Part I: PartingChapter 1: ThursdayChapter 2: Intermission Chapter 3: Responsibility Part II: Conditional LoveChapter 4: SalvageChapter 5: Compomise Chapter 6: Appearances Chapter 7: Steadfast Chapter 8: Scorecard Chapter 9: Middle Chapter 10: Haunting Part III: The ReckoningChapter 11: DeparturesChapter 12: Endurance Chapter 13: Letters Chapter 14: Contrition Chapter 15: Waning Chapter 16: Intervening Chapter 17: Detour Chapter 18: Reunion Chapter 19: Exclusive Chapter 20: Gifts Chapter 21: Pennance Part IV: The Third EventChapter 22: ConfidenceChapter 23: Priorities Chapter 24: Dichotomies Chapter 25: Questions Chapter 26: Inattentiveness Chapter 27: Impetuous Chapter 28: Caged Chapter 29: Secrets Chapter 30: Family Chapter 31: Unfulfilled Chapter 32: Drowning Chapter 33: Persistence Chapter 34: Falling Chapter 35: Promises |
Chapter 13: LettersOn Monday, Jessie walked down the hall to her next class. Donny wasn’t in classes; he was getting his wrist looked at again. He had further injured it at the whim of the sensei at the tournament on Friday. When Jessie heard, she could only shake her head. Study hall was in sight and required her concentration, she would finish her homework there, and she’d have plenty of time to goof off later. To her surprise, her social worker stood at the door to the library, escorted by Christine.“I never thought I'd find you. What happened to the Caudills?” She clucked. “Paul is out of town, Nancy is caring for her mother in Texas.” Jessie squared off her shoulders. “And you?” The social worker looked poised to spring into action. An emergency removal would excuse me from making the other appointments today. “I'm staying with the Bostons, friends of the Caudills.” “Oh. Well, it's your second month, we need to check up and evaluate the situation. You know that.” The social worker sank back torn between the loss of excitement of an emergency case and relief that Jessica wasn’t causing trouble. “They didn't.” Jessica muttered to Christine. “Well, I need to file that paper work, I suppose the Bostons can fill me in. What's the phone number?” “Ask her, Christine Boston.” Jessie motioned to Christine who hadn’t moved from the doorway. “What was that for?” Asked Christine after the Social Worker had left, she hid in the doorframe to get Jessie’s answer. “That's my social worker. All they do is complain and push papers. I have some things to tell your mom when we get home.” Jessie watched as the Social Worker left the campus. “She's not coming over is she?” Christine hissed hoping to get more of Jessie’s attention. “I believe she is.” Dr. Boston relatively understood. She thought there was nothing wrong with having the social worker come over. “We owe it to the Caudills. I don't think they would have missed it if they could.” “Suppose so.” Jessie didn’t sound convinced. “I'll get hold of her. She can come over, I'm sure we can answer as many of her questions.” Promised Dr. Boston. “If you want.” Jessie's tone was platonic. It lacked her usual confidence. Two days later, the house had been cleaned over and the social worker was on her way, despite Jessie’s insistence that the social worker doesn’t care as long as the front rooms were clean. Nevertheless, Jessie did help clean the house. The social worker drove up as Christine had brought back the twins from soccer practice. Jessie was out back, helping Dr. Boston plant the crate of flower she had gotten from a patient of hers. Mrs. Watts, the Boston's next-door neighbor, had other ideas. Jessie leaned on the shovel in cutoff jean shorts and a t-shirt she couldn’t quite bring herself to throw away just yet, her mind worrying needlessly about the impending social worker visit. Kneeling near by, Dr. Boston put the delicate plants into tiny holes and packed dirt around them. She too was anxious about the impending visit, but the gardening did require her attention and being out in the yard was therapeutic for the time being. “Oh Amy, how are you?” asked Mrs. Watts in a false friendly tone poking her frosted black hair and straw bonnet over the fence. Dr. Boston suppressed a groan and spoke up matching Mrs. Watts’ friendly tone. “Hello Mrs. Watts, so nice to see you. Are you feeling better? Cold season is always such a drudgery.” Dr. Boston leaned back and reached for another plant. “I am feeling better, thank you Amy.” She thought Dr. Boston was a sweet woman. Misguided without a man, but sweet nonetheless. “Mrs. Watts, I'd like you to meet Jessica Raycraft, she's a friend of Christine. She's staying with us while the Caudills are out of town.” Introduced Dr. Boston as the last remaining plant found it’s new home in the ground evenly spaced three inches in every direct from the surrounding plants. Jessie shook Mrs. Watts white garden gloved hand. Jessie wondered if Mrs. Watts ever did any gardening in the backyard at all considering the glove could test for dust in the house. She almost felt guilty about the brown dust that coated her hands and stuck to the cotton glove. Mrs. Watts apparently disapproved of the dust as well, observing her glove with