Holding On

by Lisa Mills

  In the far recesses of her mind, she heard crying and someone shouting at her to stop. Then strong hands clamped around her arms and dragged her away. She struggled and kicked, trying to get back to the object of her burning hatred. The restraining hands tightened.

  “Dani, stop!”

  Kevin’s voice hit her like a slap, jerking reality back into focus.

  Her father stood across the kitchen, glaring at her like he was a bull and she the red flag waving in the wind. Beside the sink, her mother sat on the floor, arms curled around Trevor, shielding him from the scene. Both were crying. She felt Kevin’s breath on her neck and his hands still tight on her upper arms.

  She faced the man across the kitchen, not as a daughter looking at her father, but as a victim staring into the face of her abuser. Straining against the hold Kevin had on her, she pointed a trembling finger at her father. “You got away with beating me senseless as a child,” she spat through gritted teeth, “but I will kill you if you ever lay a hand on my son again.”

  Her father sneered at her, his face stony and unrepentant. “That boy needs discipline!”

  She pushed Kevin’s hands off of her, staggered to Trevor’s side, and pointed down at him. “Look at him! Look at your grandson!” Weeping and shaking head to toe, she waited until her father darted a quick glance at his handiwork lying on the floor, whimpering in his grandmother’s arms. “That. Is. Not. Discipline!” The words wrenched from her throat with force of her overwhelming pain and the agony she’d kept hidden for so many years.

  The sound of her ragged breathing was the only noise in the kitchen for long moments.

  “That is abuse,” she finished with a whisper. The adrenaline had started to fade. Twinges of pain pinged through her body, and her muscles sagged with fatigue. Gripping the counter for support, she bent to gather her son into her arms.

  “Danielle.” Kevin’s voice was dangerously soft. “Take Trevor upstairs and pack your bags.”

  A glance in Kevin’s direction sent goosebumps tingling down her back. He stood in the center of the kitchen, hands clenched at his sides, body as rigid as a marble statue. His warm brown eyes had turned black and dangerous and were locked on the object of his displeasure.

  When her father turned to Kevin, his smug expression faltered, as if he’d just realized an ally had turned foe. His eyes locked on Kevin’s face. He paled and took a step backward.

  Danielle felt a moment of satisfaction. Kevin had four inches and twenty-five years on her father. Let the old man try to pick a fight with him. Aided by her mother, she lifted Trevor and left the men to their standoff. Her mother darted up the stairs ahead of her, but Danielle paused a few steps up the staircase to listen.

  “William—or should I call you Elder Jordan?” Kevin’s biting sarcasm wasn’t lost on Danielle, and she didn’t think her father missed it either.

  “William’s fine,” her father mumbled.

  “William, you have assaulted a member of my family today. It will never happen again. Never. Not to Trevor and not to Dani either. Is that clear?”

  Her father didn’t speak, but he must have made some gesture that kept Kevin from pummeling him.

  “Because if it does, I will see to it that charges are brought against you and that you are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am taking my son and his mother away from this place. Until you get some counseling to deal with your anger, they will not be coming back for any reason.”

  “I don’t need couns—” Scuffling cut off the words and Danielle thought she heard a strangled gasp, like someone being choked.

  “I think you do.” Kevin’s voice had grown hard and demanding. “When your pastor sees the bruises on my son’s face tomorrow, I think he’ll agree.”

  Her father sputtered and stammered, but Kevin didn’t give him a chance to speak.

  “I saw Dani’s bruises, William, back in high school, but I was just a kid and I didn’t know how to stop it. Well, I’m not a kid now, and I won’t stand by and watch you abuse the people I love. You have a problem. Get help.”

  Danielle smiled through her tears. After all these years, someone finally knew her secret hell and cared enough to step in and defend her. She hugged Trevor tighter and climbed the remaining steps to the upper level.

