Resolutions – 30
Tearing Down Walls
by MMB
Crystal stood at her bathroom mirror, seeing if she could still remember how to do one of the more complicated braids that she had used to wear when she had been in school. She knew that Doctor Cavendish had mentioned to her, just before she'd left for the day yesterday, that he wanted her back again today to help him finish alphabetizing his files. Oddly enough, she enjoyed working for the elderly psychiatrist — in a way, he reminded her a little bit of Sydney. Even better, he KNEW Sydney and wasn't averse to spinning tales about him for her while she worked.
In the background, she could hear the little radio that sat on top of the bookcase in the living room spitting out the major news stories for the day. She had surprised herself the day before and found that listening to the news while she got ready to work had been a good way to relax — not to mention a way for her to catch up with the events in a world she'd been unaware of since leaving home.
At last! She pulled the rest of her long hair over her shoulder and braided it nearly to the end with quick and practiced fingers, then twisted the band around it several times to hold it. She tossed the finished product back over her shoulder and exited the bathroom, listening absently for a moment, and then blinking at what she was hearing:
"…FBI announced this morning that they had taken three US Senators into custody on a variety of charges including conspiracy to commit murder. Montana Senator George Canfield, Florida Senator Harold Burns and Vermont Senator Tom Jackson were arrested yesterday evening following an extensive investigation of evidence that allegedly links these three men to the military conspiracy that resulted in the arrests of nearly thirty military officers and civilians almost a week ago. An unnamed Senate spokesman confirmed that all three are being held in federal detention, pending a hearing…"
Crystal reached behind her for the wooden arm of the futon couch that was the closest form of support and leaned hard. Arrested! It seemed barely possible. She had been so certain that he would have been able to continue to get away with his actions — that his well-placed and supportive friends would be able to smooth away any inconvenient allegations. For the first time in a very long time, she spared a thought for her mother, the one person who had probably seen more of her father's fist than she had. Was she even still alive? She'd been out of touch with the news for so long now…
The knock at her door brought her out of her stupor. She grabbed up her purse and, after opening it quickly to make sure she had her key safely stowed, made another grab for the foil-wrapped sandwich that would be her lunch for the day. Then she opened the door to see Xing-Li waiting patiently for her. "Sorry I kept you waiting," she murmured softly, not trusting her voice as yet.
"Are you OK?" her Chinese friend asked at the sight of a face that was pale beneath its assorted bruises that had yet to truly begin to fade away.
"Yeah, sure," Crystal answered, stomping down the wish she could just lean on her friend's shoulder and cry out her relief and worries. "Why?"
Xing-Li's hand found Crystal's arm before she could push past her friend. "I mean it," she said earnestly. "You look as if you're ill."
Crystal shook her head. "Just heard something on the news that stirred up some old and unpleasant memories, that's all," she explained, trying to lighten her voice. "Nothing to worry about." She started down the stairs, then turned back to her friend halfway down. "Honest, Xing-Li. I'm OK."
Xing-Li was by no means convinced, but could see that her young friend wasn't in the mood to be open about what was bothering her. Maybe a call to Mei-Chiang later that morning could get a message to someone who might have more luck — Sydney, perhaps…
Lawler sat back in his office chair and sipped at his tepid coffee slowly. Unable to sleep for more than just a few hours after his eventful afternoon and long drive home, he had come into the newspaper while it was still dark out. There, he had disemboweled his bulging briefcase and had begun slowly reading through the additional documentation that Miss Parker had provided for him in answer to his questions. He'd worked his way through a goodly portion of it by the time the sun was peeking over the rooftops outside his office window, and as promised, everything that she or Jarod had told him had been borne out by the documentation. The monsters at the Centre – the ones responsible for initiating and running the really mind-boggling projects that would trouble any reasonable person -- had been the previous administrations, and not the present.
In and amongst the documentation was proof of the drastic turn-around that Miss Parker had initiated — emails and interdepartmental memos signaling a shift in priorities and procedure that directly contradicted much of what the Centre had stood for in years past. When put together with Whisper Man's documents, the insinuations of responsibility and wrong-doing that his informant had tried to burden Miss Parker with simply didn't hold up to scrutiny.
The Centre's financial cushion had amounted into the billions of dollars when she had inherited the control, and Miss Parker had emptied a good many of those deep coffers to buy her way out of contracts with organizations that no legitimate business would normally deal with in the first place. The Centre still wielded a great deal of power and influence courtesy of its previous ties, and it was by no means financially strapped for cash. But after meeting the people at the head of it now, Lawler doubted that the power and influence or money the Centre still possessed would be used any longer to intimidate or bribe to any extent greater than any other multinational corporation.
"Hey, David — you're in already?" Hitchens paused on his way through the maze of desks to his office in surprise. "Where the hell did you disappear to yesterday, anyway? My telephone started ringing about eleven o'clock…"
"I drove to Blue Cove and talked to the Chairman of the Centre," Lawler announced as he continued to stare at his blank word processor screen. "I got the answers to my questions."
Hitchens nearly dropped his cardboard coffee cup from Starbucks. "Say what?"
"AND I talked to that genius all those documents referred to, that Pretender fellow — Jarod. Get this: he's there at the Centre again, working FOR Miss Parker of his own free will and getting ready to marry her." Lawler looked up into the stunned and troubled face of his editor. "Whisper Man was using me to get to her, Carroll," he admitted with all the pent frustration that had accumulated during the long drive home. "The stuff he gave me — that was only one half the story, deliberately trimmed to make the Centre and Miss Parker look as guilty as sin. The Centre IS guilty — even she admits that – but she isn't guilty of anything more than working for them when the worst of it was going on and not being in any position to stop it."
Hitchens propped his backside against the desk at Lawler's side. "So what are you going to do?"
"I'm gonna write an article in which I answer all the questions that I posed in the last one — and I'm gonna explain exactly who I talked to and what all they had to say." He glanced up into his editor's face. "And then I'm going to do some digging and find out just exactly who this Whisper Man is that tried to set me up like that. I don't appreciate being used like that."
Hitchens heisted his backside off the desk. "Let me see what you have when you're finished," he called back over his shoulder. "It ought to make for some pretty interesting reading."
