Page 31 of Wed By the Lumberjack

I grab her into my arms and bury my face in her hair to hide my own tears.

How could this precious angel think that any of this was her fault? Memories of Dixie’s innocent eyes in the treehouse the day I found her haunt me now. Why didn’t I do more? Why did I let it go on for two years? Why was I such a coward that I didn’t call the police myself?

“If you blame yourself then blame me too,” I say.

“Blame you?” she asks quizzically. “For what?”

“For not calling the cops on that piece of shit. Dixie, I should’ve protected you from your abusive father.”

She flinches at the word.

“That’s what he did, peanut. He abused you. Hurt you. And I stood by sharing snacks with you and watching movies and–”

“You were a kid.”

“So were you! So if you blame yourself, blame me too. Say it was my fault.”

She shakes her head furiously. “No. You and your cousins were my saviors in that treehouse. Those movies were my escape. Those snacks and your dad’s cooking you’d bring over every Saturday and Sunday when I couldn’t get a school lunch literally saved me from winding up in the hospital. Heath, you were incredible.”

“So were you.” I tip her chin. “Dixie, the first step to moving forward, is to admit that your father is the only person to blame in all of this. Your father was inherently a horrible person, independent of you or anything you could have possibly done. His true self is not a reflection of you. It’s who he is.”

More understanding slips across her features.

“Say it, peanut. “Say ‘I’m not to blame.’”

“I–” she starts again. “I–” but we’re interrupted by the sound of the tarp moving.

“What the hell are you doing back here at my cabin?”

The man that emerges is so unlike the hulky giant I remember as a kid.

He’s frail, and filthy, with balding spots and a permanent stench of moonshine.

And yet, Dixie stumbles backward. The fear that crosses her features is crippling and heartbreaking.

Stepping in front of her, I say. “Dixie, get back in the truck.”

“Didn’t you do enough? And didn’t I tell you to get!” he snarks. “You don’t fucking understand English now? Should I bark it?”

The asinine barks that emerge from Douglas's throat should be the last thing he ever gets a chance to say. If it weren’t for Dixie, I’d make sure it was his last sound.

“That’s enough!” I roar, earning Douglas’ attention. “Don’t you ever talk to her like that.”

Douglas laughs and stumbles forward. “And who’s this? Is he supposed to scare me? Look here boy, if I had a kennel big enough to fit both of you big bitches I’d drag you down to the cellar and tie you up just like I used to.”

Used to?

I stare back at Dixie, and my heart shatters all over again.

“Starve you again.” He marches forward, and Dixie cowers back.

I don’t know what else he did to her and I don’t want to know. I squeeze Douglas’s throat so damn hard his eyes bulge from the sockets.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Douglas sputters, pulling at my fingers but nothing would make me let go.

“Someone who’s going to knock you the fuck out if you get any closer to her.”

He blinks in the strong sunlight and stumbles.

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