The Return of Cassandra Todd

by Darrel Nelson

  CHAPTER 38

  TURNER RETURNED HOME three days later. Harvey and Loretta were there to greet him when he arrived. Harvey held a hammer, and his black and blue thumbnail bore evidence that he had been attempting to use it. Turner volunteered to help out, but Loretta wouldn’t allow it. Instead she had Harvey carry his suitcase while they walked Turner to his room. On the way she told her husband in no uncertain terms that Turner was not allowed to do any handyman work for three more days. She wagged a finger under Harvey’s nose as she made the declaration.

  “I can handle things,” Harvey said defensively. He shifted Turner’s suitcase to the other hand and rolled his shoulder.

  “But this arthritis—it’s acting up again.”

  “Three more days!”

  Harvey exhaled sharply.

  So did Turner when Loretta opened his door. A pot of stew was on the stove, and two loaves of fresh-baked bread sat on the counter. His laundry had been done and was neatly folded in a laundry basket. And a Dell laptop computer and a new backpack sat on the table.

  “Hey, you guys didn’t have to buy me a new laptop,” he said in surprise, embracing Loretta.

  “You lost yours in the fire,” Loretta said. “This is a refurbished one and didn’t cost that much money. But now you’ll have no excuse. You’ve fallen behind in your courses and you need to catch up. Right away. We didn’t enroll you in college just to have you flunk out.”

  Turner liked the we. “I’ll start back first thing tomorrow morning, Mama Retta.”

  Harvey set Turner’s suitcase down in the bedroom and sighed dramatically.

  Loretta ignored him and looked around the room, giving it a final inspection. Satisfied, she embraced Turner and held him for a long time. “It’s so good to have you back,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Now get some rest and good luck at school tomorrow.”

  “I could use some rest too,” Harvey muttered. “This right shoulder of mine—”

  “March!” she replied, pointing toward the door. “Turner needs some peace and quiet.”

  Harvey muttered under his breath as he exited, while Loretta paused to give Turner one more hug.

  When he was alone, Turner dished up a bowl of stew and cut a generous slice of bread. Then he booted up the laptop and connected to the motel Wi-Fi. Entering his password, he logged on to his e-mail account. There were four e-mails from Cassandra, beginning the day she arrived in Las Vegas. Sitting at the kitchen table, he ate as he excitedly read them.

  Her first e-mail explained that she and Justin had arrived safely in Las Vegas and that Justin was in a private room on the second floor of the Sunshine Children’s Hospital. She wrote:

  The pediatricians are excellent, and I am particularly impressed with Dr. Courtnall, the stress therapist. She was thorough in her approach and obtained a complete history of Justin. Then she followed this with an initial clinical assessment and consultation with me. Based on the information, a treatment program has been implemented, and Dr. Courtnall’s prognosis is encouraging. Her approach will allow Justin to deal with the trauma he experienced and give him a chance to work through his feelings naturally and safely. He still isn’t responding to physical stimuli, but Dr. Courtnall doesn’t seem unduly worried at this point. I’ll keep you updated on his progress.

  The e-mail also included a brief account of how returning to her house had been more emotionally difficult than she had expected. She continued:

  Reminders of Brad were everywhere, and his specter walked the halls. It was too difficult to remain in the house alone, and so I called a friend and asked to stay with her. I packed some clean clothes and other things and also grabbed Justin’s teddy bear, at Dr. Courtnall’s request. She wants to use Teddy for the next session. I miss you, Turner. Please hurry and get better.

  Cassandra’s second e-mail was dated the following evening. She recounted how Dr. Courtnall used Justin’s teddy bear as a starting point. She created a little story about Teddy, consistently touching the soft fur to Justin’s face and arms while relating how lonely Teddy was because he didn’t have a friend and would Justin be his friend? The e-mail continued:

  During the story, Justin blinked—actually blinked—and Dr. Courtnall took that as a good sign. She told a second story of Justin and Teddy going to the lake and playing together on the beach. They made tunnels and built sandcastles and threw rocks in the water. And they went wading and even had a water fight. Before the story was finished, Justin had his arm wrapped around Teddy, which Dr. Courtnall took as an even better sign. I’m thrilled, Turner, to see even that much progress. I pray every day for Justin . . . and for you. I know we can get through this.

