For Better and Worse

by Margot Hunt

  “I can see that,” Will said, taking another swig from his beer. “It’s hard to imagine a kid making that up. So you think they’ll have a good shot of convicting Robert just on Tate’s testimony?”

  “It’s possible.” I kept my voice neutral. “And other families might come forward. I’m sure there are other boys who have been affected. Other boys he targeted.”

  Will set his bottle of beer on the counter and gave me a searching look. “And what about what you brought up last night? The plan you were proposing?”

  I returned my husband’s gaze. “I told you, I was just upset.”

  “Good.” Will looked relieved. “I’ve been worrying about it all day.”

  “Don’t,” I said, turning away from him. I dropped the chicken breasts in the preheated frying pan, where they began sizzling violently in hot olive oil. “I would never do anything stupid.”

  Chapter 13

  Thursday morning, Stella announced through our office intercom that Rio Frey was there to see me.

  “He doesn’t have an appointment.” There was a hint of disapproval in Stella’s voice. She preferred to keep firm control over my schedule.

  “That’s okay. You can send him back,” I replied.

  Today, Rio was wearing a pink T-shirt with a picture of a fish on a line on the front, camouflage cargo shorts and the same ratty flip-flops he’d worn to our last meeting. He closed my office door behind him, then hesitated for a moment.

  “Come in, Rio. Have a seat.”

  Rio sat in one of the visitor’s chairs, pulled a plastic sandwich bag out of one of his cargo pockets. He leaned forward and set it on my desk. I looked down at the clear plastic sandwich bag. There were five round light blue tablets inside.

  “Oxycodone?”

  “Eighty milligrams each. Just like you asked me to get for you.”

  I nodded, satisfied. I didn’t think Rio would try to hustle me, but I’d double-check the numbers stamped on the pills against an online drug database on my burner tablet later. I had to make sure he hadn’t just sold me generic ibuprofen. I took the bag and tucked it into my handbag. “Did I give you enough to cover the cost?”

  “More than enough. I even have change for you.” Rio set a crumpled twenty dollar bill and a couple of singles on my desk.

  “That’s okay, you keep it,” I said.

  “No, thank you, ma’am. That wouldn’t be right.”

  On another day, under other circumstances, I might have been amused by Rio’s prim refusal to keep the change from an illegal drug deal. I took the bills and shoved them in a desk drawer.

  “Any update on my parole termination?” Rio asked.

  “I filed the motion yesterday. It will take a few weeks before we get a hearing date. I’m pretty sure there won’t be a problem, especially if your PO is on board.”

  Rio nodded. He was well used to how slowly the legal system moved. “You’ll let me know?”

  “Of course.”

  Rio stood, but didn’t immediately leave. He raised his tan arms and scratched his head with both hands.

  “I don’t want to tell you your business,” he finally said, “but you’ve always been straight with me. You should be careful with those pills. They can fuck up your life right quickly.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I assured him.

  Rio looked at me for a long moment with his odd, two-toned eyes. Finally he nodded and turned to go. “I guess I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  “I’ll call you when we get our court date,” I promised.

  * * *

  That afternoon, after picking up Charlie from school, I parked my car in front of a pretty aqua-blue bungalow. There was a discreet black-lettered sign outside that read, Camilla Wilson MS. Charlie and I both remained seated in the car, staring at the building.

  “Why do I have to see a doctor?” Charlie asked.

  I shook my head. “She isn’t a medical doctor, sweetheart. She’s a therapist. She’s someone who you can talk to, who will help you sort out how you’re feeling.”

  “What if I don’t want to talk to her?”

  I thought about this. I didn’t want him to feel pressured, especially since I worried that after what he’d been through, he might be feeling a loss of control over his life.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I think you should wait and see how you feel about it until after you meet her.”

  Charlie considered this, then finally nodded.

  “There’s just one thing I need you to remember,” I said. “It’s important.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to talk to her—to Camilla—about what happened. If you want to. But...you can’t tell her who it was that hurt you. That it was Principal Gibbons.” The words felt like a betrayal, wrong and unfair. Charlie shouldn’t have to keep secrets, not for me. But this was a secret that would protect him, too.

  “I don’t want to talk about him, anyway.” Charlie folded his arms over himself.

  “I know. But...you may want to at some point. And if you do, you can. You should. Just...don’t use his name. Okay?”

  Charlie didn’t say anything. I waited a few moments, and finally hit the button releasing my seat belt and got out of the car. A moment later, Charlie followed, and we walked up to the office together. I opened the door, setting off a bell, then held it open for Charlie. After a slight hesitation, he went inside.

  There wasn’t a receptionist, just a small, neat waiting room with a few chairs, a table covered in magazines and a palm tree in a terra-cotta pot. The inner door opened and a woman stepped out.

  “Mrs. Clarke?” she asked.

  “Please, call me Natalie.” I extended a hand.

