Until Today (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

Friday, September 15.

Taylor's fear of the nurses really got to me last weekend. She hardly spoke when I brushed her hair. She just lay there.

I told her a story of a little girl who was special but who was being hurt by a mean man. The little girl was brave because she no longer let the man hurt her.

I could tell Taylor was listening because she started crying while I talked. She seemed much calmer at the end of the story and fell asleep when I finished.

I shiver from the cold breeze drifting through the clubhouse window. The hot weather we were having at the beginning of September has given way to cool, wet days.

I get up to close the window. Sarah is on the swing. What's she doing outside on a cold day like this? Usually she stays in front of the TV.

I stand and watch Sarah through the window and picture myself, swinging from the tree. At Sarah's age, I was in denial that anything Greg was doing could be wrong. I felt strong and loved.

When Greg married Amy, I began to feel that things weren't right. I was eight at their wedding and confused. Why was he marrying Amy if he loved me and called me his special girl? I was jealous of Amy and misbehaved when she came to the house.

Amy was patient and eventually won me over. She'd take me to the movies and do things with me that my parents never had time for. She would talk about Greg and how happy they were.

That's when the guilt started. Greg was still calling me his special girl. I felt disloyal to Amy and hated myself for it.

But it wasn't your fault,
a voice inside me whispers. I've heard this voice before, but ignored it, lost in my own guilt and confusion.

Could it be true? How could it be my fault any more than it is Taylor's for what her father is doing to her?

“Hi, Amy!” Sarah's squeal brings me back to the present.

Fidgeting with my hands, I watch Amy cross the yard. This can't be good. Mom and Dad aren't home, so Amy hasn't come to see them.

Amy walks over to Sarah and pushes her on the swing. Sarah giggles at something Amy says, and jumps off the swing. “See you later,” Sarah yells, running toward the house.

Amy stares at the clubhouse. Can she see me peeking through the curtain? I hold my breath, wondering what she'll do. If I'm quiet, maybe she'll go home. No such luck; Amy walks toward the clubhouse.

I start to panic. I'm sure Amy saw something between Greg and me the other night, even though it was dark. I swallow hard, refusing to let her see me nervous and sick.

Bracing my hands on the wall in front of me, I try to prepare myself.
Play dumb, Kat. Act like everything's okay.

When I turn to look toward the door, I realize my journal is still on the table. The blood rushes to my head when I hear Amy's footsteps outside the door.
I have to get rid of it!
I grab the journal and throw it behind the milk crates a split second before Amy appears in the door.

“We need to talk, Kat.”

Turning to Amy, I try to think of an excuse to avoid this confrontation. I'm shaking and still breathing heavily from the fear that she might have seen my journal. I don't think she saw me throw it before she came in.

“Now's not good, Amy. I have to meet Steph.” I try to walk past her, but she reaches out and grabs my arm.

“Steph can wait. We need to talk about this.”

I back away and her hand falls from my arm. I feel as if I've been burned.

“I want to know what's going on. I've heard Greg out, now I want to hear what you have to say. You've both been acting strange, and I want to know why.”

A million thoughts race through my head and I can't hold on to any of them.
What do I do? Please let me just disappear. Please let this be a dream. Stall her. Change the subject. Distract her. What did Greg say to her?

“Now, Kat.”

“What…what did he say?” My head spins and the floor tilts to one side, trying to tip me over
.

“I want to hear what
you
have to say. What did I see between you and Greg?”

“N-n-nothing,” I say, trying to speak past the lump in my throat. How can I describe what's been happening? How can I explain what would have happened if she hadn't shown up? The pain in my stomach clinches my insides with every breath, until I can barely stay on my feet.

“Do you think I'm blind…or stupid?” Amy's voice rises in frustration. Her arms are on her hips. She looks tense and ready to grab me at any moment. I've never seen such a cold look in her eyes.

I remember the excuse Greg gave when Amy appeared. “He was trying to make me feel better. That's it, Amy. I don't know…I don't know what else you think there could be.” The words gush out so fast I can barely understand them.

“Do you have feelings for Greg, Kat?”

“Feelings? What do you mean?”

“How do you feel toward Greg?” Amy asks again.

I shrug. How can I tell her how I feel about Greg when I don't even know? The cramping in my stomach is stronger. I have to fight the urge to drop to my knees and curl into a little ball. My face burns with shame.

“He's like an uncle to me, if that's what you mean.”

Amy is quiet for a moment. Did she hear me? Does she believe me?

“Do you feel the same way as you do toward Jared?”

“I…I guess so,” I reply. I know what she's getting at.

“Either you do or you don't.” Amy clenches her hands into fists and takes a step toward me.

I back away from her. Will she threaten me like Greg? The wall of the clubhouse blocks me from moving any farther and supports me as I lean against it, my knees no longer able to support all my weight.

“I saw your hand holding his against you. Can you explain that to me? That's
not
something you would do with Jared.”

Closing my eyes, I try to picture the scene Amy interrupted. Yes, my hand was on Greg's. I was trying to keep it from touching me; trying to force it away from me. I swallow and fight the blackness whirling around me.

