They have me on speaker in the car after one of Laura’s art shows, and the sound of the car accelerating at Mach speed isn’t calming anyone’s nerves.
“I’m glad I have you all on here at once,” I say, thinking it will be much easier to just get it over with than to keep secrets. “Something has happened at school, over the last year with my ex. I wanted you all to hear it from me now that I’ve taken more action.”
“Derrick is a tool,” Laura chimes in, making me wish I had opted to just talk to Mom and Dad alone. “What did he do to you?”
Yep, she’s smart.
“Thanks, Laura. That makes it easier.” I sigh. “Yes, he wasn’t a good boyfriend and he isn’t a good guy overall. I filed for a restraining order and I’ve been in counseling. Yes, I’m okay, or will be, so don’t worry.”
“Did he hit you?” my dad growls.
“Yes,” I reply boldly, shocking myself so much I nearly drop the phone. “But nothing like that will ever happen again, and I left him when I knew he wouldn’t get help and didn’t think he needed to.”
What sounds like parts of the car meeting my dad’s fist or feet causes Mom to shout out that she’s going to stop the car to let him cool off. Knowing she is slowing down makes my breaths come in easier.
“I’m sorry if you are disappointed, and you must want to rip his head off, but I’ve done the right things. I have great people on my side and I’m safe. You taught me well. I found my resources and got the help I needed.”
“But you didn’t come to us,” my mom cries to the backdrop of the hazard lights’ rhythmic flickering. “Did you not think we could help you also?”
“Maybe if you hadn’t kept her from having any fun or any experiences at all, this wouldn’t have happened,” Laura chimes in. “She isn’t Rapunzel. I’m surprised you even let her go to Crimson.”
Oh no. I can hear Mom’s sobs before they even start.
“We did the best we could. We were just so scared about what could happen to her, I mean, to you, April,” my mother mumbles quietly between sniffles. “We didn’t live in a place where we had family around or close friends. You know your dad’s work moved us out here. We didn’t have a choice.”
“Here we go again, blaming my work for everything.”
“Guys, look, let’s focus on the good, please. I am out of a crappy relationship, which will be the first and last one of its kind in my lifetime, and the fact that I got out and have taken the right steps shows how well you have raised me. No one is to blame.”
“Except that dill-hole Derrick,” Laura chirps in.
“Yes, I agree, and that’s why I am going to court tomorrow to get the order settled.”
“We’ll be there first thing in the morning, or tonight if we need to,” my mom spouts out. “What time do you have to be there?”
“No, please, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to be there.” My hands run through my hair, pulling it into a tighter ponytail than was already in place or I thought was humanly possible. “It isn’t necessary. I-I don’t want you to hear everything that way, but I promise I’ll tell you. Just not this way. Please.”
“Are you sure, sis?” Laura’s serious tone is a rarity, so it catches me off guard. “You’ve done everything else on your own. You don’t have to do this alone too.”
“When did you get so mature?” I laugh.
“When Mom and Dad decided locking me down like you was impossible to do with moi.” We all laugh at that one. Well maybe Dad not so much.
“It’s your choice about tomorrow, sweetie, but you are coming home for spring break still, right?” My mom is obviously trying her hardest to ask instead of telling me. It seems Laura truly has broken them in over time.
“I have one stop before heading home, but yes, I’ll be home for most if not all of the break.”
Dad harrumphs in the background.
“It’ll all be over soon, Dad. I think Derrick has gotten the picture,” I assure.
“Well, you let me know if he doesn’t.” He snarls. “I can paint a clear one for him.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The call ends with Mom’s continuation of sniffles in the background and Laura telling Dad to have some faith in me. I guess I don’t blame him. I kept this from them, from all of them, but I didn’t even know what was really happening myself. If I had, I wouldn’t be in this position. But since I didn’t, I now have the power to make things better for someone else and for myself.
Chapter 13
Freedom
~
Staring at the woman behind Derrick makes me uneasy at first, but when she smiles back, I feel a weight lift away.
All of the horror stories of the guy getting a slap on the wrist, a tap on the head for his mistake, have been playing in my waking mind and dreams for days leading up to this court appearance. This is not that made-for-TV show or awful post on social media about the lack of justice for a woman, or man, that was on the other side of an injustice. No, things are going to change for Derrick, and from the looks of him, his downcast eyes darkened from lack of sleep, he is swallowing his pride and taking the punishment. Or maybe, just maybe, this is a picture of rock bottom, a time at which there is great change.
He doesn’t fight the restraining order, instead turning to me and offering a side of himself I thought was long gone or never truly existed.
“I’m so sorry for all I have put you through. You were right, the whole time. I need to get help and I need to regroup and be the man I know I can be.” He turns around to look at his parents for a breath before turning back to me. “And someone my parents will be proud of. I’ve been only caring about myself and not about my actions. I hope someday you can forgive me.”
My mouth opened at some point, but it wasn’t so I could say anything; instead, it was forced open by the weight of his words. I almost smack myself to see if I need to wake from a dream.
