Mr. Bear was already asleep, but Mr. Monkey tapped Joey’s arm.
I like when you talk to God,
he said.
“Me, too.” He was much more sleepy now. “I like it ’cause it means I’m not alone.”
You’re not alone,
Mr. Monkey said.
You have me.
“I know.” He smiled a little, but he was almost asleep. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Monkey, but he liked having God even better than his fuzzy friend. Because God was the strongest one in the whole universe. And that made him feel very safe. Safe enough to close his eyes and sleep. Because God was stronger than anyone.
Even the mean man who lived at this house.
T
heir plans came together at Fuller Park.
The place was quiet and close, and it gave them complete confidence that Joey wasn’t listening to their conversation. Molly still couldn’t believe it had come to this, but Jack was right. They were out of options. She settled in against the park bench and watched her husband, the man she trusted and loved with her whole life. He was pushing Joey on the swing, saying something about airplanes or pirates or reaching the sky. Molly appreciated the distraction.
Joey had been home just fifteen hours, and already she’d replayed his homecoming a dozen times in her head.
She’d been wearing out a path along the kitchen floor waiting for his return. When he walked through the door with Mrs. Bower, she rushed to him, dropped to her knees and held him close.
“Mommy! I missed you so much!”
“Me, too, buddy.”
But even before she could ask questions or tell him hello, the social worker tapped her on the shoulder. “Can I speak with you . . . alone?”
Jack had been in the workout room upstairs. At the sound of Joey at the door, he hurried down and into the entryway. He, too, stooped down and pulled Joey into a hug. His words were tight with emotion when he could finally speak. “We missed you, sport. I’m so glad you’re back.”
Molly motioned to him that Allyson Bower wanted to talk to them. Gus was the perfect distraction. The dog trotted up and nearly knocked Joey down in his hurry to say hello. “Gus!” Joey sounded happy, healthy. Normal. Molly could finally draw a complete breath. Her son was out of danger. For now.
They followed the social worker into the kitchen where Joey couldn’t hear them. She opened a file and took out a single sheet of paper. “You’ll see four fingerprint bruises on Joey’s left upper arm.” Her face was shrouded in concern. “The Porters told me about it. Their story goes that Joey was falling or he needed help up.” Her words dripped disgust. “Apparently, Mr. Porter took hold of Joey’s arm to help him.” She showed them the piece of paper. “It’s all here in the report.”
Once again, Molly felt the room start to spin. What was happening here? They were talking about documented bruises on their son’s body? At the hands of a convicted felon? A domestic-violence offender? Had the whole world gone crazy? Joey would never be safe with a man like that—never! She tried to focus. Jack was talking now.
“What I’m saying is, did anyone ask Joey what happened?”
“The Porters told me the story in front of him.” She shook her head as if to say that wasn’t how things were supposed to work out. “I pulled Joey aside and asked him if the story was true, if that’s how he got the bruises.”
“What did he say?” Molly couldn’t sort through her emotions fast enough. One moment she was furious, the next she wanted only to take Joey in her arms and rock him until he felt safe again.
The social worker gave a thoughtful nod. “He said it was true. What I didn’t like was how he kept looking over his shoulder while I was talking to him.” She hesitated. “I think he’s afraid of Rip Porter, but I can’t prove it.”
“So, isn’t that enough?” Jack’s voice was a study in controlled fury. “The man’s served time for domestic violence. He leaves bruises on my son’s arm. Certainly the judge won’t give the man custody now.”
Mrs. Bower pressed her lips together. “If you and Joey were walking and he tripped, you’d reach out to catch him, too. And you might leave bruises on his arm.” She lifted her shoulders. “I have no choice but to believe the story. Without Joey’s testimony, no one would ever blame Rip Porter for a few little bruises.”
Molly read more into the woman’s statement. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning it’d take a lot more than that for anyone to accuse him of abusing his own biological son.” She looked intently at them. “Children rarely testify against adults, Mrs. Campbell.”
“But if the Porters are lying”—Jack’s mind must’ve been headed in the same direction as Molly’s—“and if we could get Joey to tell us that, then wouldn’t the judge throw Porter back in prison and let us keep him?”
