CHAPTER VINGT-CINQ
An emergency worker bent over Jessica inspecting her wounds. When they put her onto a stretcher, I kept a hand on her arm, not wanting her out of my sight. As we exited the tiny apartment, I spied several other women peering from windows or peeping out of doorways. Only a couple were bold enough to step outside, joining the gnome-wielding Rita. When Jester passed, now cuffed and escorted between officers, she jeered, “Hey, when no one’s lookin’, beat ‘im good for Rita, eh?” Rita looked me over. “Girl, you don’t look so good. You better sit down before you fall down.”
She was right. As my knees began to buckle, it was Rita who kept me from tumbling off my stilettos. Soon I held an ice pack to my swelling cheek as an officer took my fringed handbag and pulled out a tiny electronic device. “We’ve been trying to crack this ring for months,” he stated. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
My cooperation? I couldn’t voice all I wanted to ask like how was the eccentric Patrick tied in with the police? Where the heck was he since he’d roped me into this situation? Why hadn’t he filled me in on the details, etc, etc. That’s when I saw the man himself, back in the wig he’d had on when he’d knocked on our door earlier in the day, watching the EMTs work on Jessica.
Just then a car squealed to a stop by the ambulance. Sky burst out of the driver’s side and strode to Patrick. For the second time in my life, I watched my husband land a brutal punch to Patrick Phillip’s jaw.
~~
“Where’s Esther?” Sky bellowed as a couple of the officers restrained him.
“She’s safe, Mate,” Patrick said. “Now back off while I tend my sister. You remember Jessica, eh?”
Sky scanned the scene, no doubt looking for his wife, but his gaze flicked right past me. I took a step toward him, pulled the wig off my head, and waved. There were whispers and vague exclamations around me plus a little shove from behind by Rita. “Girl, if that was my man I wouldn’t be doin’ no wavin’. Get over there!”
Next moment, I was wrapped in Sky’s arms, drinking in his familiar scent as I buried my face against his neck. I was blessed. I was home.
~~
Three weeks later…
I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Jessica’s room at the hospital. Her head rested against the pillow but I was pleased to see she had a healthy pink tinge to her skin. Next to the bed, Patrick lounged in a chair, his long frame dwarfing the small recliner. I still cringed when I thought of Patrick forcing me to help him with Jessica, but he had explained himself soon after the police arrived on the scene and Sky was sure I was going to be fine.
“Jessica was scared and said she would only leave if I got Esther to help. Maybe she thought I would give up because that factor couldn’t be arranged. But hey,” Patrick smiled and slapped Sky on the back, “when the news hits, you two will come off smelling like roses, eh? After all the grief I’ve sent ya way, it’ll be nice ta have some good publicity, eh mate?
Again, my relatively non-violent husband had stopped Patrick’s laughter with a punch to the mouth. Rita and the watching ladies had applauded… Okay, I did too.
But every time I witnessed Patrick in doting big brother mode, I forgave him just a bit more. Jessica couldn’t ask for a more devoted caregiver. At the moment, when the door to the hospital room closed behind me, Patrick opened one tired eye.
“Girl time. Vacate, please” I hooked my thumb toward the door. My speech was slowly improving, but I found I kinda liked being a woman of few words. Besides, Patrick was one of those people who responded best to action anyway.
With a growl, Patrick stumbled to his feet, deposited a kiss to Jessica’s forehead and stalked from the room. In the days since the King Louie raid, Jessica and I had grown close, bonding through police debriefings, media interviews where she had to do most of the talking due to my speech issues and even a couple of Jessica’s therapy sessions where she had held my hand for moral support. But Jessica’s hysterectomy had been unexpected, a result of infection and an STD of which she’d been unaware. I set the bouquet of spring flowers on her bedside table. “How are you?”
With a weak smile Jessica wrinkled her nose. “Pretty good, considering… ” She let the pain of no longer being able to bear children hang between us. “But, Patrick is taking me back to Australia with him as soon as I’m well enough to travel, so I’m looking forward to that.” Jessica pointed toward a brilliant purple lei that hung by the window. “Look what Rita brought. She said the next place Patrick has to take me is Hawaii since that’s where she’s always dreamed of going. She’ll probably faint when she hears Patrick’s going to send her there.”