“That's not how it was. I was trying—”

Amy holds up her hand. “Stop, I don't want to hear lies. Greg told me what's going on. He explained everything, and I'm disappointed.”

Thankful for the support of the wall behind me, I close my eyes and sigh. He told her. It's over. The blackness begins to fade and the pain in my stomach becomes a dull throb.

“How could you do that to Greg?”

Shocked at her words, my eyes fly open. “Do…do what?”

“He told me about your crush and your threats. You need help, Kat. I can understand an innocent crush, but to threaten to tell your parents he's coming on to you…that's a terrible thing to do. How could you, after everything we've done for you? Greg treats you like he would his own flesh and blood. He'd do anything for you and your family. He really thinks we can help you through this.”

“It's not true, Amy…I wouldn't do that.” I fight to stay above the whirling blackness underneath me. My head pounds and angry tears fall from my eyes.

“What's not true? Tell me the truth, Kat. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now.”

I clutch my stomach and groan, “No, no, no, no.”

The clubhouse is spinning in circles. I close my eyes, trying to drown everything out.

The rustle of Amy's coat is closer, but I squeeze my eyes shut, not able to look at her. “It's over, Kat. No more of this. I'm going to talk to your parents.”

“No,” I repeat again. “It's not me. It's not my fault. It's him.”

“No more lies. That's enough!”

“He threatens me. He makes me…He touches me.”

“He told me you'd do this. Even after the way you've threatened him, he's still worried about you and only wants the best for you. He's trying to help you get through this, and now you say it's him. How dare you…”

I open my eyes, blinded for a brief moment by the sudden burst of light. The look of contempt in Amy's eyes turns me cold inside.

Greg did this to me. Greg did this to her. I won't let him come between me and Amy.

“No! You're wrong,” I shout, pushing her aside and darting toward the door. Something crashes to the floor, but I don't stop to look back.

Sobbing, I stumble along the riverbank, toward the trees. I hardly notice the bare tree branches snagging my hair and scratching my face.

I stumble over a root and fall to the ground, pain from the impact shooting up my arm. Curling myself into a ball, I burst into a torrent of tears. Everything I've trapped inside flows out, leaving me empty, cold, and trembling on the cold ground.

Hearing the words spoken aloud, in my own voice, has left me incapable of denying the truth. He really does do those terrible things. It's true, it's not a dream, and it's not right.

It's his fault, not mine. I was just a little girl. I'm still just a little girl.

My tears leave angry paths on my cheeks. My body reacts as the anger builds; I stop shaking, my heartbeat becomes less erratic, and the fear in my stomach subsides. I don't deserve the things that Amy said. I'm better than that. I'm better than
him
.

Chapter Twelve

It's been two days since Amy confronted me, and now the fear is back, even stronger than before. When is she going to tell my parents all of Greg's lies? When will I no longer be a part of this family?

I should just get to Mom and Dad first, and tell them myself. Why don't I?

I tried to talk to Mom yesterday, but she was busy with lesson plans. Last night when she asked if anything's wrong, I chickened out. The guilt was back. I couldn't destroy her with my problem, or, worse yet, I couldn't bear hearing her say what Amy said; she doesn't believe me.

I called Jared again, and he was actually there for once. I was hoping he would tell me that I'm fine and everything will be okay. But the words lodged in my throat. Jared talked about his perfect, busy life. When I hung up, my secret was still intact.

How can I find the right words when I'm not even sure I want to say them at all?

I twist myself around in circles on the swing in the backyard, staring at the dull, brown ground beneath my feet. A picture of Sarah sitting on this swing flashes through my head. She looked so innocent and carefree. Sarah – Daddy's little pet. If I so much as look at her the wrong way, I get in trouble.

Lifting my feet off the ground, I hold my legs in front of me and watch the world swirl in dizzying circles as the rope unwinds.

My hands are numb. The air is crisp and cool. The swing stops its dance and I bring my hands to my mouth to blow on them.

Sarah gets to be the little girl I never could be. She has the peace that comes with innocence, the trusting nature of somebody who doesn't have a worry in the world.
For now.

“Kat, I'm driving to the library. Do you want a ride to the hospital?” Mom yells, stepping out onto the patio.

I glance at my watch. Wow. I'm supposed to be at work in fifteen minutes. I jump off the swing and rush past my mom, “Just give me a second to change.”

The drive to the hospital is quiet. It's like we're two strangers, not knowing what to say to each other.

“See you,” I say before slamming the door and running through the hospital entrance. I can't shake the feeling that I just gave up a perfect opportunity to make things better.

Sighing, I head for the elevators.

Wanda is sitting at the nurses' station.

“Hey, Wanda. How's your little one?” I ask, eager for a distraction.

Wanda's eyes always light up when she talks about her daughter. “She said a new word last night. After dumping her bowl of spaghetti over her head, and onto the floor, she looked at me and said ‘bad.' She had spaghetti in her ear, on her clothes, in her nose, hanging from her hair, and on the dog. I didn't know what to clean up first.”

I smile at the image of Wanda's one-year-old covered in spaghetti.

