Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface), page 6
He stares at me for a moment before grinding out through clenched teeth, “Go home, Anne.”
“Gladly,” I say, angry tears burning my eyes. I whip around and head for the door. I don’t even glance back in his direction.
Penny stops me in the kitchen before I leave and says, “I’m so sorry.”
I put my hand on her arm and shake my head. “Don’t apologize for him. He has a lot to work out.”
“Will you be back?” Her eyes are hopeful.
“Oh, I’ll be back,” I say. “Now that I know he’s just living in one big, long tantrum.”
She laughs through her tears. “I’m so glad you came. Thank you.”
I give her a squeeze then head out the door, promising to see her soon. Walking to my car, I glance over my shoulder to the doorway where she stands. “Keep me posted.”
She smiles and waves. “For sure.”
* * *
“Oh, you’re so adorable!” I squeal when Billie answers the door.
She laughs, and I swear she really is glowing. She rubs her growing belly and says, “I kind of feel adorable.”
I grin. “You should!”
We walk inside and she guides me to the kitchen where I sit on a stool at the counter. “Coffee or tea?” she asks.
“Iced tea, please. Does Margaret still make it with raspberries?”
“When she’s here, yeah. But now that she and Chuck are married, she only comes by once or twice a week.” Billie smiles. “I know she likes to come check on me and see how the baby is doing. She’s excited like it’s her own grandchild.”
“Sweetest thing ever!”
“I know!” Billie pours two glasses of tea. “With Merrick’s mom so far away, I don’t mind a bit if she assumes the role. She’s really been like a mother to me.”
I take a sip of my tea and tell her how happy I am for her.
“Okay,” she finally says, taking a seat on the counter stool next to me. “Don’t keep me waiting. How’d it go?”
I sigh. “Not a bit like I thought.”
Billie sits on the stool next to me, eyes wide with anticipation. “What happened?”
For the next twenty minutes I describe my visit. Halfway into my story, Merrick enters the kitchen and gets drawn right in.
Not gonna lie, when I have an audience, I’m a great storyteller. I give every detail, down to the way his eyebrows furrowed when he yelled at me. Billie and Merrick are captivated.
I finish the story and sigh again. “So, that’s where we are,” I say.
“Poor Prescott,” Billie says quietly.
“Sounds like he’s having a temper tantrum.” Merrick says, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“That’s what I said!” I laugh.
“We should go see him, honey.” Billie rubs Merrick’s arm.
“We could do that,” he says, nodding.
“That would be awesome, guys,” I say. “Really. I don’t think he’s been out of that house since he got back. Penny said he’s gone to a few appointments for his arm, but that’s it. He won’t even talk to a counselor.”
“He’ll talk to me,” Merrick says. “He won’t have a choice. But I’m not sure Billie should come.”
“Why not?” she demands.
“Because in his state of mind, the last thing he needs is to be babied, which is exactly what you’ll do.” He places a light kiss on the top of her head.
Billie crosses her arms. “Whatever. I’m going.”
Merrick chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare stop you.”
“Oh!” I say. “I don’t think Prescott ever received the letter telling him you were pregnant. He doesn’t know.”
“Aw, we can surprise him,” Billie says.
“I think it will definitely lift his spirits.” I drain the last of my tea and get up to get a refill.
“Speaking of pregnancies…” Billie holds up the thickest book I’ve ever seen, titled Baby Names.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” I grin.
“I know! Let’s look!”
Merrick holds up his hands in defeat. “That’s definitely my cue to leave.”
I sit back down next to Billie—who’s beaming with excitement—and we open the book. It’s a great distraction from my earlier visit. And at this moment, I’m glad I have this.
* * *
What a day. I curl up on my chair and lay my purple fleece blanket over my lap. Such a whirlwind of emotions. I plan on visiting Prescott again soon, once we’ve both had a chance to cool off. I begin to pray for him and our whole situation when my phone rings.
