The Children of Main Street

by Merilyn Howton Marriott

  He pulled two dollars from his wallet. “Here you go, honey. These are for you.”

  “Thanks for the money, Daddy,” she said and hugged him around the knees, but then twisted away and tucked the two bucks into her little pink leather purse on the playroom table.

  The purse had been a gift from Bella, and Bailey carried it with her everywhere.

  “Can Daddy hold you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

  She ducked her head and fidgeted. “I guess so.”

  Thomas frowned.

  I worried over her when he appeared on the schedule. Why did he not want her but still expect her to be thrilled to see him? Clearly, she wasn’t. As a therapist, I knew that Thomas needed to decide what he wanted. But as the childless woman who had taken Bailey into her home, I worried … Dear Lord, what if he decided he wanted her after all? What if he sent Jillian packing and told me to do the same for his daughter?

  He looked at his little girl. “I have something to show you if you want to see it.”

  “Okay. I wanna see it, ’a course. Where is it?”

  “Outside.”

  She turned to Bella. “Is it okay?”

  She nodded.

  It was 4:00 straight up, and time for Thomas to be in the treatment room, but I became as curious about what he had to show Bailey as Bailey, so I didn’t say anything.

  Thomas took Bailey’s hand and led her from the playroom and onto the concrete porch—leaving the door open.

  I followed to the foyer, my arms crossed, my feet planted side-by-side on the floor, and my chin jutted upward. There stood a brand new—complete with window sticker—ruby red Honda Civic.

  “See that Bailey,” Thomas said. “I bought that for Jillian, for your new mama.

  She just loves it.” He grinned down at her.

  “For who?”

  “For Jillian, my wife.”

  She stepped away from him and glanced back to the front door.

  “Well, don’t you like it?” he asked.

  “It’s pretty.”

  “Maybe I’ll take you for a ride sometime.”

  “Okay. Can we go back inside now?”

  I glanced at Alicia who had seen and heard everything and trekked to the hallway as new waves of nausea danced in my stomach, and little fingers plucked at the chords of my nervous system.

  I leaned against the wall recalling how Thomas had expressed anxiety over the potential cost of counseling before Jillian reminded him that Texas Crime Victims would pick up the tab. That dang check. A check that was welcome. A little girl who wasn’t. The little girl who left her father’s grasp to run past me and straight into the playroom.

  I drew in a deep breath as Thomas stopped to talk with Alicia. “Jillian told me to give you our new address and home phone number for your file.”

  “Okay,” Alicia said, “let me just get you pulled up on the screen in front of me. I noticed your phone had been disconnected when I called to confirm your appointment.”

  “Yeah. Well, here’s the new one.” He relayed it for her, then gave his street address.

  “Where is that?” Alicia asked. “I thought I knew every street in this town, having been born and raised here.”

  “Over near the new Walmart they’re building next to the Home Depot that went up last year. Out toward the refinery area.”

  “The new subdivision they’ve just finished? Y’all have a brand-new house then?”

  “Yeah,” Thomas said, sounding nervous. “Well, I better get back there for my session.”

  I needed to head there too, but instead, I darted into the playroom where Bella stood near the window and watched Bailey who stood looking into space. She didn’t notice me come in just as she’d not noticed me standing against the wall.

  I knew she’d be clueless about the new car and house. She wouldn’t understand and probably wouldn’t care, but something troubled her.

  I dropped to my knees and hugged her. “Hey, turkey. What’s up?”

  “My daddy called Jillian my new mama. I live with you. I don’t need a new mama, and I don’t like Jillian.”

  “You know what I would do if I were you?”

  She placed her arms around my neck and squeezed. “What?”

  “I’d sit down with Bella, work on adding and subtracting those jelly beans, eat all the ones left over, and remember I’m coming in here to collect you when I’m through working. So, in other words, don’t think about Jillian right now.

  Bailey smiled, then turned around, snuck a pink jelly bean from the bag and grinned at Bella.

  Bella laughed.

  With Bailey happy again, I could go listen to her father celebrate his new purchases.

  As I started to leave, Bailey said, “Miss Katie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to talk to my dad now?”

  “I am,” I said, holding the door.

  “Can you tell him I don’t need a new mama … and that I live with you?”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  It became apparent that Jillian considered my office Bailey’s home and referred all calls there.

  Alicia told me that Grandma—Thomas’s mother—dropped by the office a couple of times to see “her baby.” The San Antonio-based grandfather called to say he would be coming into town and would like to see his granddaughter. He set a time to see her but never showed. Bailey never knew he had contacted my office. I’d learned early on to assume no one would be coming to see Bailey until it happened.

  As summer soared, and the June sun blistered everything in its path, my office started to look more and more like a home again.

  One morning, I heard Bella say to Bailey, “You have done a great job with your spelling today; we could go outside and use sidewalk chalk to work arithmetic problems.”

  “Yes, pleeease.”

  “We could work on the concrete porches and driveway.”

  “Goody.”

  “Pick your favorite chalks, and we’ll work away.”

  “After we finish add and subtract, can we draw a hopscotch thingy?”

  “Yes, and you know what else we need?”