"That's for damned sure," Lawler answered distractedly as he laced his fingers together, then stretched his joined hand out backwards to crack the knuckles into limberness. Then he sat quietly for a moment, letting his mind stretch into a place where the words could come easily to him before reaching for the keyboard of his terminal and starting to type.
"How soon oo go 'kool, Davy?" Ginger asked with her mouth half-full of cereal.
"You, Sprite. If you want to go to school, you're going to have to talk right too, you know," Davy corrected her yet again.
"How soon YOU go 'kool, Davy?" she said again, a little more carefully.
Miss Parker saw the faintest of hints of impatience flash through the dark eyes of her new daughter before the girl corrected herself. Amused, she glanced up to see if Jarod had seen it. He hadn't — he had his nose buried in his coffee cup. Davy hadn't seen it either — although if Ginger turned out to have any kind of a temper, Miss Parker was certain that the constant correction would be part of what wore out the rose colored glasses of adoration through which Ginger viewed her big brother at the moment. Then again, Ginger was using the correct form now almost as often as her baby-talk, so maybe the corrections would fade away before the patience did.
"In just a few minutes," Davy answered his little sister and then picked up his bowl and drank the rest of the milk quickly in a move that made Miss Parker gape.
"David Thomas Parker! You know better than that!"
Ginger giggled while Davy shot his mother a quick and guilty look before slipping from his chair and carrying his dishes to the sink to rinse. Jarod was the one casting brief glances at Miss Parker's disgusted face this time. "You're just going to have to learn that you can't behave like an uncivilized male when your Mom's around," he sympathized with his son. "Just don't let her catch you drinking out of the milk carton – that will definitely get you in deep trouble!" Jarod then ducked with a cackle and a smirk when Miss Parker's open hand swung at the top of his head slowly enough that it was doomed to miss.
She immediately wished she could take the gesture back, however, when she caught the new expression in Ginger's eyes that had arisen in the last few seconds. Her little girl was once more gazing at her with that stomach-twisting mixture of fear and distrust that Miss Parker had hoped she'd seen the last of. "It was just a playful swat, Sprite — Mommy and Daddy were playing," she tried to explain, then sighed. Damn.
"She's right, Sprite," Jarod put his coffee cup down and joined his voice with hers when he finally looked over at Ginger and saw what Miss Parker had seen. "Mommies and Daddies sometimes play that way. She wasn't going to hurt me."
"I'm gone," Davy announced, grabbing up his backpack and lunch without seeing the drama developing at the kitchen table. "See you later, Sprite. You get to work with Grandpa today, don't you?"
"Uh-huh… Bye, Davy…" Ginger answered him absently, her mind still half-frozen by the aggressive move She had made toward Daddy. How many times had she seen that very same gesture aimed at herself or someone else — and how many times had she known the pain of having the swat connect.
The back screen door of the house slammed, and the sound galvanized Miss Parker into motion. She rose and walked around the corner of the table to be next to Ginger when she bent down to put herself at her daughter's eye level. "I'm sorry, baby," she said gently and reached out for the girl, only to stop when Ginger flinched badly. "I would never hurt you or Daddy," Miss Parker told the child sadly. "Your Daddy and I have played that way for so long, I just forgot…"
"Ginger…" Jarod started, then stopped when the little girl slid away from Miss Parker and ran to him to cling fearfully. He cast an apologetic look in Miss Parker's direction and bent to pull the child up into his arms, whereupon she burrowed in as close to him as she possibly could and hid her face against his neck and beard. Silently he gestured for Miss Parker to take a seat in Ginger's chair and listen. Nodding, she slipped into the chair and waited.
"I know that what you just saw probably looked scary, didn't it?" Jarod asked Ginger gently, earning himself a vehement nod against him. "You've seen that happen before, and bad things happened afterwards, didn't they?" Again the little girl nodded.
Miss Parker found her eyes pulled to where the round scars of repeated cigarette burns just barely showed on the girl's arm near the hem of her tee shirt sleeves. How could she forget so soon that this child had been horribly abused and mistreated? She bit her lip and berated herself bitterly for having in a careless instant shattered trust that had taken weeks to germinate and begin to sprout.
"But I though you liked Mommy," Jarod was continuing. "She fixed Bear for you, didn't she?" The answering nod was a little slower in coming, but it did happen. "Has Mommy ever hurt you, sweetheart?" Ginger twisted her head so that she could turn wary and distrustful eyes on Her again before she shook her head. No, She hadn't ever hurt her. Not yet, anyway… "Didn't she give you all sorts of pretty things when you got here — a bed with a canopy, like a princess?" Again she nodded. "Then what is it? Why are you afraid of her now?"
Ginger struggled with herself, trying to find the words to explain. "All mommies hurt," she managed finally. "They preten' be nice for while, then a of a sudden…" She tucked her nose back in her father's beard. "Me no wan' a mommy, Daddy."
Miss Parker caught her breath back and, after shooting a shocked and agonized look at Jarod, rose quickly and walked away from the table and toward the front of the house. She had to get away from the little girl who didn't want her, realizing in the same instant that she now wanted very much to win that girl's love and trust. She had accepted Ginger as a daughter – and had hoped that Ginger had started to accept her as a mother as well. From the looks of things now, it was right back to square one.
"Sprite, we live here with Mommy now," Jarod told his daughter as he rose to his feet with her in his arms. "Daddy loves Mommy, just like I love Davy. They're my family, and they're your family now too. I know you weren't expecting her to play with me like that, but I promise you that she would never hurt you — ever. I know that what she just did was really scary to you, but you need to give her another chance — for me. Please, Sprite?"
Ginger gave a deep sigh and pressed herself further into her father's arms. Daddy loves Mommy, he had said, they were family. She was going to have a Mommy one way or another, whether she wanted one or not.
"Missy, wait," Jarod called out, not having heard the front door close yet and knowing that she was probably shoving papers into her briefcase as fast as she could. He walked through the house until he found her, snapping the lid of her briefcase closed. "Missy, wait," he said again, catching her attention. "Ginger, can you give her another chance?" he asked the little girl in his arms again, this time letting her slip in his embrace just enough that she couldn't hide her face in his neck any longer.