“It takes a good deal of humility to admit when you are wrong and that you need to take more steps than you ever have before to improve yourself for the better.” Judge Darlin doesn’t smile when she speaks to Derrick, she only sets her gaze on him, perhaps even looking for the deception in the promise of better things. “Even though you show remorse and a willingness for change, and I know you have agreed to the schedule change to give Miss Mince her space, I will still be granting this restraining order.”
The murmur behind Derrick is soft, not angry, but concerned.
“I know you may be worried about your record, Mr. Tinn, but you have to see it from my perspective and from Miss Mince’s. An apology doesn’t take away what has already been done.”
Derrick nods in agreement and tries to give me a respectful smile.
“I also know that there are things that have come up about your past that may be to blame for what has continued this cycle for you, and with that, I hope you and your family can heal. I leave that information private in this hearing and leave it up to you to ever share on your own.”
This statement startles me for a heartbeat, causing the rhythm to increase exponentially thinking of what may have happened to Derrick in his life to have created a monster out of the man standing not ten feet away from me.
It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to feel sorry for him.
But I can empathize. As I have thought many times, and what I’ve learned in class and group, the cycle can continue. Even when it’s been such a horrific experience for a person, it can still somehow latch into the soul and psyche as the way things are and how they should be. It’s a terrible unending circle without the right intervention. Maybe, now, Derrick’s can be broken.
I turn to his parents, his dad pulling his wife in closer; they don’t seem to show signs of being the guilty party, but possibly they knew or whatever occurred was definitely something they should have known? I close my eyes and will the tears to stay. He may have my empathy, but he won’t see me cry ever again.
“Before I officially grant
the restraining order to be in effect from now until one year from today, do you have anything to add, Miss Mince?”
My eyes slide to Derrick’s. “I do hope you get the help that you need to heal and to change for the better. Perhaps in time I can forgive you, but for now, I just appreciate the responsibility you have taken and your willingness for change.”
I nod and attempt to add a smile as well, but I can’t. Instead, I shift my head to his mother and give her a hopeful smile. She returns it and mouths, thank you.
“I have to say, in all of my years, and in the times we’ve had brewing around us, I am pleasantly surprised and a little shocked with how maturely this has been handled by the Tinns and Miss Mince and her counsel. In the past, this would have been ugly, full of denials and a parade of character witnesses, but this has given me hope for humanity as a whole.”
Her eyes touch on each of us, ending on mine and holding them.
“For what you have gone through this past year, and for the lack of support on campus, I do hope this court has shown you that you have the support of the court and that you aren’t alone.” The all-business set to her eyes melts into a smile for a split second before regrouping into the awe-inspiring presence on the bench. “You are a brave young woman, Miss Mince. Don’t ever forget that and know that you have done something extraordinary, not only for yourself, but for other victims of violence and abuse. I commend you and wish you the best.”
“Thank you, Judge Darlin.”
The hammering of the gavel should force me into motion, or at least to the side hug from Maggie, but it isn’t until I see Derrick look at me one last time that I know it’s really over. He may have lied to me before, but once I knew, I could always tell. This isn’t an act. A broken man is before me, and most likely an older version of a little boy who endured his own form of abuse.
A weight lifts and I allow Maggie to usher me out of the courtroom, away from the building and into the sunlight. I stop on the steps, allowing my head to fall back while I soak in the springtime sun, its heat warming me from my cheeks down to my chest, where I swear my heart begins to pull itself back together, just a little, as if it mending its tears, chinks, and painfully gouged holes. All I needed was for it to start, and on its own, not due to another person loving me to help it repair. No, this slowly shifting work toward wholeness is something I have to do for myself.
But, even with the breaks, you love.
Yes, and now I’ve come this far on my own—well, not totally alone; I do have some amazing women in my corner—maybe I can find a way to sink into a glorious love. A real one that brings its own light to the other rips and pits in my heart. A love that I can trust, and that is with a man who is truthful, loyal, strong.
A hero and a protector?
Yes, words I can now use to define myself as well.
I’ve fidgeted with my hair in the rearview mirror long enough. It’s time to head to the door and officially meet the woman who raised an incredible man, even despite having been abused and brought close to her death in an inferno, which took the life of her abuser instead.
A flicker to my right shifts my eyes from the world’s worst mirror to the source of the motion. In a bright white linen shirt and a colorful yellow scarf wrapping her head, Shan’s mom waves to me from the fenced-in backyard off in the distance. The hello changes to a summoning, so with a deep inhale and one fumble with my keys as I shove them into my purse, I am out the door. Sort of. My hip gets caught in the swinging motion of the darn thing closing, and I wince at the pain and at my klutzy car-exiting display.
Just friends, remember?
Yeah, yeah. Cool it.
