“He doesn’t own the whole damned town,” Angela said.
The chief laughed. “Says you.” Then he turned solemn. “I’ll not risk my deputies’ lives. Got that?”
“It’s their job,” Angela said. She turned and stalked out the door.
***
Lacy had a deck of cards laid out. “It’s your turn, Jake.”
When he didn’t go right away, Lacy reached over and turned a card.
“Hey,” Jake said. “Why’d you do that?”
“I can’t wait all day.” Lacy grinned. “I’m getting out of here soon.”
Jake raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yep,” she said, shining with confidence. “I’m feeling great.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
She frowned at him. “Not you, too, Jake. I thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side,” he said. “I’m just asking a question.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will,” he said.
She smiled at him. “I’m so glad I met you, Jake. I was so lost without a friend to confide in. I really want to introduce you to my mom.”
He gave her a weak smile. “Maybe soon,” he said.
“Why not now, Jake? Why do we have to wait?”
“It’s not time.”
He turned toward the door, alerted by a noise. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
He stood and disappeared into the bathroom just as the door to her room opened.
Dr. Petoro and Angela walked in. They eyed the card game laid out on the table. They looked around the room, finding it empty of visitors. Angela asked. “What are you playing?”
Lacy began to pick up the game. “Rummy.”
“Don’t you need two people for that?”
She shrugged. “My friend Jake was here. He had to leave, though.”
They were both staring at her. She didn’t like the way they were looking at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. She looked directly at Dr. Petoro. “I’m leaving today. No more stalling.” Her look was stern.
He shook his head. “That’s going to be up to you, Lacy.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She didn’t like the conspiratorial look on their faces, and when they looked at each other, the pregnant silence made her uneasy. Her rushing adrenaline made her monitor give a slight beep. She breathed slowly in and out until she felt her body relax. She wasn’t going to let them keep her any longer than she had to. She took another one, breathing in and out until she felt her body relax, like her yoga instructor in gym class had instructed. Her monitor returned to normal. She smiled and tried again. “What do you mean by that?”
Allen walked over to the monitor, checking the readouts. What was he looking for—signs of distress? Or was he stalling?
Lacy shifted her gaze between Dr. Petoro and Angela. “What is going on here?” she demanded. She set her jaw with a little more determination. I said, “What is going on here?” When they still didn’t answer, she screamed, “What is going on here!”
She flung back the covers, attempting to get out of bed. Allen rushed to her side, forcing her back down on the bed. Her breathing became rapid, her chest heaving as she spat, “Let me go,” between clenched teeth. Her monitor began to beep.
“Calm down, Lacy,” Dr. Petoro said.
Lacy’s glance stole to the bathroom door. “Jake,” she called. “Jake,” she called again. “I need you, Jake. Can you hear me?” She began to cry, calling Jake’s name between sobs.
Allen and Angela looked at each other, then at the door to which Lacy seemed to be calling.
“Oh, Jake…” she moaned. “Why won’t you come to me?”
Allen pushed a call button to talk to the nurse. She answered, “Yes?”
“Bring in some Ativan,” he said.
“Yes, Doctor, right away.”
“No!” Lacy screamed. “I don’t want more drugs. I just want to go home.”
Dr. Petoro looked directly into Lacy’s angry eyes. “Then listen to me.”
The nurse entered carrying the syringe. Lacy looked at Dr. Petoro with pleading eyes. “Please,” she said, already visibly calming. “I don’t want any more of that stuff.”
“Are you going to calm yourself?”
She nodded.
Dr. Petoro looked at the numbers on the monitor, saw that her blood pressure was beginning to come down. He held his hand up to stay the nurse. “Hold it a minute,” he said.
The nurse nodded, backed herself into a corner of the room to await further instructions.
“I have to tell you something, Lacy. And how you react to the news is going to determine whether you get that shot over there.” He gestured toward the nurse. “Are you ready to listen?”
Lacy eyed him suspiciously but nodded.
He pointed at Angela. “You know what Angela’s job is, right?” Lacy nodded. “You can go home today, on two conditions.” He paused, waiting for her to protest. What he saw was hope. “Angela, because of her job, can’t let you return to your home right now.”
“But, you said—” Lacy began, but Dr. Petoro cut her off.
“That’s one of the conditions. A judge has given Angela temporary guardianship over you, and your dad can’t be near you until this whole thing with your father gets sorted out.”
Lacy shook her head. “No! I can’t leave my mother. My mom needs me,” she protested. “What will my dad think? What will my dad do?” Lacy asked. Her eyes went glassy, the first sign of the tears that would well up in the corners of her eyes. She looked at both of them and then past them as she smiled and said, “Jake. Please help me, Jake.”
Angela and Allen stared at each other, looked over their shoulders and narrowed their eyes. Allen nodded inquiringly at Angela, tipping his head slightly. Angela shook her head while shrugging her shoulders.
Lacy began to sob softly. “Please, Jake,” she moaned, but Jake only shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lacy. I can’t interfere.”
Lacy dropped her shoulders in defeat, looked directly into Angela’s eyes, and said, “All right, I’ll go.”