  “What?”

  “We’ll need to ask Miss Katie, but I think it’s time for you to have a bike, and we have plenty of concrete for you to ride.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “I’ll teach you. Should we see if it’s okay with Miss Katie to go buy one?”

  “Per’fet,” she said.

  They returned from shopping with a pink and white bicycle with a purple basket and pink and purple handlebars and tassels.

  And, just as Bailey said it would be, it was per’fet.

  Later that afternoon, as I waited between clients, I watched Bella run up and down the driveway beside Bailey.

  “Don’t let go till I say so,” Bailey hollered, the wheels still wobbling as she learned to steady the bike.

  Bella held the seat with her hand and straightened the handlebars for Bailey. “Okay, now,” Bailey yelled, delight and determination filling her voice.

  Bella let go … and Bailey fell.

  Bailey wasn’t hurt, thank the good Lord, but her fall raised a question in my mind. Had she been injured, what would I have done? I had no legal rights to take her to the doctor for so much as a cold. And what would Jordan think? As bad as things were now, they’d be far worse. Never mind my license to counsel.

  I needed a plan. A better plan, and I needed it soon. Before I lost it all.

  There were times I thought I would die for the want of him, and times I would start to believe I would survive, even find my footing having this little girl around—grieving myself to death had helped nothing—then the sound of his voice or a glimpse of Jordan’s shirt hanging in our closet would bring me to my knees. I was in love with my husband. I could get angry, blame him for leaving, blame myself for his absence, dance around and blame the dog—if we’d had a dog—but the bottom line was that I loved and missed him.

  One night,
unable to sleep, I sat up in bed and reached for my Bible. It fell open to the book of James. The first chapter had always spoken to me most because it encouraged me to count difficulties as joy. But I could do that easier when Jordan and I read this passage together, him snuggled beside me while I read aloud in bed. Being without Jordan wasn’t difficult. It felt unbearable. During the day when I stayed busy, I managed to get through. While getting Bailey’s dinner and then helping her get ready for bed, I was able to keep my thoughts away from my husband. But after Bailey was snuggled in bed and sound asleep, the house seemed to rattle with sounds I hadn’t noticed when my husband lived at home. Late evenings—especially bedtime—became hours to be gotten through.

  I kept reading until I reached the fifth verse: If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

  Really, God? Well, I have asked and asked.

  So what did God want me to do? My husband left, not me. I believed he still loved me, but he was gone. Had I been wise? No. No, I hadn’t. But God, can you really expect me to turn my back on Bailey? Her mother died. Her father didn’t want her enough to stand up to his wife.

  I held my head and cringed. God, I can’t let her go. I cannot fail her. I’m all she has and the only one stepping forward to care for her.

  No, that wasn’t true. Jordan hadn’t moved back into our home, but he kept dropping by to make sure both of us were okay. Jordan, please come home. Father send him home. I don’t know how to count Jordan’s absence as joy.

  I read the first chapter of James again, then returned my Bible to the bedside table and rolled onto my back and watched the ceiling for the rest of the night.

  I arrived at work the next morning to find Alicia standing on the back porch, which wasn’t like her.

  As we approached, she hugged Bailey. “Good morning, Miss Bailey,” she said.

  Bailey hugged back. “Good morning, Miss Ali’sha.”

  Alicia held the door open. “Why don’t you go inside. Bella’s waiting for you.”

  She waited till Bailey was inside and down the hallway, then turned to me with a long searching look. “What’s going on, Kat?”

  I tried to fake it. “What do you mean?”

  Alicia took my hands in hers. “Kat, you don’t owe me an explanation, but I’m worried about you.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I thought about this all last night. You’ve lost weight, and you didn’t have weight to lose.” Concern etched into her face. “You’ve aged five years in the last couple of months. I’ve waited for you to tell me what’s wrong, but you haven’t. Something is eating you up, and I know it.”

  Strands of wire wrapped around my heart and squeezed. Tears slid to my cheeks; I stood there. Unmoving.

  I sank into a white wicker chair that groaned under what little bit of weight I now carried. The paint had chipped long ago, and a wicker strand that stuck out of its own will poked me in the leg. Alicia pulled a matching chair in front of mine, so we could sit knee-to-knee and face-to-face while she poured out her concerns for me. “Kat, Bailey has said some odd things.”

  I stared at her, unable to think of one word to say. I sat glued to the chair.

  “Bailey’s talked about the nights Jordan comes over.” Her brow shot up. “I asked what she meant by that. At first, I thought, no that cannot be true. Jordan would never leave. But given time to mull it over, it’s the only thing I can think of that would strip weight off you and paint those awful circles beneath your eyes.”

  I swallowed hard as I reached up and lightly touched the thinning flesh under my eyes. “Ali, I wanted to tell you … but I-I didn’t know how.”

  “You and Jordan are the American love story. I have never seen two people more smitten. You two are what everyone I know aspires to. What on earth happened?”

  I wasn’t sure I could say the words. How could I tell her that Jordan had given me an ultimatum? “I thought he would be back by now, and there wouldn’t be anything to tell.”

  “Oh, no.” Alicia wrung her hands.

