Monday was a very eventful day. After hours of waiting, we had the domestic violence hearing to determine whether I would get a domestic violence order (DVO) on my daughter's behalf to protect her from her boyfriend. The family court judge reviewed the records from the adoption, the guardianship, her boyfriend's pending felony case and the submissions for the DVO. My husband and I testified in favor of having the DVO granted and my daughter and her boyfriend testified against it. During this testimony, my daughter told yet another version of what happened and her boyfriend incriminated himself further; even after being given his Miranda warning, he still chose to testify. Fortunately, the Judge saw things our way and granted the DVO. It will last for three years. Naturally our daughter isn't speaking to us all over again. But as parents we have to do what we think is right to protect her, even if she hates it, and so long as we have the guardianship, we have the tools to do that.

Speaking of the guardianship, on this Thursday we have a hearing about our daughter trying to get off guardianship. I think it is very unlikely that it will happen and the clerk knows to pull the DVO record so that the district court judge is fully informed of what just happened. I don't think much will happen on Thursday beside the judge arranging for our daughter to be evaluated again.

You would think after yesterday's ruling that I would be in a position to rest and breathe a sigh of relief, but I just felt jumpy, overwrought and sad. It is really hard to be thinking about how poorly my daughter has been treated by this man who professes to love her, and that she accepts that it is okay for him to treat her this way. I hate how she keeps pushing us away, determined to see us as the enemies in this situation, even though I think we are the only people in her life to really love her unconditionally and to try to do everything we can to protect her.

Thus, despite staying up really late to try to tire myself enough to sleep, on Tuesday morning I was awake again after about only three hours of sleep and took that opportunity to write. And now on Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning, after taking an evening nap, I've been unable to sleep and so started writing at around 1 am and finished up at 3 am. I still am not sure if I can sleep even now once I post this.

I am very curious as to what you think of Chuck as I am depicting him in this story. I am starting to think that despite their engagement that Jane should not end up with him. Thoughts? Also, what do you predict will happen in the next chapter?

16.

Although I had no definite expectations of what Mary's letter would contain, I certainly did not expect what I read. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, hearing all about the dinner and seeing Caroline's accusation against me there in black and white. While I had foolishly hoped that my letter might help Elizabeth to think better of me, it seemed that the only one it impacted in that way was the unassuming Mary, whose visage in my mind was still vague (compared to the crisp outline of Elizabeth and the slightly softer rendering of Jane).

I lamented for a moment that I was not attracted to Mary in the least. Based on her letter she was obviously intelligent and insightful, and understood what it was so hard for others to grasp. She was indeed someone well worth knowing, but I could not like her in that way. It was not that Mary was unattractive; Mary was at least pretty, though she had not Elizabeth's sparkle or Jane's Barbie-like conventional beauty. However, it was Elizabeth who had caught my eye, and perhaps a fragment of my heart, whatever fragment I had to work with at the moment, while going through so much. It was Elizabeth, most of all, that I wished to think better of me.

Still, it was obvious that I had an advocate, a champion in Mary and I smiled to think of her as a boxer in my corner, wearing oversized striped trunks, a sloppy shirt, and boxing gloves. Everyone would underestimate her, but then she would knock down my larger opponents, right and left. She would dance and weave, her hair bouncing in two pig-tails as she took on opponents larger than herself. Pow, pow, Caroline would get it and have a shinner upon each eye. Pow, George Wickham would double over in pain from her stomach punch and while he was bent down, pow, Mary would break his nose with her second hit. I imagined him in groaning agony, with a stream of blood flowing down his face and splattering on his wife-beater white undershirt. Chuck . . . Chuck in seeing Mary's righteous wrath would flee the ring before facing her fists.

The thought of it all was enough to bring a smile to my lips, until I thought of Chuck retreating to the locker room in which Jane as his trainer would share my letter with him. He would read it and then callously discount all I wrote. I did not like to think about that, how he was so willing to swallow Caroline's lies. I had thought our friendship was on firm ground due to its length, depth and breadth and his rejection of me hurt worse than the broken jaw. Still, I hoped that if he did read my letter, that he with help from Jane would come around. Of course that might depend on if Jane could ever accept that Caroline had been the one at fault.

I read Mary's letter several times. Each time I felt angry at Caroline's unfounded accusations. As much as I tried to hold onto hope that Elizabeth could see through it all, upon each additional reading that seemed less and less likely.

On Saturday, Rick came back from Europe with a full report of everything that he had done. He seemed a man defeated, and I hardly felt better myself as I felt I had both let him down by never joining him and had abdicated my responsibility to G.G. as her brother and guardian. However, at least my money had been put to good use as Rick had hired a whole team of private investigators to follow up on every possible lead.

Still, although as far as I could tell, Rick had done everything possible, he despaired at what he had not accomplished. He told me "I am almost certain that G.G. would have confided in someone at her school, yet according to Mrs. Annesley all the girls denied knowing anything, save that she had wanted access to a phone to call her boyfriend."