She dressed with a heavy heart. Jake had gone again and hadn’t returned. She was grateful for that because she was slightly irritated with him. What good was a friend if you couldn’t count on him to back you when you needed it?
“Ready?” Angela asked.
Lacy nodded and somberly followed her out of the hospital.
***
The Waldrip’s home was pleasant enough, as trailers go, that is. It was clean, open, smelled like lilac most times. Lysol and bleach dominated the air at others.
Brenda Waldrip was a demon of clean, as her father always had called her. Brenda would often scrub with raw fury, trying to get off stains visible only to her. Lacy wondered if she secretly was trying to scrub clean her life.
Angela’s home was comfortable. An old sofa, clean and in good condition, occupied an entire wall in the cozy living room. On a table in front of the couch sat various magazines begging someone to read them. Lacy sat down and picked one up, scanning the cover for articles that might interest her. There were several items on abandoned children—begging for adoptive parents, Lacy guessed. On page five, there was an article about supporting the Haiti disaster. Lacy read this with a saddened heart. She wondered what she might do to help.
Angela sent Lacy in ahead of her while she checked the mailbox. Now she opened the door, struggling with a large package. She scowled when Lacy didn’t rush to help. Angela leaned against the doorframe, trying to brace herself. “Excuse me, Miss…”
Lacy turned, jumping to her feet. “Oh, sorry,” she said, grabbing hold of half the box. “What’s in here?”
“Pamphlets,” she wheezed, as they set down the box.
Boldly, Lacy ripped open the package and began leafing through them.
Angela stood back, folded her arms across her chest. “Help yo
urself.”
Lacy looked up. She blushed as she returned to scavenging. “What are all these for?”
“I’m giving a talk on drug abuse at the high school next week.”
Lacy shook her head. “They aren’t going to listen to you.”
Angela sighed. “At least one will.”
Lacy narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What?”
Angela repeated, “At least one will.”
“What does that mean?”
Angela’s eyes misted over as a long-ago memory, filed in the recess of her mind, surfaced. Angela had been seventeen. Her sister, Brittany, was fifteen, when Jasper Perry had entered their lives.
Jasper had been sexy and charming, the tall, dark Hollywood type. He was dashing, debonair, and old enough to be their father. Their mother had brought him home from a party one night.
“You girls be nice to him,” her mother had said, grinning slyly. “If all goes well, he’ll be your new daddy.”
The first time he struck her, Angela struck back, letting him know clearly, she would take no shit from him. Brittany hadn’t been so bold, or so lucky. Jasper had beaten her so badly that he put her in a coma, where she lay for six months before finally slipping away. Their mother had grieved for a short while, and she and Angela spent many nights sitting beside Brittany’s bed just reading or talking to her. But after awhile, Jasper began demanding his wife come home and tend to his needs. Angela continued to sit by Brittany’s, bed and when she finally died, Angela was holding her hand.
Angela shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Lacy. I have to keep trying.”
Lacy replaced the brochures back into the box. She looked around at the modest décor. Pink curtains draped over windows, accenting the wooden blinds that hung there. Standing in front of the window, she could see a small, well-manicured yard, A large vase filled with silk roses stood on a table in the entryway. A coat rack stood on the other side of the door. Lacy watched Angela remove her jacket and hang it on the rack. “You have a nice place.”
Angela smiled. “Thanks. Are you hungry?”
Lacy shrugged. “I could eat.”
Angela began to walk toward a room that Lacy assumed was a kitchen. Angela motioned with her hand for Lacy to follow. “Feel like helping?”
“Sure,” Lacy said. “I’m a whiz in the kitchen.”
Angela smiled. “Somehow, I figured you were.”
They set to work chopping, slicing, and sizzling until they had all the makings for BLT sandwiches. Lacy shook her head when Angela offered her mayonnaise. “No thanks.” She grabbed the mustard instead.
As Angela chewed, Lacy watched her. Growing uncomfortable after a few moments, Angela set down her sandwich. She shrugged her shoulders while making a palm up gesture with her hands. “What?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“If you mean why am I helping you, it’s my job.”
Lacy shook her head. “I don’t buy it. There’s more.”
Angela changed the subject. “Sorry, all I have to offer tonight is the couch. I’ll order a bed tomorrow and set it up in my office.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t plan on being here that long.”
Angela stared at Lacy, trying to figure her out. “You don’t owe your mother this. It’s her job to keep you safe, not the other way around.”
“Mom’s weak. She needs me.”
Angela felt her anger flare. She started to protest but changed her mind. She wouldn’t get anywhere arguing with Lacy. “How are things for you at school?”
Lacy shrugged, picked up a potato chip and set it back down. “I haven’t been to school for a week.”
“I mean overall. Do you like school? Do you have many friends?”
“I have Millie.”
Angela cocked an eyebrow at her. “Just Millie?”
Lacy looked hard at her. “All the kids are afraid of my dad.”
Angela nodded. “What about you? Are you afraid of him?”
Lacy laughed. “Are you serious? Of course, I’m scared of him.”
Angela became excited. This was the closest she had come to getting Lacy to admit to the beatings. Perhaps, she thought, I’m wearing her down. “Lacy, wouldn’t you like to help your mom?”
