The Children of Main Street

by Merilyn Howton Marriott

  “Is that right?”

  “God knows I tried.”

  “God also knows what’s been happening to your child.” I couldn’t decide whether to leave the room or stay and listen. But I stood.

  “No, please sit. Please stay.” He pressed his hands together and pleaded. “I have to try to tell you.”

  I sat, leaning back. “What?”

  “When I found her in the backyard peeing, I was very angry.”

  I glared at him. Air felt sucked from the room.

  “Okay,” he said, “I already thought something was strange because, out of nowhere, Derrien asked to borrow my small shovel, and I saw her several times digging holes in the yard like she was burying something. And yes, I noticed her losing weight and getting quieter. She won’t drink anything from about three o’clock in the afternoon. That can’t be good for her.” He laid his face back into his hands.

  “No, it cannot be good for her. It’s not hard to figure out why she wouldn’t drink, and my guess is she reduced her food intake also.”

  “It’s not hard to figure out why, and yes, she cut back on her eating.” Tears stood in his eyes. “She was trying not to have to go to the bathroom.”

  I sat sober as a judge and listened.

  “I did ask Tracia about the shovel, but she said, ‘Don’t worry about it.’”

  “Do you always do everything Tracia says?”

  “No. Not everything. Well, not always.” He looked up at me. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “You guess?”

  “Well, yeah I always do what she says. But I’m supposed to love my wife like Christ loved the church, ain’t I?”

  “You’ve sacrificed your helpless child on the altar of lust. Don’t try to bring Christ into that decision. If that’s what you think of as a spiritual experience, maybe at the end of our session, we could just go out into the backyard and drop trough, and do our business.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course, we ain’t gonna to do that.”

  “Amazing that you hear the absurdity when I suggest it’s your turn on the ground, but it was good enough for a helpless child who God entrusted to your care.”

  “That’s why I stopped it. I knew it wadn’t right. She goes in the garage now.”

  “Congratulations. I guess that makes you Father of the Year.”

  “Oh.” Mercy, he looked up like he thought I meant it. “I tried to make it fun for her.”

  “What must a birthday bash at your house be like?”

  “I got flashlights so we could pretend we were living in the olden days, you know, back before we had indoor plumbing. We pretended the flashlights were lanterns. I told her stories about my old grandma and outhouses, and then I held the flashlight for her, and we could just pretend.” Jim sniffed, trying to stop his tears.

  “How’d you think the ‘olden days’ thing was going when Derrien started losing weight, and those dreadful circles reappeared beneath her eyes?” I narrowed my own into tiny slits. “Don’t answer,” I said. “Was the ‘olden days’ game easier than being a loving and protective father?”

  His defenses melted and tears trickled.

  “Was the ‘olden days’ game easier than standing up to your wife? Easier than telling Tracia to back off your child?”

  “I love her,” Jim sniveled.

  “Be silent for a moment while I pretend you’re talking about Derrien.”

  “Actually, I meant—”

  “Please be quiet, and leave me with the fleeting illusion that you love your child.”

  “I love my child.” Jim’s shoulders heaved. “I love her.”

  “Jim, it’s your job to think of Derrien’s best interest every day, all day long. You’re too lovestruck over a heartless, cruel woman to do your job. Mine was to be compassionate toward people, like her, who’ve been victims of other people’s unkindness or to provide understanding when people, like you, have made bad decisions. But I’m too angry to be compassionate with you any longer. I showed mercy when I met you. Today I’ll show you justice. I’ll also see to it that Tracia Dickman faces the system.” I stood again. “My heart is broken for your daughter.”

  He stood too. “What exactly are you going to do, and what is going to happen?” He ran his hands through his hair and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “First, I’m asking you to bring Derrien to my house or give me an address, and I will fetch her. Second, I’m going to make some calls to CPS, and, Jim, I’m going to call the police department. They may just refer me back to CPS, but I have friends there, and I’m going to call them.” I looked at him a long time. My anger boiled.