  Her third e-mail gave an account of her visit to see her lawyer friend at Barnes, Randall, and Associates. He was sympathetic to her situation but realistic too. It would take some time to draft up a proposal to her creditors and figure out all her assets and liabilities. But he was confident her debts could be addressed in order of priority, and any remaining unpaid ones could be consolidated into a bank loan, with a manageable monthly payment. But he confirmed what she already knew. If she wanted to get her head above water, the house and two cars would have to be sold. And that was another reason Cassandra felt she couldn’t stay in the house alone. It already seemed like it belonged to someone else.

  She also explained that she was following Mary’s advice and was receiving counseling too. She wrote:

  I’m a victim of spousal abuse of the worst kind—my husband tried to kill me—and I need help in dealing with everything I’ve suffered. Meredith, my counselor, is helping me work through my issues. She is very insightful and I trust her.

  Cassandra’s last e-mail had to do with a report that had aired on the news about Brad’s death and the fire at the cabin, along with the backstory. Turner was aware of the news report and was not surprised to learn that it had upset Brad’s family greatly. They wanted Cassandra to contact the media and set the record straight. Their son was not abusive, they claimed, and he would never have tried to kill her. Her e-mail continued:

  Brad’s father tried to force me to retract the story reported to the media about his son—it seems bullying runs in the family—but I refused and hung up on him. Later Brad’s mother called and tried a different approach. Guilt. My husband—their dear son—was dead and no longer in a position to defend himself. If the story was not retracted, the family name would be sullied. What would people think? I hung up on her before I told her what I thought!

  Tears don’t e-mail well, but Turner could see them all over Cassandra’s last communication. It had to be heartbreaking for her to be the victim of physical and emotional abuse, and yet be perceived as the insensitive and unfaithful spouse in the marriage. Obviously Brad’s parents were blind to the fact that their son was an abuser and, worse, a man guilty of attempted murder. But knowing Cassandra as he did, Turner guessed she hadn’t told Brad’s parents the whole story, allowing the truth to be ceremoniously buried with him. That was the kind of person she was.

  Turner felt angry about the injustice of the whole thing and considered writing a letter to the family, exposing Brad for what he truly was. But he decided against it. He would follow Cassandra’s example and be the kind of person he needed to be too.

  In the den at her friend’s house, Cassandra wearily sat down at the computer and logged on to her e-mail account. It was the following day and had been a busy one. Between visits to the hospital to be with Justin and a follow-up visit to the lawyer and to the bank, she was exhausted.

  But she perked up when she found two e-mails from Turner waiting for her. Undoing her ponytail, she finger-brushed her hair and settled back to read them.

  The first entry explained that he had visited each professor following his return from the hospital and attempted to explain what had happened. But for the most part, explanations proved unnecessary. The TV news report about his experience lauded him as an everyday hero. He wrote:

  I’m not certain who co
ntacted the media, but I suspect a certain local motel proprietor recognized this as an opportunity to plug the establishment at which I am employed.

  Cassandra shook her head. She had only met Harvey briefly when she checked into the Mountain View Motel, but based on what Turner had told her, Harvey was . . . Harvey. The report may have benefited the motel, but it caused her a lot of grief with Brad’s family.

  Turner’s e-mail continued:

  A news team came to the hospital and interviewed me. Lights, camera, action. The whole nine yards. They also interviewed Harvey, who plugged the Mountain View Motel shamelessly, and Loretta, who mentioned that my hospital bills were enormous and that a “local hero” shouldn’t be strapped with a financial burden for trying to do the right thing. And would you believe it? Since the news feature aired, money has come rolling in. People from everywhere have been sending donations, and at the rate things are going, our hospital bills—that’s right, yours and mine and Justin’s—should be paid for. What a blessing!