  Danielle’s mother was already in Trevor’s room, fluttering around the space like a caged bird, wringing her hands and shaking her head. Tears streamed down her face, smudging the mascara she always wore. When she saw Danielle, she turned wide, panic-filled eyes on her. “Don’t go. Please, you don’t have to go.” She touched Danielle’s shoulder. “He loves Trevor. But he doesn’t like to have his authority challenged.”

  “You think?” Danielle shrugged away from her mother’s touch and set Trevor down on the bed. His cheek was fiery red, with hints of bluish-purple developing. She bit back a curse, knowing exactly how bad this would look and feel tomorrow. Ice would help, but that would mean going downstairs into the war zone to access the freezer. His lips trembled and he sniffled, his big brown eyes searching her face for answers. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered softly, bending to kiss the hurt and salve over the wounds on his soul.

  Her mother fluttered back to her side. “But he’s the head of this house, and we need to respect him.”

  “Or what?” Danielle demanded, fury rising in her chest again. She stood and faced her mother. “What are you saying, Mom? That’s it’s okay for him to hit us if we don’t conform to all his tyrannical rules? It’s okay for him to scream insults at someone for an honest mistake or smack a sickly kid for defending his mother? All I did was drop a bottle of sauce!” She glared at her mother. “Should anyone have to get knocked around for that?”

  Her mother’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “No. No, of course not. But we shouldn’t make him angry. If we just do what he asks, then he won’t get upset. We have to try harder—”

  “Shut up!” Danielle clamped her hands over her ears to block out the words. “Just shut up! Don’t you hear yourself?” She took her mother by the arm and pulled her out into the hall, away from Trevor’s watchful eyes. In the dim hallway, she got right in her mother’s face so she couldn’t look away.

  “This is why he’s been able to go on abusing us for so long. Because you make excuses for him, and you feed us these lines about how we shouldn’t anger him. For years you convinced me that it was my fault that he beat me. I never told anyone because I was so ashamed of myself. Well, it’s not my fault!” she yelled. “It’s him! It’s always been him. It doesn’t matter what I do or say, no matter how hard I try, he will find a reason to hurt me or someone I love because he is sick.”

  Her mother began to tremble violently and her eyes rolled around in her head. She lifted a hand and dragged her fingers through her hair, mussing her always-perfect hairstyle. “I don’t know,” she said absently.

  “You’re an enabler,” Danielle said, pulling the term from an article she’d once read on abusers. “You made it easy for him to operate, to stay this way. If you had just stood up to him years ago, told someone, got our family some help ….”

  Her mother turned to look at her. Her eyes were blank, void of all expression, and Danielle wondered if she’d had some kind of psychotic break. “I need to lie down,” she whispered, then stumbled off to her room.

  “Run away,” Danielle muttered to her back. “Go rebuild your happy delusions and live in denial if that’s what you really want. I’m getting out.”

  The stairs creaked behind her, and Danielle whirled around. Kevin stood at the top of the steps. “You startled me,” she gasped, hand going to her chest.

  Kevin looked older than he had an hour ago. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, as if trying to erase the ugly scene he’d witnessed. “Are you all right?” His eyes flicked over her with concern.

  She shrugged, heat going to her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted him to see that part of
her life, and she didn’t want him being so kind and concerned for her when she’d been so ugly to him of late.

  When she didn’t respond, he tried again. “I’m … sorry. That sounds lame, doesn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s written a book on proper etiquette for this situation.”

  A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “Probably not.”

  Danielle glanced behind him, down the stairwell. “Is my father …?”

  “Taking a walk.” A muscle flexed in Kevin’s jaw, and Danielle got the impression that her father’s sudden departure had been Kevin’s idea.

  “Are you packed?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want you and Trevor to stay here after everything that’s happened.”

  “Do you think I wanna be here?”

  “So, we’ll leave. How can I help?”

  “There’s a stack of boxes in the garage.”

  With a nod, he headed back down the stairway.

