worse. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Besides, I saw your temper for myself.”
“Are you talking about the night before I left for college?” Was he kidding?
“Yes. The night I walked you home after that party and you yelled at your stepmother.”
He was basing his opinion of her on that one night?
She spoke as calmly and deliberately as she was able. “First of all, that was eleven years ago. Second, I finally yelled back at my stepmother because I’d had enough over the years and I knew I was leaving the next morning.”
“What about the chair you threw?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What chair?”
“I stood outside your house to make sure you were okay when I heard all the commotion. That’s how I heard the argument between you and your stepmother. At one point, I heard a crash.”
“Why would you think I threw a chair?”
“After the crash, I heard your stepmother yell that you would have to pay for the chair you broke.”
“But you didn’t see me break it, did you?” She reminded herself to breathe, in and out, in and out.
“No, but you can’t deny what I heard.”
“That’s true. Those were my stepmother’s exact words.” Callie swallowed before admitting more to Tyler than she had to even her therapist. Like how her stepmother had blamed Callie for the broken chair because she’d claimed Callie had made her angry enough to throw it.
Luckily for Callie, she’d learned as a young child how to duck from flying objects when her stepmother became enraged.
CHAPTER FOUR
“FROM YOUR RESPONSE, there’s obviously more to the story,” Tyler said to Callie. “Why don’t you tell me what actually took place?”
“You believe your version of events that night, so hearing mine won’t change your mind.” Callie spoke without emotion.
“I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.” She rose from the love seat. “I’d really rather not talk about this. You can believe what you want. Just know that I’d never do anything to upset or hurt your daughters.”
He nodded, deciding to drop the subject for now. Someday soon he’d love to circle back to it, wondering how she would reconcile what his sister, Isabelle, had told him about Callie’s hot temper. Or maybe he needed to speak to his sister about it next time they talked. Had she exaggerated Callie’s disposition? If so, why?
He checked his watch. “I need to make sure the girls get their dinner. Please don’t skip coming to dinner because of what I said yesterday.”
He left her room then, confused by their conversation. He still wasn’t ready to have her be around his girls when he wasn’t there, but their brief interaction had brought up more questions about her.
He went down the hallway to speak to his daughters, but they weren’t in their room. He entered his own room and quickly changed from his work clothes into shorts and a T-shirt. Then he headed downstairs in search of his daughters.
“Hey, girls, wash up for dinner.” He arrived in the kitchen to see both Alexis and Madison sitting patiently at the table.
“We already did, Daddy,” Madison told him, raising her hands, palms outward, to show him.
“Yeah,” Alexis added. “We’ve been helping Aunt Poppy with dinner and we always need to wash our hands before we do anything in the kitchen.”
“Good rule.” Tyler grinned. “So you two cooked dinner?”
The girls giggled. “No, Aunt Poppy cooked,” Madison said. “We just set the table and got ice for the glasses.”
“The water pitcher was too heavy for us to pour it.” Alexis was very serious as she explained.
“I’m glad you’re helping Aunt Poppy.” He glanced at his aunt taking a tray of roasted asparagus from the oven. “Just don’t get in her way.”
“Oh, they’re not,” Poppy told him over her shoulder. “They’re good helpers.”
“Glad to hear it.” He turned to the girls again. “Tonight is our appointment with Dr. Patty.”
“Yay! I love going there!” Madison was bouncing in her seat. “She has fun toys.”
“Okay, then don’t fool around during dinner so we’re not late for our appointment.”
“Appointment?”
He spun around to see Callie had entered the kitchen.
“The girls and I have a weekly appointment on Tuesday evenings.” Just like she didn’t want to talk about the past, he wasn’t ready to confide the reason his girls needed to see a therapist once a week.
“We like Dr. Patty,” Alexis told Callie. “And if we don’t want to talk about our mommy, then we don’t have to.”
Callie opened her mouth as if about to say something.
“Did you change your mind about joining us for dinner?” Aunt Poppy chose the exact right moment to change the subject.
“Yes. If that’s okay,” Callie told her while looking at Tyler.
He nodded and said to his daught
ers, “Let’s add a place for Ms. Callie.” The girls jumped out of their seats to get her silverware and a napkin, while he got a plate and a glass down from the cabinet. The girls then put ice in her glass and he poured the water from the pitcher.
