From Smoke To Flames— Amazon: A West Brothers Novel

by A. M. Hargrove

  On the way home, she conked out in her booster seat. When we got home, I woke her up, but a huge dose of sadness nailed me. I realized my time with her would be ending soon and I didn’t want it to. I wanted to hold her forever and never let anything bad happen to her. But I knew tomorrow would bring darkness into her world. Until then, I would make the rest of her stay as much fun as I could.

  We went inside and I let her pick out any TV show she wanted to watch. Then I asked her where she wanted to eat dinner that night.

  “You mean we get to go out?”

  “Why not?”

  “Daddy never takes me out. If he and Miss Caroline go out, they get a babysitter.”

  “When the babysitter comes, do you play with her?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “When you don’t, what do you do?”

  “Stay in my room.”

  It made me wonder whether or not they actually even got a babysitter. Maybe they were leaving her at home alone. I needed to tell Pearson about this.

  “Well, you and I are going out to dinner tonight and you get to pick the restaurant.”

  “I pick McDonald’s.”

  Oh, boy. Lucky me. I was hoping for something nicer, but it was her choice.

  “Okie dokie. That’s where we’ll go.”

  “Can I get a sundae for dessert?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  She skipped around the room and yelled at the top of her lungs. “I get a sundae tonight.”

  “But first, I need to brush your hair.”

  “Do you gotta?”

  “Yep. You look like a ragamuffin.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a messy muffin.”

  She ran up to me and squeezed my cheeks together. “Muffins can’t be messy, silly.”

  “Oh, yes they can. Watch this.” I picked her up and started tickling her until she screamed. We both laughed like crazy. “See how messy that was?”

  She cocked her head to the side, then plowed her hands into my hair and pushed them around making my hair look like a rat’s nest. “Now you’re a ragamuffin too.”

  “I’m really gonna get you now.”

  And the tickling commenced. We laughed until we couldn’t laugh anymore.

  That night, I dreamed all sorts of horrifying things. Montana was crying in her room for hours and no one came to check on her. She was frightened and all her father did was yell at her to shut up. I woke before the sun rose, shaken and disturbed over having to send her back to him. How could I do this to her? I didn’t have much of a choice, other than to ask him if I could keep her for the week. It was at least worth a try.

  At eight o’clock, I called him.

  “Yeah.”

  Nice way to answer the phone. “I was wondering if you minded if I kept Montana for the week. I’d bring her back to you next Sunday.”

  His hostile voice came back to me. “Now why would you ever think I’d do that?”

  “Because I’m her mother and I love her.”

  “You honestly don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  His cruel laughter sent cold chills throughout me. “I don’t give a flying fuck about your feelings or hers for that matter. I’ll do anything I can to keep the two of you apart.” And he hung up. How could I send her back there? I ran to the bathroom and threw up. My daughter, my life, was being mistreated and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pearson

  * * *

  The urges hit me during the night. They were worse than I’d had in a long time. I ended up waking one of the counselors on staff so they could talk me off the ledge.

  “It’s stupid because I know I’m safe here.”

  “It’s not stupid,” John said. “Heroin does this. Just when you think you’re getting away from it, it grips you again. Think about your day. Do you have any idea what could’ve precipitated this?”

  “Yeah. When I was an attorney, I had unscrupulous clients that I represented. Now I’m feeling guilty about it.”

  “And the drugs would make you forget.”

  “Not forget exactly. They would make it easier to accept it. My partners were all about the money and I went with it.”

  John leaned forward and asked, “Pearson, what pushed you into this thought process? Something must’ve triggered it.”

  “A friend of mine is going through a custody battle. The problem is, it’s my fault she’s there right now.”

  “I’m not sure I get it.”

  “I represented her ex and gained him custody of their kid.”

  “Ah, I see now. And the guilt is weighing down on you.”

  “Yes, dammit, because he’s a son of a bitch. She’s the good one of the two.”

  He stood and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing. Accepting and acknowledging your wrongdoing and moving forward.”

  “You don’t understand. She’s just one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s just one of hundreds I did that to.”

  He crouched down in front of me and locked eyes with me. “Guilt is a terrible thing to carry. Do you believe in a higher power? It can be God, Buddha, or whatever you choose.”

  “I do.”

  “Then you’ll have to ask that higher power for forgiveness, because it’s probably unlikely that you’ll find all the people you’ve caused harm to over the years to do it individually. In the twelve steps, number eight has you do this whenever possible. It may not be for you. In your case, you’ll have to lean on your higher power.”

  “I can try.”

  “Yes, you can. But your law firm would have to release those case files to you. Do you think they would?”

  He was right and I had no intention of returning there. “No, since I’m not planning on going back.”

  “Pearson, there are many ways to make amends, but right now, you’re jumping ahead. Let’s get your urges under control. The great thing about this is you figured out the trigger. When you feel this way, we have to find out how to handle it.”