  Danielle went to Trevor’s room and pulled the suitcase from the closet. She’d emptied the first two dresser drawers when Kevin returned with the boxes. “Empty the rest of the dresser. And he’ll want his television and video game system.”

  “Mommy?” Trevor’s lashes were damp with tears. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to sleep somewhere else for a couple days.” She forced some cheer into her voice. “It’ll be like a slumber party, okay? We’ll have fun.”

  “Is Grammy coming?”

  Her stomach clenched. “No, Trevor. She’s not.”

  His chin quivered, but he nodded bravely.

  “It’ll be okay, honey. Can you help your dad pack the video games?”

  He slid off the bed, knelt by his TV stand, and began stacking his game cartridges.

  Danielle grabbed a box and crossed the hall to her room. She pulled clothes from the dresser and dumped them in, not caring if things wrinkled. When the box was full, she set it in the hall and went to the closet to get her suitcase.

  As she opened the closet door, her eyes fell on the three boxes in the back corner with her name written across them. She’d never had time to go through them. Making a snap decision, she lugged the boxes to the hallway and set them beside the first one she’d placed there.

  Kevin stepped out of Trevor’s room. “I think we have everything. You want to check?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll start carrying these down.” He stacked two boxes and lifted them with barely a show of effort.

  Danielle returned to her room and finished packing her clothes. She frowned at her computer and desk. She’d have to come back for them later. They had a few items in the bathroom, which she gathered, but for the most part, they’d been using her mother’s household supplies. After confirming they’d packed everything they could, she picked up the last box and carried it out to the cars.

  Kevin stood behind his Mercedes, tucking a box in the trunk. He reached for the one in her arms as she approached. “Yours filled up, so I put a few things in mine.”

  “Thanks.”

  He tucked the box into the car, then turned to face her. “You and Trevor are welcome to stay at my place if you need somewhere to go.”

  She didn’t even have to consider that offer. “No.”

  He held up his hands. “It’s not like that. I was going to sleep on a friend’s couch or something.”

  She shook her head. “Kevin, it’s a small town. Whether you’re staying there or not, people will talk.”

  He ran his hand over his short cropped hair. “Right. A hotel then?”

  “I can’t afford that.”

  Surprise flashed across his face, then understanding. “I’ll cover it.”

  With a sigh, she turned and walked toward her car. “No, just follow me over to Brandon’s. Maybe he’ll put me up. It’s just for two nights anyway. Then I’ll be staying at the hospital with Trevor most of the time.”

  Trevor was already in her car, his seatbelt buckled. He stared out the window at his grandparents’ home, a sad look on his face. Danielle’s heart pinched. She should have known better than to put him in this position. She knew what her father was like and she saw the warning signs. Once again, she’d failed to stand up to him. And Trevor had paid the price.

  Maybe she had more in common with her mother than she cared to acknowledge.

  Danielle pulled away from the curb and drove five blocks to Brandon’s home. He’d purchased a ranch-style house in a newer subdivision—newer being less than a century old but not necessarily constructed in the current decade. Still, the houses were nice, the yards neatly manicured.

  As she pulled into the driveway, Brandon stood in his garage beside the open trunk of his car. Sarah walked out, her hands in oven mitts that reached her elbows, carrying a steaming casserole dish. She set it in the trunk, then turned toward the sound of the engine.

  Danielle put her car in park and hopped out.

  Brandon came toward her, arms spread wide. “We were just loading up to head to the party. What are you doing here?”

  Trevor climbed out of the car just then. “Hi, Uncle Brandon.”

  Brandon looked down at his nephew and his eyes narrowed. “Hey, buddy, what happened?” He hooked his forefinger under Trevor’s chin and studied the bruises forming on the boy’s face.

  “Dad happened,” Danielle answered, her voice cold.