  Cassandra stared at the computer screen in disbelief. The news report had a silver lining! To have her hospital bills cleared was more than a blessing. It was a miracle. She had worried endlessly about the mounting medical costs, not that she begrudged the treatment Justin was receiving. But knowing it would take the rest of her life to pay for it was a daunting reality. And now this. Tears of relief and gratitude flowed, and it was a few minutes before she could see well enough to read the rest of Turner’s e-mail.

  And there’s another blessing too. As a result of the news feature, my professors have been practically falling over themselves in an effort to be accommodating. One even volunteered to be in a news feature that focused on me as a college student. Perhaps he saw this as an opportunity to plug the college at which I’m enrolled. But because of the distractions involved in my “fifteen minutes of fame,” I didn’t do especially well on my latest assignments, although I did receive passing grades. And my outdoor education professor was particularly complimentary on how I outwitted the men, using the natural environment to my advantage. I didn’t tell him that God should get most of the credit.

  Cassandra paused to reflect back on the young man she had met the night she and Justin first appeared in his apartment. Turner had been kind and helpful, but she had sensed an undercurrent of bitterness in him. She learned that the loss of his four-year job as a counselor at the Christian youth camp and the death of his mother had shaken him to the core. But through another set of potentially faith-rattling experiences, he had rediscovered his lost faith. Once more she considered how God was always at work behind the scenes.

  Turner’s second e-mail was more personal. He explained that Loretta, after inspecting his healing injuries, had finally granted permission for him to resume his handyman duties. The list Harvey handed him rivaled the Constitution and its amendments for length and detail.

  Cassandra chuckled and kept reading.

  My first job was to fix a dripping faucet in Room 21. It was the unit you and Justin occupied. I remembered how beautiful and yet troubled you looked when you answered the door. I remembered the safety chain and the drinking glass and how Justin, his thumb stuck securely in his mouth, clutched the stuffed monkey. The current guest probably wondered why my eyes suddenly misted over and I fumbled with the wrench. I miss you, Cassandra, and pray for you and Justin. If he’s not better soon, I’m coming to Vegas. I have to see you guys.

  Her smile faded as she read the last two sentences again. If he’s not better soon, I’m coming to Vegas. I have to see you guys. She had been anticipating this and now paused to consider her response. Then clicking the new message button, she exhaled slowly and began to type.

  CHAPTER 39

  TURNER ARRIVED HOME later that evening from his last class and opened the door to his apartment. The room was empty and quiet, just as it had been before Cassandra and Justin arrived. He glanced around and noticed that everything was in its usual place, which had not been the case when Justin was there. How Turner wished he could see something out of place—proof that little hands were healthy and active.

  After popping a frozen pizza into the microwave, he took his laptop out of his backpack and sat at the kitchen table. This was his favorite time of day—the time to check his e-mails. Cassandra had written him daily, and he was anxious for each new installment. She sounded positive and things were improving steadily, although not as fast as anyone wanted. But there was progress, and he expected more of the same in her latest communication.

  The e-mail began as a fulfillment to his wish.

  What wonderful news about the financial donations. It makes me realize that there are a lot of good people in this world. Especially a certain college student I know, who happens to work part time as a handyman.

  Justin’s making excellent progress with play therapy and is already making sounds. He’s not speaking yet, but the sounds show improvement. He is beginning to gesture for things too, like when he wants a glass of water. But Dr. Courtnall says we’re not to give it to him until he articulates his request. Already he’s saying, “Wa” for water. He’s becoming increasingly responsive to physical stimuli and is able to return my embrace when I hug him. He isn’t smiling yet, but the corners of his mouth twitch when I tickle him. It might just be wishful thinking, but I’m sure his eyes brighten when I come into the room. I pray he’ll continue to return from the deep, dark place he’s retreated to and become the wonderful child he used to be.

