Sheltering Hearts (2 page)

They had given each one of the women a little help. They hadn’t saved anyone, but they’d provided assistance. And next week they’d provide a little more. And the week after that, and after that, and after that… It was a process that was ongoing and not finished quickly—Dory could attest to that. Four years after escaping a nightmare of a marriage, she was still recovering. But she was so much stronger, so much healthier and self-sufficient. Now she knew that, not only would she make it, giving herself and her children a good life, but she would thrive.

Before leaving that night, she approached the only woman who didn’t seem in dire need. Elizabeth. Dory asked, “Is there anything special I can help you with?”

“I have all the essentials covered, thanks,” she said.

There was a real hint of sadness in her eyes, in her voice, which Dory picked up on. “Listen,” she said, “I’m going to grab my kids and get them some ice cream at the McDonald’s down the street. I could stand a cup of coffee. You?”

And then Elizabeth smiled, grateful. “That would be great. My kids are with my sister, so I have some time.”

Just based on the comments Elizabeth had made during group, Dory wasn’t all that surprised by what she learned over coffee. The woman had a pretty good job and a lot of family help to make up for her ex-husband’s lapses in child support and visitation. “I’ve been divorced three years now. Half of me wishes my ex would be better about spending time with the boys just so they’d be clear that he really cares about them, but the other half doesn’t push because
he’s not always the greatest role model. But my dad, brothers-in-law and brother are…they pick up the slack and the boys seem to be well-adjusted.”

“That’s lucky. How old are they?”

“Ten and twelve. Typical boys. Good kids.” She glanced down into her cup for a moment. “I don’t have the kind of problems the women I met tonight have. I should be so grateful. I almost felt guilty taking up chair space tonight.”

“Oh, heavens, don’t! I’m sure you had a reason for coming out to support group.” Dory paused, then said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of problems do you have?”

She gave a half smile. “Nothing that compares to some of the situations I heard tonight. I have three sisters—all with good marriages. And they’re very supportive. But to tell the truth, sometimes I just get so
lonely.
I thought maybe some women in the same boat, with situations like mine…”

“I can relate,” Dory said. “I guess that means you’re not dating….”

“I’ve had some dates,” she said with a shrug. “Actually, a few nice guys have asked me out, and I’ve been seeing one regularly lately—it’s not serious, though. Nothing seems to shiver me timbers, as my dad would say.” Then she smiled.

Dory laughed. “I have an idea, something for you to think about… You might not be in need of gas coupons or food or shelter from an abuser, but please don’t let that stop you from attending our support group—we can all use people to talk to. We don’t weigh the problems to see who has the heaviest load. We just deal. You know? I understand how hard it is to keep up with everything when it’s all on you, but more than half of our volunteers are single moms. They volunteer because they know how tough it can be and
they want to help. We’re getting some amazing things done and we’re growing into a real significant resource, one that’s even more important now that the economy is down and government benefits are being cut like mad. We need the help, Elizabeth—would you consider becoming a volunteer? I can guarantee you’d meet some fantastic people.”

“How’d you get into it?” she asked.

“Exactly like this. I needed some emotional support and found the group. It felt as good to give support as it did to get it, and then Corsica recruited me to help her develop this organization so it could assist
more
women and kids. We’ve come such a long way in three years. It’s become so important to me. I work full-time as a checker at a grocery store—that pays my bills. But this work feeds my heart.”

“I don’t know that I have a lot of time, but I sure have some,” she said. “I think I’d like that. I think my heart needs a little something.”

A
S OFTEN HAPPENED
after support group meetings, Dory’s thoughts turned to her own story as she drove home. She had lost her parents when she was young—she didn’t even remember them. Her mother and father were killed in a freak traffic accident. Though Dory had been in the car with them, she was not only spared, but uninjured. She was sent to live with her father’s much older brother and his wife. Her aunt and uncle took her in when they were already in their fifties, a couple who had not had children until she was sent to them.

