Need You Now

Chapter Fourteen




Darlene sat at the far end of the couch from Brad, thumbing through a magazine while her husband channel surfed. With every click of the remote, she wanted to yank it from his hand. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes until ten. Chad and Ansley had been upstairs for about thirty minutes, and now she just needed her third child to come walking through the door safe and sound.

An invisible shield of anger divided her and Brad, tension so tight Darlene wished he would just go to bed. Logic told her that fear for Grace had fueled their argument at the restaurant, but Brad’s blaming her only added to her own guilt. Maybe if she hadn’t been working, spent more time with Grace—maybe it wouldn’t have happened. She wanted to broach the subject again with Brad, but she was too tired. And worried about Grace.

Five minutes later, the front door opened. Darlene tried not to let the worry in her heart show on her face. “Hey. How was Skylar?”

“Fine.” Grace walked toward the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”

Darlene glanced at Brad, wondering if he was thinking what she was. Darlene worried now every time Grace went upstairs to her room. She was about four steps up the stairs when she turned around.

“Oh, Dad . . . I know we talked earlier, but I just want you both to know that I’m okay about going to that appointment Tuesday.”

Darlene looked at Brad, then back at Grace. Brad spoke up before Darlene had a chance to.

“I think that’s great, honey. What made you change your mind?” Brad pressed the Pause button on the remote.

Grace shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just okay with it now.” She turned and went upstairs.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” Brad said after they heard Grace’s bedroom door close.

Darlene didn’t say anything. She didn’t have the energy for another argument that Brad was clearly provoking, and the most important thing was that Grace was open to visiting with the psychologist.

“I’m gonna go get a shower.” Brad put the TV remote down and left the room.

Darlene picked up the remote control and searched for anything that might take her mind off the pain she felt in her heart.



Brad stayed in the shower longer than usual, hoping the warm water would ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. He hated when he and Darlene fought. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, most arguments were about the kids. This time Darlene had hit a nerve. She was right when she said Brad didn’t want anyone to know about Grace. Partly he was protecting Grace from the ridicule she’d surely get from her classmates. But he also had to admit, her actions made him feel like he’d failed her somehow.

He couldn’t understand why anyone would inflict pain on themselves unless there was something seriously wrong with them mentally, and that thought terrified him. He was hoping this would just go away on its own.

He knew in his heart that Darlene was right to insist that Grace see a professional, but Brad could still recall his visits to see a counselor when he was eleven. Dr. Mathis. A plump woman with silver hair and red reading glasses. He’d gone because he’d had bad dreams—actually, terrible nightmares that used to make him run into his parents’ room.

But all he could remember was feeling like he was crazy because he had to go to a counselor. And that Dr. Mathis tried to put notions into his head that simply weren’t true. She’d insinuated that his family life was a wreck. Not true. Tried to convince him he’d been bullied at school. Again, not true. And the list went on. It seemed to Brad that she needed to justify her fee by finding a cure for his sleep disorder. She never did. And for a long time, his mind had reeled with all the possibilities about what might be wrong with him. One day the nightmares just went away on their own.

He knew Grace’s situation wasn’t the same, but he could still remember Dr. Mathis and how much he dreaded those visits. He just wasn’t a big fan of psychologists, and he didn’t want to put Grace through that.

As he turned off the water, Darlene walked into the bathroom and began her ritual. He resented the fact that she’d said he didn’t want Grace to see a psychologist because it would embarrass him. Did she think he was that shallow, that concerned with what people thought? Maybe he was.

He stepped out of the shower, dried off. Darlene didn’t look up. He thought about the ways they used to make up, years ago. Things seemed simpler then. Tonight he doubted there would be a make-up session. And that was okay. He was tired. And tomorrow was church.



Tuesday morning, Darlene was surprised when Brad stayed home from work and said he was going with her to take Grace to see Dr. Brooks. It was going to be a long morning since Dr. Brooks had blocked out two hours for their first visit.

They’d had pancakes as usual on Sunday after church. Then, on Monday, while Brad was at work, Darlene and the kids had cleaned out the attic. In addition to boxes they’d stored up there after moving in, there were crates and other items left from when Darlene’s grandparents lived there.

Grace had claimed a vintage lamp that Darlene could remember from her great-aunt’s house when she was little. She had no idea how it had gotten into her grandparents’ attic. Chad had found some old records of hers and Brad’s from high school. And Ansley had wanted some old photo albums to keep in her room.

