SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14
Jaime had caught up with Caroline over supper, read the first chapters of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and sunk into a sleep filled with dreams of what could be instead of nightmares from the past.
When he brought her home after their ice cream yesterday, Chandler reminded her of his invitation to join him today as he took Tiffany and Madeline to the Memorial. She hadn’t committed, but as she lay in her bed, comforter snuggled to her chin, she realized how much she wanted to go.
Maybe if she spent enough time with Chandler he’d prove he wasn’t who he appeared. That might be the best way to protect her heart. But even as the thought surfaced, she knew it wasn’t valid. He was who he appeared.
While he seemed to be hero material, she shouldn’t ignore he was military and let him draw her too easily to his side, longing for something she couldn’t have.
Still, she’d say yes today.
When should I be ready? She hit Send, and while she waited for a reply she heard the shower turn on.
Caroline must be getting ready for church. Her friend hadn’t asked her to go this week, and Jaime was glad and annoyed at the same time—she’d looked forward to telling Caroline no. Further proof of how broken she was inside.
She rolled onto her side and grabbed the book that rested on her nightstand. The thin volume felt weighty in her hands, filled with Chandler’s expectations of what she would find as she read. He wanted her to come to faith—just like Caroline and Hayden, probably Emilie too. He didn’t understand how impossible that hope was even if he thought he knew her story.
Her scars were too deep to be wiped away by an encounter with a novel.
She flipped the book over and scanned the back cover. She knew the gist of the story from a middle school English class and the movie. If she started reading again, she’d finish in a couple hours and could tell him she’d done what he wished.
She held the unopened book like she clutched the quiet desperation that wouldn’t release her. Was it possible God could love her when He had ignored her pain? How could a God who allowed the horrible abuse truly see her and care?
These were questions she couldn’t reconcile, but she wanted to believe there were answers.
Her phone lit up and she grabbed it with one hand.
Pick you up at noon.
Okay. See you in a few hours.
She set her phone aside and as the shower turned off, turned her focus to what she’d wear for their excursion. It was supposed to be a perfect fall day.
Jaime opened the door at noon to find Aslan prancing beside Chandler.
“Hey.”
She loved the way one word from his lips could fill her with warmth. “Hey yourself. Let me grab my phone and keys.” She shoved the items into the pockets of her hooded vest and zipped it up, then nudged Simba back inside. “All ready.”
Chandler’s gaze slid down her with a smile, but it felt different from when so many men did it—like he really saw her. They made quiet conversation as they took the elevator to the garage.
“Have you noticed anyone around since Wednesday night?”
She shuddered at the memory of the blackout and fear. “No. But I was with my mom all day Friday and at the ball Friday night. And yesterday I didn’t leave the apartment except to go for ice cream with you.” She felt the warmth climb her neck at his knowing grin.
“That was a good reason to leave.”
She met his gaze and nodded. “So’s this.”
“Yeah.” The doors to the elevator slid open and Chandler stepped out, first holding the doors open while he scanned the space. “All good.”
A minute later they were in his truck and headed toward 395, the interstate spur that crossed the Potomac into the heart of Washington, DC. Instead of heading north into the city, Chandler drove south to Arlington and then through Seven Corners toward Madeline’s town house.
The ride was quiet but comfortable. Jaime didn’t feel the need to fill the space with words, and she liked that as they drove to the out-of-the-way section of the suburb where Tiffany and her mother lived. A row of small town houses folded into another row as one community street melded into another. Trees of a size that indicated they’d been planted thirty or forty years ago pushed the sidewalk up in uneven waves, and the townhomes appeared maintained if not in tip-top shape. The schools would be decent, though not up to the standards of those in some of the suburbs. It looked like a pleasant enough place for a young girl to grow up.
It was a safe if slightly depressed area similar to the neighborhoods Jaime had lived in at Tiffany’s age.
Jaime blew out a breath as Chandler pulled up to the curb and Aslan bounced against her seat. She laughed even as she brushed the golden fur from her sweater. “Too bad we had to bring Aslan along.”
“Really?” Chandler looked, and the small dimple in his chin appeared and she felt herself melt.
“I was just kidding.” Her thoughts turned toward Tiffany. “Aslan is so good for Tiffany, I just wonder if we’re doing the right thing.”
“What do you mean? Helping her is good.”
“Maybe, but we don’t know her story well enough.”
Aslan tried to climb out of the back seat, but Chandler nudged him back. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t know where her abuser took her or how he groomed her. You wouldn’t believe the places I refused to go to after my uncle was done with me.” She still had a hard time looking at arcades, let alone stepping inside one. “I guess I’m encouraging flexibility. We’ll have to watch for her subtle cues.”
Chandler took the words in and then nodded. “I see what you mean. It’s why I’m glad you’re here. You can keep me from doing or saying something that will harm her.”
As she waited for Chandler to open her car door, Jaime struggled to imagine him hurting anyone. While he had a steel core, there was such gentleness to the man. He was a study in contradictions.
After stepping from the truck, she walked with Chandler up the short sidewalk to the door, a shiver brushing her spine as their arms swung next to each other. It was the whisper that he was near and she was safe. Chandler knocked on the door, then knocked again when no one came.
There was a sound of footsteps within, and Jaime pasted on a smile. The door opened, and her smile disappeared. Madeline stood there, one eye almost swollen shut and an angry set of welts lacing her neck. “What happened to you?”
“Corey Bowman happened.” Madeline’s voice rasped as if she had a bad cold.
“Who?” Jaime glanced from Madeline to Chandler, who looked like he wanted to punch someone.
Chandler cleared his throat as he closed the door. “He’s the one who abused Tiffany.”
Madeline nodded, her hand creeping to her throat as if she could hide the welts.
“Isn’t he in jail?” Jaime’s thoughts spun as she took in the bruises. “Wait. Where’s Tiffany?”
“In her room watching a movie on my tablet. I knew we’d need to talk first.” Madeline’s eyes filled with tears that leaked down her cheeks. “He heard we’d gone to the police. Thought I’d back down, and when I didn’t he hit me.”
“Looks like he tried to kill you.” Jaime turned in a quick circle in the narrow hallway. “Ice. You need ice.”
“I’ve done all that. This happened last night.”
Chandler frowned. “Did you call the police again?”
“Yes. They’re looking for Corey, but I don’t know when they’ll find him.” The or if hung in the air.
Jaime rubbed her temples as thoughts pinged through her mind so quickly she wasn’t sure she could capture them. “Please tell me Tiffany didn’t witness this.” The trauma of watching her mother beaten or the police investigate might be too much for the poor child.
“She was asleep when he arrived.” Madeline started shaking, and Jaime led her to a chair at the tiny kitchen table. “I don’t know what to do. Until the police find Corey and put him in jail, he could show up again. And he’ll be angrier.”