  Would I ever get to the point where I could deal with it on my own, and not run for help? I felt like such a big pussy.

  “I see those wheels spinning in your head. You’re six and a half weeks out. You have made amazing progress. Think about where you were six and a half weeks ago. You nearly died!”

  I rubbed my palms together. He was right. I tended to see the negative side of things. “True. I need to start being more positive.”

  “Exactly. When you have those urges, remind yourself how much less they are now than they used to be. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “When you were using, how often did those urges hit?”

  A bitter laugh filled the room.

  “I think you just answered me. And now? Every day? Once a day?”

  “Not even. Every other day.”

  Would you consider that progress?” he asked.

  “Yeah. But I don’t want them at all.”

  “No one does. I’m going to tell you something. It will never be that way. You are always going to have them.”

  I hung my head and said, “I know.” It was difficult to realize, but I knew I’d live with this for the rest of my life.

  “You’ll find a way to live with them. You’ll have to. That’s where NA comes in.”

  “How do you do it?” I asked.

  “With great difficulty, but I’ve learned so much about myself. And it’s earned me a family who loves and supports me, so I won’t let them down.” John was a recovering heroin addict too.

  “And the urges? How often?”

  “Not every day, but I still have them.”

  “How many years?”

  “I’ve been clean for seven years.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “I never take a day for granted.” He pulled out his chip from NA. “It’s with me all the time.”
r />   “Thanks. For listening and for helping.”

  “Anytime, man. You know where to find me. Every day is a discovery.”

  All the words made sense. Every single one. If I could come out of this a better man, maybe the addiction was all for a purpose. And if so, I was going to make something of it.

  When I crawled back in bed, sleep came easy. John helped with the guilt, but I prayed for God’s help. It was the first time I did that in as long as I could remember.

  The next morning, Sylvie stopped me and said she had an email from my friend I needed to read and that I should come with her to her office. On the way, we saw Rose. She looked terrible.

  “Rose, what’s going on?” Sylvie asked. That’s all it took for Rose to break down crying. Sylvie put her arm around her, and we all went to Sylvie’s office.

  When Rose explained what her ex said, and what Montana said, I wanted to smash my fist into the wall.

  “Can he do that?” Sylvie asked me.

  “Yeah, unfortunately. But let me see Miles’ email.” I read it and it was good news. He was taking the case and wanted everything we had. I relayed the information to the women.

  “That’s great,” Sylvie said. Rose didn’t respond.

  “Sylvie, I’ll need you to scan Rose’s divorce and custody decree and email it to him. And can you mail the audio tape of what we have from Friday. Is that possible?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rose, did you get anything else on audio when he picked up Montana on Sunday?”

  “Just a little.” She handed me her phone and I listened. On it was him reminding her he would do his best to keep her away from Montana as much as possible.

  “This will work. Can I copy this to the tape I’m mailing him?”

  Rose was so despondent, she only gave me a slight nod. “Listen, Rose, we’re going to get him. It may take a while, but we’ll do it.”

  I took her phone to my room and quickly recorded what Greg said, then went back to Sylvie’s office. Sylvie caught my eye and slightly shook her head. I handed Rose her phone and said, “I’m going to help Miles. I promise you, this evidence should help push the judge over to your side. We’ll also go for child support. I want to hire a private investigator and look into what they do when they go out. If they’re leaving your daughter home alone, locked in her room, that’s child abuse by neglect and we can have her removed from the home immediately.”

  “You think so?” Rose asked, perking up.

  “I know so. We’ll get this ball rolling today.”

  “Um, Pearson, we, as in you, Jeremy and I, need to discuss what you’re going to do as of next Friday.”

  “Next Friday?”

  “It’s your soft release day.”

  “Really?”

  Sylvie laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve had so much fun here you haven’t kept track of time.

  “Yes, I mean, no. I’m just caught up in Rose’s case I suppose.”

  “You have the option of extending it week by week if you want. Do you think you can live on your own?”

  “No! I mean, last night I had to get John’s help, so I’m not ready.”

  “Understood. What about a group home?” Sylvie asked.

  “I’m not sure that’s for me either.”

  “Your parents’?”

  I chuckled. “Um, no. I love them to death, but they would drive me crazy.”

  “I get that too. Do you have any other suggestions?”

  “I do,” Rose piped in. “I have a room I can rent to you.”

  Sylvie and I both stared at her, with Sylvie being the first to speak. “Rose? Are you sure about this?” Her tone was laden with skepticism.

  “Yes. The extra money would be beneficial.”

  “But a roommate. And a man?” Sylvie asked.

  “Yeah, and what about your privacy?” I added.

  “That won’t be a problem. I have two bathrooms, one in my bedroom. I have a TV in my room, so if I want my privacy, I can sneak off there.”