  “Natalie, then.” She shook my hand. “I’m Camilla. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Camilla Wilson was almost absurdly beautiful. She had large almond-shaped eyes, high chiseled cheekbones, full lips and luminous dark skin. She was wearing a yellow sweater set and palazzo pants made out of a slinky black material that allowed her to easily crouch down in front of Charlie.

  “And you must be Charlie?”

  Charlie nodded shyly.

  “I thought so. Hi, Charlie. Do you want to come with me? I have some really cool toys back in my office.”

  “I’m too old for toys,” Charlie answered.

  “What do you like to do?”

  “Play computer games. And draw.”

  “Perfect! I have some paper and lots of pencils and crayons. Why don’t you come draw a picture for me?”

  Charlie shrugged. Camilla stood. “You can come back, too, Natalie.”

  Camilla’s therapy room was large and colorful, with a purple couch, a brightly striped rug and beach-themed pictures on the wall. Charlie sat down at a table that had a roll of paper spread across it and immediately set to work on a drawing.

  “Why don’t you sit here. There’s an intercom, so you’ll be able to hear what we’re saying,” Camilla suggested, gesturing to a table and chairs in an outer room with a window that looked in on the therapy room. I understood at once—I would be able to see and hear them, but be removed enough so that they would be able to talk freely. My stomach unclenched. The idea of Charlie going off with a stranger, even one as lovely as Camilla Wilson, had made me uneasy.

  Camilla sat with Charlie while he drew characters from his beloved video games, explaining each one to her in turn. I had given Camilla an outline of what had happened to him the day before when we spoke on the phone. She asked him a few questions about school, which he answered. But when she attempted to guide the conversation toward the molestation, Charlie shut down and refused to talk. Camilla didn’t press the matter.

  “It’s okay, Charlie. Why don’t you finish drawing that picture while I talk to your mom for a few minutes,” Camilla suggeste
d.

  She joined me in the observation room, sitting across the table from me.

  “He’s reluctant to talk about the abuse, but that’s normal,” Camilla said. “He has to trust me first, which might take a few sessions.”

  I nodded. “He hasn’t wanted to talk about it at all, not since he first told me.”

  “That’s completely normal. He’ll need to talk about it eventually, if he’s going to work through his feelings. Kids who’ve suffered abuse tend to be fearful and anxious, but they also often feel a profound sense of shame. We’ll need to make sure he understands that what happened to him wasn’t his fault. And that bad things do sometimes happen, and have happened to him, but they don’t have to define his life.”

  Camilla blurred in front me as my eyes filled with tears. I blinked and tried to wipe them away before Charlie saw me. The therapist gently pushed a box of tissues toward me.

  “You also have to remember that your feelings are valid, too. It’s normal for you to grieve for your son’s innocence, and to have a deep and profound anger against the man who did this to him,” she said. “You and your husband might want to consider talking to a therapist, either together or on your own. It’s quite common for the stress surrounding an outcry statement to cause strain in a marriage or within the family.”

  I nodded. “I’ll talk to my husband about it. We were hoping you could give us some guidance on how to act with Charlie. Should we try to act as normal as possible? For example, my mom invited him to stay with her this weekend, which he normally would love to do. But my husband isn’t sure if it’s a good idea for Charlie to be apart from us right now.”

  “I think that your first goal should absolutely be to create a feeling of normalcy. The most important thing is to make sure Charlie feels safe and protected. If your mother is a safe person for him, I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t stay with her, if he wants to. But if he expresses a reluctance to be apart from you, I certainly wouldn’t push it.”

  “Good.” I exhaled. “He always has fun when he stays with her. I think it might be good for him.”

  “Are you going to tell your mother what happened to Charlie?”

  “I’d rather not. My mother is...” I stopped and tried to think of the right words. “A very self-centered person. She’ll have a breakdown, then find a way to morph the situation around to make it all about her—how much this upsets her, how she can’t believe she has to deal with this. I’ll just get angry. I can’t imagine any of that is good for Charlie.”

  “No, it doesn’t sound like it would be. However, it’s possible that Charlie might exhibit some behavioral issues that your mother will pick up on. For example, kids who have been abused can have mood swings, become angry or sad, seemingly without reason. It’s not uncommon for them to regress.”

  “Okay, I’ll watch for that. Should we correct him if we see him doing those things?”

  “I’d play it by ear. The most important thing is to be patient and loving with him. Make sure that he feels secure.” She hesitated. “I know you said you didn’t want to file a police report.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve actually defended sexual battery on a minor cases. I know how tough it is on the kids involved.”

  “That’s certainly true in many cases,” Camilla agreed. “But there are children who have gone through the experience of helping to prosecute their accuser who afterward say that they’re glad they participated. For some, it gives them back a sense of control over their lives. And many say that it helps them to know that their abuser won’t be able to hurt other kids. That can be powerful.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I lied.

  “I know you’re concerned about not wanting to put Charlie through the ordeal of a criminal trial. I totally get that. My priority is to help Charlie heal. And you don’t have to make your decision about whether you want to file charges immediately. We can wait a few weeks and see how Charlie’s doing then.”

