A Child's Wish

“She’s good with the kids, no one’s arguing about that.”

Susan straightened up on the edge of the couch, facing him. “How many times have her predictions turned out to be true?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” he said. “The point is irrelevant. Anyone can guess and be right fifty percent of the time.”

“I’d bet my retirement fund that her percentage is closer to eighty or ninety than fifty.”

He highly doubted it—but he couldn’t prove either of them right without a hell of a lot more work than he had time for. Meredith Foster was stepping outside the boundaries of her position and she could cost both of them their jobs. If she’d wanted to psychoanalyze, she should have gone into psychology.

“What about Amber McDonald?”

“Who?” He opened an eye to glance at Susan. Other than her current choice of topic, she was good company. He was glad she was there.

“That little girl two years ago. She was being sexually abused by a family friend and no one suspected anything until Meredith came forward.”

She was Amber Walker now. Her mother had remarried and moved the child to a different state. Last he’d heard, she’d joined Girl Scouts and was starting to socialize a bit.

“Amber must have told her something,” he said.

“Testimony revealed that she’d been threatened and manipulated so completely that she couldn’t even tell the police, her mother or counselors about it—not even after the guy was arrested.”

He’d forgotten that. It had been a minute detail compared to the anguish everyone—including Mark—had experienced over the incident. That event had branded within him a fierce need to protect his daughter. He’d carefully screened the four teenage girls who were permitted to sit with Kelsey. And at no time, under any circumstances, were these girls to have anyone over when they were in his home. If there was an emergency, the police were to be called. Followed by him.

“Meredith felt it, Mark,” Susan said, her brow creased. “I know it’s hard to grasp, this gift of hers, but that doesn’t make it any less real.”

He stared at her, not sure what to say. He’d suspected that Susan put credence in Meredith Foster’s fantasies, but she’d never before actually come out and said so. They’d managed to avoid conversation on the subject until now.

He respected her right to believe whatever she believed. She just wasn’t going to convince him. It wasn’t logical.

“Has she ever known stuff about you without first being told?” he asked. He was somewhat curious to hear the answer, but he also hoped to show her the hole in her theory. Meredith and Susan had been friends since they were fifteen years old—having met at a church youth function and found common ground in their non-traditional lives.

“All the time.”

Mark’s eyes opened wide at her response. Susan was a medical doctor, for God’s sake. A scientist.

“Ten minutes after Bud died, Meredith was at my door. I was still in shock, hadn’t called anyone yet, and there she was.”

“You said she stopped by often during the last days of your husband’s fight with leukemia.”

“She did. But she always called first to see if Bud was awake. She didn’t want to impinge on what little time we had left together.”

“So maybe she was in the area.”

Susan shook her head. “She knew, Mark. She didn’t knock, she just used the extra key, came in and found me on the bed beside him sobbing….”

Mark’s throat tightened as Susan’s eyes filled with tears. He could see her need to believe—he hurt for the anguish she’d been through, and cared enough to let the rest go.

Pulling her against him he held her while she cried, rubbing her back, wanting to do whatever he could to ease a grief that he understood would be with her always. Three and a half years had passed since Barbie had walked out on him and Kelsey, and the ache still throbbed as intensely as ever during the dark hours.

“THESE ARE BAD MEN.”

Kelsey Shepherd leaned over on the stained couch to whisper to her mother. Two scary-looking old guys had come in from the garage door and they were putting something in the refrigerator. Kelsey thought they were gross.

Dad would kill her if he knew she was there with them.

Smiling, Barbie was shaking her head. “They’re fine,” she whispered back quickly and Kelsey stared at her. Was her mom okay? Even after all these times seeing her, she couldn’t get used to the short, choppy hair and no makeup and sloppy clothes. She remembered her mom being beautiful.

Of course, maybe that was just kid stuff.

“Don, sweetie, come on over and meet Kelsey,” Mom said. She squeezed Kelsey’s hand so hard her fingernails cut into Kelsey. “Kelsey, this is Don.”

The bigger of the two men, the one with the beard that mostly covered his mouth and made it so you couldn’t tell if he was smiling or getting ready to spit, came over, his big boots making a lot of noise on the tile floor, which, as far as Kelsey could tell, covered the whole house.

“Hi there!” he said, rubbing Kelsey’s head. She wanted to jerk away but she was afraid to upset her mom. Her mom wasn’t doing so good today. She was in one of those moods where she could be happy and then all of a sudden cranky.

“Hi,” she finally said, leaning into her mother.

“So your mom here tells me you’re in fourth grade.”

Another squeeze of her hand. “Uh-huh.”

“You like your teacher?”

I’d like it if you’d go away. “She’s okay.”

“You get good grades?”

“Uh-huh.”

Did Mom really live with this guy? When she could have Daddy?

“I’ll bet you have lots of friends, a pretty girl like you.”

Kelsey felt creepy. She wanted to leave.

Her mother’s nails bit into her hand again, reminding Kelsey that she hadn’t answered.

“Uh-huh.” If she didn’t love her mother so much, she’d never come back to this place, for sure. She hoped Mom wouldn’t make her. She liked driving around in the car more—even if it was old and rusty and had ripped seats and a bad smell.

“Cool.” Don smacked his lips, leaned down and gave her mother a wet, messy kiss that lasted so long she could smell that he stank. He slid a finger through the hole in the thigh of her mom’s jeans. Just when Kelsey was going to jump up and leave, Don stood and went out the garage door. Kelsey listened for a car, hoping he was leaving, but there was only quiet.

Mom let go of Kelsey’s hand and gave her a hug and a soft kiss like she used to do at bedtime. Kelsey almost had to wipe it off. She didn’t want any spit from that awful guy on her, anywhere.

“You remember that ‘fluffy puppy’ book we used to read?” her mom asked, like she’d read her mind or something.

“Yeah.” Kelsey still had it.

“Remember how the cover was all stained and torn?”