Darlene’s attic find was a small jewelry box. She’d almost missed it since it was mixed in with her grandfather’s old work clothes. The gray slacks and matching shirts brought back memories of when Darlene would visit. For over thirty years, her grandfather had driven a tractor for the county, mowing long stretches of grass along the highway. When he got home, her grandmother would make him sit in a chair on the porch, and she’d carefully pick off any ticks that had hitched a ride home with him. Darlene smiled at the recollection. Most of the time, she and Dale were running around the yard capturing fireflies in a glass jar as their grandmother worked on their grandpa on the porch.

But the small wooden jewelry box wasn’t something she ever remembered seeing. It had only one item inside—a delicate sterling silver necklace with a dove pendant. She couldn’t recall her mother or grandmother ever wearing that piece of jewelry. Her first thought had been to give it to Grace since Ansley wasn’t very fond of jewelry, but she hadn’t wanted to risk hurting Ansley’s feelings. Darlene had put the necklace on right away, knowing the dove was symbolic of the Holy Spirit and hoping it would give her strength. The dove’s wings were tarnished, though, so as soon as she could find her silver polish—probably in an unpacked box in the den—she’d give the necklace a thorough cleaning.

There had been lots of reminiscing that afternoon. Then they’d finally gotten down to actually cleaning out all the trash and things they didn’t want. It had been a good day with the kids. It was a shame Brad couldn’t have shared the experience, but he rarely took off from work—with the exception of this morning.

They still hadn’t said much to each other since their dinner at the restaurant, and Darlene knew that today would likely bring on even more tension. She’d been praying that Dr. Brooks could fix whatever was wrong with Grace and keep her daughter from hurting herself.

Not long after they arrived at the office, they met with Dr. Brooks for an introductory session. She wasn’t anything like Darlene had pictured in her mind. She was dressed in blue jeans and a white button-down blouse that hung loosely around her hips, and her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Tiny silver loops hung from her earlobes, and Darlene could feel some of her anxiety lessen in the woman’s presence. That must be her intent.

During this first part of their appointment, Darlene had filled out paperwork, and they’d talked about family history and the purpose for Grace’s visit. They’d also discussed patient confidentiality, which was something Darlene had wondered about. As it turned out, Brad and Darlene had a legal right to information about Grace’s therapy sessions because she was a minor, but they opted for Grace to keep the visits confidential. Dr. Brooks said that was fine unless Grace showed imminent signs of harm to herself or others. At that point, both Grace and Darlene had teared up, but somehow they got through the first part of the appointment. Next, it would be Grace’s turn to talk with the doctor alone, but first they took a fifteen-minute break.

Grace and Darlene went to the ladies’ room and got a drink of water, then returned to the waiting room to sit with Brad until Dr. Brooks was ready for Grace. Her hands shaking, Grace sat between Darlene and Brad. Darlene would have given anything to swap places with her daughter. Nothing hurt a parent more than seeing their child suffering, but this paled in comparison to walking into Grace’s room and seeing her hands, sheets, shirt, and shorts covered in blood.

She closed her eyes for a moment but was jarred back to the present when Dr. Brooks called Grace’s name.

“It’s gonna be fine, Grace,” Brad said as Grace stood up. “We’ll be right here if you need us.”

Brad pressed his lips together, and Darlene thought he seemed more uptight than Grace. She reached for her daughter’s hand and squeezed. “Your dad’s right, baby.”

Grace moved slowly toward the open door, and once it closed behind her, the minutes began to tick by. With every second, Brad became more and more agitated. He shifted his weight constantly, aimlessly flipped through magazines without reading anything, and if he let out another exasperated breath, Darlene thought she might snap.

“It’s been over an hour,” he finally said, tossing a magazine onto the nearby table. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

“I’m sure everything is fine.” Darlene was antsy enough without having to worry about Brad.

He glared at her. “You don’t know that.”

Darlene didn’t want to argue. She was worried about Grace, but she believed she was in good hands. Myrna wouldn’t have recommended someone she didn’t think would be good for Grace.

She and Brad were quiet for a while. Darlene reached up and stroked the dove between her fingers. “Maybe we should pray.”

Brad’s eyebrows narrowed, his voice defensive. “I do pray. All the time.”

