Dear Evie: The Lost Memories of a Lost Child

by P. J. Rhea

Jason was a little concerned about my hovering over her, remembering how I had been before she started school. He pointed out that she had only just turned six, and I was letting worry take over my life.

  “Sure, I agreed, she is only six. But do you realize that in six more years she will almost be a teenager and six years after that she will be eighteen and an adult. She could be leaving for college or married in no time at all.”

  Jason tucked his head and tried to hide the fact that he was laughing, and then I had to laugh at my own ridiculous ranting. He took me in his arms and pulled me close to him.

  “Kat, I know you need some time to work through this, to grieve and to just let your brain accept what you now know was your past, but I think maybe it’s time to move on in your quest for answers, don’t you?”

  He was right. I still had loose ends to tie up, more sessions with Dr. Anna, and I had to tell Evelyn and Stephen what I’d finally remembered. That was something I was not looking forward to. I basically was going to be telling Stephen that his father raped Evelyn’s granddaughter, his sister, and caused the death of his mother… of our mother. I wanted Stephen to understand how much Grace loved him, and that she ultimately sacrificed her own life to save us. I wanted Evelyn to know that Grace was trying to come home to her and that all had been forgiven. She’d loved her mother as much as any daughter could. I knew they both needed to hear that. Dr. Anna had called twice to check on me in the last few weeks and wanted me to make an appointment soon.

  “You’re right, Jason. It is time to make my move,” I proclaimed and gave him a kiss. I looked at him and smiled. He looked at me with such tenderness. I saw an understanding in his eyes that was new and so full of love, I felt as if I were wrapped up in it. I felt secure and blessed. This wonderful man still loved me deeply despite all I’d put him through during the past few months. Despite knowing my truth and what had happened to me, I had not changed in his heart. If anything had changed, it was that he admired my strength. He told me he had always been thankful for me, but after knowing the road that had led me to him, he appreciated me even more.

  I found myself looking deep into those beautiful, sexy eyes of his, and I gave him a smile that told him exactly how I felt about him. And I was ready to show him.

  “Gracie, I said, how would you like to spend the night at your grandmother’s house?” Jason grinned back and made his eyebrows move up and down in a flirty gesture.

  “Which one, Mommy?” she asked.

  “Whoever says yes first, baby.”

  ***

  It was wonderful to be in Jason’s arms again. Our relationship had been challenged by my search for the truth. The intimacy problems I’d always dealt with were still there. I guess they always would be. Things that happen to us can change who we are forever. It’s like when you bend a wire. You may be able to bend it back, but it leaves that kink that changes the direction just a little. And just because we understand the why doesn’t mean the kink goes away.

  I’m sure Jason could tell I was still plagued by my problems, but he no longer seemed hurt by them. He was so tender and loving. He no longer deliberately did things to tease me like before. In the past he’d never taken my discomfort and distress seriously. I would actually get angry with him when he wouldn’t stop tickling me or holding me down. He meant no harm. He was just playing, and I knew it, but I would feel this wall come up as if I needed protection from him. Protection from a man who loved me more than anything and who I loved back just as much. Until recently I could simple not understand why I reacted the way I did. I’d hoped when I knew the “why” that the wall would come down. But it was still there. The difference now was that I understood why I reacted the way I did, and I no longer felt guilty. It will be a slow process, but brick by brick I hope I will be able to knock down the wall and learn to love Jason without restraint.

  There had been a time not so long ago that I feared I would lose him. I worried that he would get tired of me pushing him away and find someone else who would love him with her whole being. But that night I could feel Jason love me in a way I had never experienced before. I knew he felt compassion, not just passion. He wanted me to be satisfied in our lovemaking, but he was more controlled and deliberate than any time before. It reminded me of how it felt having sex for the first time on our wedding night. Both of us were unsure and wanted to do the right things. It was foreign to us, and even though Jason and I had been together for several years, we were clumsy and unsure of boundaries. The funny thing was, I’d never felt so safe. That doesn’t sound very sexy or exciting, I suppose, but it was the most wonderful thing I’d ever felt in my life. I felt wanted and loved and safe. I knew with Jason as my support I could face anything.

  My next step to healing was to share the truth with the other people I loved. Since Gracie had spent the night with my parents, we went to see Jason’s parents first. We had not shared very much of my story with them, and, thankfully, Jason agreed it was best if we kept it that way. James and Linda Hunter were wonderful people, of course, but it was no secret to those who knew them that Linda was very precocious and had a habit of thinking she and James were a little higher up on the social ladder than they really were. They had both been concerned when their only son wanted to marry a girl who not only came from a simple middle class family, but was also adopted. Jason had become very angry with his mother when she implied I could have come from any sort of trash before arriving at the Tipton’s door and did he really want to risk his future on such a drifter as me.