  Jim surprised me by uttering, “I will get her to you before Tracia comes home. What time and how long will you have her?”

  “Just tonight or two nights max. But I need to prepare her for the upheaval in her life … the next upheaval,” I said through clenched teeth. “What about 3:30?”

  “She’ll be there.”

  I was thrilled he’d bring her to me but near ill with exhaustion. I couldn’t handle any more of him. I gave him time to leave the building, then walked out to tell Alicia I had to go home.

  She looked up at me doing her famous head wag. Her hair stood out from her head as it swirled around her face. “This’s been quite a day,” she announced.

  “Uh huh,” I said.

  “The oddest thing just happened.”

  “What?”

  “Jim Dickman,” she said, looking puzzled.

  “What about him?”

  “After he came from your treatment room, he asked for your address.”

  “It’s okay. I told him to ask.”

  “That sounds like you, but there was something else.”

  “Do tell.”

  “He was crying.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then when he started out the door, he cussed. He called me a bad word … a bad name.”

  Oh. I felt my brows arch sharply. “Did he look at you when he cussed?”

  “No. I don’t know who he was talking to, except … I was the only person here,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I hugged her. “I don’t believe he was talking about you, but even if he was, let it go. He’s in a lot of pain right now.”

  I released her then walked out the back door. If that wasn’t just like some guys. When they finally had the guts to say the exact right thing, they said it to the wrong woman.

  Jim drove into my driveway at 3:28.

  I’d phoned Bella, she’d picked up Bailey, and they were scarcely out of sight.

  I opened the door to greet Jim and Derrien. She dragged a blue suitcase behind her.

  His eyes were still red and puffy. He sniffed.

  She pulled her case inside the door, then dove into my arms. Jim turned without a word and walked away.

  After I closed the door, she said, “My dad won’t tell me why he’s weeping.” She raised her eyes to mine. “But thanks for inviting me. Are we having a sleepover? Is Bailey here?” She faced me with eyes circled by purple splotches and a body that was shrinking.

  “Sweetheart, I had Bella swing by and pick her up before you came.”

  “Why?” Her eyes were haunting. “Never mind,” she said. “I’m still glad I’m here.” She looked around. “You have a lovely home.”

  “Thank you. I sent Bailey with Bella because as much as I’d love to have you both here, baby girl, tonight could get complicated.”

  “How complicated?” She sucked her lower left lip, and I watched as she braced herself.

  “Oh, sweetheart, you’re one of the bravest children—people—I’ve ever met.” I pulled her into my arms again. “The next couple days will require you to be strong.”

  Derrien slapped her fingers over her mouth. “Oh, no,” she said.

  I covered the situation with her as best I could. I explained that I’d found out about her bathroom activities in the garage, and how that circumstance violated the conditions under whic
h I’d agreed not to call CPS.

  Derrien’s face resisted everything she heard. “You can’t call anyone,” she whispered.

  “Baby girl, I already have.” I tapped my index finger against my teeth—a gesture learned from my mother—while nausea gnawed at my stomach. “Did you think I could discover what was happening to you and do nothing?”

  “Who told you?”

  “I talked to your dad.”

  She looked taken aback. “Okay, but I don’t know what that means for me.” She fisted her hands and pressed them against her eyes.

  “First, more unpleasantness, then some relief.” I reached for her hand. “Someone will come to school to ask you about your relationship with your stepmom.”

  “Oh, no. She’ll kill me.” She let me hold her right hand but spread her left fingers to cover both eyes.

  “Derrien, Tracia’s in trouble. You’re not.”

  “Are you sure?” She pulled her hand slowly from her face.

  “I’m sure.” I hugged her. “Just be brave and tell the truth when they ask you questions.”

  She bit her knuckle. “I don’t know if I can be brave,” she said around it.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” I pulled her knuckle away from her mouth. “You’re gonna be fine,” I said, as I dropped to my knees before her.