"Jarod, don't force her," Miss Parker said with a shake of the head. "I frightened her, and I can understand entirely. It isn't like I didn't go through something similar," she told him with a knowing look in her eyes that kept him quiet. She turned her attention to the little girl who watched her like a hawk, ready to flinch again at the slightest movement seen as threatening. "I had a Daddy who hit me too, Sprite — not your Grandpa, but my real father — and I can remember being afraid of him sometimes too, just like you're afraid of me right now. I'm so sorry I frightened you, and I'll try very hard not to do that again. I wish I could show you that not all mommies hurt, baby, but I understand why you think that way."
She looked back up into Jarod's face. "Put her down, Jarod. She needs to know that it's safe for her to BE scared of me and have her fear respected. You need to not try to force her to resolve this right away." She could tell he wanted to make it all better — not that she blamed him. "This is something that Sprite and I will have to work out between us, Jarod — this isn't helping, honest. Let her go."
Jarod looked into Ginger's face and found it no less wary or distrustful than before, and he let the girl slip down slowly until she was on her own feet again. "Sprite, please…" he asked again, pleadingly.
"Go on," Miss Parker nodded to her fearful daughter. "You don't have to."
Ginger merely stayed where she was, with her back firmly pressed against her father's legs, watching closely what was going on. She wasn't behaving like those other mommies, trying to reach out and grab her and drag her closer so they could hurt her again. Had that hand swinging at Daddy just been in play, like both of them said?
"Sprite, have I ever lied to you?" Jarod refused to give in and bent slightly to look at the girl's face.
Ginger shifted her glance to his face and then shook her head. No, Daddy had never lied to her.
"Then trust me now. Mommy will not hurt you — she loves you. We were just playing. She would never hurt me either. Do you honestly believe that I would have brought you back to live with someone I thought would hurt you again?"
Ginger returned her gaze back to Her, a little of the fear set aside with her father's assurance but wary still.
"I'll see you later, Jarod," Miss Parker bent forward and kissed his cheek without moving any closer to him so as not to frighten Ginger any further. "I'll see you later too, Sprite. You have a good day with your Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa." The dark eyes watched Her somberly and distrustfully as She took up her briefcase and with the slightest of pauses to gather her wits and control her emotions, She opened the front door and walked away. Then Ginger looked back up into her father's face, only to find his expression one of disappointment as he looked at the closed door.
Daddy's disappointment and the idea that its presence was all her fault was the one thing she wasn't ready for, and Ginger caught back a sob of her own and took off at a run for the stairs and her bedroom. She pushed rather blindly past her grandmother, coming sleepily down the stairs, and closed herself in her room with a slam of her bedroom door.
"What's going on here?" Margaret demanded in a suddenly more awake voice, turning from following Ginger's retreat with her eyes to gaze down at her son at a base of the stairs.
Jarod sighed. This was the last thing any of them needed right now…
Deb stirred, then smiled as she came awake and found Kevin's arms around her once more the way she'd dreamed of having them. His breath was soft against the back of her neck beneath her braid, and his arms held her in close to his warmth. She relaxed back into her pillow and lay very still, soaking up the experience and appreciating it all the more for having had to do without it.
She'd had her nightmare, as predictable as always — and this time Kevin had been right there to help her pull free from the hold of the dream and then held her as she trembled and quietly mourned for a maybe-child that would never be. When she admitted the substance of her nightmare, he had just held her that much more closely. He too had been very subdued by the idea that they would never know if there would have been a child. He had been supportive of her decision, once he'd heard the reasons and had his own feelings about things aired, but still…
Their evening after their long walk and discussion had been spent quietly moving her belongings from Sydney's room into Kevin's after discovering that the older man had put himself to bed and fallen asleep quiet early on. Then Kevin had gone outside into the back yard to practice kata with Ikeda, with Deb watching from the side appreciatively. The intricate dance-like exercise routine was calming to her, even when Ikeda added yet another step or two into it.
Behind her, Kevin took a deep breath and then stirred slightly, rousing as he felt the weight on his arms. He tightened his arms around her gently, then smiled to himself when he felt her put her arms on top of his and hold him back. "Hey," he murmured in a sleepy slur.
"Hey," she slurred back at him.
"I could get very used to this," he told her and then dropped a delicate kiss on the back of her neck.
"Mmmmm… I intend to get very used to this," she replied, shivering at the light touch. "Of course, it means I'm just that more likely to want to sleep in late…"
"I don't think so," Kevin chuckled in a low and mischievous voice. He rolled just enough so that he could see the numbers on his alarm clock. "It's eight already — I'll bet you Sydney's already up, and Jarod will be over within an hour."
Deb sighed. "Can't I just enjoy being with you again for a little while before we have to get up and face the day?"
"Feeling lazy today?"
"Uh-uhn," she replied, rolling until she was facing him within the circle of his arms. "Just contented and not really ambitious yet." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, you know…"
"I love you too." Kevin relented a little and cradled her gently in his arms. It wasn't such a bad idea after all, just lying her and enjoying being with her again with no restrictions, no barriers between them. "I don't know what I ever did without you."
Deb laid her head against Kevin's chest and smoothed her hand down his ribs. "I just have to figure out how to tell my dad about us… about how it is with us now… and then I'll feel like I can be completely happy."
"You'll figure it out," he reminded her and kissed her forehead. "And I'll be right there with you."
"Are you sure?" She held her breath — this self-assurance in the face of potential anger was new. Miss Parker had offered to go in with her and help her tell her father of the developments in her life, but Kevin…
He nodded. "I'm sure. Everybody knows except your dad — and I'm going to have to face him sooner or later. When are you going to tell him?"
"He gets his cast off today," she mused in response. "Depending on how well that goes, and whether or not he shows any signs that he's going to walk again, tomorrow, maybe — or when I take Grandpa in on Thursday again for therapy."
"The sooner, the better," he replied and hugged her closely. "C'mon now. We'd better get up before Jarod gets here — I'd like to be at least dressed when we start getting visitors today."
Deb groaned but let Kevin push her into a sitting position. "Slave driver," she called jokingly over her shoulder.
Margaret knocked on the door to Ginger's room softly. "Sprite? Can I come in?"