"Maybe she truly told no one," I rejoined. "She's been a sneaky one, sneakier than I would have thought she could be." I thought about what I had heard about what she had done from the parents of her one-time friends.

"Yes," Rick acknowledged, "but the world can be a cruel, cruel place, and if G.G. was trying to meet George, she was actually running toward danger. I don't understand how she can be so deluded to think herself in love. I can't stand the thought of what he is making her do if they are together, but I also can't stand the idea of someone else exploiting her and perhaps being even worse, holding her hostage, pimping her out to sadists."

I covered my ears, my imagination running wild. I declared "Please, don't talk of such things. My mind has made up all sorts of possible stories of what has become of her, and I don't need to hear the additional ideas you might have."

Rick quieted then, but he still seemed haunted. At that moment something occurred to me. I asked, "Rick, do you think that having gone through all this trauma with trying to find G.G., that maybe you should talk to someone?"

Rick screwed up his brow. "You mean a therapist, a counselor?"

"Yes, why not? I've found it helpful and you obviously believe in counseling since you talked to me about going."

Rick gave me a one sided grin that didn't reach his eyes. "You've got me there, but I haven't been through half of what you've suffered."

"Perhaps not, but still."

"I don't know," he rejoined. "I see the logic in what you are saying, but . . . I'll think about it."

I decided not to push the issue just then and Rick changed the subject to ask me about what had been going on with me since he had left. I filled him in depth like I hadn't when he'd been overseas. Rick let me talk and talk. He seemed surprised in my choice to write a letter to the Bennet sisters rather than just let things go and then commented, "It seems like you have it bad for that Elizabeth."

I shrugged. "I did like her, I do like her, but things are so messed up. The timing is all wrong and it seems pretty clear to me that she doesn't have any interest in me that way."

"Never say never," Rick rejoined. "So when can we go jogging again?"

"I have no idea, I'm not to put any strain on my jaw and the bouncing of running would certainly do that."

Rick patted me on the shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking."

We watched another dumb movie together. It was one that I had seen before, a comedy about a mature man who was still a virgin, starring that guy from The Office, but it wasn't enough to fully distract me from all of my worries. I had forgotten that the leading man's love interest had a teenage daughter. While she didn't look or talk like G.G., she still made me think of my sister.

The time change must have been rougher on Rick than he had thought, for he fell asleep on my couch halfway through the movie. I continued to watch it to the end with the musical number conclusion. It left me feeling more wistful than amused. If only love could be the answer!

It was the following week before I received a reply from anyone else about my letter. A text popped up on my phone just after 9 am on a work day.

Hi Bill, this is Jane Bennet. Chuck gave me your number.

I quickly saved Jane Bennet as a contact and then replied.

Bill: Hi Jane. What can I do for you?

Jane: It is more about what I can do for you. I got your letter and talked to Chuck about things. I think he is starting to get that he messed up and wants to talk to you, but he isn't sure if you want to talk to him.

Bill: Does he really want to talk to me or are you trying to make him talk to me?

There was not a reply for a few minutes, so I returned to the email I was working on, my cell still sitting on my desk, waiting in case I might hear the ding alerting me to a new message. I replied to three other emails before a ding sounded.

Jane: I think you need to talk to one another and clear everything up. I do want him to talk to you, but I'm not going to force him to talk to you or anything. I think he just needs some reassurance that you aren't going to yell at him before he will feel comfortable in calling, but I can't say that he will be ready to talk to you today.

I felt agitated and got up. I paced around my desk while I considered what reply to make. I couldn't help but feel resentful that it was Chuck who needed all the reassurance, for his fiancee to hold his hand, while I was the wronged party. I had always known that Chuck wasn't the strongest man, but this was ridiculous! I must have circled my desk more than twenty times before I felt master of myself enough to form a cogent reply. Still, my fingers wrote and rewrote my reply text far too many times for what should have been a simple response before I hit the send button.

Bill: I am willing to hear him out, but I can't promise I won't be angry. After all, I don't know what he will say, and he is the one who punched me without provocation. Yes, I did say something about his sister, but it was the truth. No one deserves to get punched for that, least of all by a friend. If he isn't willing to talk to me under those circumstances, I can't see that there is anything salvageable about our friendship.

Jane: I completely understand. He owes you an apology at the very least.

Bill: Am I getting one?

Jane: I can't speak for Chuck. He is all mixed up about everything, has some strong feelings. Probably he should think things through some more before he does talk to you. You've got to understand that while he knows that his sister is flawed, he has always pictured himself as being her protector. The idea that she might have wronged you, I think was just inconceivable to him at the time.

I felt my ire rise once again. Why should I have to cater to Chuck Bingley's feelings? Why did he get the benefit of excuses? At that moment I wished that I had reported him for punching me, and that he'd been to jail until bond could be set, and had a pending charge. That would have shown him the error of acting that way. It wasn't like this was olden times when guys challenged each other to duels if their honor was affected.