“I know . . . I just—just thought maybe we could pray together. Now.” Except for prayers before meals, she couldn’t recall her and Brad ever praying aloud together. Darlene had prayed aloud with the kids at bedtime when they were young, but even the children had taken to saying their own prayers. Or at least she hoped they did.

“Yeah, I guess we can.” Brad bowed his head, and Darlene swallowed back tears before she began.

“God, please lay Your healing hands on Grace and help her to lean on You during these troubled times. She’s so young, Lord, so . . . so precious to us.” Darlene bit her bottom lip, overcome with emotion. She was glad when Brad took over.

“Dear Lord, please be with our baby girl. Wrap Your loving arms around her, and help her to heal. Please give Darlene and me the knowledge and strength to be good parents to all of our children. Amen.”

“Amen.” A tear rolled down Darlene’s cheek, and when she glanced at Brad, he looked the other way. But she’d seen his watery eyes.

A few minutes later, the door slowly opened. Darlene could tell that Grace had been crying, but she mustered up a weak smile anyway. “Don’t look so worried. I’m okay.” She edged closer. “Dr. Brooks wants to see you both in her office.” Grace sat down beside Darlene. “I told her it was okay to talk to you about everything.”

“Are you sure, honey? Because you can keep this between just you and Dr. Brooks.” Darlene put a hand on Grace’s leg.

“I’m sure, Mom.”

Darlene noticed that Grace’s hands weren’t shaking as she reached for a magazine. When Darlene and Brad hesitated, Grace spoke up again. “I promise. I’m fine.”

Darlene and Brad stood and walked down the hall, back into the large room with dark blue couches and wingback chairs. Darlene had noticed earlier that the room was painted a soothing powder blue, almost the same color as the classroom at The Evans School. She took a deep breath and focused on the scenery outside the windows. One wall was almost entirely windows, and through them, she could see a field of wildflowers and Longhorns.

Dr. Brooks asked them to take a seat on the dark blue couch as she sat in one of the wingback chairs across from them. She crossed her legs, set her pad and pen on a table next to her, and smiled. “Grace is a lovely girl.”

Darlene and Brad forced smiles and waited for her to go on.

“I know that Grace’s cutting has stirred up a lot of emotions and worry for both of you, and I’m going to do my best to answer your questions and try to explain to you why I think Grace is doing this.”

Darlene held her breath as she nodded.

“Let me start out by addressing the biggest fear I often hear from parents.” She smiled, glancing back and forth between Darlene and Brad. “Cutters are rarely trying to kill themselves. I’m not going to say it hasn’t happened, but not one of my patients has fallen into that category, and I’ve counseled a lot of kids like Grace.

“Cutting is usually triggered by intense feelings that the person can’t express in ways that the rest of us do. Some of us yell, some cry, or maybe we go for a run, or eat a gallon of ice cream.” She paused, again glancing back and forth between Darlene and Brad. “When a person can’t express these feelings of anger, hurt, frustration, or even shame, they feel like they are out of control, and the only way to regain control for some of them is to cut. It’s a release for them and a way to focus on something besides the things that are hurting them in other ways. Does this make sense?”

Darlene nodded, even though it didn’t make much sense to her at all.

“What is hurting Grace so badly that she feels the need to do this?” Brad shook his head. “I just don’t get it. Is it because of her breakup with her boyfriend back in Houston?”

Dr. Brooks smiled, something Darlene now wished she would quit doing. “Things started before the move, but seem to have worsened due to the breakup with her boyfriend and anxiety about relocating.”

Darlene put a hand to her chest as she wondered how long Grace had been able to keep this a secret. Her eyes filled with water, and she turned to Brad and said the first thing that came to mind. “I wasn’t working then, Brad, so my two months’ working outside of our home didn’t cause this.”

“Darlene, I never said this was your fault.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I never said it was your fault—it just came out that way, and—”

“Darlene, Brad . . .” Dr. Brooks interrupted. “This is not your fault. I’ve seen plenty of cases of abuse, alcoholism, and neglectful parenting that have triggered this, but I don’t sense any of that from Grace. She just can’t express her feelings and”—she paused, glancing back and forth between them—“Grace wants to be perfect. She doesn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Darlene felt her heart beating in her chest as guilt flooded over her. How many times had they called Grace their perfect little girl? She lowered her forehead into her hand, dabbed at her eyes.