There was no answer, so she pushed the door open and peeked her head inside. Ginger was sitting on her bed amidst the tumbled covers, clutching Bear to her and rocking back and forth just a little. "Can I come in?" Margaret asked again when she saw that the dark eyes had noted her intrusion. Ginger nodded slowly, and Margaret stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her.
"Your Daddy told me what happened," Margaret told her as she walked slowly over to the bed and then sat down very cautiously on the edge of the mattress. "I thought you weren't afraid of your Mommy anymore."
The dark eyes gazed into at her grandmother for a long time without speaking or moving, and then looked down and picked at a small tuft of fuzz on Bear's chest. It was hard to explain why, even after Daddy's reassurances and even Her subdued reaction, she was still feeling the way she was. What was more, if Gamma was in here talking to her, she must be in trouble for running away after all. A tear began running down a cheek. "Me sorry, Gamma," she managed finally in a very soft voice.
"Now, now," her grandmother said gently and reached out to her. "You just come here and sit with me and tell me what you think you need to be sorry about."
Ginger thought for a moment and then slowly unfolded her body to crawl into her grandmother's lap and let herself be pulled close. "Me make Daddy feel bad," she explained with a sniffle.
"How did you do that?" Margaret asked kindly. Jarod had been afraid of this kind of reaction and the subsequent withdrawal that could follow. He had reminded his mother of the near catatonic state he'd found the girl in when he'd brought her home with him from the shelter, worrying that this episode could trigger another extreme response like that. At least the girl was talking to her, she thought gratefully, and maybe she could help the situation a little.
Ginger pressed hard against her Gamma's chest and felt the safety of the arms around her. Here, at least, was someone other than Bear to whom she could confide all her secrets. "Me tell Him me not wanna have a mommy," she replied. "But Him say Him love Her, so me gonna have a mommy anyway…"
"Why don't you want a mommy, Sprite?"
Finally the dark eyes looked up, and they were nearly unreadable through the pain and fear that floated behind them. "Me tell Him a'ready, Gamma – me say Him mommies hurt. They make preten' be nice for while, and then…"
Margaret's heart went out to a child for whom the one person she should be able to go to for comfort and security had been rendered into a monster. "All mommies are like this?" she asked gently, working hard to keep her voice even and unaffected.
Ginger nodded. "Me have t'ree mommies – all them hurt me bad. Me no wanna have 'nuther mommy hurt me 'gain."
"I know about these," Margaret began, touching the girl's arm on one of the little round scars from the cigarette burns, "and I know about what the last mommy you had did to you before your Daddy came for you. And you told me once about the Big Man you said used to come into your room – but how did that mommy hurt you?"
"Me try tell her 'bout Big Man come my room, only her not wanna listen. Her…" Ginger's open hand whipped out in a vicious slapping motion.
"And you saw your Mommy do something like that to Daddy this morning," Margaret mused aloud, now understanding more fully, and Ginger nodded to confirm her theory. "Did you ever tell either Daddy or Mommy about what this mommy did to you?"
The little girl thought for a moment and then shook her head. "Me scared, Gamma," she said then, raising frightened eyes. "Maybe Daddy not wanna have a Sprite no more…"
"No!" Margaret said emphatically and held the girl tightly. "Your Daddy loves you more than he loves just about anybody except your Mommy and Davy – he's not going to want to push you away. He wants to help you, you and Mommy…"
"Her walk 'way too," Ginger told her grandmother soberly. "Her not wanna have little girl no more eaver."
"I don't think so," Margaret shook her head and then kissed her granddaughter's forehead. "You told your Daddy that you didn't want a mommy – I think maybe you made her very sad to hear that, but I bet she still wants you."
"Me scareda Her, Gamma," Ginger admitted.
"Have you ever really talked to her?" Margaret asked gently. "Have you ever talked to her the way you and I are talking now?"
"Her not wanna…"
"You don't know that, Sprite," Margaret reasoned with her. "Has she ever said she doesn't want to talk to you?"
"No… but…"
"Sweetheart, did you ever think that maybe your Mommy is scared of you too – scared of frightening you, scared that you'll never learn to love her as much as she loves you?" Margaret didn't stop to wonder at her defense of a woman she'd despised for years as she struggled to get a little girl to give her adoptive mother the benefit of the doubt. This was her son's family she was defending. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe she doesn't know how to show you how much she loves you without scaring you?"
That was a thought that had never occurred to the child. "Her? Scareda ME?"
"Mmm-hmm," Margaret nodded. "And there's something else that I think you need to know." Ginger's dark eyes were wide and obviously paying close attention to her. "You say ALL mommies hurt?" The child nodded. "But I'M a mommy, Sprite – I'm your Daddy's Mommy, because that's what makes me your Grandma. Have I hurt you too, then?"
That thought stunned the little girl. Gamma was right – she WAS Daddy's Mommy. And here was a mommy who HADN'T hurt her – ever. Next to Daddy, Gamma was the one person who made her feel safe in the world and the only person who knew her secrets other than Bear — and he didn't count.
Margaret could see the impression her little bombshell had made and decided to press the lesson home. "So can you tell me that ALL mommies hurt you? Really?"
"But you a Gamma…" Ginger struggled with the concept.
"A Grandma doesn't get to be a Grandma without being a mommy first," Margaret insisted.
Ginger clutched Bear to her as the idea began to penetrate. "NOT all mommies hurt?" she finally asked in a very small and insecure voice.
"Sweetheart, MOST mommies DON'T hurt their little girls," Margaret told her emotionally, stroking her hair and holding her close. "Most mommies take very good care of their little girls and protect them from the bad people who would hurt them. You've just had the most horrible luck in finding three mommies who were different and did hurt you – but now you have a good one that would take care of you just like your Daddy does. She loves you, Sprite. I know it's hard to believe, with everything you've had happen to you before, but I think you need to give her another chance."
"Her not hit Daddy hurt him?" Ginger had to ask. That was, after all, the thing that had made her question Her intentions again…
"No," Gamma answered with a slight smile. "Sometimes when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much, they play rough-house. I think that's what your Mommy was doing, because she and your Daddy were best of friends when they were little kids and have always played together like that."