“No.” Allyson was a strong woman from what they knew of her, a businesswoman. But in that moment she looked sad, even vulnerable. “The system doesn’t work that way. The paperwork was forged, so by the court’s standards, Joey’s adoption was never completed, never official. If Rip Porter walked into a downtown bank and held it up at gunpoint with a dozen witnesses, they could send him to jail for the rest of his life, and still Joey would not belong to you.” She tapped the file in her hand and looked from Molly to Jack. “Joey’s adoption never took place. Not legally.”
After Allyson left, Molly and Jack cuddled with Joey and Gus on the sofa. They watched Disney’s
World’s Greatest Athlete
and laughed when the coach’s team was so bad, his football players didn’t know which direction to run. When Nanu, the jungle boy, came with the coach to the United States to help the team, Joey sat on the edge of his seat. Clearly he was amazed at the way the jungle boy could run and jump and hit and throw. But near the end of the program, Joey cried quiet tears. “Nanu doesn’t want to win. He just wants to be home.”
“That’s right, Joey.” Molly kissed his head.
He looked up at her. “’Cause home’s the best place.”
Jack and Molly exchanged a look. Then Molly said it was time to get Joey’s pajamas on. They walked him up to his room and she took his T-shirt off. The bruises were easy to see. They couldn’t have been made by anything but an intentional grab at their son’s arm.
Molly ran her fingers over them. “Joey . . . what happened here?”
Joey stayed silent.
“It’s okay, baby.” Molly kissed his cheek. “You can tell us. You’re not in trouble.”
Joey bit his lip. Gus moved into the room and for a few seconds he was distracted, petting the dog.
Jack tried this time. “Joey, tell us about the bruises, sport. What happened?”
“You can’t t-t-tell that other d-d-daddy, okay?”
Molly wanted to cry an ocean of tears. When had he started stuttering? Was he that afraid, that worried that somehow the “other daddy” would hurt him? In just one brief visit? What would a lifetime with a man like that mean for Joey?
“That other daddy is Mr. Porter.” Jack’s tone flowed with compassion, putting Joey at ease. “He won’t find out. I promise.”
Joey ran his other hand over the bruise and his eyes grew damp again. “That m-m-man was m-m-mad at me. I was laying d-d-down and he wanted to talk to me.” The stuttering was worse with every sentence. “He grabbed me and made me sit up. Then he yelled at me. He t-t-told me pretty s-s-soon he would t-t-teach me a lesson.”
Jack groaned and leaned against the wall.
Molly could only imagine the battle her husband was waging inside his head and heart, because the war inside hers was just as fierce. If Rip Porter were standing in front of her, she would punch him square in the face. How dare he lay a hand on her son? It didn’t matter that Rip was Joey’s biological father. The man was a stranger, and a bad guy at that.
She ran her fingers gently over the row of marks on Joey’s arm. “Buddy, why didn’t you tell that to Mrs. Bower?”
“’C-c-cause . . . that mean daddy was watching us. If I t-t-told the t-t-truth he might hurt me again. M-m-mostly I talked to God. He stayed with me the whole trip.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Molly understood. What was God doing to help them? Joey had gone to Ohio despite her prayers and Beth’s, and he had come home physically and emotionally damaged. Still, Molly refused to be cynical, at least where Joey was concerned. She leaned close to him. “I’m glad God was with you, buddy. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”
Jack took Joey into his bathroom to help him brush his teeth, and Molly unpacked his bag. Near the top she found the stuffed bear. She held it up. “Joey? What’s this?”
“What?” Joey peered out from the bathroom. “Oh, that’s Mr. B-b-bear. He’s Mr. Monkey’s new friend.” Even ten minutes after talking about the bruising incident, Joey’s stuttering was less than before. “The other daddy gave it to me.”
In that moment, Molly knew what Mrs. Bower meant about children and abuse. Of course they didn’t testify. Something inside children made them forget about traumatic events, like a safety mechanism in their hearts. One minute Joey had been terrified of Rip Porter. The next, he was happy about having received a stuffed animal from the man.