“I'm wrapped around her little finger. But she has her daddy right where she wants him, too. He just goes to mush when she turns those baby blues on him, no matter what she's done.”

“Too bad all dads can't be like that with their little girls.”

“You're not kidding. Your little friend is still here.” Wanda looks down the hall at Taylor's room.

“She won't talk to any of us. Her family still hasn't been in to see her, which is really odd. We've all tried to talk to her, but she doesn't want anything to do with us. She's closed herself off.”

“What does Aunt Sheila say?” I ask.

“She's at a loss. I don't think Taylor said one word to the social worker who was here.”

“What will happen?”

“I think that they'll try to assess what kind of risk Taylor is facing, especially since this is the second time we've called. I don't know what will happen if she doesn't talk, though.”

I nod and look toward Taylor's closed door. “Should I go see her, or let her be?”

“It can't hurt to try. If she doesn't want you there, you'll know soon enough.”

“That's true, I guess. See you later.”

“Good luck. You're going to need it.”

I push the door open with sweaty palms and hesitate when I hear Taylor's sobs. I start to close the door. I can't even deal with my own problems. How can I possibly help Taylor?

Taylor sees me before I get the door completely closed. “Are you leaving me too?”

“Of course not. I wouldn't do that.” I feel guilty for the lie I just told.

“Everyone else has,” Taylor says, between sobs. “I don't want to cry. It hurts here, but I can't help it.” She points at her ribs.

I enter the room and sit on the chair beside Taylor's bed, grasping her small hand.

“What do you mean, everyone has left you?”

“They don't want me anymore, Kat. He told me they wouldn't like me if I told the secret.” Taylor sniffles. “But I didn't tell the secret. Why don't they like me?”

Taylor's eyes are sad and confused. “I didn't tell. I'm not a bad girl. I stopped talking to the doctor and nurses so I wouldn't tell. I didn't talk to the other lady who came in, either. But now they're gone.”

Tears course down Taylor's cheeks.

“Who's gone, Sweetie?” My throat burns as I fight to keep my own tears from gathering.

“Mom, Dad, and Darren. I didn't tell the secret. Why did they go?”

“They're not gone. They're just really busy and haven't been able to visit.”
How could they do this to her?
My blood boils at the thought of how terrified Taylor must feel.

“Really?”

“Of course. They love you. They wouldn't leave you. We all love you, Taylor. We all want to see you get better.”

Taylor squeezes my hand and closes her eyes. “Was Suzie brave for keeping her secret, Kat?”

Who's Suzie?
Then I remember the last story I told her about Suzie, the brave little girl who wouldn't let the bad man hurt her anymore.

How do I answer her? She needs to believe that telling me is the right thing.

“Suzie was brave. She was even braver for sharing her bad secret with her mom.”

“Did everybody leave her?” Taylor opens her eyes and stares into mine.

“No, nobody left her except the bad man. They loved her even more and stayed with her to make sure nobody ever hurt her again.”

“How did she know her secret was bad?”

I think about how to answer Taylor.

“Secrets can be bad for lots of reasons. If the secret is about somebody being hurt, or if it hurts you, then it's bad. If somebody threatens you, then it's probably a bad secret that you should tell your mom about.”

“You mean even if they say bad things will happen if you tell the secret?” Taylor asks.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“What if Suzie didn't tell her secret?” asks Taylor.

“Then the bad man would've kept hurting her. He might even have been hurting other kids.”

“So Suzie saved those other kids?”

I nod. “Suzie helped them by telling her secret.”

“Can he hurt Suzie for telling the secret?”

I shake my head and squeeze Taylor's hand. “No, he can't. He's gone.”

“What if Suzie misses him? What if the bad man is her dad?”

Oh gads. What should I say?

“Taylor, Honey…” Taylor's eyes are large and serious.

Squeezing her hand, I clear my throat. “Everyone is different, and that includes daddies. Some of them play sports with their kids. Some of them like to play and read to their kids. Some daddies work a lot and don't have as much time as they should for their kids, but they still come in and hug them and kiss them at night before they go to bed. Some daddies aren't very nice to their kids. And there are daddies who sometimes hurt their kids.”

Taylor's grip tightens on my hand.

“What if a daddy does all of those things?” she whispers.

Shifting in the chair to face Taylor better, I lift her chin with my hand. She trembles from the effort of holding back tears.

“If a daddy does all those things, he's trying hard to be nice to his little girl, but he needs help. The little girl would be very brave if she wanted her daddy to get help. Special people can help that daddy learn how to be nice all the time.”

“Why would people want to help?” Taylor asks.

“Because little girls and boys are special. People want to make sure they're protected and loved all the time so nothing bad happens to them.”

Taylor looks out the window behind me. “Will they hurt my daddy?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Does she realize what she's admitted?

“No, they won't hurt your daddy. They'll talk to him and help him get better. And they'll make sure he won't hurt you, or any other kids, again.”

Taylor looks at me and nods. “That's what I want, Kat. I want Daddy to be nice all the time.”

“Will you talk to Dr. Williams, Taylor? She needs to find the right people to help you.”

Taylor stares silently at our hands, mine engulfing her smaller one.
Please say yes, Taylor. Let us help you.