“So it is our fault.” Brad rubbed his forehead, looking down. “We’ve somehow been bad parents.” He turned to Darlene. “You were home with her most of the time. Didn’t you notice anything?”

Darlene stopped breathing for a moment, then spoke slowly and steadily, hoping to cut him to the core. “And you were never home. Not to mention that you have always told her how perfect she is. It’s hard always living up to your expectations.”

Brad’s face turned bright red, but Dr. Brooks interjected before he could speak.

“Okay, folks. We’re getting off track here. Our goal is not to place blame, but to help Grace deal with the pressures in her life in some other way besides cutting.”

“How can cutting yourself until you bleed make you feel better? Why would anyone do that?” Brad’s voice was hoarse, his tone critical.

Dr. Brooks uncrossed her legs, placed her elbows on her knees, and leaned her chin on her hands. “This is more common for girls. Usually it starts out as an experiment, or maybe even because other girls at school are doing it. But if the person is able to mask other emotional pain by cutting, it can become a habit. And habits are hard to break. But we are going to work with Grace, let her know that no one expects her to be perfect, and that there are other ways to release the stress she feels in her life.

“Grace is going to have some scars, both emotional and physical, but her willingness to stop is a huge plus. Some of the young ladies I treat don’t have a desire to quit. They’re just here because someone found out and forced them into my office. Grace seems to sincerely want to stop.”

Darlene coughed, sniffled. “Is she—does she—have anything mentally wrong with her?”

“Your aunt Helen was schizophrenic.” Brad shifted on the couch to face Darlene.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Darlene snapped.

“No, it doesn’t,” Dr. Brooks said. “Although a history of mental illness can play a part in some cases. With Grace, recent events in her life led to depressed emotions that she didn’t know how to cope with, which led to some difficulty adjusting in Round Top.” She sat taller. “I’d like to see Grace once a week, and I think we can work through this. She won’t be cured overnight, but we have to reprogram her to understand that no one expects perfection and that there are other ways to deal with her emotional pain.”

“What emotional pain?” Brad’s voice was louder than before. “She broke up with the guy, but prior to that, what emotional pain has she had? Something we don’t know about? She’s had a loving family, a good home, good grades, and she’s a beautiful girl. I still don’t understand.”

Darlene wished Brad would just shut up, even though she was having some of the same thoughts.

Dr. Brooks stood up and walked to her desk. She put on a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses, then flipped through a calendar book on her desk. “I can see Grace at this same time next week?”

Darlene nodded, and Dr. Brooks leaned down to write in her book. She pulled the glasses off and looked back and forth between Darlene and Brad. “This can be difficult for parents to understand.” She paused. “And sometimes blaming each other can cause problems within the marriage. Are the two of you available to visit with me next week as well?”

“No.” Brad stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from his slacks. “Really. Our marriage is fine. We’re just a bit freaked out by all of this.”

“I understand.” Dr. Brooks walked around her desk. “If you change your mind, I’m available. The most important thing right now is to encourage Grace to talk about her feelings. It won’t be easy at first because she is so used to hiding them from everyone. But she seems to have a wonderful support system.” Dr. Brooks paused. “And her friend Skylar has certainly helped to set her on the right path.”

Darlene stood up and edged closer to Dr. Brooks. “Skylar?”

Dr. Brooks folded her hands in front of her. “Yes. She’s a former cutter, and she recognized the signs with Grace. She’s been encouraging her to stop and to seek counseling. She sounds like a special young woman, and Grace is lucky to have her as a friend.”

Darlene wanted to run out the door and hug Skylar’s neck, then apologize profusely for all the times she’d tried to blame Skylar for Grace’s behavior. She turned to Brad.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for us—”

“No. We don’t need counseling.” He turned to Dr. Brooks. “Thank you for working with Grace. We’ll do what we can on our end.”

“What if she does it again? Cuts?” Darlene asked. “Do we call you? Try to talk to her? Are there signs we can watch for?”

Dr. Brooks touched Darlene on the arm. “You can call me anytime, day or night.” She turned and pulled a business card from a holder on her desk. “My cell phone is on this card. And in the meantime, allow Grace to express her feelings, and don’t be surprised if she begins expressing them in ways that you aren’t used to, possibly yelling or acting out in other ways.” She paused, touched Darlene on the arm again. “The cutting won’t stop overnight. I’d love to be able to tell you that it won’t ever happen again, but it might. Just stay close to her, talk to her.”