She grew up in Fresno, California, as an only child. The little Humboldt County house that she and her children now called home had been inherited from her uncle Joe. It was a very small three-bedroom, fifty-year-old vacation home and a place he had
stayed while on hunting trips. Dory remembered fun summers and long weekends there—running in the woods, fishing in the river, catching fireflies.

There was no real reason for her to have ultimately found herself in an abusive marriage—she had been raised in a loving home. It wasn’t easy, though, when she was a young teen to have “parents” so much older than all the other moms and dads. Her aunt and uncle were understandably nervous and resistant to Dory’s idea of cool clothes, fun pastimes, acceptable behavior, music and friends. She’d roll up her skirt on the way to school, and while riding the bus put on makeup she wasn’t supposed to wear. She had been a bit rebellious—defying them now and then—but she had been a good kid.

And she always knew her aunt and uncle loved her, wanted the best for her.

Trip Jones was a couple of years older than Dory and a high school dropout. Uncle Joe had strictly forbidden her to date him, so she pretended to go to girlfriends’ houses to get around it. But because her aunt and uncle were so much older than her friends’ parents, and old-fashioned besides, she didn’t get much of a frank education about the ways of men and women. Before she knew it, she was in too deep with Trip and he thought he owned her. He could talk her into anything, and he ultimately talked her into running off with him when she was barely eighteen.

The first time he hit her he told her it was because she cried every night that she wanted to go home. Things only escalated from there, and before she knew it they’d been together five years, she was the mother of two small children and her life had become one giant nightmare.

But God had been looking out for her. They eventually ended
up in a small Oklahoma town, and it was there she found help in the form of the Zoë Institute. Her life was forever changed. And now she was forging ahead, trying to help others in a similar way.

O
VER THE NEXT
couple of weeks Dory got to know Elizabeth a little better. They had coffee with Corsica and talked about where her volunteer time could best be spent. Elizabeth worked for a local big-box store in the accounting department. She wasn’t a CPA, but she was an experienced bookkeeper and had lived locally for a long time, so she could be a big help with fundraising and public relations. When it was time for their annual conference for single moms, she could maybe teach a workshop on money management, applying for loans and benefits, budgeting, et cetera.

She also got to know Clay, because at home there were also developments. When Clay was around, he was always doing little things for her without being asked. One morning, as she was pushing her large garbage canister down her drive to the main road, he intercepted her and took it off her hands. And a couple of days later, when Austin was outside pitching his ball up in the air, Clay appeared to toss it with him. Dory went out onto the porch and yelled at Austin not to bother Mr. Kennedy.

“We’re just playing!” Clay hollered back. “It’s not a problem at all!”

Then Sophie actually came outside to join them. It seemed both her kids were interested in playing ball now that summer had arrived, and while Dory might like to think of an excuse to criticize Clay, the truth was it was good for them to have an adult to play ball with them.

And then she came home to find her grass cut. Again.

But the last straw came that afternoon when she looked outside
in the yard for Austin and he wasn’t there. Dory yelled into the house, “Sophie, do you know where your brother is?”

“Nope,” she yelled back from her bedroom.

Dory walked around her little house calling, but no Austin. She saw that Clay’s big SUV was parked in front of his house—would Austin have gone into the house with Clay? Up to now Clay had limited himself to catching the kids outside and maybe tossing the ball around for a little while. In spite of herself, she was catching on to his schedule—it seemed as though he worked about every other day, occasionally off for a couple of days in a row.

She ran up his porch steps and knocked on the screen door; the inside door had been left open. “Hello? Austin?” she yelled when no one answered her knock.

Austin was not there. She yelled for him and he didn’t answer.

Dory suddenly felt a heaviness in her gut and her heart began to race. Even though Clay’s car was right there and he was clearly nearby, even though Sophie was safe in the house, she was remembering a long time ago. Four years past. Trip had beaten her senseless. Up till then he’d been known to lose his temper and whack her around, but that time he’d hurt her badly. Frightened of the consequences, he had grabbed the kids—aged two and four at the time—and taken off. She had been terrified she’d never see them again….

