The Journeys of Bumbly Bear
Page 2
Chapter 2
Nightmares
At first I thought it was a dream. Then I recognized the ringing phone. It was 1:30 AM. “Hello” I said picking up the phone.
“Hi, sorry to bother you, but we can’t get Katy to sleep and she’s been screaming about voodoo outside her window and insisting her mother is there. She’s wakened the whole house twice now, and all the kids are on edge. She says her mother is going to kill us all. And she’s not dreaming.”
“Have you tried some warm milk, singing to her?” I asked rubbing my eyes and sitting up to try to wake up. I’d had a rough couple of days and nights with the children in the Evaluation Home, and this was the third night it looked like I was going to have to get up and go again.
“We’ve tried everything. Nothing works. There she goes again … she’s making the most awful sounds!” The housemother, Marci, sounded frantic.
“OK, I’m coming,” I replied. I quickly grabbed my jeans and a flannel shirt. I looked bleary eyed into the bathroom mirror and quickly ran a brush through my hair, then grabbed my car keys and purse from the hall table and went to the garage to start the car. As I backed out of the garage, I felt the fog close around the car. Putting on the fog lights, I headed up Highway 1 to the house in Novato where the nighttime ruckus was happening again.
As I drove, I tried to collect my thoughts about what I had read of Katy’s social and medical history provided by County Social Services. It had been sketchy, but I recalled something about her mother being a voodoo practitioner, who in one of her more insane moments had cut off the tip of a finger on her baby, believing that it would release the evil spirits within the child. I didn’t recall seeing a short finger, but I really hadn’t looked for one when Katy arrived. Everyone had been focused on the nasty little girl who had immediately fried the family goldfish upon her arrival.
Arriving at the house where our house parents live with six young seriously disturbed children, I saw that all the lights were on. “Oh boy,” I thought, “she’s got the whole house going.” As I opened the front door, I heard the wailing. Both Marci and Jack, the house parents of the Evaluation Program, were in the living room with Katy on the couch. Marci stroked her hair and Jack was trying to reason with her in a quiet voice.
“Katy, Katy,” I said quietly moving toward the group.
“My name is NUTMEG!” She screeched, and suddenly stopped the wailing, sitting bolt upright and staring at me silently.
“OK Nutmeg,” I quickly corrected myself. “What’s all this about?”
“I can’t sleep in this house – EVER!” Nutmeg yelled.
“Hmm -- is your bed comfortable? Do you sleep with your teddy bear?” I knew from reading her history that she had a teddy bear she had carried around with her from home to home for as long as she had been in foster care.
“That’s not it,” she sobbed, tears now rolling from those beautiful deep brown eyes down her face.
“And?” I said.
“SHE’S here -- she’s gonna kill us all!” she sobbed.
“Who, Nutmeg?”
“Betty Lou.” I knew Betty Lou was her birth mother’s name.
“Betty Lou is not here, Nutmeg. She can’t get to you here,” I said quietly and moved a bit closer.
“You don’t know,” she cried. “She’s -- she’s outside my window!” She began to shake as she pointed a finger, the short second finger of her left hand, at me. “You don’t know!” she sobbed.
“I know she hurt you very badly a long time ago, “I said.
“She almost killed me.” The sobbing was softer now. And she curled into Marci in fetal position, softly crying. I nodded to Marci who picked up my cue and carried her very gently to her pink and white bedroom, cuddling her as she placed her on the bed beside her.
After settling the other kids with Jack and getting them off to bed, I went to the pink and white bedroom to find Marci still cuddling Nutmeg in her little bed with her teddy bear held between them, softly stroking the long black curls and singing a lullaby. Nutmeg was huddled close, and seemed quiet now.
As I entered the room, Nutmeg looked up with those big soulful dark eyes. “It’s always like this the first night,” she whispered. Her words broke my heart: she was obviously considering this just another move -- one of many in her short life.
I sat on the bed near her. “It’s OK, Nutmeg. You are safe here in Children’s Garden. We won’t let anything hurt you here. We promise. And we always keep our promises, you will see.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and closed her eyes, holding the teddy bear and Marci tight.
The Evaluation Home now quiet and the kids asleep, I hugged my house parents, and bid them a good night. It was 3:30 now and I had yet a long drive home before I could sleep.