The Children of Main Street

by Merilyn Howton Marriott

  Jim stood taller now. Now, he could look me dead in the eyes.

  “Tracia,” I said, pulling my eyes from Jim, “I’d hoped we could keep the charges against you to child abuse, but if you’ve decided to add trespassing, disturbing the peace, and spousal abuse to your record, I can assist you.”

  “I am a wonderful and godly mother, and you have turned my child and my husband against me. Now Jim has turned my family and my church against me.”

  “There was a time when I would hear what you had to say. That time has passed. Leave now, or you can tell your story to the police. Either way, you’ll get to tell it to people in several forums over the next few days. I just won’t be one of them.”

  “Give me my kid.”

  “Go home,” I said.

  “Jim,” she said without looking at him, “get our child.”

  “I’m leaving,” he said taking one step back. “You might better come with me or the cops may be putting you in their car.”

  “Jim, I think you’re right,” I said. “You should take her home.”

  “Before we go,” he said, “I would like to apologize for coming here tonight and for the scene we’ve made at your door.”

  “What?” Tracia swung her head around so quickly her hair moved. “Don’t you ever apologize for me.”

  “Shut up.” Jim’s entire body jerked. His words had taken him aback. He almost smiled. He took her by the hand and pulled her out my front door.

  I closed and locked up behind them, my bones on fire.

  Jordan took me in his arms again. “I’m glad God whispered in my heart to come here tonight.”

  “Jordan,” I said against his shoulder, “surely we can work things out between us.”

  “I’m very glad I came, but Katie, you have another child here with you.” I tried to wrap myself around him, but he untangled my arms and stepped away. “Have you looked in the mirror? Catherine, you’re killing yourself, and I won’t watch.” His eyes traveled over my body. “How much weight have you lost?”

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “And I, you. If I didn’t, I could stay and watch, but I do, so I won’t.” His voice held a tremor. “It’s late. I’ll just slip out the front unless you want me to wait until the police get here.”

  I shook my head. “I can handle it,” I whispered around the knot rising in my throat.

  He gave me a quick nod, kissed his fingers then held them out toward me, and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Days floated by. I wondered and prayed about Derrien. Surely I would hear something soon. I thought I’d see her at the clinic if nothing else.

  But no.

  Even though it was against the law to pull a child out of counseling when her therapist calls Children’s Services, Tracia canceled all sessions including Derrien’s. I’d already suspected that would happen because recent sessions had been “no shows,” or last-minute cancellations. I could have alerted the authorities but thought better of it. CPS would make sure Derrien received counseling, even if it wasn’t from me. I’d have preferred for both of us that it be me, but maybe someone more objective could pick up from there. With a weighted heart, I left it alone.

  But I worried. I lay awake many nights praying God would protect Derrien where I’d somehow failed. She sneaked into my thoughts every day. Bailey missed her terribly and asked about her relentlessly. Alicia and I grieved together over what we had been unable to accomplish. Jordan called at night and realized I was on the swing instead of sleeping.

  “You know,” he said on one of those calls, “some things are a judgment call. You made one. It didn’t work out as you’d hoped, but your heart was in the right place.”

  The next Thursday, after school, I watched as Bailey climbed from Bella’s car jabbering about Halloween decorations. Bella stepped out of her car for a minute to walk her charge to my front door. There was only one crisis client, so I could be home for the afternoon, to watch them through the window. A happy little girl grinned into the face of an adoring big girl.

  After Bella drove away, and Bailey had finished her snack, we were deciding if we wanted to go to the store for pumpkins when the front doorbell pealed. Bailey ran to grab the door and ushered in Jordan whose arms were loaded with two pumpkins and a yellow chrysanthemum wrapped in red paper and tied with raffia.

  For the first time, I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt about him standing there or his contribution of fall fare.

  However, Bailey was thrilled. “Mr. Jordan, let’s take these to the table.”

  He did. She helped him settle the pumpkins and flower onto the flat surface.

  “Have you carved one of these before?” he asked her.

  She ducked her head. “Yes, but …”

  He laid his hand on her shoulder, and I walked to the table, seeing her upset.

  “What’s wrong?” we asked together, standing near her.

  “Me and my mama only ever had one punkin.” She tossed a brave smile at both of us.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What happened?” I asked her.

  “Me and my mama cut a face in it and put a candle inside.” She swallowed hard. “We just setted it down on the front porch. We were excited because it was Halloween.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Josiah came home and walked up on the porch. He was drunked up bad, and he kicked it. It broked everywhere.”

  Jordan pulled her into his arms. “What say we do carve the pumpkin with a face, and we do put a candle inside it, but we don’t kick or break it.”

  She laid her face on his shoulder. “Good idea,” she said, snuggling further in.

  I stayed quiet during most of the evening, watching as Bailey’s mood lifted and the two of them enjoyed a wonderful time together. He displayed his talents for carving pumpkin faces and for bringing joy to the heart of a little blonde-haired girl. I felt happy for them but couldn’t quite figure how I ended up on the outside of their circle.