Dory, driven by fear and flashback, ran down the path toward the river. Austin was
never
to go to the river without a grown-up! Of the two kids, Austin was the more likely to defy her rules, but even he rarely did so. She screamed, “Austin! Austin! Austin!” as she ran. And when she burst through the trees, she saw them at river’s edge, sitting on the bank. Austin held a long fishing pole, and Clay sat next to him, knees drawn up, encircling the boy with his arms. “Austin!” she yelled.

They both turned to look at her, and both stood up. She converged on them, but she got down in front of Austin, grabbing his upper arms. “I couldn’t find you!” she almost screamed. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here!”

Austin had a wild, terrified look on his face. His mother
never
screamed at him! “But Clay’s growed up!” he said.

“You can’t leave the yard without asking! Without telling me where you’re going! I was scared to death!” She gave him a little shake. “I couldn’t
find
you!”

“He won’t again,” Clay said calmly. He reached down and lifted Dory’s elbow, urging her to her feet. “He followed me. The next time he says it’s okay, I’ll be sure to check with you myself. I should’ve thought of that.”

She turned on him. “What
were
you thinking? That you can just do whatever you want where my kids are concerned, like you’re…you’re… Like you’re their uncle or something?”

“I probably
was
thinking like that,” he said with a shrug. “My sisters all have kids—they all trust me with their kids.” He wiped a thumb under her eyes, along her cheek. “Hey, I’m really sorry. It’ll never—”

“That’s
completely
irresponsible! You’re not my brother. I hardly know you! I don’t know your sisters, either, and you—”

“I scared you,” he said very softly. “But now I think you might be scaring Austin. I am sorry—it won’t happen again. Can we ratchet it down a notch? Smooth out that screech? Everyone is fine.”

She drew in a jagged breath. “I was… I was so scared….”

He lifted an eyebrow. “First time he’s gotten away from you?” He wiped his thumb under the other cheek. “One of my nephews crossed a busy street to put a nickel in a gumball machine when
he was only two—took about ten years off my sister’s life. Thank God that didn’t happen on my watch or I’d never have heard the end of it. Come on, let’s go back. Nothing’s biting. Try to relax.”

She took a deep breath. “Run on home, Austin,” she said calmly.

He took off as if the seat of his pants was on fire and Clay chuckled as he began to walk back.

“Something’s funny?” she asked, an angry edge to her voice.

“Look at him go. He’s afraid he’s going to get whipped. You don’t do that, I hope. Because if you do, you should really go after me—it’s my fault. I should’ve just thought about it for a second and I’d have realized, I’m not up on your house rules. I would’ve marched him right back home and we’d have asked you together.”

“Just why are you chumming up to my kids, anyway?” she asked, not even close to calmed down.

He stopped walking. He looked down at her. His brows were drawn together, eyes narrowed. “I like kids,” he said. “I have five nephews and three nieces. I come from a big family. Don’t make this into something not nice.”

“Then why don’t you
have
kids?” she asked.

“Call me old-fashioned, but since I’m not married…”

“Why aren’t you married?” she demanded.

“I don’t know! I brush and floss!” he shot back. “I’ve had about enough.” And he stalked off ahead of her. Then he stopped and turned back to her. “You know, if we went out on a date, got to know each other a little bit, you might feel better about me playing catch with your kids!”

“I don’t want to date!”

“So you’ve told me!”

Dory watched him walk away and she thought,
Oh, man. Oh, no. I
totally lost it because I’m still so fragile in some areas—so scared and self-protective. It’s good to be cautious and safe—it’s destructive to go into over-drive.

The biggest part of the problem was, when you had issues like hers—a history of abuse and almost losing her kids—it was sometimes so hard to know when you were being safe and cautious and when you were going over the top.

One thing Dory did know was that her overreaction had scared Austin and insulted Clay.

She knew she had some soul-searching to do. When she allowed herself to fantasize, which was rare, she longed for a trustworthy, caring man in her life. So why when one moved in next door did she push him away? Because she was afraid to trust.