Page 95 of All In Good Time
“Nothing to worry about. I just need to make at least one checkup within two months after the initial report. Lots of times, in real cases, we end up spending a lot of time with the kids and in home before we find anything. That’s not necessary here. The good news is, you won’t be getting any more visits like this from me, because, as far as I can tell, everything is fine here.”
Derek’s jaw clenched, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mal’s head spin in his direction. He looked at her and saw the same emotions in her face that he felt writhing through him: anger, helplessness, fear.
Did he make the right choice? Was he doing the right thing by keeping silent?
He wasn’t sure.
The woman in the other room was an unreachable line to safety, who might be able to help, but what if they tried to grab ahold and their hands slipped? What were the risks if they failed? She and the entire organization had already been told what was happening here, and all it had done was turn the entire home into a ticking time bomb with Mark at the fuse. These people claimed to be help, but they couldn’t see what was right in front of them.
That was enough to reassure him that his silence was necessary.
“That’s great to hear,” Jennifer said, breathing a genuine sigh of relief.
“Your case closes on December twentieth, and since everything looks good, you have nothing to worry about.”
He wished that were true.
“Thank you for stopping by, Margaret. I’m sorry to waste your time.”
“Not at all. We’d rather it be a waste of time than something else.”
The friendly laugh that Jennifer let out grated against Derek’s nerves, but he’d done the same thing. He’d played it cool. He’d pulled on his charm like a mask to hide what was really happening in the home, just like Jennifer. He was just as guilty, just as afraid of the consequences as she was.
He and Mal stayed in the kitchen until Margaret was gone, and a collective exhale of breath shook its walls. It did nothing to ease them.
Jennifer’s quick pace slowed considerably, and the energetic friendliness faded by the time she walked into the kitchen where the kids waited. She was not smiling, and her posture slouched as she turned to them. In minutes, she’d aged ten years.
Her eyes went from Mal to Derek, who stood with his hand grabbing onto the counter corner so hard it dug into his palm.
“Let’s not tell your dad about this, alright?”
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. It’s all he could do.
Jennifer stepped forward and raised her hand, laying it gently on Derek’s cheek in a way that might have been motherly in another life. Now, it was cold, clammy, and shaking. And there was no promise of protection in it.
Without another word, Jennifer turned and left the room, leaving the groceries untouched on the counter.
Mal spun her whole body toward Derek as soon as her mother’s door closed. She wasn’t as compliant as her mother. She hadn’t been broken down like Derek—enough to understand why it was worth it to do as her mother said and pretend it never happened. “What do we do?”
Derek finally let go of the counter and took note of the indent it left in the skin of his palm. He wished he could give her a real answer, but there wasn’t one. At least, not the one she wanted.
“We don’t do anything.”
37
November 1985
Three more to go. After months and endless hours of collecting everything she needed for these applications, she only had three more prompted essays to answer before she could seal them up with the rest and send them out in the morning, as soon as the post office opened.
Sure, she was still a week early from some of the deadlines, but she’d rather get it done now than risk being too late and missing it.
She scribbled on the lined paper, writing the words as they came to her head, as she bobbed along to Queen playing through her headphones. Honestly, she wasn’t writing them as quickly as she could. She purposefully took her time, focusing closely on each one. Not because she couldn’t go faster, but because once she finished these pages, part of the stress in her life would be gone, leaving a wide-open space for more to fill it in.
These applications had been a wonderful diversion throughout everything else, pretty soon it would be gone, and she’d be back to trying not to think about the things that her mind really wanted to.
Like a certain curly haired boy she hadn’t seen in a few days. The same one she definitelywasn’tchecking for out her window several times a night, in case a dark Monte Carlo was parked out front.
She pretended not to be disappointed each time she peeked and it wasn’t there. She didn’t know what she was expecting.