  Pumping his fist, Turner said, “Yes! Way to go, little man.”

  The timer on the microwave beeped and he went to check on the pizza. It was ready. He put it on a small plate and carried it back to the table. Pausing to say grace—something he had started doing since returning from the hospital—he took a bite and continued reading.

  I’ve been meeting regularly with my counselor—Meredith—and feel that I’m making progress too. She’s helped me see that I did not deserve the treatment I received from Brad. Apparently many victims accept the abuse, feeling they warrant it for faults and failings on their part. They think they aren’t loveable or worthy of something better, while others accept the abuse because they don’t know what else to do. They have no alternate source of income or security and so they stay for the sake of their children. That was me. But not anymore. I know I can work through this and heal so I can be there for Justin. And that’s what I need to talk to you about, Turner.

  The last sentence ended ominously, and Turner felt his chest constrict. He drew in a deep breath and continued reading.

  Meredith is helping me analyze the incredible experience you and I went through together. She says we were forced to rely on each other, and that bonded us in a special way. It’s what survivors feel toward one another when the crisis ends. They have a special and unique bond that outsiders simply can’t share. In our case everything happened so fast. We jumped from the frying pan into the fire . . . literally. And we didn’t have time to do anything but react and keep reacting. Every moment we spent together was in crisis. And now that it’s over, we feel a certain obligation toward each other.

  “It’s more than an obligation,” Turner muttered aloud. “It goes way beyond that.” He took another bite of his pizza and chewed slowly.

  I was a married woman on the run—one who wasn’t looking to start a new relationship. Meredith has helped me realize that you and I didn’t meet under normal circumstances. We didn’t even have time to get properly acquainted—or reacquainted, really. Our lives were in constant danger. And now that it’s over, she’s advising me—us really—to take time to work things out and not rush into anything. You can’t build a future together when the past is the only thing you have in common. I know—Brad and I tried.

  “But I’m not Brad,” Turner protested to the kitchen walls. He didn’t want a future based on the past either. But how could you build a future if the present remained at arm’s length?

  Scowling in frustration, he read the last section.


  My head is telling me that circumstance brought us together, but necessity forced us to rely on each other. And though we were bonded by our circumstances, it was a matter of survival, not love. On the other hand, my heart is telling me that I have grown to love you. I love the person you are and what you did for Justin and me. I’ll never forget you, and I’ll make certain he doesn’t either. Please be patient while I work things out between my head and my heart.

  Meredith says that love on the rebound is always risky because it’s built on an unstable foundation. But I know what I felt when I was with you. As you can see, I’m in a quandary. My physical injuries are healing nicely, but Meredith says I’m still wounded emotionally and that I’m very vulnerable right now. She says I need to take more time to figure things out and not rush into a relationship until I heal more on the inside. So for now I’m not coming back to Lakewood, Turner, and I ask you not to visit me here. I pray you’ll understand and respect my wishes. Give my love to Loretta and Harvey and Mary.

  Turner sat back in his chair and stared vacantly at the emptiness around him. He chewed on his lip and considered his response to her e-mail. His chin trembled, and he struggled with his emotions. Finally he pursed his lips and typed Cassandra a one-word reply. Pausing briefly, he hit the send button and then went to bed.

  Cassandra stared at the single word displayed on the computer monitor.

  Okay.

  Although it was only one word, it spoke volumes. It suggested acceptance and support, but also hurt and rejection. The single word answered her request, true, but its curtness said much more.

  She had hurt Turner. But the irony was she was doing it so she didn’t hurt him. A little pain now would prevent a larger hurt later. She and Turner had been thrust into a life-and-death situation, so it was only natural they would develop feelings for each other. But based on what? Meredith had cautioned her about love on the rebound. She had even quoted the old maxim: Two wrongs don’t make a right and had warned Cassandra about not making the same mistake twice.