Hmm. It’s 9:42. I pick my phone up to see who’s calling. It’s Felicia. My heart nearly stops.
“Hello?” I answer softly.
“Anne, is this a good time? You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“No. I mean, yes, it’s a good time. No, I wasn’t sleeping.” I sit up a little straighter, gripping the phone too tightly as the fluttering in my stomach intensifies.
“Okay, good,” she begins. “Because I want you fully awake when I tell you that we have a child here that you might want to meet.”
Chapter 9
Felicia tells me she’ll be here within the hour with a little boy. Excitement chases my fatigue away as I rush around my apartment to make sure everything is perfect. My heart is beating a hundred miles an hour as I pick up my phone and text Billie.
Please tell me you’re awake…
I wait no more than forty-five seconds before I get a response.
I am. What’s up?
I’m getting a child!
Oh my gosh! When?
NOW
Praying!!
Thank you
I end my text with a little heart-eyed emoji. Billie made me promise to tell her immediately when a child came into my care. She’s been my prayer partner though this whole thing. I know if she says she’s praying, she is.
I do a bit of praying myself as I pace around the living room. Lord, am I ready?
Then I nearly jump out of my skin as I hear the front door buzzer. The front doors of the apartment building lock after 10 p.m., so she can’t just come to my door as usual.
Rushing to the intercom, I say, “Felicia?”
“Yep.”
I buzz her in. My heart is pounding in my own ears, drowning out the sound of the footsteps in the hallway. I open the door, working on steadying my breathing.
Felicia is holding the hand of a little boy about six years old, with a warm brown complexion and unkempt natural curls. Looking up at me with eyes the color of melted chocolate, he clings to her for what seems to be dear life.
I give my brightest smile, despite the fear growing rapidly in my belly. This is real!
“Come on in,” I say, cheerfully, standing aside and sweeping my arm in a welcoming gesture.
When they walk into the apartment, I bend down so I’m eye level with the little boy.
“This is Demarcus,” Felicia says. “But he likes to be called Marc.”
“Hi, Marc, I’m Anne Quinn.” I reach out my hand to him, and he reluctantly takes it. I shake it warmly with both hands, trying to put him at ease.
“Hi,” he says, and he’s got the most adorable rasp to his voice.
I’m not sure if it’s my nerves, but I suddenly blurt out, “Do you like donuts? I have donuts.”
Marc looks up at Felicia who smiles. “It’s okay, go on.” He lets go of her hand and he walks slowly to me.
I take his hand and lead him to my tiny dining room table and show him where to sit. I grab the box of assorted flavored donuts from the cupboard and set them on the table.
“Chocolate is my favorite,” I say.
He grabs a powdered sugar one and I smile.
I walk over to the couch and sit, making sure I have a clear view of Marc. Felicia sits next to me, and we spend the next few minutes going over details of his situation.
I learn that his mother has been hospitalized from domestic abuse by her boyfriend. Marc saw the whole thing and had been the one to call 911.
I have tears by the time she finishes.
“We’re looking for his grandma now. Last we heard, she was living in Indiana.”
I discreetly wipe the tear from my cheek, hoping Marc doesn’t see me. I glance his way, and see that he’s on his second donut, swinging his feet and humming softly to himself.
I look back at Felicia and feel a slight bout of panic rise up. I swallow hard. “How do I…what do I—”
She places her hand on my arm and gently cuts me off. “You’ll be fine, Anne. Just fine.”
I let out a shaky breath and nod. “Okay,” I say, trying to convince myself more than her. “I got this.”
* * *
What have I done?
“Marc, please calm down.” I try to keep my voice steady as I hold my hands up in an “I come in peace” gesture.
“I want another donut!”
I shake my head. “You’ve had three. I don’t want your belly to get sick. If you’re hungry, I have some—”
“I want a donut!” His little foot stamps, and he clutches his fists at his sides.
