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“I feel like no matter what I do, they will never be ready to let me see Amelia. Grace didn’t give me any specific milestones I need to reach first. She just said she and Craig need more time.”
“Why do you think she said that—that they need more time?”
I twiddle with the fabric of my skirt. “I don’t know.” I don’t know them well enough to know for sure.
“It could be they really do need time to adjust to you being in their lives and Amelia’s again. They were kind enough to help you secure a place to stay while you got your feet on stable ground. They didn’t have to do that.” Robyn gives me a small smile.
“I suggest giving them that time while you focus on yourself.” Her smile inches wider, and she sits up even straighter. “Take that opportunity to find something that makes you feel more grounded. You’ve mentioned before that you feel like you’ve lost all sense of purpose. Which is quite understandable with everything you’ve gone through, Jessica. This is a good time to examine what would give you back that sense of purpose in life. Something that shows you’re establishing roots here. Something not connected to Amelia.”
I guess she’s right. In college, I had a burning desire to change the world. That’s why I went into journalism. Working for Troy doesn’t give me a purpose like I once had. It gives me a paycheck—for which I’m extremely grateful.
“Right now, your mental well-being is a concern,” Robyn says, “and your feelings of powerlessness make sense given what you’ve been through over the past ten years. You were stripped of all power in your life. We’ll work on regaining it. And you can start thinking about the things that interest you that might give you the sense of purpose you’re looking for. Or at least something you’re passionate about. How does that sound?”
I nod, the makings of a smile twitching on my lips, because I would like to regain control of my life once more. To banish the powerlessness that still thrums through my body.
To find my purpose.
To find myself.
And in doing that, strengthen my relationship with Troy.
16
Jessica
June, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
Thursday, after a busy first day back to work as Troy’s office assistant, I head to the grocery store. Bailey walks alongside me wearing her Service Dog in Training vest, and we practice some of the commands we’ve been working on.
My ribs are still sore, so I’m taking things easy, but my leg is getting better. As it is, I had to practically beg Troy to let me return to work.
And let me go back to living at home.
I go into the store, focusing on Bailey’s training each step of the way, and head for the produce section. Violet is there, checking out the display of peaches. Sophie is in the shopping-cart seat, cuddling her toy lamb.
“Hey, Sophie.” I wave to the little girl. She waves back, grinning, and waves at Bailey.
I instruct Bailey to lie down and give her a treat to reward the behavior. “Hi, Violet. I called you Tuesday afternoon.” I reach for a peach, taking care not to stretch too far and irritate my ribs. “Did you get my message?”
She shakes her head stiffly and continues inspecting the peaches.
The unsettled feeling that something’s not right with Violet, the same feeling I’d experienced the day of the accident when she wasn’t home, returns. I had brushed it off as me being paranoid. Now, I’m not so sure. “Is something wrong?” I give Bailey another reward for remaining down and to encourage her to stay there.
Violet shakes her head again, her attention on the peaches.
But it doesn’t matter if she’s not looking at me, I can see the faint bruise on her cheek. Her makeup hasn’t completely covered it. “He’s hitting you, isn’t he?” My words are barely louder than a whisper.
“No one’s hitting me, Jess.” Her voice is small, soft, as if it too has gone into hiding. She picks up a peach and inspects it.
“I know what it’s like.” I keep my volume hushed. A few other customers are also in the produce section, but they aren’t close enough to overhear us. “I’ve been there, where you are, and I barely survived. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you, Violet.” I don’t know if her husband is hurting their daughter, but I do know his abuse will impact her both now and in the long run.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” she says, her voice still soft, and returns the peach to the display.
She walks away, pushing the shopping cart. Sophie waves goodbye, her chubby hand gripping hold of my heart.