  I exhaled, my relief profound. A few weeks from now, Robert would be dead. Even if Camilla found out that he was the one who had molested Charlie, her legal obligation to report the abuse would end with his death. In fact, at that point, she would be ethically prohibited from telling the police Charlie had been one of his victims.

  “I’m just trying to do the right thing for my son,” I said.

  “I think you should trust your instincts,” the therapist said with a warm smile. “They seem to be good ones.”

  Chapter 14

  Mandy called while I was driving Charlie home after his appointment. I hit the call accept button and her voice piped on over the car speakers.

  “Hey, where’ve you been?” she asked.

  “What’d you mean?”

  “I’ve called you a bunch of times. Has Laura MacMurray taken over my position as your best friend?”

  “What? Why would you ask me that?”

  “Dana was going through the drive-through at Starbucks a few days ago and saw you two inside sitting together. She told me about it when I ran into her at sunrise boot camp this morning.”

  “Oh, good God.” I exhaled. “We live in such a small town.”

  I kept my tone light, but in truth, I was alarmed. I hadn’t been able to drink a cup of coffee with an acquaintance I didn’t particularly like without being spotted and having the news pass on along via the Shoreham Mom Network. “Why were you having coffee with Laura?” Mandy asked.

  “First of all, I wasn’t. She ambushed me. And second, I was drinking coffee. Laura was drinking holistic, detoxifying green tea.”

  Mandy laughed. “I’m assuming she was trying to dig for dirt on the school scandal. Have you heard the latest?”

  I grabbed for my phone, nearly driving off the road as I did so. “Hold on, I need to take you off speakerphone. Okay, there. Go ahead.”

  “Is Charlie in the car with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry, I should have asked before I started talking. Me and my big mouth.”

  I glanced at Charlie, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. He was turned away from me, staring out the window. “It’s okay. What’s going on?”

  “It’s unconfirmed, so take it for what it’s worth, but...I heard that Jennifer and Peter Swain might withdraw the charges against Robert.”

  “What? Are you sure?” My voice was sharper than I intended, and Charlie twisted around to look at me.

  “Mom?” he asked anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head and tried to smile reassuringly at him. “It’s nothing, sweetie.”

  “Are you okay?” Mandy said in my ear. “You sound upset.”

  “No, I’m fine. Sorry. I haven’t slept well the past few nights.”

  “I don’t think any of us have. It’s been an upsetting week all around.”

  “Where did you hear that? About Jennifer and Peter, I mean.”

  “Dana told me this morning when I ran into her at boot camp. She said they’re having second thoughts.”

  “Does she know Jennifer?”

  “I don’t think so, but they have some mutual friends, which is how Dana heard about it.”

  The Shoreham Mom Network again, I thought. Nothing in a small town stays secret for long.

  “Which was what, exactly?”

  “Apparently, after the other boys on the trip contradicted Tate Mason’s story, the police detectives wanted to interview him again, and also have him evaluated by a social worker,” Mandy said. Her voice was quiet and somber, so unlike her usual cheerful zaniness. “There’s a rumor going around that he might have been abused at a previous foster home, and that could have caused him to act out...to make a false allegation. I don’t know if all or any of it’s true, but if it is, I can see why Jennifer and Peter might have second thoughts about going forward. Can’t you?”

  “O
f course.” My mouth was suddenly so dry, it was hard to speak. “I don’t blame them at all.”

  “I guess there’s still an issue about who gets to make the call, since the Swains haven’t formally adopted Tate yet. Is that how foster care law works?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never practiced family law.” I glanced at Charlie again, but he’d returned to staring at the window. “I do know that most of the legislation is set up to protect the best interest of the child, whatever that means.”

  “If they do withdraw the complaint, do you think Robert will go back to being the principal? I mean, he wasn’t officially fired, right?”

  “Anything’s possible,” I said.

  My heartbeat had started to accelerate again, pounding insistently in my chest. I realized a part of me had been hoping that Robert would be arrested, and prosecuted for molesting Tate. If he were convicted of that crime, he’d likely spend the rest of his life in in jail. He’d certainly never be able to hurt another child.

  And I wouldn’t have to kill him.

  “I don’t know how I feel about that. I know what I said the other day, about how it’s not right for a man’s life to be ruined by a false allegation. But at the same time, the whole idea of innocent until proven guilty doesn’t really sit well when we’re talking about a potential predator working at a school. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to quell my rising anxiety. If I was going to do this...if I was actually going to kill Robert, I’d have to act quickly. Before he was reinstated at Franklin School. Even if there were parents like Mandy who were ambivalent about his return, the story was already spinning in the direction that Tate was a troubled kid who made a false accusation. Robert would be seen as the victim. Once he was back at the school, even if he remained on good behavior for awhile, I knew that eventually he’d molest another child. He’d irretrievably alter another young innocent life. Another child just like Charlie.