  I had been the cause of a long hurtful riff in their home, but once they knew Jason was going to marry me with or without their blessing, they accepted me and made the best of it. With that kind of past, I was not ready to tell my in-laws I had been the victim of horrible physical and sexual abuse as a child. They knew I’d been searching to find my birth family. I teased Jason and told him that his parents were hoping that I discovered I’d been kidnapped by someone and actually came from royalty. It was too close to how they felt to really be funny. We only told them that I had located both sets of grandparents and that one of my grandfathers had already passed. I also told them I had discovered a younger brother. We explained that my birth father had died when I was only two and that my mother and stepfather had died in a house fire. I told them I had burned my hands in that fire and rescued my baby brother.

  “I guess that is why I’d pushed it all back and refused to remember; the trauma of the fire.”

  I knew it was the extremely abbreviated version of my story, but they seemed to accept it and gave me their sympathy for my loss. I told Jason I was sorry for not being completely honest with them, but he was more than understanding.

  “Listen, Kat, I love my parents, but I also know them well. You did the right thing.”

  I smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

  “Okay, on to the next one.”

  Jason took Gracie home so I could see my parents alone. They had been in on what was happening from the start, and because they already knew some of the story, I only had to fill in the empty spaces where questions remained. When I told them about the final day and the things that happened to Evie before the fire, they both cried like their hearts were broken. I’d hoped they would not feel any guilt or responsibility for the things that had happened. After all, they hadn’t known I existed until all the bad things were over. They’d been the ones who helped me through the aftermath of the war. I guess the only surprise was when my gentle, quiet dad got so openly and vocally angry because someone had not only done that to a child but to his child. He clinched his fist and looked like he wanted to punch someone. I understood because I wanted to hurt Ralph Dark myself once I realized what he’d done. I knew if anyone had hurt my baby I would be ready to fight him like a wildcat. I walked up to my dad and hugged him tight.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you too, my sweet girl,” he said in a trembling voice. “So very much.”

  My mother seemed to be h
aving even more trouble dealing with the news than my dad. It was certainly more than I’d expected. She just seemed to be searching for what she needed to say. I was actually starting to worry she might think less of me now knowing what Ralph had done, but I knew that couldn’t be true. My mother loved me with her entire soul, and I had no fear that would ever change.

  Finally I just told her to say what was on her heart. She took a deep cleansing breath and wiped her eyes with a tissue from the counter. Then she and my dad exchanged a knowing glance. He kissed us both on our foreheads, and then left the room. We sat across the table from each other, and I waited for her to work up the courage to tell me what she obviously wanted desperately to say. She began in a low voice, almost like a whisper. At first she wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

  “Katie, I would like to tell you about my daddy.”

  I know she saw the shock in my face, but I tried not to react. My mother had never talked about either of her parents a great deal. They were both dead by the time I came to be a part of the family, and I guess I just never thought much about it. I mean, at the time I basically had no past, so I wasn’t curious about Vanessa’s past either. I knew she had a couple of brothers who lived in California, but except for a phone call around Thanksgiving each year, they were never heard from. When all your family consists of the two people raising you, it just doesn’t seem strange that other people are not discussed.

  “Katie, when I was a child my dad drank all the time. He was an alcoholic,” she said. “We were never really close. He was probably away from home more than he was there. He seemed more like an uncle or maybe just a friend of the family who came around every once in a while for a visit. About the only thing I remember about the man is that he loved to watch Popeye the Sailor Man cartoons and all kinds of westerns. My brothers and I would watch television with him. I remember he took Alka-Seltzer for his stomach, and I always wanted to drop them in the water for him and watch them bubble up. Oh, and he drank buttermilk and egg creams all the time. Egg creams are raw eggs with milk, vanilla, and sugar mixed up in a glass. My brothers and I liked making them for him, and we would help him drink them sometimes. They tasted really good.”

  She looked out into what I guess was a nice memory for her, but then she looked at me with a more serious expression than before, and her voice was no longer a whisper. She wasn’t loud, just more precise with what she was saying.

  “One day when he was about to leave for a few days, my mom told us kids to line up and give him a kiss good-bye. It was one of those times when she was trying to win him back and wanted everything nice at home so he would want to return… you know. My mother was at the kitchen sink washing the breakfast dishes and had her back to us.

  Dad went to my oldest brother first. He was fifteen so they just shook hands and my brother, your uncle Keith, went back to his room. Next was my younger brother, your uncle Gordon. He was only nine and dad hugged him and kissed his cheek. Then it was my turn, and I fully expected to get a kiss on the cheek as well. My dad came at me with his mouth open and tried to put his tongue in my mouth. In those days a thirteen-year-old girl could be extremely naïve, and I had never even heard of a French kiss; but I did know that it didn’t feel right, so I pulled back. He tried a second and third time to kiss me with open mouth and tongue, but each time I pulled back. Finally he kissed my head and left.