  Alarm rippled across Brandon’s features, then he pressed his eyes shut and blew out a slow breath between pursed lips. “Sarah,” he said quietly. “You can take the food back to the kitchen. And would you mind getting the ice pack from the freezer?”

  Sarah’s fingers were pressed to her lips, her eyes shining with unshed tears when she met Danielle’s gaze. “We have a guest room. You’re welcome to stay with us.”

  “Thank you.” Danielle turned and nodded at Kevin, who’d parked along the curb. He retrieved two boxes from the trunk of his car and joined them in the driveway.

  “And this is?” Brandon asked, frowning at Kevin.

  “He’s my dad,” Trevor answered, stepping closer to Kevin and leaning against his side.

  Brandon looked from Trevor to Kevin, then turned questioning eyes on Danielle.

  She sighed. “We have some things to talk about, but let’s get settled first. Grab a box.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Danielle stood in the doorway of Brandon’s guest room, watching Trevor sleep. Beams of moonlight stretched across the bed, casting ethereal light onto his face. The worry that had tightened his brow and the muscles around his mouth earlier in the day had smoothed away in sleep’s peaceful retreat. Danielle curbed the urge to kiss his silky cheek again and backed out of the room, leaving him to rest.

  She’d join him in an hour or two, but she needed some time to unwind first. The day had been long and taxing, and her mind was tumbling through the disturbing scenes over and over again. Wanting to escape for just a while, she headed for the living room and the sound of the television.

  Brandon and Sarah were spending the remnants of the evening in quiet companionship. Brandon had flopped across the couch to watch a football game while Sarah sat in the recliner, flipping through a magazine. Danielle took a seat on the open end of the couch and stared at the screen, letting the players and their battles carry her away from her problems for a time.

  A light chirp sounded from the back of the house. “That’s the dryer,” Sarah said, rising. “I need to take care of that load of laundry.”

  Brandon flashed her a smile, then went back to his viewing. The game clock in the corner of the screen counted down the final moments of the second quarter, and the teams ran off the field.

  “Half time,” Brandon announced. “Want something to drink? Or we could make popcorn.”

  She shook her head. “My stomach’s kind of upset.”

  He studied her, his gaze intense, then picked up the remote and snapped off the television. “Maybe we
should talk. What happened today, Sis? You haven’t told me the whole story.”

  She shrugged, rocked by a fresh surge of misery. “I guess it’s been building for weeks. Dad blew up at me a few times, yelling and calling me names. I should have left then, but Trevor and Mom were getting along so well, and I don’t really have the money to rent a place on my own. It’s hard to work when Trevor is at the hospital so much.”

  He reached over and placed his warm hand on her arm. “You’re welcome to stay here until Trevor’s on the road to recovery.”

  Relief flooded through her. “Thanks, Brandon. I don’t want to impose, but I really have nowhere else to go.”

  “It’s no problem.” They were silent for a moment. “So what happened today? What set Dad off?”

  Danielle stared at the coffee table, the ugly scene flashing through her head. “I dropped a bottle of barbeque sauce, and it shattered. He was mad because he was planning to use it on the grilled chicken. I messed up his plans.”

  Brandon shook his head, his face showing confusion. “How did the situation go from you dropping a bottle to Trevor getting hit?”

  Tears burned the corners of Danielle’s eyes. “Dad was calling me names and shouting at me for my clumsiness. Trevor heard him through the open window and came running to my defense. He stood up to Dad, and before I could intervene ….” She shrugged.

  Brandon hung his head and took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. If I’d have suspected that anything like this might happen, I’d have said something to you. But the last few years Dad has been more … reasonable. I guess that’s the word to describe him. I thought he’d changed.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. I lived there. I saw the signs. The sudden rages, the verbal assaults, the volatility. I should have moved out after the first incident, but they were all aimed at me. He was warm and loving toward Trevor, like a grandfather should be. I figured I could deal with a few minor incidents until Trev was admitted for the transplant. Then I’d be staying at the hospital the majority of the time.”