  For Thanksgiving, Bailey and I joined my parents at my sister’s home in Houston. My family gathered for the festive occasion, and they all fell in love with Bailey. My parents had seen her already, but that was the first time my brother and sisters met her. We had a good time, but I stayed quieter than usual. My dad expressed concern, bothered by my weight loss. When we had a quiet moment together, I laid my head on his loving shoulder as Bailey so often did with Jordan. He took my hands in his and asked the God of all wisdom to heal my broken heart. But then he looked deep into my eyes and asked if I was making best decisions. I shed soft tears on his shoulder but said nothing.

  Bailey fell asleep on the way home, leaving the trip quiet and lonely. I hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving without Jordan in fourteen years. No one had mentioned him. I knew my mom well enough to know that meant she’d asked everyone not to, and I appreciated her thoughtfulness. She knew I suffered, and she wanted me to have a nice day with family without having to field questions I didn’t have answers to.

  At home, I lifted my still-sleeping child from the car and walked inside with her, carrying her straight to bed. I kissed her on both cheeks, pulling the cover up. Walking into the living room, I looked around. The mantle and hearth looked sad and empty. Jordan had always been the one who filled the entire house with chrysanthemums and clustered them in groups of different colors, especially around the fireplace. One lonely shrinking pumpkin stood where he and Bailey left it. Loneliness stalked me.

  All the time.

  Chapter 27

  After Thanksgiving, no one at the clinic seemed surprised when a huge tree stood in the playroom decorated with clear ornaments, white twinkle lights, and pink bows. Most prominent among the decorations was the angel theme. There were big angels, little angels, middle-sized angels, fat cherub-bellied angels, gold angels, pink angels and silver angels. Atop the tree stood Bailey’s hand-made frame adorned with paper angels wearing gold tinseled wings and red glitter
lips. Inside held a picture of Bailey’s favorite angel, her mother, Sue. The picture wasn’t very sharp because Alicia had helped Bailey cut it from a newspaper that had been folded and stored inside her desk drawer since the day after Sue’s murder on that awful spring morning. It seemed sad and incongruent, the photo being a glamour shot, but Bailey didn’t seem to notice. We did the best we could.

  Bailey worked away on my Christmas present. She cut a heart from white paper and glittered the edges with silver and gold. Under Isabella’s tutoring, her handwriting shaped beautifully. Across my white heart, she wrote: NO SIN HERE. For her Christmas present, I intended to buy her anything she asked for. The tall statuary angel she wanted for Sue had stood at her grave for months.

  One Saturday mid-afternoon, Bailey and I dragged ourselves into the house. We’d been Christmas shopping—my first with a child. Christmas felt special again. In addition to all the packages, I brought home a picture we’d taken at the mall with her sitting on Santa’s lap. She was excited about everything—the lights, the trees, and the bewitching window dressing. She seemed taken with the nativity scenes in the store windows, saying she didn’t remember seeing them before that year. Shopping with her was so much fun, I became a kid again.

  But one place remained empty in my heart; Jordan should have been with us. He loved Christmas—especially the trees.

  My love for Bailey grew stronger daily, but missing Jordan had become a full-time ache in my entire body. I loved his frequent popping in, but oh the agony when he left.

  “God,” I whispered. “Does he still love me? Do You?”

  I am with you always even till the end of the earth.

  “Thank You for the reminder.”

  Bailey pulled on my hand after peeling off her thin sweater. “When do we get a tree for the house,” she asked, her cheeks rosy with excitement.

  “Soon … very soon.” I smiled down at her, then leaned and kissed her forehead. What would I do if Jordan was right and someone took her away? I would fight like a tiger, that’s what I’d do.

  She was my child; no one else could have her.

  I stared at Bailey … her standing there, smiling at me with love and trust spilling from sparkling green eyes. Waiting for a specific answer to her question about the tree trimming. “Very soon” was never the answer a child was seeking to a “when” question. She wanted a commitment … a certain day. I knew that. Still, she stood before me safe and happy. But thoughts of another child … Derrien with haunting eyes and a trembling body stuck in my mind with the vengeance of popcorn in teeth. Nothing would make it go away. I’d been left clueless as to whether she might be safe now, but a flame of certainty ignited and burned within my newly acquired mother’s heart. I looked at my child again— happy and whole—and knew Derrien was somewhere … somewhere there in Port Arthur and knew she couldn’t be happy. The happy season … Christmas skated toward us, and I felt in my bones that Derrien wasn’t celebrating. My therapist’s gut had always sent very reliable signals. I hadn’t known, until then, that a mommy gut would set off bottle rockets inside me.

  “You okay?” Bailey asked.

  “Yes.” I shook my mental self. “Got an idea.”

  “Uh oh,” Bailey said. “That’s what Mr. Jordan would say.” She grinned.

  An idea formed and grew in my mind. My heart smiled just thinking of Derrien. I could make her laugh. Bailey would be thrilled. No, if I invited Derrien here, she probably wouldn’t be able to come. But if Jim, against all odds would allow it, Tracia might show up on my stoop and cause chaos again. Neither child needed it. Derrien had suffered greatly already. “Sweetheart, I need to pray about something for a minute. Can you get your Barbie dolls and play for a bit?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to pray about when to decorate a tree.”

