Love's Embrace - Part 2

Busy this morning. Nieces and nephews are here. Enjoy this next part!

 

 Love's Embrace

Part 2

          “That’s better. No one was hurt. It wasn’t your fault. Okay?”
    Somehow, when she looked at him, Lindsey believed him. It wasn’t her fault. She nodded.
    “Good.” He stood up. “Do you need help going back inside?”
    She shook her head.
    “All right then. You take things easy.” He smiled at her and turned to speak to the police officer as Mrs. Quivira turned back to her.
    “Are you okay, Lindsey?”
    “I’m not hurt,” she whispered. She didn’t add, “yet,” but she thought it.
    “Then let’s get you back inside.” Mrs. Quivira handed Lindsey her crutches and helped her get balanced. “What did you do?” she asked, looking at the brace on her knee.
    “Fell at the park and sprained my knee.”
    “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
    Carefully, Lindsey made her way back inside where the air was cool and easier to breathe. Sinking down into her chair, she lifted her leg and rested her foot on the stool, her eyes darting to the window as the last firetruck pulled away. She could hear a deep voice in the back room. The second police officer was still on the porch. Lindsey could see him talking on his phone.
    “Here, Lindsey,” Mrs. Quivira appeared at her side with a glass of water. “Take a drink; you still look rather pale.”
    Lindsey did as she was told.
    “Do you want to tell me what happened?” The off duty police officer pulled up a chair and sat down. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”
    “Out to lunch with some friends who were passing through. Mrs. Judd is next door and said she’d come over if I needed her. We ate lunch, and I had a headache, so I stayed in here while the kids went to the play room. I didn’t know they were going to call 9-1-1! I have the phone right there!” She pointed to the handset sitting innocently on a table within reach of the chair. Lindsey’s voice quivered. “It’s my fault.”
    “No it’s not, Lindsey. I’m sure your uncle and aunt will see that.” Something in the girl’s face must have expressed her worry and fear, for Mrs. Quivira laid a gentle hand on her arm and asked, “Are you afraid you’ll get blamed?”
    She nodded, her eyes on the floor.
    “Are you afraid they’ll hurt you?”
    Lindsey hesitated. In the six months she had lived with her aunt and uncle, they had never once laid a hand on her, nor had she ever heard them raise their voices in anger toward her or any of the kids. And yet, the fear of a sudden slap or of a beating for something that wasn’t really her fault lingered. She knew her uncle wasn’t anything like her dad, but it was hard to get past the many years of physical and emotional abuse. Silently she nodded.
    Mrs. Quivira gently rubbed her hand on Lindsey’s arm. “Have they ever hurt you before?”
    She shook her head and winced as the ache in her temples increased.
    “I have known Joy and Isaiah Hunt since before they got married, and I can tell you they aren’t the kind of people who would place the blame for this on you, but I know that’s not really the issue here. You have a fear that they will change like your dad did, aren't you?”
    Lindsey felt her chin quivering, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears as she gave a faint nod.
    “I thought so.” Mrs. Quivira reached into her pocket and pulled out a small case. From it she extracted a card. “I’m going to give you this card. It has my personal cell number on it. Do you have a phone of your own?”
    “Yes.” Her aunt and uncle had given her a phone shortly after she’d come to live with them. It could only call or text, but they had told her they wanted her to feel safe no matter where she was. She had their numbers programed into it, as well as the social worker who handled her case.
    “Then if something happens, and you are physically hurt by them, or feel like you are going to be, call me. Or text me if you don’t feel it is safe to talk. I promise I’ll come get you.”
    Taking the card, Lindsey looked at the numbers and nodded. She was still frightened, but it helped to know there was someone else she could call.
    “Quivira?”
    Mrs. Quivira turned her head. “Sgt. Mulligan. Did you read those kids the riot act?”
    The sergeant smiled slightly. “Not quite.”
    “Beauford is on the porch. He was calling the parents.”
    “Thanks.” He came over to the chair and looked down at Lindsey. “Are you all right?”
    Giving a timid nod, Lindsey clutched the card with Mrs. Quivira’s number in her hand.
    “Don’t worry. This wasn’t your fault. Kids have called 9-1-1 for years. I got sent to a house where a kid called 9-1-1 because she couldn’t tie her shoes and her mom was taking a nap.” He chuckled. “The mom had taught her daughter to call 9-1-1 if she ever needed help. She just forgot to say what kind of help to call about.” The police sergeant looked at Mrs. Quivira. “Did you find out where the parents are?”
    “Out to lunch with friends. Lady next door said she’d be home if the kids needed anything.” She frowned. “I wonder why she hasn’t come over.”
    “Which house?”
    “218.”
    “I’ll go check it out and talk to Beauford. You staying here?”
    “Yes.”

 

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