Joy in the Morning

“Richard, we have to talk about this wall between us. I’ve been hoping you would open up and tell me what is bothering you, but it doesn’t seem you are going to do that. We can’t go on like this, with this rift between us and with your total disregard for Joy. I love you and I want us to be a family, but I’m beginning to think you no longer love me. Do you love me, Richard?”

“It isn’t that easy, Ann. It isn’t that I don’t love you; I just want things the way they were, and I want you the way you were. If you want to know what the problem is, I’ll tell you what is it. It’s your stubborn refusal to see that we can’t keep this baby in our home!”

“This baby! You talk about her as if she were a stick of wood. She’s a living, breathing part of us, Richard. She’s our daughter, and this is her home too.”

“No, it isn’t! And if you insist on keeping her here, then we can no longer be together. I don’t want to lose you, Ann, but I won’t be party to this pretense that she’s all right. She has a serious problem! She isn’t all right, and she never will be! Why can’t you see that?”

“No, she will never be ‘all right.’ She will always require care, and that’s exactly what I plan to give her. For as long as she lives—and, according to Dr. Anderson, that may not be very long—I will cherish every minute of every day of her life. She may not be what you consider normal, but she is not the one with the problem, Richard. You are the one with the problem!”

Just then, as if charged by some invisible force, Richard flung his right arm upward across his body and, with the back of his hand, sent Ann reeling to the floor. Stunned by the assault, she lay there unable to move, a chasm of outrage separating them. Then, as he had done a few weeks earlier, Richard stalked from the room and out the front door. Suddenly, her mind was seized by an image of a girl lying on the ground in Central Park.

Ann’s brain became numb. She couldn’t take in the reality of what had just happened, but one thing was clear to her. She couldn’t allow her daughter to be exposed to the threat of Richard’s aggression. She didn’t want to be in the house when he returned, so she hurriedly packed bags for herself and Joy. She retrieved her stash of emergency cash, and then she called for a taxicab. She decided to go to the airport and chance getting a flight to Dallas. She would call Daddy from there.

As she boarded the plane with her daughter, the past three years zipped through her mind like slides being flashed on a screen. She wondered if Richard was really capable of genuine love. Sarah had been right—Nelson had a hold over him that tainted his whole being. If Joy were not a factor, Ann would do anything in her power to help him overcome Nelson’s grip, but she couldn’t risk her daughter’s safety.

It was midnight when Ann’s flight taxied into Love Field. When she spotted Daddy waiting for her, she noted his worried expression and the cloud of weariness that enveloped him. As they drove from the airport to Bonner Valley, she tried to explain her sudden decision to come home, but her heavy heart and cluttered mind made it impossible for her to express her feelings. Finally, she said, “Daddy, maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to tell you all about this, but right now, I just can’t talk about it. I’m tired and confused and not even sure I did the right thing. But I did what I thought was best—no—what I had to do. For now, let’s just let it go at that.”

“That’s okay, honey, you tell me when you feel up to it. From the sound of your voice when you called, I knew something bad had happened, and I’ve just been praying you and Joy were all right. Maybe tomorrow you’ll explain that bruise on the right side of your face.”

Ann touched her hand to her cheek and felt a hard knot. Until then, she hadn’t even noticed the puffiness and diminished vision in her eye. “He hit me, Daddy, and I left because I didn’t know if he might hurt Joy.” Her words were flat and unfeeling as if she’d thought about them for a long time and was now devoid of any emotion in uttering them.

She felt safe now, and a deep sense of belonging spread over her. She cradled Joy in her arms and threw back the wrap that had shielded her baby’s face from the cold night air. She stroked her tiny hands and kissed her forehead. There was comfort in holding her, protecting her, loving her.