distaste. “Why I heard about you at the Garden Club the other day. You must be happy to have found such a nice home. There must have been some awful places. It's nice to know that the State is finally doing something for those poor little children. Any way,” Mrs. Watts' attention switched back to Amy, “I just got off the phone with my nephew, he's gone through a rather nasty time, he divorced three years ago and now his wife doesn't want the children. He's going to visit his mother in a few days. She lives in Hartford. Isn't that where your office is?” “Yes it is Mrs. Watts. I appreciate what you're doing but...” attempting to cut Mrs. Watt’s futile attempt to set her up with another divorced relative of hers. “Mom, I think you better come in.” Said Christine. Mrs. Watts looked slightly indignant at being interrupted and looked as if she were about to begin a lecture on children interrupting their elders. She stopped short as the social worker dressed formally, stepped outside into the yard. The social worker shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun. She had already been to five other homes today, and had to make arrangements to move two wards that were upsetting a private group home. Jessica was the sixth visit and she still had two others to make before five. Seeing Jessie leaning on shovel wishing she could disappear, the social worker’s voice carried. “Jessica.” The social worker was stiff in tone as if commanding Jessie to do something. Jessica became suddenly quiet. “Dr. Boston, this is my social worker.” Her voice slipped, almost for once, inaudible. Dr. Boston removed one of her gardening gloves. “Pleasure to meet you, I'm Amy Boston. This is my neighbor, Mrs. Watts.” “Likewise,” they shook hands. “If you would excuse us Mrs. Watts, we have some business to attend to.” Dr. Boston led the small party that had gathered in the backyard into the house, grateful that she did not need to deal with Mrs. Watts for another moment. “Would you care for anything, we can do this in the dining room...” Dr. Boston motioned to the front room and the social worker entered just ahead of Dr. Boston. Jessie reluctantly followed; her gaze lowered and leaned the shovel against the siding. She dusted herself off and then entered the house. “I must begin, this is really irregular. Jessica, you realize that you will have to tell the Caudills as soon as they come back that they must contact the office as soon as they can...” “I'll take care of it.” Jessica was tired of being pushed around like she wasn't there. Dr. Boston sat down across from Jessie at the table. “I've honestly never had to do this, what do you need to know?” “Jessica you don't need to be here.” Jessie knew what they were going to do, She had done this countless times. She got up and left. “First, what responsibilities have been given to Jessica...please excuse me...This is a form and the questions may not always be situated for the circumstances.” Dr. Boston nodded. “Jessica has been helpful around here. The twins, Sara Ann and Jamie find that it's great to have someone around; Christine is busy with testing and all that Senior Year activities, so it helps having her around. She's gone to school every morning, I've picked her up, Nancy has my number, and if she's had a chance to check her machine, I'm sure the school would have called her by now, but I haven't heard anything of her skipping classes.” “All right, well, any problems? You see we try to mediate especially since Jessica is, well older and well,” the social worker became very frank, “with Jessica, we just try to make the best of a bad situation.” Explained the social worker. “I haven't had any real problem...Is Jessica supposed to be seeing a counselor or someone?” “No, why?” “In my professional opinion, I don't think some issues have been resolved...” the social worker raised an eyebrow. “I’m a psychologist. I have my practice in Hartford.” Explained Dr. Boston. The eyebrow resumed its place and the social worker skimmed her information on Jessica. “Jessica was found in the family car when she was six on some county road. There was no sign of abuse. She had gone to a psychologist for quite a while, but after seeing several doctors, the state revoked funding due to the lack of progress from Jessica. None of the doctors treating her believed that Jessica had been honestly hurt in anyway.” The social worker read off the top sheet that seemed to be Jessie’s record. Abandonment. That explains almost everything. Assessed Dr. Boston. But as even she knew, the obvious answers were only the tip of the iceberg. “I see the problem, every time I look at Jessica. She is happy, but she can be happier. She wants to be, but anything she wants to associate with happiness, is not there for her. She's lost in her thoughts, and she needs someone to tell her she'll be all right.” “I see,” the Social Worker was very dispassionate. “ Have you taken her any where?” She continued down the form in front of her. “Just to the dojo, and the state tournament.” “Hmmm. Did the Caudills know about the tournament?” the social worker