They’re both grinning from ear to ear since this is theirfavorite thing in the world to do. Duke’s muscular arms flex in the golden light of the sun that’s starting to dip down near the horizon.
He’s been around all day, just here.
He was outside doing yard work all morning, within view of the bunkhouse. Then he ordered us pizza for lunch, somehow knowing I hadn’t had time to grocery shop like I usually do when the boys are with their dad.
“They’re fine. I mean, they don’t understand why what happened was so bad. They were scared, of course, but then I was there, and they got to come home with me.”
“Have you heard from Saruman?”
“No. He’s probably still sleeping off a hangover.”
“Bastard. He doesn’t deserve to be a father! We’ll be there in two days, and we’ll go with you to the lawyer’s office to get the process going to sever his rights.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her what the Redford’s lawyer told me last night. Warner doesn’t specialize in child custody, but he knows the basics of Texas custody laws.
The situation makes me sick to my stomach. If I think about it for too long, I’m afraid I’ll vomit again. I threw up last night after getting home. The reality of what had happened melted over me in a physically punishing way. I’ve had a migraine all day, muscling through it and refusing to cry. My eyes are still red and puffy from last night’s breakdown.
The boys could’ve easily died in a drunk-driving incident at the hands of their own father. That cold truth is settling over me in a way that’s been difficult toaccept.
I love my kids more than life itself. To think someone I once loved and was married to put them in harm’s way has been difficult for me to wrap my head around. I’ve been going in mental circles, trying to make sense of what happened.
Maybe he didn’t realize how drunk he was.
Maybe he was having a mental health episode.
Maybe he didn’t mean to put them in such clear danger.
No matter what I try to convince myself of, the facts are impossible to deny. The boys were terrified.
Matt can’t be alone with them anymore. He’s not a fit parent. What he did was reckless and inexcusable. It has nothing to do with the abuse I suffered. This is a completely different scenario.
“I gotta go, Mom. We haven’t eaten dinner, and I need to figure that out and give them a bath.”
“I love you, sweetie. Try to get some rest tonight.”
“Love you too.”
I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and walk over to the fence surrounding the arena. Duke is kneeling down in the dirt, the twins concentrating on the rope he’s showing them how to tie.
“Loop this side through here, but make sure it’s not too tight. Then you wrap the end through and pull it hard. Here, pull it, Dutton.”
He holds it over for Dutton to pull. He does it with all his might, making me smile at the concentrated look on his face. I tuck a loose curl into the red bandana tied around my greasy hair that I haven’t had time to wash.
Duke’s denim shirt has the top three buttons undone,revealing his muscled chest underneath. His brown cowboy hat is tilted back on his head. Dawson reaches up to grab it. I almost intervene to tell him not to take it, but Duke doesn’t even seem to notice it’s gone.
The brief moment in time makes me wonder what I would’ve been like if I’d never married my ex. If I’d been pickier, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If I’d waited a little longer and paid attention to the red flags, my children could have had a father like Duke. They would be safe, in a two-parent home.
A pang of sadness pierces my gut. The overwhelming guilt of where I am and who I’m forced to share my children with nearly overwhelms me. I want to curl up in the dirt and scream and cry and beg God to explain why I was dealt such a shit hand in life.
Why does Rosie get to be up the road with her sweet little girls tucked safely into bed every night?
Why do some men choose to be good, safe fathers and husbands and some choose to abuse and torment their wives and children?
I feel the warmth of a hand wrapping around mine, jerking me out of my spiraling thoughts. I realize that he’s standing right in front of me, his brows pinched in concern.
I feel the cold tears on my cheeks, and the gasping of my own breaths finally reaches my ears.
I’m having a panic attack.