It HAD been play, then, just as She had said and just as Daddy had said. Ginger thought through the events of the morning and found her mind catching on the expression on Her face when she had told Daddy that she didn't want a mommy. If Gamma was right, She loved her – and to hear that must have hurt Her a lot. The dark eyes began filling again. "Me sorry, Gamma," Ginger said even more sadly, with a lower lip that trembled.
"Sorry about what, Sprite?"
"Me make Her feel bad." The more she thought about it, the worse Ginger felt. She knew very well how it felt to want to love someone and only get pushed away or hurt in the process – and here and she'd done it to someone else. "Me not mean it," she whimpered finally and pushed her face into her grandmother's blouse.
"I know, sweetheart," Margaret cuddled her miserable little granddaughter. "But I'm not the one you need to be talking to. You need to tell that to Mommy, don't you?"
"Her gone now," Ginger cried with a choked sob. "All my fault…"
"She's just gone to work, Sprite," Margaret soothed her with voice and gentle hands. "She'll be home tonight again – you can talk to her then, OK?" She waited, but then knew that she wouldn't be getting an answered anytime soon, for Ginger was crying softly. Was it possible the child was crying for her new mother? "You want to talk to her before that?" Ginger nodded against her blouse without her sobs diminishing at all. "Hush then – don't cry anymore – and I'll see what I can do to bring her home for lunch."
"Really?" Ginger pushed herself away to stare up into her grandmother's face in wonder.
"Let's go downstairs and call her and see if we can reach her at work, shall we?" Margaret wiped at the tears that were still streaming onto the small cheeks.
"'Kay," Ginger wiped at her face with Bear's soft head and felt her grandmother put her on her feet and then place a hand on her shoulder. "Where Daddy? Him gone too?"
"He's gone over to talk to Grandpa for a while – he'll be back after a bit."
Ginger swallowed and nodded. She needed to tell Daddy that she was sorry too. She'd do almost anything to wipe away the expression of sadness and disappointment that had been all her fault. Maybe he wouldn't stop loving her then…
Sydney's sharp eyes could tell that something had happened. Jarod's chocolate eyes didn't have that animated sparkle that they had ever since he'd come home to stay. "What is it?" he asked as his former protégé made the final adjustments to the CPM therapy machine controls before turning them on.
"Nothing major," Jarod sighed and pressed the On button to begin the morning's therapy session. "Missy and I were goofing around and spooked Ginger – and now she won't have anything to do with Missy again."
Sydney lay back into his pillows. "You knew there would be occasional setbacks, Jarod," he counseled with the tone of a university professor. "Ginger, from what you've told me, was very seriously damaged long before she came into your care. She's made good and steady progress until now – and she probably will again, since much of what she needed was a sense of security and a loving environment. However, do you know how she was spooked? What happened?"
Jarod nodded. "Miss and I were rough-housing a little – I think it sparked a very unhappy memory for her." He glanced at the older man. "Seems that a lot of bad memories have been triggered lately around here," he commented, grateful for the opening to steer the conversation away from Ginger and Missy and back to the subject at hand. "Speaking of which, did you get a chance to think about what we talked about yesterday?"
"I've thought about it, yes," Sydney admitted. "But thinking about it and accepting it as the truth are two entirely different things."
Jarod nodded. He'd been afraid that Sydney wouldn't make this process any easier. He'd have to try another tack. "Missy told me that you had that long talk with my mother that she came here to have with you."
"Yes."
"Well?"
Sydney looked away. "Your mother is a remarkable woman, Jarod…"
"That much I knew already. Tell me something I don't know."
"She told me she was willing to share you with me." Sydney smiled at the recollection. "I still don't completely understand how she got from hating me to that point…"
"Don't you?"
Sydney glanced at Jarod guiltily and then looked away again.
"What all did she ask you?"
"About what you were like growing up – about what it was that happened to you when you were still in the Centre under my care…"
"How much of that did you tell her?" Jarod was concerned, although his mother hadn't acted all that distressed when he'd seen her yesterday evening. She'd asked him several times over the years to tell her what he'd been through, and he'd managed to avoid upsetting her by not letting her know just how difficult his life had been. He could only hope Sydney had protected her for much the same reason.
"She wanted to know about the process – and when she asked for specifics, I told her that no good would be served to drag that up again. I did tell her how some of the worst of it came about, however… how they'd wait until I was gone…"
Jarod nodded and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Sydney had told her nothing but the unvarnished truth, and yet told her enough to satisfy her. Evidently unvarnished truth was enough to disarm a great deal of animosity from a number of quarters. "What else?"
"She asked about Nicholas."
"I'm not surprised." Jarod nodded. "She wanted to understand you – and I wanted her to see that you would understand HER better than she expected." Sydney nodded slightly and gazed up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "And you still don't understand why she doesn't still hate you?"
"I hate me, Jarod. I detest knowing that I was so complacent, so smug in my scientific bubble…"
"Stop it."
Sydney blinked and looked over at his protégé. "I was those things, Jarod," he insisted quietly. "I may have changed later, but I WAS those things at first. And now to find out that I was nothing more than another manipulated creature of the Centre, TAUGHT to be that way in order to inflict pain on another…"
"But you aren't those things now, Sydney," Jarod told his former mentor very firmly, "and you haven't been for a very long time. "When the truth began to come out, you stayed anything but smug or complacent."
"That doesn't make a difference…"
"Of course it does!" Jarod leaned forward from his seat on the coffee table. "You cannot expect yourself to be anything but human, Sydney. Humans make mistakes – sometimes huge and nasty ones – but the only time a human deserves to be condemned for BEING human is when he or she refuses to LEARN from those mistakes. I think it's pretty obvious that you did learn from yours."
Sydney gave him a frustrated glance. "You're just trying to make me feel better."
"No, I'm not! Look, I had to find a way to forgive myself for all of the knowledge that I used at the Centre's behest that ended up being used to hurt others. And to do that, I had to look at ALL the circumstances involved — and to do so honestly, without the emotional filters that only gave me pain. The fact is that I DIDN'T know how the information was being used, or else I was deliberately lied to and told by the Centre, through you, that it would only be used to help. Once I found out the truth, I changed the situation – I learned from my mistakes and took steps to remedy the problem to the extent that I could. I took a good look at myself and decided that I am not fundamentally a bad person. Neither are you, if you took the time to look at yourself objectively."
