scared to death vibe.
He thought about his youngest little sister, Laurie. His mom and dad had adopted her when she was twelve.
Okay, color me psychoanalyzed. Laurie had worn the same desperate, terrified look on her face when she first came to live with them at the age of six. He was fourteen then. They’d had several foster children, boys and girls, cycle in and out of their home over the years. The caseworker, Mrs. Calgary, had knocked on their door at ten that night with Laurie in her arms, the little girl desperately clutching the woman, refusing to let go.
Alan’s father had been a deputy in the small north Florida town Alan grew up in. A shortage of emergency foster homes in their area prompted his parents to sign up for the program. Laurie’s father had gotten very drunk one late May evening and beaten her mother to death before her eyes. She managed to lock herself in the bathroom of their small trailer and climb out the window to escape to a neighbor’s house. She had no other family.
Mrs. Calgary tried to hand her over to Alan’s mom and dad, but the little girl screamed, terrified to let go.
Alan had walked around behind Mrs. Calgary and smiled at the little girl without reaching for her. Then he talked to her for a couple of minutes, offered her a Twinkie and showed her one of his other sister’s stuffed animals. To her, he must have seemed a strangely safe version of an adult. Older than her but not threatening. She finally let him take her from Mrs. Calgary, but she clung to him, terrified to let go, holding on as tightly and desperately as she had to Mrs. Calgary. He carried her up to his parents’ bedroom where he and his mom stayed with her all night while his dad slept in Alan’s room. Laurie tightly clung to Alan, even in sleep.
His mom looked at him in the dim light, a sad smile on her face. “You’ve always had that special touch, Alan,” she’d whispered. “You’re a gentle soul. You’re always good with the kids. Don’t ever lose that.”
Over the next days and weeks, Laurie shadowed Alan, even waiting for him outside the bathroom, wanting to sleep in his room with him, not even wanting anything to do with his other two younger sisters. She insisted Alan stay with her when she talked to the caseworker and the counselors. Fortunately, by the time school started that fall, she had bonded to his parents and other siblings and wasn’t terrified to go to school.
To this day she still felt closer to him than anyone else in his family.
Daphne wore the same look when he found her out there in the sawgrass flats. Those same terrified hazel eyes. That same fear.
She’d looked death in the face, literally, and believed with all her heart and soul she’d die next.
He’d never told Jerald about the circumstances of Laurie’s adoption. They didn’t talk about it in their family. It wasn’t a secret, but Laurie had no desire to revisit that dark time in her life. It had taken her years to stop having nightmares. Alan couldn’t begin to count how many times he’d awoken to find Laurie had crawled into bed with him in the middle of the night when she had yet another night terror.
Alan knew no matter what, no way could he ever turn his back on Daphne if she would let him help. Standing by and doing nothing was absolutely not an option.
* * * *
Alan found her dozing when he returned to the kitchen after his shower, but she awoke at the sound of him getting ready. He wrote his cell and the neighbor’s numbers on a notepad and brought it and the house phone to the living room, where he laid them on the coffee table so she could reach them.
“Lucky thing I haven’t canceled the land line yet. I thought about doing it last month. That’s my cell number. Call me if you need me. If you get my voice mail, leave a message in case I didn’t hear it go off. If there’s an emergency, call my next door neighbor, Sharon. She’s usually home during the day and she’s got a key to
He thought about his youngest little sister, Laurie. His mom and dad had adopted her when she was twelve.
Okay, color me psychoanalyzed. Laurie had worn the same desperate, terrified look on her face when she first came to live with them at the age of six. He was fourteen then. They’d had several foster children, boys and girls, cycle in and out of their home over the years. The caseworker, Mrs. Calgary, had knocked on their door at ten that night with Laurie in her arms, the little girl desperately clutching the woman, refusing to let go.
Alan’s father had been a deputy in the small north Florida town Alan grew up in. A shortage of emergency foster homes in their area prompted his parents to sign up for the program. Laurie’s father had gotten very drunk one late May evening and beaten her mother to death before her eyes. She managed to lock herself in the bathroom of their small trailer and climb out the window to escape to a neighbor’s house. She had no other family.
Mrs. Calgary tried to hand her over to Alan’s mom and dad, but the little girl screamed, terrified to let go.
Alan had walked around behind Mrs. Calgary and smiled at the little girl without reaching for her. Then he talked to her for a couple of minutes, offered her a Twinkie and showed her one of his other sister’s stuffed animals. To her, he must have seemed a strangely safe version of an adult. Older than her but not threatening. She finally let him take her from Mrs. Calgary, but she clung to him, terrified to let go, holding on as tightly and desperately as she had to Mrs. Calgary. He carried her up to his parents’ bedroom where he and his mom stayed with her all night while his dad slept in Alan’s room. Laurie tightly clung to Alan, even in sleep.
His mom looked at him in the dim light, a sad smile on her face. “You’ve always had that special touch, Alan,” she’d whispered. “You’re a gentle soul. You’re always good with the kids. Don’t ever lose that.”
Over the next days and weeks, Laurie shadowed Alan, even waiting for him outside the bathroom, wanting to sleep in his room with him, not even wanting anything to do with his other two younger sisters. She insisted Alan stay with her when she talked to the caseworker and the counselors. Fortunately, by the time school started that fall, she had bonded to his parents and other siblings and wasn’t terrified to go to school.
To this day she still felt closer to him than anyone else in his family.
Daphne wore the same look when he found her out there in the sawgrass flats. Those same terrified hazel eyes. That same fear.
She’d looked death in the face, literally, and believed with all her heart and soul she’d die next.
He’d never told Jerald about the circumstances of Laurie’s adoption. They didn’t talk about it in their family. It wasn’t a secret, but Laurie had no desire to revisit that dark time in her life. It had taken her years to stop having nightmares. Alan couldn’t begin to count how many times he’d awoken to find Laurie had crawled into bed with him in the middle of the night when she had yet another night terror.
Alan knew no matter what, no way could he ever turn his back on Daphne if she would let him help. Standing by and doing nothing was absolutely not an option.
* * * *
Alan found her dozing when he returned to the kitchen after his shower, but she awoke at the sound of him getting ready. He wrote his cell and the neighbor’s numbers on a notepad and brought it and the house phone to the living room, where he laid them on the coffee table so she could reach them.
“Lucky thing I haven’t canceled the land line yet. I thought about doing it last month. That’s my cell number. Call me if you need me. If you get my voice mail, leave a message in case I didn’t hear it go off. If there’s an emergency, call my next door neighbor, Sharon. She’s usually home during the day and she’s got a key to
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