Rita, our mysterious “man on the inside” at King Louie’s, was also a regular visitor and friend. When Patrick heard how Rita had tried to protect Jessica, almost blowing her own cover, he had vowed to make that gal’s life a bit easier. He’d even secured work as a stuntwoman for her on his latest movie.
Sky and I had had our own man on the inside though we didn’t know it at the time. Lex, though he couldn’t travel with us due to his health, was still playing the role of guardian angel. By calling in favors with a few of his bodyguard pals, Lex had kept tabs on us from afar. He was the one who had notified the police that Patrick Phillips was shadowing us with private investigators, was tapping our phones, and had even bugged a couple of our hotel rooms. Mom, Helena and Kate had been so frightened to return to the house and discover I was missing that fateful morning. But by that time, Sky and the police were hot on Patrick’s trail. In fact, the call from the police to Rita had no doubt saved me from further abuse at the hands of the sadistic Jester.
One key factor in Jester’s downfall was the cooperation of Vic, King Louie’s club manager who had worked with the police, supplying any information he could find on Jester’s human trafficking and drug deals. The King Louie’s building now stood vacant. Most of the young women employed there had sought similar employment elsewhere, but a few, due to Rita’s and Jessica’s influence, were getting help for drug addictions and the effects of sexual abuse. Sadly, many of the key players who supplied the drugs, clientele and money for Jester’s dirty game slipped away without a trace to set up shop elsewhere. However, a few young ladies had been saved from a living hell. We held onto that fact.
Jessica got a faraway look in her eyes. “Esther, do you believe in angels?”
“Sure,” I answered. “Why?”
“Remember when the police came in with the dog and arrested Jester?”
I nodded.
“I saw something… interesting.” Her mysterious statement lingered and my curiosity piqued. “I was wondering if you saw it too?”
“What did you see?”
“Brilliant clouds shaped like men, bright as lightning and with eyes like fire. They were so frightening I couldn’t look at them.” Jessica picked at the covers of her bed. “I told Patrick and he said I was probably delirious.”
“Patrick is wrong.” I reached for Jessica’s hand. “I mean, he’s awesome and loves you very much and would do anything for you but about this, he’s flat wrong.”
“So… were they angels?” Jessica asked with shining eyes.
“No doubt,” I assured her.
Jessica sighed and rested her head on the pillow. “Wow.”
The following Christmas:
Sky and I came in from a brisk walk, tossing off scarves and jackets, and removing mud-caked boots.
“Hold it, Pilot!” I laughed as the huge, grey-muzzled German shepherd following me in the door shook, releasing a fine spray of Scottish rain. As I dried him, Sky tended our other shepherd, a puppy named Samson. We’d adopted Pilot, a retired police dog, in honor of the amazing German shepherd who had come to my aid like an avenging angel that horrible day at King Louie’s. We hoped to pass on Pilot’s legacy to Samson, which meant Sky and I were in training, learning how to handle the lethal weapon of a finely tuned guard dog. But both dogs were becoming far more than protectors, they were bonded to us. Sky said he now knew two even better watchdogs than him were on the job when he had to be away.
Oh, how we were enjoying this holiday. We had thought the media interest after the King Louie incident would never end. We had one huge interview with Diane Sawyer of 60 Minutes, thinking this would answer all the questions and put the issue to rest, but to no avail. Sky’s record company had wanted to jump on the wave of popularity and release his album early but Sky refused. The ensuing studio struggle could have gotten ugly if not for our unexpected ally.
“Draper sent a card,” Sky called.
The name that used to grate across my nerves now brought a wave of gratitude. Of all the miracles we’d experienced, his transformation amazed us on a daily basis.
We saw the change when Draper came to Sky’s defense regarding the new album. He advocated for Sky to have more time off, to tour less, to write the music in his heart rather than follow what was hot. The switch dumbfounded us.
Finally, Draper asked to meet with us. Since he had always been demeaning in the extreme, our defenses were high.
First words out of his mouth, “I owe you both an apology… many apologies, in fact.” Shocked us. He spoke quickly, flushed and uncomfortable, something I’d never witnessed from smug Draper. “Esther, you didn’t fall. I pushed you.”
Before Sky and I could respond, Draper went on. “Do you remember what you said to me that day? You told me to forgive my father. No one knows about him because I’ve never told anyone.” He spoke of recurring beatings and verbal abuse he had suffered as a child. “When you said God loved me and had hurt with me, it triggered rage toward this God who had never lifted a finger to protect a beat-up kid.”
