Little Mercies (10 page)

I’m still looking at Caren, waiting for an explanation, the words on the piece of paper ordering me to stay more than five hundred feet away from my daughter at all times blurring. “Charges?” I finally whisper, my throat suddenly dry.

“Child endangerment with serious bodily injury. Iowa Code Section 726.6,” Prieto says.

“I know the code,” I say sharply to Prieto. Iowa Code Section 726.6 is the child endangerment section. If the child suffered death, it would be a Class B felony, with a maximum of twenty-five years in prison. I turn back to Caren and lower my voice. “Caren, is this necessary? You know me....” I try to hand back the piece of paper. Prieto pushes it back at me.

Caren straightens her spine and her face resumes the professional mask I am used to seeing. “You know how it works, Ellen. We’re going to pass the DHS investigation to Peosta County to insure an unbiased examination of the facts.”

I scan the piece of paper that Prieto has pressed into my fingers. “Oh, no, no, no,” I cry in disbelief. “A protective order? Are you telling me I can’t see Avery?” My voice cracks. By the look on Caren’s face she understands that this is killing me. I wonder where the assertive, decisive woman I was just a few hours ago has gone. I should be demanding to see my daughter, but I feel unworthy, so afraid. “What about Leah and Lucas? Can I still see them? You can’t keep me away from them, can you?” Of course I know they can keep me away from my other children if they think that they will be endangered in my care. For the first time the implications of what I’ve done and how it could impact Leah and Lucas hits me. How will they look at me, what will they think of me once they learn the details of what happened to their sister?

I want to scream at Prieto and Caren. I want to ask them how they can live with themselves knowing that they are keeping a very sick little girl away from her mother.

“Richard, can you give us a second?” Caren asks Prieto, who looks suspicious but pulls out his phone and walks away. “Ellen...” The impassive expression remains on her face but her voice softens. “We have to go by the book on this one. I know it was a terrible accident. Richard knows that it was a terrible accident, but we have to investigate carefully and thoroughly just as we would if it was anyone else. In fact, we have to be more thorough.”

“Caren, what’s going on? Avery could die and you’re telling me I can’t be there with her. What if Avery is crying for me? I can’t go to her? What about Lucas and Leah? Are you keeping them away from me, too? You can’t think I’m a danger to them?” I’m so afraid of the answer. I know the process very well.

“You will get an FSRP just like anyone else in this situation,” Caren explains.

I shake my head unable to believe what I’m hearing. We will be assigned a Family Safety, Risk and Permanency caseworker or a FRSP. An in-home provider whose job it is to make our lives very uncomfortable. FRSPs are young, overworked and underpaid. Most have an undergraduate degree in some kind of human services field, but they are not experts. They are not counselors and they get sent out into homes to be the eyes and ears of the department. The FRSP assigned to us can drop in at any time of the day or night. She can enter our home, ask to see any part of the house. She can come to see what we are making for dinner, come to see if the house is clean, if the beds are made. She can talk to Lucas and Leah without us being present. Most importantly she checks to see if the children are safe. It can be excruciating for families, but there is a reason for it. I just can’t believe it’s needed in my case, for my family.

As if reading my mind, like she has always been able to do, Caren tosses me a scrap of hope, lowers her voice to a low whisper. “I know this was an accident, Ellen. I will do anything in my power to help get you through this. They have twenty days to investigate this and I’m positive they will find in your favor.”

“Caren,” I plead, reaching for her hand. “I need to be with Avery. She could die.”

“Twenty days,” she says, gently pulling away from me.

“What if we don’t have twenty days?” I say again, more desperately. “I need to see her. Please,” I beg.

Caren lowers her eyes and takes a short, harsh breath and raises her hands helplessly. “I don’t know what else to tell you. For now the right thing is for us to follow procedure.”

“The right thing is to let me see Avery. I’m her mother—she needs me!” I am crying openly now. No one walking down the busy hallways of the hospital even slows down or casts a sympathetic eye toward me. Everyone is either immersed in their own personal medical hell or so used to the daily dramas played out within these corridors they don’t even notice the sobbing woman begging for permission to see her children.