  My mother never realized what had taken place just inches from her and I never told her. I didn’t tell anyone. I just kept assuring myself that I had misunderstood what he was doing. Making something out of nothing, you might say. Then a few days after that, he came back for another visit. It was on a Friday night, and the following morning my mother left to get her hair done. She always got her hair done every Saturday morning till the day she died. I had just gotten out of bed and only had on the gown I’d slept in. It was short and made of a silky-type material, so I guess it revealed the small breasts I was just beginning to develop. I never thought anything was wrong with me walking around the house like that. I was a kid, and I had done it every morning for as long as I could remember.”

  She said this as if explaining it to me. I felt as if she didn’t want me to think badly of her. I patted her hand and just smiled what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “There was nothing wrong with that, Mom. You were a little girl in your own home, and he was your dad.”

  “He walked up to me and without warning put his hand inside my gown and onto my breast. It was only a second because I pulled away quickly and locked myself in the bathroom. I just stood in there crying, not really sure what to do. Then after a while he came to the door and said he was sorry. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what to say. I couldn’t say ‘That’s okay’ because it wasn’t okay at all. He just left. I didn’t tell my mother about that either. I don’t know why I didn’t tell, but I think I felt that I had done something wrong and it would be my fault if he never came back and Mom and my brothers would be angry with me for messing it up.

  For a very long time I tried to convince myself that he was drunk and didn’t realize what he was doing. He didn’t realize it was me. He couldn’t know it was his little girl he was doing those things to. But as I grew older and allowed myself to give it serious thought, I realized that in both situations he had just awakened from a full night’s sleep and was completely sober.”

  She looked at me for some sign of understanding. I gave her a hug and just held her for several minutes. I could tell she was crying, and I knew she needed that more than any words I might offer. So we cried for a while together for the little girls who were hurt by men who were supposed to be protectors. Finally she was ready to continue. She took my hands in hers and looked in my eyes with newfound power. My mother had released the hold her father had had on her all those years by telling his secret.

  “Katie, I have known since you were first put in our care that you were raped by that man. When they brought you to the hospital after the fire, they examined you for other injuries, and, of course, it was discovered that you had been brutalized sexually. Oh, sweet girl, I had hoped for so long that you would never remember it. I was so afraid that the trauma would be too much for you. We thought that maybe you had set the house fire to punish him and when your mom caught fire too it was just more than you could process. When you were with us for over a year and Dr. Anna had not been able to help you remember, we just thought it was a blessing from God and you would never have to know what had happened to you that night. You could just live happy and free from guilt. I didn’t really understand until now that you had no reason to feel guilt and that by remembering you have taken your life back. Dr. Anna told me that was what needed to happen and that she hoped someday you would be ready to remember. I guess she was right.”

  “So, Dr. Anna has known about this all along? Why didn’t she just tell me what she knew?”

  “She only knew you had been raped. She knew that from the medical report just like we did. But none of us knew how the fire started or how you got burned so badly on your hands. She told us to never tell you because the mind has a way of protecting us from things we are not ready to remember. She said you needed to remember, but not until the time was right, and then you would be able to handle the memories and learn from them.”

  “She was right, Mama. I see now that it had to be that way and I understand why Evie held on to those things for me until I could cope with them. She knew too when the time was right to reveal them.”

  My mother sharing her story with me made me feel closer to her than I ever had. I was more certain than ever before that I wanted to help others. I knew that Dr. Anna was right when she said in order for a child to heal, she must be heard. Even, if that child is now a grandmother. Once the story is heard, the healing can begin, and the child can take the power away from the monster.

  I wanted to assure the wonderful people who’d taken me in and raised me with so much love and support that I was going to be just fine. As I
prepared to leave, my dad returned to the kitchen, and I gave them both one more hug and told them again how very much I loved them. My dad stood behind my mother and wrapped his arms around her. It had always made me smile to see that very tall man and my short mom embrace, but this time it just felt nice. They both still looked a little worried about me, so I made one last effort to explain things. The last thing I wanted was to cause them more worry.

  “I know it is hard to hear what happened to me. I know it is almost impossible to understand the fact that I still believe Evie is holding on to the bad for me. Even now that I remember everything she has allowed me to separate from it in order to survive it. You both raised me with Christian values and beliefs. In my journey I have also found that my birth mother tried to do the same. God has brought me to this and will help me through it. Isn’t that what you have always told me, Mama?”

  “Yes, baby,” Vanessa replied with a sniff. “I remember when you were about thirteen years old you were having a little problem with your looks and not knowing who you looked like. Your legs seemed too long for your body, and, like most girls at that age, you hated you hair, your shape, pretty much everything. It was also one of the few periods in your childhood when you seemed to wonder about your past a little. It was hard when friends would talk about past family holidays or trips, and you had no idea what yours might have been like. I told you then that we are all like clay. When we are born we are like a block that needs to be molded. God can make us perfect, but the world comes along and tries to change his creation. Events and hardships make dents in the clay. People can twist the clay and make it deformed or ugly. We can even do things to ourselves that alter it. But if we allow God to work his perfect plan, it will smooth out and be beautiful in the end. I realize this isn’t over and that you have a long way to go until you have healed, but I can already see God smoothing the rough edges with his comfort and molding you into his likeness.”