Lacy shook her head. “My dad’s not going to let that happen.” She looked at Angela quizzically. “You’re the one who’s naïve. I don’t think you realize just how much authority my dad has. He’s drinking buddies with the mayor! Don’t you get that?”
Angela noted the angry coloring of Lacy’s face and the quickened breath. Remembering the promise she made to Dr. Petoro, she backed down, changing the subject back to school. “So, Lacy, do you participate in any extra-curricular activities?”
Lacy shrugged again as her breathing returned to normal, and her face became its pale self. “I don’t have much time with work and all.”
“You don’t go to football games or dances?”
Lacy smiled. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
Angela fought the impatience that had begun to pervade their conversation. “I’m trying to,” she said.
Lacy sighed. “I kind of like photography. I even entered a contest once, but I didn’t stand a chance with my seven-dollar disposable camera.” She laughed. “I got a spot in the honorable mention category.”
They looked at each other and laughed, easing some of the tension. “What exactly does that mean?” Angela asked. “I’ve always thought of it as a consolation prize.”
They laughed again. “I guess it’s the old PC thing,” Lacy said.
“PC thing?”
“Politically correct,” Lacy offered.
They laughed again.
“What about boyfriends?” Angela asked.
Lacy grinned. “What about them? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I asked you first,” Angela said.
“Yeah, but I’m not answering unless you’re willing to share.”
Angela nodded. “Fair enough. I do not currently have a boyfriend. I just broke off a two-year relationship.”
She didn’t seem sad about this, which left Lacy thinking it was probably a good thing they ended it. “What went wrong?”
“My job.” At Lacy’s questioning expression Angela added, “I don’t exactly have the kind of job that’s easy to leave at the office. He got tired of the midnight phone calls. My job is just one big emergency after another.”
“That sucks.”
They looked at each other, and this time their laughter was gut-busting.
When Angela brought herself under control, she asked, “Do you like ice cream?”
“I love ice cream.”
Angela went to the freezer and took out a carton of ice cream. She crossed the room and retrieved two spoons from a drawer. She flopped down in the chair. “I hope you like chocolate chip.”
“It’s not as good as mint chocolate chip, but it will do.”
A sudden banging sounded on the door. Both women jumped.
Ignoring the pounding, Angela began to spoon the ice cream into two bowls. “Is that enough for you?”
Lacy nodded, took the bowl from Angela and began to eat.
The pounding continued.
With each pound, Angela flinched. Lacy, however, took each blow with nonchalance. She closed her eyes as she savored the delicacy of the cold treat. “This,” she said, shaking her spoon at Angela, “is exquisite ice cream.”
“How can you sit there so calmly?”
Lacy chuckled. “This is my life.”
“Open this door, damn it,” Peter Waldrip screamed.
Angela got up, walked to the front door, and screamed back, “Go to hell. I have a restraining order.”
“I don’t give a damn about your restraining order, you stupid bitch. Open this door and give me back my daughter.”
Lacy came to stand beside Angela. “Maybe it would be better if I just went with him.”
Angela put her hand out to stay her. “You will do no
such thing.”
Lacy looked at Angela, and then put her lips against the front door. “Please, Daddy,” she said. “Just leave us alone tonight. I didn’t ask for this. It’s what the judge said.”
Her answer was another sharp rap against the door. She screamed and jumped back.
“I’m coming back in the morning, and you’d better be ready to come home.”
They heard his footsteps as he turned and walked away. Angela looked through the peephole and saw him retreat. “He’s gone,” she said.
Lacy said nothing, just turned and walked back to the table, sat down and began eating her ice cream again, as if nothing had happened.
Angela watched her, torn between the image of the little girl who needed protection, and the woman strong enough to stand up to the brutality. A sudden image of her sister flashed through her mind, and she vowed to protect Lacy Waldrip with all her might, even if it meant taking on Peter Waldrip.
Chapter Twelve
Peter walked into the house, slamming the door behind him. “Brenda!”
She didn’t hear him. She was in the bedroom putting away clean laundry, listening to a recording of Bach and dancing joyfully with the music.
“Brenda!” he bellowed again, storming his way down the hallway.
He stood in the doorway, watching her sway to the music. She held her arms in the waltz position and a smile spread across her face. Just who the hell does she think she is? She started to turn, her imaginary lover clinging to her arms.
She spied him too late. She stopped abruptly, turned to flee but wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed her ponytail, yanking it hard, pulling her off her feet. She fell to the ground, breaking the fall with one knee. Her arms went up automatically, grabbing his hands to lessen the pain. He slapped her face. “Why did you let them take her?” he screamed into her face. His sour breath revolted her, and she pulled back.
“It wasn’t my fault.”
He slapped her again and pulled her ponytail toward him until their faces were only an inch apart. “Shut up!”
He let go. She fell to the ground. “It’s always your fault.” He picked up his foot and stomped down on her belly. She bent over, grabbing her abdomen and writhing in pain. He kicked her in the ribs. She coughed, spewing blood as she did.
Lacy's End Page 13