Prieto is walking back toward us. “You need to leave right now,” he says sternly, looking around to see if anyone is listening. “You need to stay away from your daughter and the PICU until the investigation is complete.” He sighs. “And get a lawyer, Ellen,” Prieto advises. “You’re going to need a good one.”

They leave me standing there by myself and I sink onto a padded bench beneath a window that looks out over the hospital parking lot and cry.

Chapter 16

J
enny counted blocks as she walked. One. What would her grandmother say when she opened the door and saw her on the front step? She would be surprised, that was for sure. But would she be happy? Jenny thought of the birthday card nestled in her backpack. Yes, Jenny was certain. Her grandma would be happy.

Two, three blocks. Seven more to go. Jenny picked up her pace, anticipation propelling her forward. Four, five, six. What if her grandmother had moved away? What if no one answered the door? What would Jenny do then? She wasn’t sure if she could find her way back to Maudene’s house or if she even wanted to. The threat of calling a social worker scared Jenny more than wandering the streets of Cedar City. There was no way she was going to go into foster care.

Seven, eight blocks. Only two more. Despite the heat, Jenny started to run. Two more blocks and she could be at her grandmother’s house. Someone who had to love her because they were related. Jenny quickly pushed away the thought of her mother. Being related hadn’t mattered much to her. Breathing heavily, Jenny slowed as the green street sign announcing Hickory Street came into view. Jenny wasn’t sure which way to turn. Left or right. She pulled the lavender envelope from her bag, now smudged with sweat and dirt, and committed the address to memory—2574 Hickory Street. Left, she decided. One-thirteen, was scrolled in black letters on the first house she passed, then 111, 109, 107.

With a sinking heart Jenny realized that she was moving in the wrong direction. And even though she wasn’t very good at math, Jenny understood that it would take a long time to walk from 107 Hickory all the way to 2574. With sagging shoulders, Jenny turned and started walking in the opposite direction.

Twenty minutes later, Jenny could feel her scalp burning as the afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on top of her head. Knowing that she was already sunburned, Jenny stepped into the slightly cooler shade beneath an enormous oak tree and pulled out a plastic bottle half-filled with tepid water and restrained herself by taking just one drink. Jenny gnawed on her thumbnail as, once again, doubts began to swirl around her head. What would happen if her grandmother no longer lived on Hickory Street? With a sniffle, Jenny hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and stepped out from the leafy branches, squinting into the unyielding sunshine as a familiar round car pulled up next to the curb. Three faces stared out at her from inside the car.

Maudene rolled down her window and Jenny cringed slightly, awaiting the angry admonishment she expected to follow. Maudene looked kindly at her as her two grandchildren eyed her suspiciously. “At least let me take you to wherever you’re going.”

“My grandma’s,” Jenny said in a tremulous voice. Saying it out loud to Maudene made it seem even more real, even more possible. Through the window, Jenny handed Maudene the envelope with her grandmother’s address.

“It’s going to be a tight fit,” Maudene told Jenny as she squeezed into the back of the car with a boy who looked a few years younger than she.

“This is Jenny,” Maudene said simply. Jenny cut her eyes toward Maudene, waiting to see what she would say next. “Jenny, these are my grandchildren, Leah and Lucas.”

“Hi,” Jenny said shyly.

“I want to go see Avery.” Leah barely glanced Jenny’s way. “When can we see her?”

“Soon,” Maudene promised. “We have one stop to make and then we’ll head over to my house and call your mom and dad to see how Avery’s doing.”

They drove in silence. Jenny noticed this about Maudene. She didn’t talk much while she drove. Not like her father who talked the entire time, commenting on everything from how the guy in front of them was driving to the number of potholes that pocked the road. Jenny figured this was Maudene’s thinking time. Connie, her father’s old friend-girl, said that everyone needed time to think. Connie said she liked to think in the shower and that Jenny’s dad preferred to act first, think later. Jenny didn’t think this was a compliment, but Connie smiled when she said it and had kissed her father on the cheek. Jenny didn’t have a special thinking place, but thought it could probably be in a cozy bedroom like Maudene had in her house.

Jenny’s heart knocked uncomfortably within her rib cage. “Maybe you could go to the door first,” Jenny proposed, her voice shaking, “just to make sure it’s the right house.”

