Twelve
Emma
Caleb being around has stirred up a lot of memories.
We haven’t gone on any outings together, but he has been here quite a lot these past few weeks.
The new deck is glorious.
I couldn’t wait once it was done to buy some outdoor furniture and give Jason the freedom of the back yard.
It’s been worth every cent to see the look on his face.
A barbecue sits on the deck not far from the door leading into the kitchen, ready for us to build new family memories that will last us a lifetime.
And I finally feel like we’ve made this a real home.
That doesn’t mean I don’t think of the past. In fact, Caleb’s presence triggers memories both good and bad, all of which have led us to here.
I can’t change the past, but I can recover from it and move forward.
He’s upstairs today, replacing Jason’s bedroom door that had seen better days. Whoever had that bedroom clearly had posters or something nailed into it, and the wood was all chipped and broken in some parts.
I stand at the base of the stairs when a memory hits me so hard, I gasp.
Malcolm sneers at me. “I own you.”
I’m clutching Bailey in my arms and it’s only that newborn smell that keeps me centred.
“I can’t do this anymore. Please, let me go. Do the decent thing.”
He steps closer. “Do you honestly think I’ll let you keep my children? They belong with me.”
“Noah’s not yours.” Tears run down my cheeks. It’s taken me years to get up the courage to stand up for myself, and my resolve crumbles when he’s right in front of me. “The courts …”
“I’m on Noah’s birth certificate. And do you really think they’ll let an unstable, hysterical woman keep a baby?”
His words hit their target. It’s him and his warped idea of love that make me hysterical. He’s in control and my brain is so muddled.
“Now.” He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop being silly. I’ll take Bailey and you go back to bed and rest.”
He takes the baby from my arms. I don’t fight. He’s right. I have no one in my corner.
Nine years after we married, he decided it was time to have a baby. No sooner was she born than he turned our world upside down and moved us from the church community to a big house in a Christchurch suburb.
As much as I hated the church, I’m so isolated here.
I thought leaving would mean freedom.
But I was so wrong.
It’s these memories that keep tripping me up. He can never abuse me again—never say nasty things about me, never criticise me, and never make me do things I don’t want to. But Malcolm Nichols casts a long shadow over my life.
I close my eyes. The steady work sound from upstairs grounds me. I’m here. I’m safe. Caleb’s working on replacing the door while Jason’s at school.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Who could that be? I don’t know anyone here yet, and I can’t think of anyone who would visit.
