Page 22 of Twisted Fate

“I’ll call you later,” I promised, ready to have this conversation over with. We said our goodbyes, and I pulled up Delilah’s number. Tapping “call,” I pressed the phone to my ear and prayed. She picked up on the third ring, and I cut right to the chase. I explained the situation and asked if she’d be willing to take on another day with Charlie.

“Can I have the night to think it over?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” I needed to know something soon, but I wasn’t going to push her.

Relief washed over me when I opened the door the next morning and was greeted by Delilah’s smile. “I’ll do it,” she said, and I nearly pulled her into a hug but caught myself at the last possible second.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I proclaimed instead. She’d taken a day to think about it. She had a life outside of this job and subbed on occasion at a few elementary schools, but they wouldn’t need her much longer with summer right around the corner.

“It’s no problem at all. I enjoy working with Charlie. She’s a great kid. You and Sarah did a wonderful job raising her.” Gratitude filled her eyes as a soft smile played on her lips. I knew she was just as thankful for Sarah and me adopting Charlie as we were for her granting us the precious gift of our beautiful daughter.

I found myself wondering, not for the first time, why she’d been so willing to let us take Charlie. She clearly loved her, perhaps just as much as we did, so why had she been adamant about cutting ties once the adoption was complete? Unease settled in my gut. Had things gone badly between her and Charlie’s father? Had he been abusive? There were other possibilities I wasn’t willing to entertain, so I shut down that line of thinking.

“You’ve probably got a week or two before you’ll start coming on Tuesday, unless of course, Mom’s employee doesn't work out her two-week notice.” I winced at the thought.

“That would be okay with me. I don’t have any subbing jobs lined up for those days.” Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Mom’s employee worked out her notice and two weeks later, Delilah began showing up on my doorstep another day each week.

21

Delilah

My hands shookas I pulled up to the brick building for Charlie’s appointment. Unbidden, the memories from my time in therapy came flooding to the surface. I’d sat outside a building not so different from this one for a solid twenty minutes trying to build up the courage to go inside. I ended up being late for my appointment, but the therapist had been understanding. She was patient and empathetic, allowing me to take my time getting to the reason for seeking her out. Once I finally began to talk, it was like the floodgates opened up. Everything I’d been holding in—all the ugliness that was eating me up from the inside—came pouring out.

She’d listened quietly as I told her about that night. The last clear memory I had was of finding my favorite wine among the bevy of bottles and how after months of trying to piece together the puzzle of how it all happened, I suspected Chad had dosed that bottle with something and planted it there, knowing I would go straight for it.

I talked about blacking out and waking up with a subconscious awareness of what he’d done to me and walking back to my dorm in a haze. I’d done the one thing they always tell you not to afterwards and got in the shower. I wanted to forget it happened even though I technically couldn’t remember.

But my body did.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was stunned beyond belief. I’d been on birth control. Apparently, it hadn’t worked.

My therapist, Lisa, asked if I’d reported the assault to anyone, and I admitted that I’d been too scared. Scared of facing him again, scared that no one would believe me. I was terrified he’d buy his way out of it, and I’d be harassed for making the accusation. When I told her who he was—and the family he belonged to—her eyes widened in shock, then filled with understanding. I wasn’t the first assault victim she’d ever worked with. She knew how the system failed us, especially when the perpetrator was part of the upper crust of society. And the Townsend family was pretty damn far up on the food chain.

Chester, Chadwick’s father, was the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies on the east coast. With that in mind, it always surprised me that Chad hadn’t ended up at an Ivy League university, but he’d wanted to attend his father’s alma mater. I wished he hadn’t. I wished he’d gone far away so I never would’ve met him.

“Are we going to ferapy?” Charlie chirped from the back seat. I startled, having gotten lost in my memories for a long moment.

“Yeah,” I breathed, grabbing my purse from the passenger seat.

I led her into the lobby and checked in with the receptionist. Panic rose in my throat when they came to get her, and I suddenly didn’t want to let her go.

“You can come with us,” the assistant informed me, noting my distress.

“Oh.” I stood and smoothed my damp palms over my jean shorts. The long brightly lit hallway was alive with color. Murals of cartoon characters covered every wall.

We were led into a room that was surprisingly filled with toys. I knew she took part in play therapy, but I expected a tiny room with a handful of boring, educational-purpose-only toys. This looked more like her playroom at home. I supposed that made sense. She’d make better progress in a place that felt familiar and safe.

“Hello.” A young woman with a cheery smile and soft pink blouse breezed into the room.

“Miss Valerie!” Charlie greeted excitedly.

“Hi, Miss Charlie,” she returned, crouching so she was at eye level. “How was your week?”

“It was good,” Charlie replied, scrunching her shoulders and twisting from side to side.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Miss Valerie gave her a sweet smile and stood. She stuck out her hand, and I took it. Her grip was gentle as we shook. “You must be Delilah.”

“I am,” I replied, wondering how she knew who I was.

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