“Thank you,” Callie said. “I didn’t mean for you all to make such a fuss.” She seemed overwhelmed by the rush to make a place for her at the table.
“We’re glad you’re joining us,” Aunt Poppy told her as she brought the dish of asparagus to the table to join the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
“Everything smells and looks delicious,” Callie said. “I really worked up an appetite today.”
“Me, too,” Aunt Poppy agreed as she took her place at the table. “I don’t usually make such a heavy meal this time of year, with the heat and all.”
“I’m glad you did,” Tyler told her. “Your meatloaf is the best I’ve ever eaten.”
As the conversation switched from what the girls did at day camp to the threat of thunderstorms overnight, Tyler checked the time. “We need to get going, girls. Take your plates to the sink so we can get into the car.”
He’d been lucky to find Dr. Patty Schmidt and even luckier that she allowed them to have a seven o’clock time slot on a Tuesday evening so he didn’t have to leave work to bring the girls.
In the nearly a year that they’d been seeing the therapist, he’d noticed a positive change in both his daughters. When they’d first returned to Whittler’s Creek to take care of his dad when he got sick, they were very quiet and withdrawn. Nothing he said or did could bring them out of it. Now, thanks to working with Dr. Patty, they were blossoming into chatty little girls who seemed happy and confident.
He could only hope that what they’d been through while he’d been deployed to Afghanistan would someday be a very distant memory.
*
THINKING THE DAY spent picking up trash was the worst, Callie changed her mind at the end of the next day after cleaning the community center. She’d been put in charge of the kitchen and had spent the entire day cleaning off the grease and grime built up on surfaces she could barely reach—the small ledge over the commercial stove, the top of the double-wide refrigerator. If it had a surface, then it needed to be cleaned. At least she knew how to make it sparkle.
Maybe she should thank her stepmother for that. Callie was always assigned kitchen cleanup and was constantly told that she hadn’t done it correctly, no matter how long she’d worked at it.
By the time Callie returned to her temporary home at Poppy’s, she was tired and filthy. She stood under the hot shower in her bathroom for too long before finally drying off and putting on fresh clothes. She really wanted to slip into bed, but she’d gotten an email from her therapist that afternoon. He wanted to set up an appointment to video chat at seven o’clock that evening.
When she checked her bedside clock, she saw it was close to six-thirty already. She might have missed dinner because of her long shower.
She hurried downstairs, determined to get something in her complaining stomach and saw that everyone was still at the table.
“Sorry I’m late.” She shoved her still-wet hair back from her face. She should have put it into a ponytail, but it would take longer to dry that way. “I really needed a shower.”
“We’re having chicken casserole,” Alexis told her. “It has carrots and peas and potatoes in it.”
“Sounds delicious,” Callie said.
“It is.” Madison put a bite of chicken on her fork and stuck it in her mouth to demonstrate.
Callie smiled and said to Poppy, “I have a seven o’clock call, so I’ll apologize now for eating and running.”
Poppy pointed to Callie’s place at the table, already set. “You do what you need to. The girls knocked on your door, but when you didn’t answer, we went ahead and started.”
“That’s good. I must have been in the shower when they knocked.” She noticed Tyler was missing from the table. “Where’s Tyler tonight?”
“He’s got some police training he does Wednesday nights, even though this town doesn’t see much criminal activity. Tyler likes his officers to be ready, so he instituted regular training sessions.”
Callie nodded and took her seat. She scooped out some of the casserole onto her plate and took a slice of the warm bread Alexis passed to her.
Callie took her first bite and whatever spices Poppy had added to the food danced on her palate. “You were right, girls, this is delicious.”
Both girls spoke at once and kept up the conversation while Callie gulped down her dinner. She looked at the bright blue clock on the wall near the table and wiped her mouth. She had about three minutes before her therapist called. “Sorry.” She jumped up from her seat and took her plate to the sink to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. “I need to run.”
“That’s okay,” Poppy said. “We understand. Go do what you need to.”
The last thing she wanted to do was spend an hour with her anger management therapist, but she had no choice.
Her therapist called right on the dot.