"But…" Sydney began softly.
"No — no more 'buts.' It's time to forgive yourself, Sydney," Jarod urged gently. "I forgave you a long time ago, when I finally forgave myself. It was the good man within you that kept all those mementos of me because you had cared more than you should have. It was the good man within you that never REALLY completely cooperated in the search effort for me – both of those things were steps you took to remedy the problem to the extent you could. What was done in the past is past, Sydney. I've made peace with it, knowing that had I not lived through it, I wouldn't be the person I am now. You need to do the same. This constant self-castigation for deeds long past doesn't accomplish anything. Let it go once and for all."
"I've tried," the older man admitted, his face falling. "I haven't been able to."
"Then I want you to do something for me," Jarod said, sitting up straight again.
"What?"
"Before you start to shave in the morning, I want you to look yourself in the face in the mirror and tell yourself that you are a good person who deserves to be forgiven. I want you to look yourself in the eye and don't look away for a while." Jarod could see the idea wasn't a comfortable one. "Can you do that for me?"
"Simple affirmations?" Sydney was astounded.
"Stop psychoanalyzing your own therapy, and physician heal thyself," Jarod tossed back. "The reason so many use affirmations is because they actually do work. If my assurances that I've forgiven you won't convince you, maybe the time has come to let you convince yourself. Will you try? Please?"
Sydney closed his eyes. He had nothing to lose except maybe this sense of being damned for all eternity. "I'll try," he promised, not sure how he'd be able to do as asked but determined to at least give Jarod's advice a try. "I'll try."
"That's all I can ask at this point," Jarod nodded in satisfaction and then rose. "Now, I need to get back home and see if I can talk to my little girl."
"Good luck," Sydney wished him earnestly. "And if things start to settle down, you can tell Maggie to bring her over about two or three this afternoon, and I'll see about testing where her academics were ended so I'll know where to start her tutoring. Maybe I can get her to talk to me about what happened."
"I'll do that." Jarod put a comforting hand on Sydney's shoulder. "And thanks. I'll see you then."
"Thank you," Sydney said softly, putting a hand over Jarod's. Having his protégé's forgiveness had made his burden lighter — as he'd known it would. Jarod was right, maybe the time had come for him to forgive himself now that Jarod himself no longer held him to blame.
Jarod simply smiled and patted Sydney's shoulder. The chestnut eyes weren't quite so troubled today as they had been before. Perhaps, at last, he'd made a dent in his mentor's guilt complex. Only time would tell.
The intercom buzzed, interrupting Miss Parker's study of a new research project prospectus. "Yes?"
"Maggie Russell is on line one for you, Miss Parker," Mei-Chiang announced in a voice that clearly communicated her worry.
"Thank you," Miss Parker clicked off the intercom and reached for the phone. "Maggie? What's the matter? Is something wrong with Sprite? Is she OK?" she demanded.
"Relax, she's fine," Margaret reassured her future daughter-in-law. "But she wants very much to talk to you — and I told her I'd see if I could convince you to come home on your lunch break."
Miss Parker let go a sigh of relief and rested her forehead in her hand. "Maggie, she didn't exactly want anything to do with me when I left," she told the older woman tiredly. "As a matter of fact, she was scared spitless of me and wouldn't let me near her."
"I know. Jarod told me what happened — but I've just spent the last few minutes talking to her, and she does want to talk to you now. And I think it might be a good idea for you to come home and hear what she has to say." Margaret looked down into the anxious dark eyes staring up at her. "Please. This is very important, or I wouldn't be bothering you at work to ask."
Miss Parker looked up at the clock on her wall and then down at the prospectus. "Are you sure she actually wants to see me?"
"Very," Margaret tried to put her most influential tone of voice forward. "In fact, I'm fairly sure that she'll be a basket case if she has to wait until evening — at which time, I don't know if you'd be able to get anything out of her. Missy," she dropped her voice to a very intimate tone, "she needs you here — not for very long, but as soon as possible."
"What does Jarod say?"
"He doesn't know about this yet. He went over to talk to Sydney a while back and hasn't returned yet."
Miss Parker looked at the clock once more and sighed. "I have meetings all afternoon that I really can't miss out on, but I was just reading up on a contract… Let me grab my purse and tell Mei that I'm out of the office for the rest of the morning and I'll be home as soon as I can."
"You'll be glad you did," Margaret assured her, looking down into eager eyes and nodding. "We'll be waiting for you."
Miss Parker hung up the phone and closed the folder over the pending project prospectus. She reached into a bottom drawer for her purse and then rose to head out the door. "If anybody needs me, I'm out for the rest of the morning," she announced to her secretary.
"Is the little girl all right?" Mei-Chiang asked with her eyes filled with concern.
"I think so — but I need to go home for a little while," Miss Parker replied. "Hold down the fort for me while I'm gone, and just take messages. I don't want to be disturbed. I'll be back in time for my afternoon meetings, I promise."
"Yes, ma'am." Whatever was going on, Mei-Chiang knew it must have been important, for her boss' face was a study in determination.
Miss Parker drove the quiet seaside road from the Centre to Blue Cove in a thoroughly distracted state. Maggie had said that Ginger wanted to talk to her — but Ginger DIDN'T talk to her hardly at all, unless it was absolutely necessary. The few hugs she'd had from the girl had been almost reluctant ones; and on Sunday, Ginger had not felt safer after Sydney had called out and she had come in answer. Their relationship had come to a complete standstill in limbo. She'd been at a loss as to how to break the impasse, and then this morning, had broken it in the worst possible way…
She nosed her comfortable sedan into its customary spot in the driveway and walked briskly up the sidewalk to the front door. She pushed the door open and looked around inside as she shut the door behind her with a practiced heel. "Anybody here?"
"She's upstairs." Margaret was already half down the stairs at the sound of the car in the driveway. "She's in her room, waiting."
"Maggie…"
"Go on," Margaret urged, putting her hands out to take purse and car keys from her. "I'll waylay Jarod when he gets home so that you two aren't interrupted before you're ready." When Miss Parker looked past her up the stairs, Margaret knew she'd described the woman to her granddaughter properly. Missy WAS scared —scared to death of losing the battle for her new daughter's affections. That she had come home immediately told of just how much that battle meant to her. Missy needed encouragement too. "Just give her a chance to say what she needs to say — and try to talk to her. She'll need some help to do that."