  “But what if you want to bring … like what if you have a date or something?” I asked.

  “Then I have a date. But the point is, you’ll have an addiction counselor at your beck and call, which will help you get through the next transition. And you’ll be attending NA every day. And I’ll have some extra cash from your rent.”

  It did sound plausible and like a pretty good deal. “What about when Montana visits?”

  “What about it? She has her own room and sometimes she sleeps with me anyway.”

  Sounds like she’d thought it through.

  “Okay. I’m in if you think you can tolerate me. Sylvie, your thoughts?”

  Sylvie eyed the two of us then grinned. “I think it’s a smashing idea. I like it because Rose will keep good tabs on you, Pearson. As long as you two don’t kill each other.”

  “I think we’ve established a solid truce. What do you think, Rose?”

  “Seriously? With everything you’re doing for Montana and me, I’d be crazy not to have called one.”

  It’s a deal then.” I held out my hand and Rose took it. Her skin was soft and smooth, and I had an urge to turn her hand over and press my lips to it. I hoped this was a good idea. It might be a challenge for me in more ways than one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rose

  * * *

  When I went to pick up Montana the following Friday, Greg wasn’t there. No one answered the door. I stayed for two hours. Anger, frustration, fear for my daughter’s welfare were bubbling inside like a volcano on the verge of erupting. In an act of desperation, I decided to walk around the house in search of Montana’s window. I wasn’t even certain if her room was on the first floor. But I checked in each of the windows, even though I had to stand on my tiptoes, and when I got to one of the side windows, a light was on. I pressed my face against the window, trying to see between the slats of the blinds. I saw a figure lying on a bed, but it was too large to be Montana. It must be Greg’s room. I guess they just didn’t want to acknowledge my presence.

  Returning to the front door, I rang the bell again and pounded on the door. Greg wouldn’t answer his phone either. I decided to call Pearson.

  When he came to the phone at the center, I asked, “Should I call the cops?”

  “Tell me what’s going on first.”

  I filled him in.

  “You could make a case that he’s not sticking to the agreement. Do you have it with you?”

  “I actually do.”

  “Call Miles first.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  When Miles got on the phone, he said, “Call the police, but not the 911 number, since this isn’t a true emergency.”

  “Oh, God, I’m scared. This is really going to piss him off.” I looked around the neighborhood. It was getting dark already.

  “Rose, did he ever hit you?”

  My brain fired into a million different directions. Scenes flashed like lightning in front of my eyes, but I willed them away.

  “Rose, you still there?”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m here,” I said hoarsely.

  “He’s an abuser, isn’t he?”

  I cleared the clotted mess out of my throat. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I told my divorce attorney, but he didn’t do anything about it.”

  “Stay put. I’m on the way.” It was very difficult to stay put when your nerves were raw, and you feared for your child’s safety. But Miles pulled up about twenty minutes later.

  He parked behind me on the street and flew out of his car at a run. “The police are on the way. Are you okay?”

  “No! I want my daughter.” I shoved my custody papers into his hands.

  “I’ve already got everything ready to be filed on Monday. If the courts believe she is in danger, then a court date won’t take long.”

  “I want her removed from this prison. If he’s abusing her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “Rose, have you ever seen any marks or bruises on her?”


  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. There are all kinds of abuse that leaves no marks.”

  A police car pulled into the driveway. Two uniformed men got out and approached us.

  “Can you tell us what’s going on?” the driver of the car asked.

  Miles did the talking and the one officer looked at the papers under his flashlight since it was full on dark by now. He turned to me and asked, “This is your weekend?”

  “Yes, sir, but he won’t answer the door or his phone. I’ve been here for over three hours now.”

  “Step back onto the driveway and let us handle it.”

  Miles and I did as he asked. They banged on the door, and yelled, “Open up, police.” I felt like I was watching a TV show. No one answered. They banged on the door again and rang the doorbell, and hollered, “Open up, Mr. Wilson, police.”

  The porch light came on and Greg opened the door. He was scowling. “What’s going on?”

  “Mr. Wilson, your ex-wife is here to pick up her daughter.”

  “What? It’s not her weekend.”

  “According to this, it is.” He held up the paper in his hand.

  Greg gave his fake laugh. “Oh, that. We switched weekends.”

  “No, we didn’t Greg. This is my weekend.”

  Greg’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t just decide to come and get her. I’m the custodial parent.”

  Miles stepped forward. “Yes, she can, Mr. Wilson.”

  “And who are you?” Greg asked.

  “I’m her attorney. Now please get your daughter.”

  Greg’s eyes danced between Miles, the police, and me. He must’ve decided he was in a no-win scenario, so he went back inside and a few minutes later returned with Montana.

  “Mommy!” She ran straight into my arms.

  “Hey, pumpkin patch. How’s my snickerdoodle?”

  “Okay.” She sounded glum.