  “You know the worst part of the can in the garage?” Derrien asked.

  I pulled her head onto my shoulder. “Tell me.”

  “The stench. I’m humiliated by the smell.” She shuddered. “She won’t let me cover the can with a lid. She wants me to smell it.” She raised her head and looked at me … and I at her.

  Fear had mounted inside bewildered eyes. Those brilliant, haunting bewildered eyes.

  Chapter 26

  It was a quiet evening—Bailey was safely nestled at Bella’s—and Derrien and I grilled cheese sandwiches, chatted through more details of what to expect, then she showered, laid out her things in perfect order and pulled a tattered bunny from her suitcase.

  I’d shown her where she’d sleep and walked her through the bathroom while waiting for her bath to run. After she brushed her hair and teeth, she climbed into bed, and I crouched beside her.

  “Why does she hate me?” she asked, tucking her bunny under her chin.

  “She doesn’t. She hates herself.”

  “Miss Katie, I don’t really want to talk to anyone at school.”

  I fluffed the covers. “I know, girlfriend.”

  Her eyes begged. “Can you be with me when they come?”

  “No, I’ve already asked. They don’t want you influenced by anyone. So, all that’s important is that you tell the truth.”

  She squeezed my fingers. “I’m scared.”

  “They already know the facts,” I assured her. “I told them.”

  “Everything has happened so fast. Did I hear you correctly when I first arrived?” She snuggled deeper under the quilt. “Did you say you’d spoken with my dad?”

  “I did.”

  “Oh.” Her face lit. “My dad does want to help me?” She peered into my face, needing confirmation.

  “He loves you and wants to help you.”

  She pondered a moment then asked, “Why can’t life be like it is at your house?” She blew a long breath. “I would love to be Bailey.”

  “I’m glad you’re you,” I said touching the tip of her nose with my finger, “and I’m very glad you’re here tonight.” I fussed around her, wanting her to feel special. “You look too tired for a story.”

  “Yes, ma’am. What if we just pray?” She placed a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn.

  “Good deal. Would you like to pray, or do you want me to?”

  “Both,” she said. “First me then you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Father, I’m scared but thank You that Miss Katie knows the truth. Help me talk to whoever comes to my school. Help my family be okay. Help me to never use the bathroom anywhere except in a commode again. I’ll help myself remember to flush. Amen.”

  I tried to swallow around the knot in my throat. “Father, give this child courage and grace. Help her know how special she is. Calm and comfort her. Thank You that she’s with me tonight. Amen.”

  Derrien yawned, and the sandman showed up to sprinkle “magic” in her eyes. “Miss Katie, you showed me the first pink bathroom I’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice drifting.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah … and … you’re just the nicest lady I ever met except for my mother.”

  “Good night, sweet girl.” I touched her precious cheek, gave her covers an extra tug, and slipped from the room.

  She wanted her door closed, which turned out to be a good thing.

  I crossed the living room needing Jordan terribly and found him standing in front of me.

  “Hey,” he said. “I tapped on the front door before I entered. I used my key when you failed to answer.”

  I didn’t remember ever needing his arms around me more, but that wouldn’t happen. I had another kid stashed in the house. “I was down the hall, so I didn’t hear you.”

  “If Bailey’s still awake, I’d like to tell her good night.”

  My eyes dodged his. “She’s with Bella.”

  “You were just hanging out in her room?” he asked, smiling.

  I fumbled words at first, but then came straight out with it. “There’s another little girl in Bailey’s room.”

  Silence engulfed us for a moment. “You’ll be glad to know that I’m not touching that statement.”

  “Words fail me.” They really did … but I let him believe it was sarcasm. That, and the fact that I had no explanation. “You came,” was all I thought of to say.

  “I did. I had an overwhelming feeling that you needed me tonight.”