  I couldn’t look at her.

  “It’s your job here, isn’t it? Oh, Kat, it’s the kids, isn’t it?” She paused, and I looked up, watched her eyes as they flitted in thought.

  “He likes Bailey a lot, but yeah, me bringing her home hurt him.”

  “When I first started working here, and I would call him to say you would be late or that a child was coming with you, I expected him to be mad … or something. But no. He would chuckle and say, ‘That’s Katie.’ But over time, he started sounding a little weary. Then, yeah, when I told him about Bailey, he sounded … I don’t know … different.”

  Warm tears slipped from my eyes. “I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do know what to do. Fix it. I’ve known you a long time. Kat, fix things with Jordan.” She stood and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to take Bailey for a few days?” Her brows pinched. “I can’t take her for very long, but …” She sighed deeply. “I haven’t wanted to mention this to you, but I’m having trouble with my Kylie—serious trouble—but I can make a few days work out okay. And you know Bella will always take her.”

  “What’s with Kylie?” Alicia’s fourteen-year-old daughter had never given her a day’s trouble that I knew of. What in the world?

  “Another story for another day,” she said. “Let’s stick with Bailey for now.”

  I sighed. Nodded. “Okay, tell me when you can.”

  “I will, but not today.”

  “Then no, about you taking Bailey,” I said. “I want Jordan to come home more than anything, but I can’t change Bailey’s schedule. She’s thriving with me.” I squeezed my hands into fists.

  “Are you sure this isn’t about you?”

  “What do you mean? How could this be about me when everything I had done, I had done for the kids.”

  She looked at me for a full minute and said, “Nothing … your new client is already in your room.”

  We walked inside, she hugged me, and trudged toward her desk, while I ducked into the ladies’ room for a quick look in the mirror. Alicia was right. I did look awful … I mean awful. My facial bones tried to poke through my skin. I splashed water on my face and said a quick prayer asking God to calm my nerves. I dug into my purse for my makeup bag and then retouched my face. My body trembled. My blood turned to dishwater. The room faded, and the walls crowded together over my head. I gripped the sink, steadying myself against the cold porcelain. I had a waiting client, and my work required total concentration.

  I started toward my treatment room, prepared to help handle another person’s problems. But mine? Only God could help me with mine.

  Chapter 14

  Bailey surprised me with a question on the drive home. “Why does Bella take me to my daddy’s house sometime?”

  “Well, he’s your dad, and I thought you might like to visit him occasionally.”

  “We don’t visit. Bella takes me at night and picks me up early in the morning and takes me to school.”

  “I know.” For a little girl getting to know her daddy, the tiny visit was hardly enough. But until Thomas grew a spine and stood up to his wife … “Don’t you want to see him?”

  “I don’t see him ’cept when he leans over the bed and says good night.”

  “Okay.”

  “Last time, after he said good night, I said, I love you.”

  I waited. Then, “What did he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  I didn’t know which emotion choked me hardest—sadness or anger. I reached over the back seat for her hand. I couldn’t think of one thing to say.

  “I don’t want to go back … ever.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Now I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. “I’ll call him when we get home.”

  “Thank you.”

  I saw her face. She didn’t cry, but he
r lower lip trembled.

  Thomas answered the phone.

  “Thomas, hello, this is Catherine Collier.”

  “Oh hey.” His voice hung heavy with suspicion. “What can I do for you?”

  You could ask if your daughter is okay. “I wanted to tell you that Bailey has decided she doesn’t want to spend her night at your house anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “She didn’t give a lot of detail. Just that she doesn’t really see you when she’s there.”

  “Hey, I do the best I can. But if she doesn’t want to come, that’s fine with me.”

  You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding. Surely you will fight to see her. “Okay, Thomas … I’ll tell her.”

  He hung up.

  I woke in a dead sweat, soaked through my clothes. This separation had gone on long enough. I could not, would not live without Jordan.

  I’d dreamed of him … of us. In the dream, I fought against dark water, drowning. Jordan swam toward me, trying to save me, but the waves kept pushing him back. “Jordan,” I screamed each time I brought my head over the water. Sometimes he stood on the bank and at other times he was back in the water trying to reach me.

  Why couldn’t I swim toward him? Why did I feel so weighted in the swirling water? What kept holding me in place, not allowing me to make any progress toward him? God, help him to get to me. Don’t let me drown.

  But Jordan couldn’t reach me. I would surely sink. Something like a lead boulder strapped to my back frightened me. What caused this near intolerable weight? I tried to turn around to ascertain whether something had been strapped to me, only to find Bailey clinging to me. A new thought struck me: if I couldn’t save myself, she would drown with me.

  With long smooth strokes, Jordan reached me. “Katie,” he said, “grab my hand. I can pull us out of this.” He drew me closer. He was a strong swimmer, but everything played out in slow going. “Katie,” he screamed trying to save us, “why do you feel like lead?”

  We touched shore, and he pulled me onto dry sand, then turned to kiss me. But as our lips came close to each other, he pulled back.

  “Jordan, what? I love you. You saved me. You saved Bailey. We’re all right now.”