Draper assumed we would press charges. Despite that, and the fact I had only a vague memory of his violent moment, he had decided to come clean.
“These past months have been torture. I was even worse than my dad because I’d nearly killed with my rage. That day you grabbed my arm at the hospital… ” Draper shuddered, “it scared the hell outa me. Literally.” He rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “I ran out of that hospital and canceled everything. I had it out with God; cussed a blue streak, screamed, accused. I won’t even go into what the house looked like when I’d broken just about everything. But I looked around and I realized I was looking at my life. Everything I’d lied and cheated to get was… junk. It was always junk.
Draper paused. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy but... I heard Him. Him.” Draper pointed up. “As clear as you hear me now, I heard Him. He said, ‘Son, I was with you.’
“I could see my dad coming at me with that damn belt. But it wasn’t me he was hitting. It was Jesus who had welts all over him, blow after blow.” Draper shook his head. “Who would take that for someone? I’d always thought Jesus was some kinda weakling, ‘cause he let people beat on him like that. I see now, it’s the greatest kind of strength. He took it—for me.”
Draper wiped his sleeve across his nose. “There ya have it. You now have the goods to put me behind bars and in a straight jacket.”
We were stunned, especially Sky. But in the following days, Draper followed through with everything we asked; private and group therapy for abuse and anger management, even church attendance.
At the moment, snug with Pilot in our Skye retreat as the teakettle began to sing, Sky was reading Draper’s card. He laughed. “He says he’s making a proactive payment to our blackmail fund, a cool million toward the new orphanage and our water wells. Can’t wait to see his face when we tell him the orphanage is already named after him.”
Sky spun me around the room. “Enough talk of Draper. You, my dear, have mud in your hair and we have a One-and-a-Half Year Anniversary party to attend. Whatever shall we do?”
I nuzzled his neck. “We will sip our tea, then take our own sweet time getting cleaned up in that ridiculously huge tub and show up fashionably late to our own party.”
~~
Two months later:
I wiped my brow and stepped away from the throng of children. All day the feeling had been building—nausea—intense and debilitating. What a horrible time to be sick. Sky and I were finally in Africa, the trip we had dreamed of ever since those long months of recovery. How could I be sick? I’d been careful, only bottled water and approved food.
Wait. This was not a food-kind-of nausea. Was this the other kind? The huge green tree spreading above me swayed in the breeze. Everything was greener, more vibrant, in Africa. I gazed at the running children, most clad in the new Draper Children’s Village t-shirts. It was wonderful to think at least these children would go to sleep tonight with a full belly and under their very own mosquito net, safe from harm. The way they ran and played, you’d think they’d never seen a moment’s fear or pain. But most had witnessed horrors I couldn’t even imagine.
If only I was so brave. As I grappled with the fact new life might be growing inside, fear gripped my heart. Was it safe for me to be here? Would something happen to harm the baby? Dear God, with all we’ve been through, you’d think I’d learn to trust You.
“Oh! Hi there,” I greeted a small girl who stood looking down at me with solemn eyes. Unlike most of the children who giggled, performed, and competed for our attention, this one—surely no more than four years old—was calm. She reached for my hair. “Go ahead,” I encouraged. She stroked the curls with a finger, her eyes wide. “You have pretty hair,” I touched her short, beaded braids. A wave of nausea hit again and I clutched a fist to my stomach.
The little girl placed her small hand on my shoulder, her eyes telling me she was sorry for my pain.
I patted her hand. “Thank you.”
She sat on the grass with me and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to put an arm around her thin shoulders. After a moment, she leaned her head against my chest.
I looked up to see Sky’s fancy new camera with the monstrous lens aimed our way. He pulled the camera away and our eyes met. We both knew. This was a significant moment.
~~
Meanwhile, back at my barn…
Petra stands up and stretches. “Finally! I thought you’d never get to the best part—me!”
“Little did we know how exciting our lives were about to get, eh?” I tease. Sky and I, thankfully, had no idea what was ahead. The fight for Petra, both the adoption process and the spiritual war, was truly unprecedented. “But I regret nothing.” I stand and wrap Petra, our eldest daughter, in a hug. No one can hug like Petra. Like everything she does, her entire heart and soul are in it.
“So that’s the spot, huh?” Petra releases me and crosses to the pile of hay in the middle of the barn’s loft. “This is where it all started. Dad proposed right here.” She pokes at the hay with a stick.