  I laughed and stepped into the bedroom as Bailey dashed down the hallway to collect her dolls and their frilly outfits.

  The idea refused to go away. “Lord,” I prayed, standing beside my bed, “I feel like I need to do this for Derrien tonight.” I waited. “I believe she needs to be here.” I waited again. There was no check in my spirit, and I leaned heavily on spiritual gut-checks when I felt unsure what to do. I smiled toward heaven and said, “Well, okay, then.” But I’d never expose Bailey to Tracia Dickman.

  I retraced my steps to where Bailey played on the living room floor. This was the only part I hated. “Hey you,” I said.

  She looked up, driving Barbie across the floor to stop at my red high-heeled toes. “Hey you, too.”

  “Speaking of trees,” I said, “I intended to keep you home tonight … but you may want to stay the night with Bella. I heard this morning when I went to the clinic for my emergency client that she planned to decorate her tree this evening. You could go help her tonight; then we could decorate our tree tomorrow night.”

  She frowned, crinkling her nose. “We don’t have a tree.”

  “We will tomorrow night,” I said.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise and cross my heart.”

  She stood and thought it over, slitting her eyes and looking up at me. “Can we call first and make sure she’s really putting up her tree tonight? ’Cause if she’s not, I druther stay home with you.”

  “You druther, huh?” I laughed. “Let’s call her now.” I reached into my purse for my phone, still tucked there from the shopping trip.

  Bailey wanted to ask Bella herself, so I dialed the number and handed her the phone.

  Bella answered on the second ring. I stood close enough to hear her say, “Hey, Bailey, I hoped you’d call. I told Katie that I wanted you here tonight to help enjoy my tree, but she was taking you shopping.”

  Bailey laughed. “Oh, we shopped all right. I will tell you everything we buyed if you’ll come pick me up.”

  “Are you spending the night? If so, we can trim the tree then make hot chocolate with little marshmallows, just the way you like it,” Bella enticed.

  “Yes, ma’am. Miss Katie already said so.”

  “How ’bout I be there in fifteen minutes?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  After Bella and Bailey were out the door—both giggling—I dialed the number listed for Jim Dickman and held my breath.

  The phone rang several times, and I decided no one would pick up. Details of the Dickman family proved difficult to erase, so I knew Jim’s work schedule. He didn’t work on Saturdays. My hand started the phone toward the cradle when I heard his voice. “Dickman residence.”

  A drummer sneaked inside my head. “Jim,” my voice sounded odd—even to me—but I continued. “This is Catherine. Christmas is in two weeks, and I’m going to get a tree tonight. In fact, I’m going to get two trees for my house.”

  He kept silent … I guess wondering why I shared this information.

  “Be Derrien’s father. Bring her to my house to go tree shopping and let her spend the night with me.”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “I didn’t really think you would, but it meant enough for me to ask.” I sighed. “Jim, think for a minute of all Derrien has lost since her mother’s death. Sometimes I wonder if she’s still waiting for her to come back home with the groceries she left the house for two years ago.”

  “I find my own self doing that sometimes,” Jim admitted, his voice a mumble. He fell silent again.

  I reasoned that he’d not intended to say that.

  But when he did speak, he said, “What time do you want her?”

  My knees threatened to drop me where I stood. “Thank you, Jim, but know that you letting her come won’t change anything unless it matters to you that she’ll have a wonderful time. I’ll still hold the same position if I’m called into court. You need to understand that you bringing her here will not gain you brownie points.”

  “I do understand that. It’ll be tense for her at home tonight, as it has been since we met you, and she might as well be with you.”

  “Since you
met me?”

  “No, I meant … well, just since you discovered what was happening to my child.”

  “Have any of the rules been broken?”

  “No. Tracia’s just been real snappy toward her … but if I’m honest, she always has been.”

  “But you’re letting her come over?”

  “I know you’re real mad at me and Tracia, but I know you ain’t mad at Derrien. I know you’ll be real kind to her.”

  Compassion tried to sneak into my heart, but he had allowed Derrien to suffer. “It’s the right thing to do, Jim. I must say I’m surprised that you’re doing it.”

  “I’m doing it.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Is an hour okay? Tracia is out right now doing some shopping so …”

  “An hour is fine. Thank you, Jim.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said.

  “It’s the least you can do.”

  “Will you—can you do something for me?”

  “I can try.”

  “Can you tell her I love her,” he begged.

  “You tell her when you drive her over.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I will.”

  Derrien slid from the side of the car, just as I swung open my front door. Looking tentative, she carried a little blue overnight bag that said, “GOING TO GRANDMA’S”. She walked into my house wearing a gentle smile. “Miss Katie,” she whispered.

  But I could see she was nervous. The child who’d sometimes sounded forty when we talked at the clinic had gone. In her place stood a tiny tot with dark hair and troubled eyes.

  “Is something else bad going to happen?” she asked.

  I uncurled her fingers from the suitcase and set it down. With my hands on her shoulders, I turned her to face me. “This is going to be a very different night with me. No one will come to your school tomorrow, and no one will ask you difficult questions. Nothing but fun is going to happen here. You’ve come for a tree-shopping party.”