Esther had a mix of emotions about having Daisy living with her again. When she’d arrived years earlier, she’d been wild and uncontrollable, but this time she was so quiet, she nearly blended into the wall.
The morning after Esther got her back, Daisy woke with her eyes focusing again and signing ferociously about wanting to see her daddy. After she realized she’d been dropped off again, she wouldn’t leave Esther’s side. During the first week, she would sleep soundly for only an hour at a time; then it took another hour to calm her out of her terrors. As much as Esther loved Daisy and would sacrifice her very life for her, it was clear that at this point, the little girl was more than she knew what to do with. Convincing Joe to stay and nurture that relationship a second time might work, but being bounced back and forth between the two of them was not the answer.
Joe had avoided Esther for more than a week. She had tried to talk to him in the short period that Daisy was asleep, but he wouldn’t answer his door. When he came to pick up her dad for work, he wouldn’t get out the truck.
“Give him a little more time, sweetheart,” her dad told her. “I’m working on him.”
But after nearly two weeks, Esther had exhausted her efforts and wasn’t sleeping well herself. She woke in the middle of the night, feeling as if she’d been tapped on the shoulder by some unseen being. An owl was surprisingly loud right outside her window. Calling her. Blue moonlight filtered through the window and created a path to the open bedroom door.
Why was it open?
Esther’s head snapped over to Daisy’s cot. She wasn’t there. Esther was at the bedside in half a breath. The small afghan that Esther had finally finished crocheting for Daisy was unraveled and in a heap on top of the cot. Esther ran her hands through the tangled mess. Panic stirred in Esther’s middle, and her insides began to tremble.
She nearly tripped over her own feet as she ran down the closed staircase. The front door was open. The grass was damp and the moon was high in the sky. It was round and silvery and she silently thanked God for the light it yielded. She ran the entire way to Joe’s house. Her breath was ragged as she turned into the drive. A loud, anguished yell came through the open front door and windows. But it wasn’t Daisy. It was Joe.
Esther picked up her pace and slipped on the dewy grass. Her heart was beating so wildly and her breathing had turned to sobbing.
As soon as she got through the front door, she stood there and took in her surroundings as she caught her breath. An August breeze picked up her nightgown and made it billow up around her. The warm breath of summer was cool against her skin. Nothing looked unusual. Esther walked into the house and turned into Daisy’s room. Tears poured from her eyes when she found the little girl curled up in her bed, sleeping soundly.
Esther went to her and knelt by the bed. She touched the little girl, as if trying to confirm that she was not just a figment of her imagination. The little girl was real. She was there. Her chest rose and fell, and a soft sigh escaped Daisy’s mouth.
As her heart settled down, she remembered that she’d rushed into the house after hearing Joe yell. As if on cue, more yelling sounded from upstairs.
“No! No!”
As Esther left Daisy and closed her door, she bounded up the stairs. Everything else she heard was garbled. Joe’s door was closed. She heard something pounding on the floor. Scratching. Yelling. Crying. She knew she should not go in. Entering a man’s room while he was inside was something she’d never done. Joe was probably not fully dressed.
The metal doorknob squealed as she turned it. She pushed the door open and the whine that came from the hinges was deafening in the sudden silence. She looked at Joe’s bed and it was empty. She stepped inside the room slowly and walked around to the other side of the bed to find Joe hunkered in the fetal position on the floor. The sight of him and how quiet he was confused her, and she went to his side. He was wearing only pajama bottoms. His chest was bare and his muscles were flexed. Esther had never seen a man in this state of undress. When her hand went to his arm, his skin was warm. His head gently lolled next to her on the floor. He was so peaceful at the moment. Why had he been yelling, and why was he on the floor? Perhaps he’d just fallen off his bed in the midst of a dream.
It was dark in the room, but a little of the moon’s glow filtered through the window. She moved her hands down the side of his body, inspecting him. His muscles were tense, but he remained asleep. When she got to his ankles, she saw the rope she’d found weeks ago around one. His sock was mostly off, and the rope was twisted tightly like a tourniquet. He was too big and heavy for her to uncoil it; she should wake him up anyway to explain that Daisy was downstairs. She would also insist that he explain to her why he was tied to his bed.
Suddenly Joe grabbed her arm and gripped her tightly. He pulled her toward him so roughly her neck cracked. He pushed her down onto the floor and was on top of her before she was able to make a single sound. The bed shifted with his movement. His teeth were bared, and his eyes were open as he hovered over her. His hands were on either side of her shoulders, but he was so heavy she couldn’t move.
“No.” He yelled into her face.
“Joe,” she cried and put her hands on his face. His eyes were on her, but he didn’t see her. Where was he? “Joe, it’s me—Esther.”
She spoke with as much force as she could, but no matter how loud she screamed, he didn’t hear her. He didn’t wake up. He punched the floorboard next to her head. Panic surfaced, and with all her strength, she slapped Joe across the face. She did it again. After the third time, the hit startled him. She did it again. And she saw his eyes turning from terror to recognition.
“Esther?” He was out of breath and his voice was hoarse. “Esther?”
Esther couldn’t answer but wept from the fear and relief. He instantly moved off her and leaned against the bed, holding his head in his hands. Her muscles twitched from the sudden release of tension. She looked into Joe’s eyes, and the gentleness in them was in such contrast to the sandpaper gaze from only moments before. Had they really come from the same man? Neither of them moved. Only Esther’s quiet weeping filled the room.
Joe’s blond waves fell between his fingers. He was still catching his breath. Esther scooted away from him but didn’t have the energy to get up from the floor.
“Did I hurt you?” Joe’s words fell into gaps between half sobs, as he didn’t raise his head to speak.
Esther closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before she pushed herself up from the floor.
“Did I hurt you?” He spoke louder and with more force and raised his eyes to look at her.
“No.” She matched his intensity.
Esther tried to stifle the cry that continued to grow in her throat. She wanted to stop weeping but couldn’t. The intensity of the moments when Joe was enraged was too alarming.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Why are you here?” He didn’t answer her question. He stared out the window. The small bit of light that traveled in caught his eyes. Sadness bloomed and broke her heart.
Esther couldn’t answer, and the two remained silent for what seemed like an hour. When she found that she was breathing normally again, she spoke. “I woke and Daisy was gone.”
“Is she all right?” Joe’s eyes sharpened.
“Yes. She’s downstairs in her room sleeping.” She spoke only above a whisper. “She walked here in her sleep.”
Joe hung his head.
“It’s because of me.” His soft voice broke. “It’s my fault.”
Esther gathered her strength and moved toward Joe. She moved her hand out toward him and then pulled it back; then she reached for him again and gently caressed his hair. He startled at her touch at first, then leaned into her touch. Esther had never touched a man so intimately. His flaxen hair fell like fine corn silk between her fingers. It had grown long since he’d come home and fell over his ears, making him look younger. The muscles in his shoulders were tense, and his skin gleamed with sweat.
Joe suddenly jumped up and pulled his leg to rid it of the rope. But it was tighter than ever, and the bed skidded. He yelled as he continued to pull. Esther backed away before she stood. She went to Joe’s side and her hand stuttered forward before she finally took his arms, holding both of them gently to calm him.
“Let me,” she said. She went down the stairs on wobbly legs and went to the kitchen for a serrated knife. Joe was standing in the same position when she returned. It took great effort to saw through the rope, but when she did, it untwisted and released. She moved over on the wooden floor and took Joe’s calf in one hand and with a gentle lift carefully took the rope from his ankle. He winced.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at him.
“Don’t apologize to me. I’m getting what I deserve.”