“Ohmigosh!” She straightens and stares at the brown, thorny tool in her hand. “This is one of the roses right here!” Her eyes are wide with wonder.
The sun has been marching relentlessly higher as I have been lost in memories. I stand and stretch as the deep rumble of a semi-truck grows louder. I know this is the moment I’ve been dreading. Petra and I cross to the other opening where we have a view of the new home as well as the truck’s cargo; a large bulldozer. This is why I have come on this particular day. It’s a day for goodbyes. Can anyone understand why I feel so connected to this old barn; why it feels a vital part of my own foundation will be buried when these timbers fall?
“Mom, I’m so sorry.” Petra rests an arm on my shoulders.
“So they want a pool and a guesthouse. Couldn’t they put it somewhere else?”
“I can throw my body in the path of the bulldozer,” Petra says, wringing a grin from me.
Over the sound of the truck I hear the laughter of young voices. Now there’s music to lift my spirits. I drink in the sight of them as they come closer. There’s Canaan, our eldest son and the spitting image of his father. I can’t believe he’s almost a teenager. John and Melody, our seven-year-old partners in crime, chase a young calf that runs for his life. Smart cow. And there’s four-year-old Hope riding on Daddy’s shoulders as the sun glints off her golden curls like a halo in the morning light. Don’t be fooled by the halo. Beneath the innocent eyes and fetching curls resides the spirit of a tiger. Those who knew Sky at a young age say he’s finally getting payback in his youngest daughter, our perpetual-motion whirligig who never let a toddler lock stand in her way.
And there’s my Sky, still tall and handsome and able to make my heart skip a beat. It’s so hard to believe he’s been my mate for seventeen years now, although the gray hair subtly displacing blonde attests to the fact.
We’ve had our ups and downs as a family. Our most painful challenge was losing Sky’s father to cancer five years ago. We were so grateful though for the years of having him as an integral part of our lives. Sky and his father never did see eye to eye on most issues—their views on politics and religion remained at opposite ends of the spectrum—but they learned to focus on common ground and developed a healthy mutual respect. He was a devoted Grandpa, shamelessly spoiling our brood who always knew which pocket of his jacket hid the soft caramels he loved. We hate the fact he never met our little Hope. Everyone agrees she bears an uncanny resemblance to Sky’s mother, Emma.
Helena continues to rule as the grand dame on The Isle of Skye. Still plucky at ninety-six, she says all those relatives waiting with baited breath to inherit her money keep her hanging on to health. Although her dancing days are over, every year the celebration of her birthday is a grand affair. Her latest birthday bash was a genuine Hawaiian luau complete with roast pig, plenty of leis and hula dancing until dawn. Jeremiah nearly burned down the rose garden with his Hawaiian fire twirling. Helena laughed and clapped as the garden hoses doused the bonfire and she declared the impromptu bonfire and entire night “unforgettable.”
Speaking of Jeremiah, he has become quite an accomplished musician in his own right, writing music and leading his own band. On occasion, he and my brother John have exhaustive creative sessions. His most famous song to date came from that collaboration with my brother who says he’s content to be the genius behind Jeremiah’s pretty face. Jeremiah claims he’ll never be as big of a star as his Uncle Sky due to his extreme aversion to hotel rooms and airplane food. Thus, major touring is out of the question.
Wally remains a close friend and confidant. Much of his energy these days is devoted to artistic pursuits. His paintings, that one critic described as Andy Warhol and Picasso tossed into a blender, have become hot properties. Wally states his years of frustration managing the insanity of live shows finally erupted onto canvas.
Chloe is a very busy woman. Chloe’s Creations are now in shops around the world. She has remained a close friend not to mention a lifesaver on those rare occasions when I’m called upon to attend some glitzy, industry event. I can always trust her to come up with the perfect ensemble—publicity for her and glamour for me.
Managing a bi-continental household has been a challenge, but most of our time through the years has been spent on the Isle of Skye where our private lives can remain private.
Sky’s time on the road these days is greatly limited even though he still maintains a devoted fan base. We love technology since he’s been able to supplement the demand for personal appearances with concert videos, DVDs and strategic televised appearances. As long as his music sells, the record company is happy, so the system works.