  He knew me better than anyone on earth. “The little girl sleeping in Bailey’s room …”

  Without a word, Jordan drew me into his arms, and I melted against him.

  Then, with the world’s worst timing, a persistent person beat on the front door and rang the doorbell simultaneously.

  I knew exactly who stood outside my house. I hated leaving his arms, but the mess confronting me that night couldn’t be ignored.

  “Hello, Tracia,” I said, opening the door.

  “You witch.” She seethed. “Give me my child this minute, or I’ll call the police.”

  Jordan, who stood behind me, laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. He knew I could handle myself, and he would let me.

  I stared at her. “I’ll save you the call.”

  “What?” she snarled. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I’ve already called the police. There is nothing they feel they can do until CPS has made their determination.” I stood in the doorway wanting to grit my teeth. “They will determine the level of abuse that’s been going on at your house. So, my friend at the police department said he couldn’t help me yet unless you showed up at my house tonight causing me trouble.” My temple thumped. Not because of her, but for the abused child sleeping down my hallway. “In that case … this case … if I call, they will come right over.”

  I started to close the door, but she pushed it back at me.

  “My parents know. My brother knows. My pastor and my deacon know. You’ve called them all.”

  “What is it exactly that they know?”

  “That you think I mistreat my child. I’ve done nothing wrong, but now they’re all furious at me. My pastor has dismissed me from my committee work. You’re a sick woman from hell. And you’ll pay for messing with me.”

  “That’s an interesting statement, and if I were not so tired, I might be more inclined to stand here.” Jordan’s hand still rested on my shoulder. “I’ve not had a chance to talk to your pastor yet. He’s on my list, but frankly, I’ve been engaged with Derrien this evening. I’d planned to call him tomorrow.”

  “Don’t lie. No one would call my pastor, except you.”

  “Persona
lly,” I said, “I’ve never found lying to be useful, so I rarely indulge.” I heard my voice, dulled from fatigue and heartache.

  A tentative but determined Jim stepped out from where he’d lurked in the shadows behind Tracia. I knew instantly that he’d called her family and their pastor. He was the only one who could have. I supposed, once he decided to let Derrien come over to my house for the night, he decided to take other steps to hold his feet to the fire concerning his daughter.

  “Tracia, let’s go home,” Jim said.

  “She has our child without permission.”

  I looked at Jim with raised brows to see how he would respond to his wife’s accusation. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, but not before I saw them shaking under the weight of fear of his own wife.

  He shifted his weight, and when he did, courage seemed to wash over him. He stood, drawing fortitude from a well he hadn’t known he possessed. “Well, actually, Tracia,” he told her, “Derrien is here with my permission. I drove her over.”

  Ten years fell from his face, and a bit of the plainness left his features as, in one swift moment, Jim remembered that, first and foremost, he was Derrien’s father.

  She turned to him. I thought she was going to strike him. Obviously, he did too; he made a quick step back.

  “You … spineless weasel.” She took a breath to calm herself. “You brought my child to the home of an enemy. She obviously called my pastor and is lying about it.”

  “Honey,” Jim said, stepping toward his wife again. “What you’ve been doing—”

  I cleared my throat loud enough to correct his direction.

  He started over. “What we’ve been doing to Derrien isn’t right. I called Pastor Davis. Someone needs to pray with us … to help us.”

  Tracia’s plaster cracked. Lines of anger and seams of bitterness rippled across her face. She moved her lips several times, but no words came. That’s when she struck Jim hard across his face.

  Jordan—who had remained behind me—moved his hand from my shoulder, walked away for a second, returned, then reached around me with a phone and placed it in my hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, I called the police station. As soon as I said my name and gave my address, the dispatcher informed me that an officer had been dispatched. Then I looked at Tracia who’d stepped inside my foyer while I talked on the phone. My door stood open. Jim had stepped in with her, wearing Tracia’s handprint on his left cheek.