Miss Parker nodded and started up the stairs. She stood for a long moment before the closed bedroom door before knocking and then pushing the door open so that she could look in. "May I come in?" she asked the little girl sitting Indian-style, folded into a tight little knot with her back against her headboard and with her teddy bear clasped tightly to her chest. She could feel the pressure of the dark and wary gaze as she crossed the room and sat down very carefully and precariously on the edge of the bed, folding her hands primly in her lap. "Grandma said you wanted to talk to me," she began quietly.
Ginger nodded again and swallowed hard. "Me sorry," she said in a small voice. "Me not mean make oo feel bad."
"It's OK," Miss Parker replied in surprise. "I frighten you in the best of times, and then I did something stupid that scared you even more. You didn't make me feel bad so much as I made myself feel bad for scaring you. You didn't have to call me home to apologize, baby. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Me say bad t'ing…" Ginger tried again. "Me say all mommies hurt, and don't wanna mommy. Make oo feel bad." She chanced a quick glance into Her face, then looked back down again at the top of Bear's head. "Me not mean it."
"Yes, you did — but I don't blame you," Miss Parker answered. "I understand. I told you, my real Daddy hit me too and made me scared. I spent a long time wishing I had another Daddy before your Grandpa took his place."
Ginger frowned at her inability to get Her to admit that she'd been wrong to say the things she'd said — and at the complete lack of animosity. Most mommies would have been furious by now… She caught herself. Gamma said most mommies WEREN'T like that. Maybe this strange and gentle sadness was just more proof that Gamma was right. "Gamma say mos' mommies not hurt, that me jus' gots bad luck." Her grey eyes wore a startled expression, and She had nothing to say to that. "Gamma telled me hers a mommy too, and her not hurt me — so maybe real not all mommies hurt." The dark eyes peered into the grey eyes imploringly, pleading silently to be understood.
"Grandma's right, not all mommies hurt," Miss Parker reinforced, struggling to maintain her composure. "Most don't."
"Why some mommies do hurt then?"
The question took Miss Parker utterly aback. "I honestly don't know, baby," she answered truthfully. "Some people just don't know how not to do bad things, I guess."
"You had good mommy?"
Miss Parker smiled in remembrance. "Yes, Sprite, I had a wonderful mommy."
"What like have good mommy?"
God, what a question, Miss Parker thought to herself, to wonder what it would be like to have a mother who didn't abuse. She blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. "She was a very special person, and I loved her so much…" She caught herself before her emotions could fly out of control, took a deep breath and set about answering the question. "My mom used to read to me, talk with me about everything in the world, do my hair… We would laugh and take long walks and have fun." She looked down into Ginger's dark and unreadable gaze. "She loved me more than anybody else in the whole world did, and she was the most important person in my world when I was small. When she went away, I was lost — completely lost."
Ginger listened carefully and found herself wishing that she'd had such a mommy. "Why my mommies all mad me all time, and yell and make fires out on me and hit…" She made the vicious slapping gesture again, making Miss Parker blink in surprise.
"Your mother did that?" She was aghast — no wonder Ginger had reacted so strongly and so badly to the horseplay.
"Me do somet'ing wrong maybe?" Maybe this lady with the good mommy could tell her what she'd been doing wrong to get all the bad mommy stuff. "Make them not want me?"
"No, of course not!" Miss Parker forced herself not to reach out to the girl for fear she'd frighten her again. "None of it was your fault, Sprite, none of it!" A tear finally escaped before she could swallow or blink it back. "I wish I knew how to make you believe me."
"Oo mad me?" This question was in a very tiny voice.
"No, Sprite, I'm not mad at you. I love you." Miss Parker's voice cracked. She wasn't lying. This tiny girl had wormed her way into her heart, and she wanted nothing more than to put her arms around her and love her the way her mother had loved her and keep her safe from now on. To be held at arm's length like this was agony.
Ginger's mind was running wildly. Gamma had been right to insist that she talk to Her — She definitely was nothing like those other mommies from before. Ginger looked up into the sad face with the tear-filled grey eyes wistfully. "Me wish me have good mommy, even jus' for little while," she whispered, barely daring to voice this deepest of secrets. Even Bear hadn't ever heard that one…
Miss Parker blinked. This was an opening — a tiny one, but there. "Let me try, Sprite? Let me show you that I can be a good mommy for you and take care of you the right way? Please!"
Ginger fingered Bear's shoulder, where She had carefully doctored and made him whole again. She looked up and around her room, at the huge dollhouse in the corner. And then she returned her gaze to the woman at the edge of her bed that sat with hands folded together so tightly the knuckles were turning white. "Oo really wanna Sprite 'tay oo an' be fambly?"
It was such a wistful, heart-wrenchingly unsure question. Miss Parker wondered that this child had survived as long as she had without knowing the security of being loved unconditionally. Jarod had given her a taste of that kind of security — would she ever be willing to accept such things from a mother too, after everything she'd been through at the hands of women who didn't deserve to be called mothers? Not sure that she wouldn't do more harm than good at this point, Miss Parker unclasped her hands and reached out slowly. "Yes, I want that very much. I want a Sprite for my little girl, and I hope maybe Sprite would want me for a mommy — to give me a chance to show her that not all mommies hurt."
Ginger's heart skipped a beat. She said She wanted a Sprite! She looked down at the expanse of bedspread between them. It was just a short distance to Her lap — but to make it, she would have to leap over the distrust and fear that had grown from years of hurt and betrayal. "Me scared."
"I know you are, baby. I am too." Miss Parker stretched out her hand just a little more. "But I don't want to be scared anymore, though. Do you?"
Slowly, as she had with Gamma, Ginger moved across the bed until she was close enough to be touched. Miss Parker put her hand on the little girl's shoulder gently and then waited for a long and fragile moment. Ginger sat very still beneath the gentle touch for a long moment, amazed that She wasn't reaching out greedily and hauling her in and noting that as yet another difference between Her and those other mommies. Finally she rose to her knees and made her way across the bedspread until she could seat herself on the waiting lap, whereupon gentle arms closed around her tightly. It was a surprise to find out that She was weeping openly as She kissed the top of her head over and over again.