I swiped away from her text and spent the next few minutes playing a word game. The first time I couldn't guess the word in all of the provided tries, but on my next attempt I got it in three. Then I swiped back to her text and read it again. I took a couple of deep breaths and then made my reply.

Bill: If Chuck wants to play the man card, he needs to stop hiding behind your skirts like a pussy.

Before hitting send I backspaced. While it would have been satisfying to send that text, I was better than that. Too, in looking back on it, I am sure part of my motivation is that I really didn't want Elizabeth seeing that reply and having all her worst impressions of me confirmed. I rewrote my response perhaps three times and settled on something that while not quite right, was at least less wrong.

Bill: The ball is in his court. He can call me if he wants to. I need to get back to work now.

Jane's response quickly appeared.

Jane: Okay. I will tell him. Have a nice day.

I sent a thumbs up sign and then closed the text box. For the next couple of days, anytime I got a text or the phone rang, I thought it would be Chuck. I didn't like being jumpy like that and eventually told myself that he had decided against calling, that Jane's attempt to have us work things out would not bear fruit.

On Friday evening, though, when my phone rang, I saw that it was Chuck's number. It had been a long week and at that moment I didn't want to take his call. I let it ring four times before finally deciding against letting it go to voice mail.

"Yes?" I answered, more brusquely than my usual manner.

There was silence on the phone for what seemed like a span of at least twenty seconds. I waited. The call had not dropped.

"Bill?"

"Yes."

"Uh, okay. Listen . . . I . . . I. That is . . ."

"I don't have all day." I was completely unwilling to waste my time this way. Chuck had days to decide to call, to decide on what to say. Why was he so unprepared now?

"Well . . . that is . . . can we get together and talk?"

"Why should I do that?" I asked. I could hear the anger in my tone but did not try to tamp it down. Was it not well deserved?

My questions was met with silence, so eventually I explained: "The last time we talked in person you punched me. Why should I trust you won't do that again?"

"I . . . I won't. You have my word."

Now it was me who was struggling with a reply. I wasn't even sure that meeting with Chuck in person would be a good idea. Maybe I would want to punch him!

Fortunately, I happened upon a solution. "I don't think we should meet by ourselves. What about if my cousin Rick is there, too? You can bring Jane if you would like, but not either of your sisters."

There was a long moment of silence from Chuck and then he said "Okay." I could then faintly hear him talking to someone near him. From the feminine tones I vaguely heard, despite my irrational fear that it might be Caroline, I eventually logically concluded that it was far more likely to be Jane, for was she not the one who wanted this meeting probably far more than him?

"Okay, Jane will come. We are available pretty much anytime on Saturday."

"Okay, I will have to check with Rick and then I will get back to you."

I didn't say goodbye. I just hung up the phone. It was less satisfying to do that on a cell phone than it would have been to do it on my office landline. Then I called Rick and explained the situation.

"So do you want witnesses or for the two of us to beat him up and humiliate him in front of his girl?" From Rick's tone, I knew he was joking, trying to lighten the mood as he often does. Still, imagining us both punching Chuck was a halfway pleasant one until I pictured Jane calling 911 and getting us both arrested.

"I don't want to fight him or for you to do it, either, but I feel like we might each of us need someone to calm us down if things start getting loud or out of hand. I could use someone who has my back, who knows about the whole situation."

"Oh, okay. Well, I can be there whenever you want on Saturday."

We decided on 10 am with Rick getting there earlier as I didn't want to be waiting around all day for the meeting and fretting in the meantime. As I didn't feel like talking to Chuck just then, I texted him.

Bill: 10 am tomorrow, my place. Rick will be there.

Chuck: Okay. Jane and I will be there.

I made no further reply, and after waiting a couple of minutes to see if he would make one, I decided to just shut off my phone. I had been about ready to call it a day when Chuck had called, but after making these arrangements had a certain restless energy which was not at all conducive to sleep. I watched some 24 hour news and then tried to read an inspirational book that I had meant to give to my sister for Christmas but had stumbled on in my closet just a couple of days earlier from its hiding place under a shoe box.

The book was about a woman who was born without legs and abandoned at the hospital but had been adopted by wonderful people and found ways to do most anything. I wasn't convinced that she had her sunny outlook all the time, that it was genuine, but I also felt a little annoyance about her perfect disabled life. Why couldn't G.G. have been like this woman?

Eventually my eyelids started to droop and I put the book aside, uncertain if I would continue reading it later. But in taking the actions necessary to ready myself for sleep, using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I roused somewhat again. I did not find sleep for some time and while I did not remember my dreams when I awoke at 8, I had the sense that not all of them had been pleasant. I turned on my phone, but Chuck had not texted anything further.

Rick arrived at 9:30 as we had arranged and joined me for some honey dew melon, English muffins with butter and jam, and tea. We were done well before 10, but then 10 am came and went. As the minutes ticked by, I wondered when Chuck would show. It was not usual for him to be late, but typically in such a situation he would have texted to tell me of the delay and I had as of yet not received any texts from him.