was relentlessly making notes. Thankfully I don’t think she has the capacity to make decisions with regards to Jessica. Sighed Dr. Boston. “No. It was almost completely unplanned. I encouraged her; she quit the dojo she had found. I don't blame her; the instructor had no respect for the students. He ordered Jessica to finish a fight with a boy she had, he had gotten hurt, but it wasn't any one's fault. Accidents happen.” Said Dr. Boston. “How many homes has Jessica been to?” Asked Dr. Boston as the social worker made a few notes. The social worker once again consulted her folders ear marked for Jessica, crammed with duplicate copies of documents. “Four in the past year, about twelve since she was turned over to the state. She would have had a...more stable life if her mother had given up her parental rights...but we can't wish for what we don't have. Oh, speaking of her mother, this arrived in the mail for her,” the social worker sifted through her briefcase. “What about a CASA advisor?” Asked Dr. Boston with concern. Certainly the county uses CASA volunteers. She tried to assure herself. “The county doesn’t award CASA advisors in Jessie’s case. Her case doesn’t qualify.” Yet another trained phrase exited the lips of the social worker. The Social worker found a thin envelope and gave it to Dr. Boston. “If you wouldn't mind giving this to her.” “Her mother is scheduled for her sentence to be carried out soon, so I suppose its something she wanted her to have. Well, I thank you for your time, you have a wonderful family...if you have any problems with Jessica, don't hesitate to call me. I'll come over as soon as I can.” “It was no problem. And I'm sure that there won't be any problems with Jessica.” Dr. Boston saw the social worker out. She sighed, grateful for the end of the social worker’s visit and went to the room where Jessica was staying. “Jessica?” she asked as she knocked on the door. “Come in.” Jessica was perched on the windowsill above the bed, looking out. “Well, that was fairly useless. The model of an inefficient government.” She smiled and turned to Jessica. “Jessica, this letter came, it's from you mother.” Jessie hardly jumped at the prospect of the letter. She looked at the envelope as if it were going to bite her. She didn’t trust herself to look at Dr. Boston. Dr. Boston nodded seeing Jessica’s torn reaction. “I'll put it here for you..” she left it on the dresser and closed the door. Jessie waited until Dr. Boston had herded off the twins to the grocery store and the house was filled with the all encompassing silence she needed when reading one of her mother's letters. She climbed down slit open the envelope with her trembling finger, creating a jagged, uneven edge. She pulled out the papers that her mother had probably borrowed to write to her. “Well, I found out what we all knew would happen.” Her mother started in crisp black ink that was even and neatly printed. There was never a salutation it wasn’t Abbie’s way. Their relationship was blunt, like all of her letters. “I wonder how you look. I just stare at the picture I have of you when you're six, and you're with your father and his wife. I think that you look so much like him. I try to imagine you, but I can't. It has been too long. I want to see you. This once. I want to have the chance. I ask this now, because I regret not ever seeing you before. My sentence is to be carried out in one month’s time from the date on this very piece of paper.” “Very plainly, I can't make up for lost time Jessica Audrie. I suppose they call you Jessie. I couldn't stand being called Abigail myself. I want to see what you've become, if the information I’ve been given is true. The last time I saw you, you were too small to remember, you were just a few weeks old in your Daddy's arms. I had to let you go then, but they couldn't take you away forever.” “I've got to go, but I want you to think about what I've said. If you don't come, I understand, but I want us to have a chance. Always, Abbie Marshal, your mother.” Jessie crumpled up the letter and threw it across the room. How many times had she written to Abbie to only end up disappointed? When she said she had know her father, it meant a lot to her. The memories of her father and his wife were hazy and fading nearly eight years later. Jessie could recall times he would stop whatever he was doing that day, and sit down with her to write the letter to Abbie. His patience whenever she asked for help to spell a word, his quite manners. Jessie could hardly believe she reminded her own mother of him. She barely knew the only man she had ever loved. But the letters, which came back, were of an empty and hollow adult, but now she was older, and understood every word that Abbie had written. She had stopped writing after her father and his wife disappeared. She had been too afraid to talk to this woman who was aloof and distant. Abbie never could reach the scared six-year-old girl that had been her daughter. But Abbie wrote regularly. Depending on Jessie’s living situation, Jessie received them sporadically. There had been a few