I walk toward Ms. Bends at what feels like a slow-motion pace until I finally reach where she stands holding the gate open. I take a moment to look around to realize I don’t see Shan’s rental car in the driveway. I am a little early. I knew I should have texted him, but we confirmed last night. We haven’t seen each other in nearly two weeks, only texting or talking a few times during our April-induced breakup. It wasn’t easy, but it kept me focused, cleared my head, and brought me here. Who knows what would have happened, otherwise? Where my head was, it would probably have been on a collision course without hope of repair.
And now?
I’m here, aren’t I?
“Hello, April,” Shan’s mom says while whipping something from her face with the back of her floral gardening glove. “Shan and his sister, Clara, had to run to the store. My forgetfulness got the best of me and I missed a couple items we must have for dinner. Come on back. The garden is showing off this year.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bends.”
“Please, call me Nicole.”
“Yes. Thank you, Nicole.” My feet are cemented on the other side of the fence. I can’t move. For some reason, I’m stunned into a statue by being face to face with a woman whom I could see myself being if things hadn’t changed for me.
But she’s a survivor, so stop staring, you idiot.
“You have a lovely home,” I manage, though my tongue wants to stay stuck to the roof of my mouth. “It’s so peaceful here.” The house, a white wood and stone cottage on a high hill more than an hour east of our campus, is both lovingly cared for and comfortably weathered.
Nicole holds the gate open and I step through, holding my cardigan sweater a little tighter in the cooling spring air. I almost wore a skirt but opted for jeans, aware of the change in elevation up here in the hills. The yellow of her scarf matches the little yellow lemons on my tank top, and I smile at our similarities and let go of my held breath at the agonizing ones that have kept me awake for many long nights.
Once I finally take in the backyard, the sprawling land lush with grass, flower beds, and a cement wall on the far end covered in vines, I smile for so many other reasons. This is her place of peace, and she deserves it. The life she has given to the garden reflects her new start from the ashes.
“Did you do this all yourself? It is breathtaking.” It isn’t an exaggeration. The sight causes me to touch my hand to my chest, which both clinches and releases in a lovely intensity. Beauty does this, beauty in the world, in music, in a dance, and in a touch. This place was created with love.
“Shan and I did most of the work, but Clara was here when we had to beat the crap out of the rocky ground to even begin to think of growing a thing in its stubborn dirt. I’ll be sure to show you some before and after pictures, but you can get the general idea by looking over the wall. That’s what this land was before it became the garden.”
I follow her unfurling arm, a guide to the gorgeous array of snapdragons in all colors, daisies, and…that’s about the extent of what I know I’m looking at. Thankfully, Nicole has placed little signs in various areas, and I walk around touching, reading, and admiring the sight and names of the colorful flowers, bushes, and grasses. They create levels and tell a story—one of rebirth from a rocky wreckage. This is Nicole’s story now, and it is a display of strength and perseverance.
“I have some tea and water over here at the table. They should be back any minute, but I must be honest. I’m glad we have some time to ourselves.”
My smile remains plastered to my face. I must look like a little girl in a candy shop. There is just so much to look at, and it doesn’t stop at the plants. When we move toward the little mosaic table, we pass by two half barrels in the ground filled with water, plants, and goldfish in yellow, orange, white, and black, their tails flicking the surface while they gobble up the bugs venturing out to enjoy the warmer weather.
I find Nicole’s eyes smiling in my direction.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I more than like it. It’s like a fantasy world back here. You’ve created something magical.” My eyes leave hers for only a moment to glance around again. “This must have taken a great deal of time and patience.”
“Still does, but Shan comes up and helps me quite a bit. You should see me try to lug around the wheelbarrow full of mulch.” She l
aughs. “The boy all but grounded me from trying that again.”
“He’s very helpful.”
“You two have become close friends, I hear. Must be true if you’ve come up here to spend some time with us, away from your family.”
“Yes, he’s helped me through a tough time.” My eyes drop. “Not that the difficulties are over, but I’m getting there.”
“I heard about what you did, even after your school lacked the cojones to do anything for you.”
This time I chuckle.
“You’re a brave woman to keep going, and for not stopping even though Shan screwed things up along the way.”
We reach the table and I sit down slowly, eyeing the strawberry-and-basil-infused water in the jar. Nicole reaches for the pitcher and pours me a glass, reading my desires by merely watching my body language. It’s the training we’ve had in group as well. Ways to see the signs when words don’t come outright, or to see through the lies. It’s a talent, but at a cost.
“I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up, but I know it would have been hard to talk about if I hadn’t.” Her hand moves absently to touch her scarf, assuring that it stays in place. “Even my closest friends never bring up the past, so I like to clear the air for people when the circumstances call for it. Ones like this.”
“Your story, though I admit scared me, also moved me. And then, when I saw Shan…”
“Yes, that was quite a shock, I am sure,” she adds.
“Quite, but Shan had seen me before, when I had, well, when I couldn’t hide.”
Her hand reaches out and touches mine, squeezing it softly and curling her fingers under my palm to take a gentle hold.
A Protector's Touch: A New Adult College Romance & Romantic Suspense Novel Page 11