I place the box on top of the refrigerator and stand firm. “No, Marc. No more donuts.”
Marc reaches over and pounds his fist on the table, causing me to jump in surprise.
“Marc!” I yell before I can stop myself. “We don’t hit when we’re angry!”
Marc stares me down, then kicks the dining chair.
God, help me. What do I do?
I realize that Marc has seen way too much violence in his short life and he’s reacting to his anger the only way he knows how. I slowly walk to him, keeping my eyes fixed on his, and lower myself to the floor. I crisscross my legs and then pat the ground next to me. Reluctantly, he takes my invitation to sit.
“Marc,” I begin, my voice shaking a bit. “Can we talk about this instead of pounding tables and kicking chairs? I really want to know the reason you’re so angry with me.”
“I want my mom.”
My heart breaks. “I know, honey.” I try to keep my voice even. “But your mom is with the doctors now so they can help her get better. So, we get to hang out in the meantime.” A thought occurs to me. “Do you have a favorite show?”
He nods, and I’m thankful kids are so easily distracted. “PJ Masks.”
Uhhhh… I have no clue what that is.
“Okay,” I say cheerfully. I stand up and hold out my hand. Let’s see if we can find it.”
I see the frustration fade from his face as he grabs my hand and we walk to the living room.
I search On Demand for kids and breathe a silent thank You to the Lord as I see it available to watch. I choose an episode and tell Marc to have a seat on the couch.
I walk to the hall closet and grab the little stack of kids’ blankets I’ve been collecting. I find a blue one with footballs, baseballs, and basketballs on it and put the others back on the shelf. I grab the pillow from the twin bed I have made up and head back to the living room. Marc is already mesmerized by the screen.
“Here, buddy,” I say, helping him get comfortable with the bedding. He takes it and tries to situate himself without taking his eyes off the screen. I tuck the blanket around him and head to my room to get into my pajamas.
“Anna,” I hear from the couch.
I turn, smiling at his version of my name.
He pats the couch next to him and my heart simply melts. “I’ll be right back,” I say. I’m going to put my pajamas on.”
Marc throws the blanket off, grabs the TV remote, and hits pause. “I’ll put mine on, too.”
He grabs the little duffel bag Felicia had set by the door and just starts undressing right there.
Laughing, I turn toward my room and say, “I’ll meet you back out here in a minute.”
After changing quickly and brushing my teeth, I show Marc, who’s in fresh sweatpants and a faded green T-shirt, to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Then we settle back on the couch together. He hits play and the show resumes. I quickly learn that there is a whole world of children who turn into superheroes at night with their magic pj’s. I laugh, enjoying the pleasure Marc is getting from watching this show.
Before I know it, I hear steady breathing, and look over to find Marc fast asleep, TV remote still in his hand.
I gently take it from him, choose replay on the menu, and turn the volume down low. I figure I’ll leave him on the couch for tonight, and if he wakes up in this strange place, he’ll see his favorite show still playing and it will be a bit of comfort to him.
I make my rounds in the apartment—checking the locks on the doors and windows and setting the thermostat to a comfortable degree. I glance at the clock. Almost midnight. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to call Billie.
And oh, how I want to tell Prescott. What would he think of little Marc? I picture the old Prescott making him laugh with his lame jokes. Ganging up on me, the only girl, in my own home.
Peeking at Marc one last time before I head to bed, I sigh. I know You’re still working on him, Lord. Help me be patient.
Climbing into bed, exhausted from the eventful day, I try my best to give my cares to my Heavenly Father, and I finally fall into a restless sleep.
* * *
I’m not a huge coffee drinker. At least I’m nowhere near as obsessed as my cousin Billie. But this morning is one of those days already, and I brew an entire pot for myself. Taking my first sip, I nearly spill it down the front of me as I hear Marc yell.
“Donuts!” He points to the top of the fridge.
“Marc,” I say, trying to sound patient. “You can ask me politely. No more yelling, okay?”