families that thought severing Jessie’s ties with such a family member in her best interest, and those letters had been lost. Some never cared that Jessie’s mother was on death row. Jessie had worked hard to remove herself from the impending stigma of having a mother who was in prison. Nothing about Jessica, with the exception of her attitude could be construed as delinquent. The exceptional academic grades, martial arts, and her interest in humanity were all evidence that Jessica was not fated to follow her mother’s footsteps. Her academic pursuits had even impressed Abbie. But again, she was compared to her father. How could words hurt so bad for something she had never had? “You look pretty upset.” It was Christine. She stood at the doorway. “Sorry.” Christine picked up the wrinkly letter. “Bad letter?” “You could say that.” Jessie ran her hand through her hair and looked out the window. Christine didn’t want to leave this moment quiet so she spoke up. “I don't think it's the same thing, but I had a boyfriend once who couldn't tell me that he wanted to break up to my face. He had to tell his friend, who told someone else, and the whole school knew and they whispered for days and when I finally found out, well, I was pretty miffed.” Hearing no reaction from Jessie, Christine was about to leave when Jessie spoke up. “No. Hey Chris, you're parents, they're divorced right?” “Yeah, sucks. I don't see him much. The twins, they don't remember what he's like. Won't let us see him. 'I'm too busy', 'Look right now, isn't a good time, I don't have any free time.' It's pretty rough.” She admitted. After some dead silence, Jessie admitted something as well. “My parents were divorced before I was ever born. I never got to meet my mom.” “Ouch.” Christine was shocked. She never had any idea about Jessie’s family, she had gotten the impression Jessie didn’t want to talk about them. She let the topic go and now that Jessie was opening up, she definitely wanted to satisfy her curiosity. “Yeah, but she wants me to come meet her.” Jessie motioned to the letter in Christine’s hands. “Well, where is she?” Christine asked, figuring that Jessie’s mother was in another state or something. “State Penitentiary. The one off the westbound freeway.” Christine didn't know what to say. Jessie was clearly being honest with her. “I think an 'ouch' is a normal response.” Joked Jessie. “Oh.” Christine sat on the bed looking over at Jessie wishing she knew what to say. Jessie and her mother were only minutes apart, but years from each other. Another still silence passed and Jessie finally exploded, sitting back. “How can she do this to me?” “Well, that's why God made parents.” Christine quipped. “Why?” Jessie was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The smile in Christine’s voice escaped her. “So we can be eternally confused.” Explained Christine. Coming to the same page, Jessie had to smile. “I sort of thought it kind of worked in both directions.” “It probably does; I'll let you know when I have kids of my own.” Returning to Jessie’s quandary, “I'd love to go see her, but I don't know if I really want to.” Jessie admitted. “Do you mind if I ask what she's in for?” Christine was a little worried about asking, but was curious nonetheless. “I don't know myself, but she's got capital punishment hanging over her head. I never asked, I was never told. It worked out that way.” Christine paused again knowing that she had come into information that was Jessie’s darkest secret. “I suppose I'm the first person you've ever told.” “Yeah.” Christine sighed. “Wish I could tell you what to do. I know that I'd go see Dad in a pinch. I love Mom, I could never leave her or the twins, but sometimes, I can't sleep at night and the only way I can fall asleep is to think about how much Dad said he loved us. I'm sure your mom says the same thing.” “She implies it, but you know your dad, all I've ever had is a handful of cryptic letters and fading memories.” “I saw you at the fight. There was nothing that you wanted to do more than win. You didn't always get the first point, but you took what they gave you, when you finally made it, you thought that it was the best thing that you could have ever done. You never regretted a minute of any fight. Sure the bruises and the bloody nose was something, but there wasn't one thing you regretted, right?” “No, I love to fight, but I don't think that this applies to my mom.” “Could you regret never meeting the one person in your life that you never met, but had such an astounding impact?” “I don't know. That's why I'm talking with you.” “I don't have all the answers. I can't say 'Go' or 'Forget her.' But if you can handle it either way, I suggest you sit around really thinking about it.” “I don't have too long.” “Take a day. I know it sounds big, it probably fells big, but she's your mom. Try to keep that in perspective.” Christine got up and dropped the crumpled letter in front of Jessie and stalked out of the room. “Hey Chris,” she called turning back to the window. “Yeah Jessie?” “Thanks.” “No problem.”
Posted 200311.30-RHM |