“Hello, Dr. Hammond,” she said when his face appeared on her laptop screen.
“How’s it going, Callie?”
She filled him in on what she’d done since arriving in town.
“Have you seen your family yet?”
This was where she could have told him about chickening out in front of her father’s house, but she didn’t. Instead she decided to give him a tidbit that would hopefully satisfy him. “I ran into my stepsister on Monday.”
“Your stepsister?”
He looked down and Callie heard the rustling of papers.
“You’ve never mentioned a stepsister.”
“You never asked.”
Pause. “I’m asking now.” His tone was stern and slightly irritated.
Callie swallowed. “I have a stepsister and I ran into her on Monday.”
“How old is this stepsister and what’s her name?”
“Wendy is a year younger than me, so she’s twenty-eight now.”
“And the two of you lived in the same house from the time your dad remarried?”
“Yes.”
The doctor was silent for an overly long time. “Why haven’t you mentioned her before?”
Callie shrugged. “I didn’t want to talk about her.”
“Do the two of you get along?”
“No.” Callie’s answer was immediate and came out harsher than she’d intended.
“Tell me about it.”
She didn’t want to talk about Wendy. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” That was a lie. She knew exactly what he wanted her to say.
“Why didn’t you two get along?”
“I don’t know. She hated me the minute she walked in the front door of my house.”
Dr. Hammond wrote something down. “Did she bully you?”
Callie hesitated. “Yes. You could call what she did bullying.” With all the cyber bullying going on these days, Callie could only imagine how much worse Wendy’s treatment of her might have been if they’d had social media growing up. Texts and emails were bad enough in those days.
“What kind of things did she do?”
“Can’t we talk about something else?” Callie really didn’t want to relive her childhood with him.
“I think we’re finally making progress,” he said. “Tell me what Wendy did to you.”
Callie inhaled slowly. Her hands were at her sides, off camera, while she sat on her bedroom love seat for their session. He couldn’t see her hands fist and relax.
“What didn’t she do? She called me names, she played mean tricks on me, she spread lies about me. She even spit on me.” She’d done even worse things, but Callie didn’t want to delve into them.
“That must have been very upsetting,” the doctor said in his calm voice.
“No kidding.” She couldn’t help her sarcastic tone.
“Did you do anything to retaliate?” he aske
d.
“I didn’t dare. If I’d tried, she would have worked twice as hard to hurt me back.”
“What about telling your father and stepmother? Didn’t they step in to discipline her?”
That was a joke. “No, they didn’t do anything to stop her.”
Dr. Hammond’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You told them what was going on and they didn’t handle it?”
Callie shook her head. She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking. “I told my stepmother about what Wendy did once and she told me to stop being a baby and if I told my father I’d be punished.” Her stepmother’s form of punishment. Something else Callie didn’t want to recall.
“So your father didn’t know about your stepsister’s treatment of you?”
“I went to him once, and he said he’d take care of it, but Wendy continued to harass me.” Her dad had talked to Wendy but she’d gone immediately to her mother, who’d then punished Callie for telling her dad. Her stomach tightened. That was the first and last time Callie had gone to her father for help.
“You didn’t go back again to tell him it hadn’t stopped?”
“Isn’t our time almost up?” she asked instead.
His gaze went to where he kept a clock across from his desk. “We have five minutes left.”
She needed to change the subject away from her family.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he persisted.
“What did you ask?” She knew very well what he’d asked, but her mind had gone blank when it came to changing the subject.
“Why didn’t you tell your father that your stepsister was still bothering you?”
Bothering her? That was definitely whitewashing the situation, but she didn’t correct Dr. Hammond. At least not today with five minutes—or less—left in their session.
She sucked in a breath. “Because I got punished for telling on Wendy.” Her hands fisted at her sides.
Dr. Hammond made a notation and looked up as he asked, “What kind of punishment?”
Before she readied herself to answer, his phone rang. He held up one finger. “I’m sorry. I usually have my phone turned off. This must be an emergency.” He picked up his cell phone to look at it. “Yes, I’ll have to call this person back right away.” He pressed something on the phone and the ringing ended. “Let’s stop here for now and we’ll pick it up next week at the same time. Does that work for you?”