No, this was not another mommy like the others. Her hands were gentle, like Gamma's, and the way She was holding her made her feel safe, just like with Daddy and Gamma. Ginger wanted so badly to believe that maybe, finally, she could begin to trust that she didn't have the strength to resist anymore. She leaned against Her and closed her eyes tiredly and breathed in the soft scent that was uniquely Hers. "Mommy," she whispered, trying the word out for the first time in years as something other than another name for hurt.
"I'm here, baby girl," Miss Parker crooned softly into dark hair in a breathy, broken voice. "I'm right here. You're safe now, Mommy's got you." She leaned her cheek against the top of the little girl's head. "Nobody's ever going to hurt you again, I swear it. They'll have to get through me first"
Ginger caught her breath — that had been much the same promise Daddy had made to her when she'd become his little girl for real. Nobody else — certainly none of those other mommies — had ever promised her such a thing. The feeling of relief and safety that flooded her was overwhelming. "Mommy," she whimpered again and began to cry the cry of a child who, once lost, was now found.
Miss Parker felt the iteration of the name to the bottom of her soul. "I'm here, baby," she soothed again and again to a child who was now clinging tightly. "You're safe now."
Jarod stared up the stairs for another countless moment, then resumed his pacing. "Are you sure?" he demanded.
"They need to talk when there's nobody else there, Jarod," Margaret told him in an understanding voice. "Ginger wants to make things right with Missy, but doesn't know how. If Missy can get her to talking, maybe they can get through this and come out stronger when they're finished."
"What did she tell you when you talked to her?"
Margaret eyed him sympathetically. He was acting like a worried father, not a pediatric psychiatrist — his emotional proximity to the situation had caused all his training to fly right out the window. "How much do you know about what happened to her… before?" she asked in return.
Jarod blinked. "Only what was in the police reports when I first took her case," he replied finally. "She wasn't talking at all back then, remember?"
"Then you need to pay special attention to what she told you this morning. She said, 'all mommies hurt.' She's telling you that all of the women who were responsible for her care ended up being abusive. Her real mother burned her with cigarettes, her first foster mother hit her when she tried to tell her that she was being molested, and her…"
"What?" Jarod gaped. "She told you that?"
"With a very vivid demonstration of being slapped hard with an open hand," Margaret nodded seriously. "She's been terrified of women because all of the women she's ever known have hurt her or yelled at her. All of them who were possible mother figures, that is. I slipped through because I'm too old to be a mother to her — I am Gamma, not Mommy."
"So when Missy took a swat at me…"
"Ginger saw her as being like all the rest," Margaret finished the thought. "She's only seen such things in terms of pain before — never horseplay. She didn't know — and saw it the only way she could."
"So how did you get her to…" Jarod pointed up the stairs impotently.
"I reminded her that I WAS a mommy — and that I hadn't hurt her. That made her rethink her absolute 'all mommies hurt' and consider the facts in a new light." She put her hand on his arm. "In the end, she was scared of losing your love, and that now that she's starting to consider that Missy isn't the ogre she thought she was, she was afraid that Missy wouldn't want her either. That's why I called Missy home. If we'd waited until the end of the workday, I'm pretty sure she would have withdrawn just like you were afraid she would."
"How long have they been up there?" Jarod sighed.
"About a half hour or so," Margaret answered. "C'mon. Your pacing down here isn't going to make things up there go any faster. I made some more coffee…"
"Jarod…" Miss Parker's soft voice from the top of the stairs had his complete attention immediately, and his jaw dropped. She was walking down the stairs very slowly with Ginger in her arms, the little girl clinging tightly and with her face buried amid the dark hair at her neck. Miss Parker's face bore the signs of recent tears, but her expression was a combination of tenderness and triumph. "Sprite," she called gently as she reached the bottom of the stairs, "here's your Daddy."
The little head turned and puffy dark eyes peeked timidly out at him. "Daddy mad me?" she asked in a small voice.
Jarod shook his head resolutely. "No, Sprite, I'm not mad at you. Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Me sorry me say t'ings make oo feel bad," Ginger stated sadly. "Please, Daddy, don't 'top love an' make me go 'way…"
"I would never do that, fairy child," Jarod soothed, stepping close to both of the women in his life and putting his arms around them both, placing Ginger between the two adults. "That's not how a real family works, Sprite." He kissed his little girl on the tear-stained cheek. "I love you, and I love Mommy, the both of you, more than you can know. I love Davy the same way."
"See? I told you he wouldn't be angry," Miss Parker soothed at her, her eyes seeking out and locking with Jarod's.
He leaned forward just enough to give her a gentle kiss on the lips and then turned back to his little girl. "Family is a forever thing, Sprite. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid." He smiled at her.
"'Tuck with Mommy too?" Ginger allowed her hope to color her voice.
"Absolutely," Miss Parker's arms tightened just a little. "Which is just fine with me. How about you, Daddy?"
"You bet. Whatcha say, Sprite?"
"'Kay." Ginger leaned her head against her new mother's shoulder. "Mommy 'tay us resta today?"
"No, baby, I have to go back to work after lunch." Miss Parker kissed her forehead again. "But I'll be back this evening, after you've had some time over at Grandpa's. I'll always come back for you and Davy, I promise that too."
Ginger rolled her face back into the neck and clung just a little more tightly again, unwilling to let go of this new and good mommy quite so soon. Miss Parker tweaked her head towards the living room and a long couch on which the three of them could sit together for a while, and Jarod nodded and let her lead the way. Miss Parker's gaze then landed on Margaret's, and she mouthed a silent "thank you" to the woman who had finally broken down the walls behind which her daughter had been hiding. She felt the warmth of Margaret's answering smile, then saw the older woman turn away and head toward the kitchen, giving the three of them some privacy.
"Hello?"
"Em? It's Mom."
"Mom! How are you! How are things on the other end of the world?"
Margaret smiled to herself. "Interesting," she answered. "I just got lonesome for the sound of your voice, and I thought I'd give you call and see how you were doing…"
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