Page 172 of Receiving His Mercy
Travis didn’t answer, but she could tell he didn’t care what state her mother was in. She wished that she didn’t care either. That she could just break completely free. That’s what she’d tried to do when she’d visited her mother. But the way they’d left things . . . it had just added to her pain and confusion.
Why had her mother never loved her?
What had she done to deserve the way her parents had treated her?
“I don’t think I can just forget the fact that he’s called. Sorry.”
“Don’t need to apologize to me,” he said gruffly. “I just want to protect you. Call him but put it on speaker. If he upsets you, then I’m ending the call.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded, thinking it was a good idea for him to listen in. Fortifying herself, she called the director back.
“Ms. Stanford, I’m glad you called back so promptly.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Peterson. What can I do for you?”
“Your mother is asking continuously to see you. Her main carer didn’t want to call you and let you know, but I felt it was only fair to your mother to inform you that she very much wishes to see you. And is quite distressed that you aren’t here.”
There was clear disapproval in his voice.
She glanced up at Travis who was scowling down at the phone.
Uh-oh. Before she could think how to stop him, he spoke up.
“Well, unfortunately, Martha never gave Caren what she needed as a child,” Travis said back. “Love, affection, basic hygiene. All she gave her was pain.” She rubbed at her knuckles, shuddering. Travis sat next to her, cuddling her close.
“So I’m not sure why you’d think that she’d care if she was asking for her. Or drop everything to visit her. And, this will be your only warning, you have no right to speak to her in that tone. I never want to hear you talking to her again but with the utmost respect.”
“Who is that?” Mr. Peterson demanded.
“This is Travis, my fiancé,” she said.
“I do believe this is a private conversation,” Mr. Peterson said.
“No, it isn’t,” Travis said. “From now on, if you need to call Caren about her mother, you will call me instead. I will make the decision whether you need to talk to Caren.”
“You are not on the approved list,” Mr. Peterson huffed pompously.
“I will be. Very soon. Call me or I will not be happy.” Travis ended the call and held her closer. “I’m sorry that happened, baby. Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” She actually was. A bit numb and her knuckles hurt. A phantom pain that she knew wasn’t real. But it felt like it.
He took hold of her hands, rubbing her knuckles.
“Can’t believe that bitch used to hit you with a ruler.”
“She really wanted me to be a piano prodigy since, you know, I was so stupid in other ways.”
“You are not stupid,” he told her fiercely.
“No, but that’s what she thought.” She shifted around, feeling uncomfortable. “I wonder if she even knows what I do now. Or if she’d care. I just feel . . . I feel like I went to visit her to get answers, to find closure, but I never did.”
“You want to go see her?” He gave her an incredulous look.
“That’s stupid, isn’t it?”
He sighed. “My first reaction is to say that yes, it’s stupid. And no, you can’t go. But I want you to have closure.”
Oh, thank God.