I am still as ambitious as ever, but something has changed about those ambitions. When Sky placed Canaan into my arms after a grueling labor, my heart melted. Being a mother made all my other hopes and dreams pale in comparison. Soon after Canaan’s birth, through endless red tape and spiritual struggles galore, we finally brought home our precious Petra. As our clan has grown, so has my sense of purpose to raise happy, confident children and provide a haven for our family. The job is hard, requiring every bit of strength, tenacity and reliance on God I can muster, but it’s worth it. Life is certainly never dull.
Especially with the addition of Petra in our lives, my passion for children in hopeless circumstances is stronger than ever. Thankfully, the organization we work with has allowed me to speak out on their behalf and help in fundraising for several orphanages including the ones Sky and Draper have established.
Patrick Phillips retired from films and moved back to Australia with his sister. Sky and I believe he must be in some sort of international intelligence work, figuring he got tired of playing a dashing spy in name only. But we do know he’s devoted to his sister and her family. Jessica keeps in touch. She and her husband have adopted, at last count, nine children—all victims of abuse no one else would consider adoptable. In my eyes, she, not Patrick, is the true hero.
And what of the venerable Rita? She is a fierce advocate for women exiting the sex industry and runs a non-profit organization dedicated to rehabilitation, education and ongoing support. Again, there’s a hero for ya.
I’m happy to report the two spiritual powerhouse friends of ours, Anya and Lex, are now a spiritual powerhouse couple. Whenever we can, we spend time in the Loire Valley, enjoying Lex’s and Anya’s friendship and peaceful hospitality—unless the kids are with us. Then it’s no longer peaceful but it is fun.
I may not be a superhero like Jessica and Rita, but the twenty-four/seven of raising children is never easy. Sky and I work hard to remain best friends in the midst of the chaos we call Life. He’s still able to make me laugh when I want to cry. Whenever possible, we steal away, just the two of us, to talk and love and dream in ways that have become richer through the years.
There have been times we’ve been very distracted by our duties juggling family, an international music career and all things in between. We both tend to be stubborn, but the obstacles we endured help us treasure every moment we have together. Honestly, I never would have believed marriage could be this good if I hadn’t lived it. When Sky does have to be away, I can expect a phone call every day and to discover little notes tucked in the darnedest places.
It’s the little things, the things we know will make each other smile, that keep our love fresh.
~~
I watch Sky and the kids as, instead of heading toward the barn, he approaches the men with the bulldozer. What’s up with that?
After a short conversation, he and our brood erupt with cheers and Petra mutters, “That must have gone well.”
“What, Pet?”
She shrugs with wide eyes and runs down to meet her father who is getting close enough to be a target for my hay throwing skills.
Sky steps out of the way of the falling mound and looks up with a grin. “I’m on to you ya know.”
“Why are you fraternizing with the enemy?”
“If you weren’t so mean I’d tell you.”
My haven is becoming our customary madhouse as the kids tumble in one-by-one to explore mom’s secret place.
“So this is why ya always disappear in the mornin’ when we visit.” Canaan’s young man voice carries just a hint of Scottish brogue. I love that.
“Happy birfday, Mommee!” Hope’s chubby arms wrap around my legs. “I want cake!”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“But your ‘prise is secret. Right Daddee?”
Sky throws his hands up in surrender. “Not anymore, thanks to you.” He puts an arm around my shoulders. “There is a company that is going to disassemble this old shack you love so much.”
“Disassemble?” The thought crushes my heart. The tears I’ve held back all day spill down my cheeks.
Sky pulls me into his arms and I bury my face in his chest as he continues. “You know that beautiful meadow with the view of the ocean on Skye?” I nod. “Well, that same company will reassemble your barn there.”
“What?” The sun just rose in my heart. I’m blinded by sudden hope as Sky continues.
“They will treat the wood, add new lumber where needed of course and we will design our new home… ”
I leap into his arms and shut him up with a kiss accompanied by John and Melody’s moans of “Gross!” and Canaan’s “Keep it PG will ya?”
“Happy Anniversary, Love.” Sky’s whispered endearment shuts out all the chaos.
~~
This weekend marks our seventeenth anniversary. My parents have agreed to look after our brood while Sky and I steal away to our favorite hotel. The forecast calls for thunderstorms so we’re hoping the fickle Texas weather will cooperate in setting the mood. There’ll be loads of fat pillows on the floor and chocolate and… well, suffice it to say, the blinds will be drawn.