Half an hour later, when his bag had been unpacked and Mr. Monkey and Mr. Bear and Mr. Growls were tucked in on one side and Gus on the other, and when Joey was asleep, Molly and Jack stepped out into the hall. Molly stopped and faced him. She had just one thing to say.
“Jack . . .”
“I won’t have it, Molly.” He was fuming, pressing his hands against his temples and dropping them to his sides again. “I’d like to get my hands on him just for one minute! Grab a little boy who’s already scared and alone and—”
“Jack . . .”
“No, I’m serious, Molly. This isn’t right. There has to be a law in place that’ll protect kids, because I’m not standing around and waiting until that man does something drastic to my son before—”
“Jack!”
He stopped. “What?”
She searched his eyes. When she had his full attention she opened her mouth and said the thing she never thought she’d say. “I’m ready for your plan.”
That had happened just the previous night. Now here they sat in the park, ready to set the plan into motion—whatever the plan might be. A plan that would force them to cut ties with everything and everyone they knew in the United States and start life over again.
Molly felt as terrified and shocked about the idea as ever. No matter what they did, life was about to take a wild, frightening, uncontrollable turn. Jack’s plan was worth pursuing because at least they would take that turn with Joey. Not without him. At the end of this very long, very dark tunnel, that was the only light whatsoever.
Jack walked back to Molly and took his seat on the bench. He turned to her, “I love you.” His hands came up and he framed her face, studying her. With all the tenderness in the world, he kissed her lips. “Before we take this any further, I need you to know that. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”
She felt her throat grow thick. How had he known? This—his love for her—was exactly what she needed to hear right now. That whatever they faced, they’d face it as lovers and friends. She returned his kiss. “You’re all I need, Jack.” She allowed herself to get lost in his eyes. “I trust you. Whatever we have to do, we can do it together.”
They settled back against the bench and kept their eyes on Joey. “Okay, Molly.” Jack put his arm around her and cradled her head against his shoulder. “What we’re about to do, our plans, our conversations, all of it must never—not for a minute—be discussed with anyone else.”
Molly was about to say that his warning was unnecessary. After all, they were making plans to leave the country, to create new identities for themselves.
But then he looked at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “That means Beth, too.”
Everything around her faded. The sound of the birds, the subtle breeze, Joey on his swing, even the pounding of her own heartbeat.
Beth.
Why hadn’t she thought about her sister? Molly sat back and looked straight ahead again. Her junior year of high school, she had played a pick-up game of basketball at lunch with some of the drama kids. None of them had much experience in sports, and one of the guys winged the ball at her when she wasn’t ready. She had taken it right in the gut, and it was half a minute before she could breathe again.
She felt that way now.
Leaving Florida, leaving life as they knew it, leaving everything about Jack and Molly Campbell—she was ready for all of it. But leaving Beth? Forever? Molly bent at her waist and leaned over her knees. She was getting her wind back, but her heart was still spinning out of control. Beth had been her best friend all her life. She shared everything with her sister.
“Molly . . .” Jack put his hand on her lower back. “You hadn’t thought about Beth?”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, then slowly sat up. She turned to Jack and shook her head. “I guess not.”
“You can’t tell her any of this.”
“No.” The right answers were easy. Putting them into play would be another thing. She would be working through the most difficult, most painful time in her life, and she wouldn’t be able to tell a word of it to Beth. Then, when all the plans came together, she would have to do the impossible. She would say good-bye to her sister and friend, knowing they would never see each other again.
Once more she faced forward and looked at Joey, at his pale blond hair dancing in the warm breeze as he pushed himself higher, higher. She had no choice about Beth. In a few months, Molly Campbell would be dead, and so would her relationship with her sister. Molly steeled herself against the pain that would come. She would do it all for Joey.
There was no other way.
She nodded. “I understand.”
“All right.” Jack sounded relieved. He angled himself so he could see her better. “I’ve been thinking of a plan.”
“Okay.” Her heart bounced around inside her. She felt like she was standing at the open door of an airplane, about to jump. Only she wasn’t even sure she had a parachute. “We have to get out of the country, right?”
“Right.” Jack’s words picked up speed. “That’s the hardest part, because we have to answer to Allyson Bower.”