Darlene nodded. “Thank you.”

As they left Dr. Brooks’s office, Darlene had two things on her mind. Her daughter and the distance she felt from Brad.



Three days later, Darlene tried to coax Grace into going grocery shopping with her, knowing that she wouldn’t succeed.

“Mom, I hate grocery shopping.”

Darlene opened the refrigerator and took inventory of what she needed. She counted seven dozen eggs and shook her head. “Remind Ansley that eggs do eventually go bad if we don’t eat them.”

Grace giggled. “I will.” Her laughter was music to Darlene’s ears.

“Sure you don’t want to come shopping with me?”

“Mom.” Grace threw her hands in the air, then quickly dropped them to her sides. “You have to quit hovering over me. It’s bugging me. Just go to the grocery store. Skylar is coming over later, and we’re gonna just hang out and watch movies.”

Darlene was happy to hear that. “Okay, when Chad gets up, tell him to take out the garbage before he leaves for work, and Dad wants him to mow the grass when he gets home.” She grabbed her purse and turned to Grace. “Why hasn’t Cindy been around?”

“Chad said it didn’t work out between them.”

Darlene sighed, feeling a bit guilty that she thought her own son had chosen above him. “I hope Chad isn’t too upset that Cindy broke up with him.”

Grace sat down at the kitchen table and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. “She didn’t break up with him. Chad told her he didn’t want to see her anymore.”

Darlene raised an eyebrow. “Really?” She hoped Chad hadn’t fallen into the wrong crowd again. Cindy had seemed like such a nice girl. “Okay, well, I’m off. I have to go to Walmart in La Grange, then to the grocery store, so I’ll be awhile. Are you sure—”

“No, Mom. I don’t want to go. Everything will be fine.”

Darlene forced a smile, feeling somewhat better that Skylar was coming over.

Thirty minutes later, she was at Walmart comparing prices on toilet paper when Dave rounded the corner, pushing a basket, alone. She hadn’t seen him since her last day at work.

“Hi, Dave. How are you?” She smiled. “How’s Cara?”

She tossed a twelve-pack of toilet tissue into her cart and waited. A muscle flicked in Dave’s jaw—a withdrawn, congested expression settling on his face. Darlene swallowed hard and braced herself.

“I knew I would eventually run into you somewhere.” Dave folded one arm across his chest and stroked his chin with his other hand, a bitter edge to his voice. “How are you?”

Darlene was pretty sure he didn’t care one bit how she was. “I’m okay. I’m sorry about having to leave The Evans School. I miss Cara.”

“She cried every day for a week. It was confusing for her. She didn’t understand why Ms. Darlene just vanished, abandoned her.”

It stung, and Darlene knew she deserved it. “I wanted to tell her good-bye, but Myrna thought it might make matters worse.”

“Maybe you could have warned me, though. Would that have been so hard?” He shook his head. “Why did you even take that job if you were only planning to stay for a couple of months? These kids get attached to their teachers. I know I was hard on Mae, but I thought I’d let you have the reins with Cara, and Cara had been doing well. They still haven’t replaced you. Myrna is teaching her granddaughter and Cara. But I guess you did what you had to do.” He paused. “Anyway, take care.” He edged his basket past her.

Darlene swallowed back tears, not wanting to cry in front of him, but she wanted him to know that Cara and her schooling had been important to her. “Dave?”

He turned around but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure Myrna will find a suitable replacement. And I hope you and Cara are doing well.” Despite her best efforts, she blinked back tears and turned away from him.

He walked a couple of steps until he was at her side again. “Why are you crying?” His voice sounded tight, like he was holding his breath and the words were strangling him.

“I just feel bad about the way I left. I didn’t know what else to do. And . . .” She put her hands up to her face, and it was as if all the tears she’d been holding back wanted to escape at one time. She swiped frantically at her eyes, then raised her chin. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. Please give Cara my love, unless you think it will upset her. But I really do miss her.” Another tear scrolled down her cheek, and she hurried to push her basket forward. A firm hand caught her by the arm.

“Hold up.”

She kept her head down since she couldn’t seem to control her emotions.

“What’s going on with you?” Dave’s voice was softer. She looked up at him.

“It’s—it’s my daughter Grace.” She paused and took another breath. “She’s . . . well, we’ve . . .” She dabbed at her eyes and waited for a woman and her young son to pass by them and move out of earshot. “Grace has had some problems.”