“But I want donuts for breakfast.”
“I understand that. But you need to ask nicely.”
“I don’t have to.” He stands his ground.
I sigh. “Marc, in this house, we use manners. I’d like you to say, ‘May I have a donut, please?’”
“I want a donut. Please.”
Close enough.
I pull the box from the top of the fridge. “Sit at the table, please.”
To my surprise, Marc obeys.
“Do you like milk?” I ask.
He nods.
I pour a cup of milk and set it in front of him. “Let’s make a deal, okay?”
He looks up at me.
“You eat a banana, and then you can have a donut, okay? That way, you’re eating something that’s nutritious.”
“Okay.”
Oh, thank you, Jesus.
I place a banana in front of him and ask if he needs help opening it. He tells me no, then breaks the bottom open and peels it that way.
“Well, that’s super clever,” I say. “I always start at the top, and sometimes it just bends and smashes the banana, but doesn’t open.
Marc grins proudly. “Yep.” He takes a bite, and I see him start swinging his feet.
It’s Sunday morning, but I stayed home from church to let Marc get settled. We were up late, and he ended up sleeping until 10:30, anyway.
I hear my phone buzz, and I see a text from Billie.
Hey, you home? If you’re up for company, we’d love to stop by and meet the little guy. We went to the early service, so we’re headed there now.
I laugh. She knew I’d say yes.
Of course, come on over! I text back.
“Marc, finish up your breakfast, then brush your teeth and get dressed, okay?” I let him hear the excitement in my voice. “We’re going to have visitors. You get to meet my favorite cousin today.”
He grins, swallowing his last bite of donut. He gulps his milk down then wipes his face with the back of his hand. I laugh as he slides off the chair and heads to the bathroom.
I smile, thinking of introducing this little guy to Billie and Merrick. They’re going to love him.
* * *
Thirty-five minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. Once again, I feel that little thrill of excitement. I open the door and find Billie grinning from ear to ear.
I look at her ever-growing belly and squeal. “Oh my word! She’s getting so big!”
Billie laughs. “You mean I’m getting so big!”
“You look fantastic,” I say, and hug her. “Where’s Merrick?”
“Oh, He dropped me off at the building door. He’ll be in in a minute.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she spots Marc. “Ohhhh, is that him?” She already has that swoony love-struck look in her eye.
I beam. “Yep. Come on.”
We walk over to the couch where, once again, Marc is engrossed in PJ Masks. I don’t mind. I feel like it’s a little bit of comfort to him in his chaos. Grabbing the remote, I hit pause.
“Billie, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Demarcus. You can call him Marc. Marc, this is my cousin and best friend, Billie.”
Marc turns to Billie. “That’s a boy’s name.”
My face flames at his comment, but Billie laughs.
Sitting down next to him, she says sweetly, “It’s very nice to meet you, Marc. And you’re right. It usually is.”
He nods matter-of-factly, and I realize that he wasn’t being mean, just stating what he thought was the truth.
I don’t have to say anything else, though. Suddenly the door opens and Merrick walks in.
I’m about to introduce him to my new friend, when I catch the horrified look on Marc’s face as he takes in Merrick’s six-foot-something frame. He jumps from the couch and runs into the bathroom, slamming the door.
“What in the world?” I put my hand to my forehead in confusion. Then I run after him, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
“Marc,” I say, breathless. “What is it? You don’t want to meet Billie’s husband?”
He shakes his head adamantly.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I’m squatting down and I take his little hands in mine.
My heart breaks into a million pieces when I hear him whisper, “He’s gonna hit me.”
Chapter 10
I pull Marc toward me and slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor. I gently set him in my lap.
“Marc,” I whisper softly in his ear. My throat is tightening and tears are threatening. I have to swallow hard to get out the next sentence. “No one in my house is going to hit you or hurt you. I promise. You’re completely safe here.”