“I can do that,” Maudene answered, surprising Jenny with a quiver in her own voice. Maudene drove slowly down the busy street and peered at each house number before announcing, “This is 2574, the address on the envelope.” The four of them sat and stared across the street at the house where Jenny’s mother grew up. The yellowed lawn was choked by weeds and was dotted with sprightly lawn decorations: plump garden gnomes, a small family of rabbits, an angel knelt in prayer. Jenny’s shoulders dropped slightly in relief. A person who had an angel outside their home couldn’t be all that bad. The small house was painted white but had grown dingy with age and with the extremes of Iowa weather. The two front windows were girded with green shutters and the window boxes were filled with what appeared to be cheap, brightly colored plastic flowers.

“Can I come with you?” Lucas asked, reaching for the door handle.

“You three stay here and wait for me to come and get you, okay?” Maudene said as she reached back and retrieved her large, black leather purse from the floor next to Jenny. Seeing Jenny’s wounded expression, Maudene shook her head and smiled wearily. “I don’t think you are going to steal anything from my purse, Jenny. I might need to show your grandmother some identification so she doesn’t think I’m a crazy lady and call the police.”

“Oh,” Jenny said, taken aback. She hadn’t thought of that. Maudene took a steadying breath and, with purse in hand, pushed open the car door and tripped to the curb to avoid the traffic whizzing past. Maudene looked left and right, then left and right again, until it was safe to cross the street. Jenny mulled over climbing out of the car and joining Maudene on the curb and grabbing her hand so they could cross safely together. Maudene was still looking from left to right, and just as Jenny was reaching for the door handle to go and cross the street with her, Maudene saw a break in the traffic and scurried across the street. Once safely across, Maudene smiled and waved at Jenny, who waved back. Maudene stood for a moment, staring up at the house then pulled herself up to her full height, shoulders back and carefully picked her way up the crumbling cement steps that led to the front door. She watched, holding her breath as Maudene raised her fist and rapped on the front door. Finally the door opened and a figure stepped into sight. Jenny shielded her eyes, but the sun was so bright she couldn’t tell if the person who answered the door was male or female, young or old. Maudene, with her back to Jenny, appeared to be talking with the figure, but Jenny was much too far away and the traffic was too noisy to hear over.

Though the car windows were down, the heat was suffocating and Jenny thought about Maudene’s granddaughter who nearly died while sitting in a car. She tried to imagine what that would feel like, closed her eyes, held her breath for as long as she could. She lasted about twenty seconds and then gulped in the hot air greedily. When she opened her eyes, both Leah and Lucas were staring at her as if she was crazy.

Maudene’s conversation seemed to be taking forever and Jenny thought about climbing out to get a better look at the person standing in the doorway. Maybe it was her grandmother. Maybe she was a grandma who baked cookies and knitted scarves. But maybe she was one of those grandmas who smoked long, thin cigarettes, swore and liked to watch TV all day long. And worst of all, maybe she didn’t want anything to do with a granddaughter who unexpectedly showed up at her house. Before Jenny could make up her mind, Maudene turned and quickly made her way back down the steps. Jenny peered between the fast-moving traffic to try and get a glimpse of the shadow that still stood in the doorway watching Maudene’s retreating back, but with no luck. Had she found her grandmother? Jenny scrutinized Maudene’s face, which wore the same look that her father’s did when he realized there was no beer in the fridge or the look that Connie had on her face when she received the phone call saying that her mother had a heart attack. Suddenly Jenny realized that while she couldn’t see the person in the house, maybe he or she could see her and hastily slid down in the seat so that her head was hidden just below the window.

Jenny didn’t sit up in her seat until Maudene got back into the car, fastened her seat belt, started the car and pulled into traffic. “Well?” Jenny finally asked. “What did they say? Does my grandma still live there?”

Maudene continued to drive in silence, her face a mask of worry. Once they arrived at Maudene’s home, Leah and Lucas leaped from the car and ran into the house. Maudene and Jenny followed slowly behind and, once on the porch, Maudene took Jenny’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” she finally said. “Your grandmother passed away last year.” Maudene pulled her into a hug. “But don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” Maudene assured her. “I promise.”

“Oh,” Jenny whispered. “It doesn’t really matter.” And, staring down at the wooden planks of the porch, she blinked back tears, surprised that she really did think it mattered. It mattered more than anything.