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“Oh my god. What happened? Is she okay?” I shriek as I brush my daughter’s hair from her face, looking for any signs of harm or pain.
There’s a police officer standing nearby with a clipboard in her hands. Dean looks at me, and I notice the fear in his eyes.
“He just showed up. Scared the shit out of us, but we’re okay.”
“Ma’am, is this your house?” the officer asks.
“Yes,” I stammer. “I live here.”
“Me too,” Caleb replies, placing a hand on my back and checking Abby. She won’t leave Dean’s arms. “Someone, please explain what happened.”
The officer steps up. “We received a call from one of your neighbors that there was an altercation on your property. When we showed up, Mr. Sheridan assured us that he was a resident here and that Mr. Truett Goode was trespassing and making violent threats against him and your daughter.”
“Oh my god,” I gasp, putting my hand over my mouth.
Dean holds Abby tight against his chest while he looks like he’s seen a ghost. In the short time since we left, he’s been through so much. It breaks my heart to see it.
Beside me, Caleb tenses, turning toward the police car parked on the street in front of our house.
“He’s in there?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” the officer replies.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he mutters under his breath.
“Caleb, don’t,” I say, reaching for him, but he’s already gone.
Marching toward the car, the police officers step in his way to keep him from opening the door. A despondent Truett sits behind the glass, staring straight ahead instead of turning toward his son.
“Leave him,” I say, grabbing Caleb’s arm and holding him back. “Stay with us.”
It takes Caleb a moment to relax, turning back toward Dean, Abby and me.
“I think I have everything for the report. We’ll have his car towed off your property, but for now, we’ll be taking your father into custody. If you have any more questions or need anything, I’ll leave my card here with you,” the police officer says, handing her card to me.
“Thank you,” I reply.
Once she’s gone, Dean stands from the porch and takes Abby inside. Seeing how tightly she’s clinging to Dean is both touching and terrifying. She must have been so scared. I’ve never seen her like this.
“What about my bike?” she says, lifting her face from his shoulder.
“We’ll get your bike, peanut,” I reply. When her eyes meet mine, she finally releases Dean and reaches for me. I pull her into my arms, holding her tight as I kiss her head.
Leaving Dean and Caleb to talk downstairs, I carry Abby up to the second-floor bathroom. Running her a bath, I carefully help her undress and step into the bubbles. She seems a lot calmer now as I pour warm water over her head.
“Would you like to talk about what happened?” I ask.
She shakes her head. But then, after a moment, she says, “Grandpa was scary.”
“I know he was, and I’m very sorry he scared you.”
“He doesn’t like Dean. He was so mean to him.”
I swallow the lump building in my throat as I settle onto the floor next to the bathtub. “Grandpa was wrong to be so mean to Dean.”
“Why doesn’t he like him?”
“He doesn’t know Dean like we do,” I reply. Stroking her head, I think about how innocent she is. I love that, and I wish I could preserve that forever. I want my daughter to make her own judgments on what is right and wrong in life without me or anyone else forming those opinions for her. I want her to hold on to this childhood innocence forever, but I know eventually she’ll have to cut her own teeth on dealing with ignorance in the world.