Dave let go of her arm and was quiet for a few moments. “What kind of problems?”

It wasn’t his business, nor his concern, but she owed him some kind of explanation. “She’s—she’s been . . .” Darlene took a deep breath, blinked her eyes several times. “She’s been hurting herself. Cutting herself.” She locked eyes with him. “Please forgive me for abandoning Cara like that, but my daughter is in trouble, and I have to stay close to her.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at her. Then he hung his head for a few moments. When he looked back up at her, he said, “We make all kinds of sacrifices for our children. I knew you loved that job.” He took a deep breath. “I just couldn’t understand why you left. I’m so sorry to hear about Grace.”

She lowered her head again. “Thank you.”

He gently put his hand on her arm as he stepped closer to her. His touch was so tender, she wanted to fall into his arms. Into anyone’s arms. Brad had been so distant, and she needed to be held. She’d thought about going to see Layla, but it had been awhile since she’d seen her. And Layla didn’t seem to be the nurturing type anyway. Darlene wished her parents were still alive. She needed some mothering. When Dave pulled her into his arms, she cried on his shoulder for a few moments, long enough to get his blue shirt damp and feel ridiculous about her behavior in the middle of Walmart. She eased out of his comforting arms, took a deep breath, and quickly glanced around to see if anyone had seen her display. “I better finish my shopping,” she said as she fished around in her purse for a tissue. “Wow. Dave, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said softly. “I think you need to talk, maybe someone to listen, or . . .” He gazed into her eyes, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “Or just a shoulder to cry on for a while.”

Darlene looked past him at a woman turning the corner and heading toward them. “I don’t know.” She lowered her head, swiped the tissue over her eyes.

“Nothing like a good cup of coffee and having someone to listen when we feel down. How ’bout it?”

She glanced at her cart, and the last thing she felt like doing was finishing her shopping. “Okay.”

He picked up her purse, handed it to her, then guided her by the elbow down the aisle. Then they were out of the store and in his car.



Dave pulled into the parking lot of Latte on the Square in La Grange. At ten in the morning, they’d missed the coffee crowd, and it was still too early for lunch. There was only one woman in the corner of the small restaurant when they walked in. Dave escorted Darlene to a table in the opposite corner, farthest from the door, as his mind spun with conflicting thoughts.

Before she’d left her job at the school, he’d avoided anything more than report-like conversations about Cara. Ever since the gala, he’d known he was in dangerous territory. He was attracted to everything about the woman. Maybe he should have been relieved when she’d quit her job, but it had been hard on Cara. And he’d resented her—not just for hurting his daughter, but because he’d started to fall for her in such a short period of time. But now she needed a friend. Dave knew he could be that for her. He understood the instinct of keeping your child safe, and having to do whatever it took to ensure it.

He spent the next hour listening to Darlene talk, the most harrowing part being when she and her husband found their daughter covered in blood in her room. Then she told him about the counseling session. And about her husband’s reactions.

“I think, as men, we feel out of control when something is wrong with a loved one, like we should have been a better father, husband . . . or man.” He watched her take a sip of her coffee, glad she wasn’t crying. She’d cried through most of her story, and it was breaking Dave’s heart to see her like this. But she seemed better now, and he wished he had advice that would help her.

“Brad is a good man, a great provider. But I think you’re right. He feels like a failure sometimes.” She bit her lip for a moment. “When he’s not blaming me for this.”

“Darlene, I’m sure he’s not intentionally blaming you.” In strange new territory, Dave felt the need to defend Brad, even though he was having inappropriate thoughts about the man’s wife—maybe because he was having those thoughts. He’d never cheated on his wife, nor been involved with a married woman. Despite his feelings, he reached over and touched her hand. “And you shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

She eased her hand out from under his. As she should have. “I guess I better go home. I hate to leave Grace for too long. I mean, I’m sure she’s fine. I just . . .”

“I think we both left half-full baskets at Walmart.” Dave smiled and was glad to see that she did too.

“True. I guess I should finish shopping.”

They walked to the car, and Dave took her back to the store.

“I have a meeting, so I’ll have to finish my shopping later,” he said as he pulled in front of the entrance.

“I’m sorry you were busy hearing about my problems and didn’t get to do your shopping.”

He couldn’t tell her that there was no place he would have rather been, so he simply nodded. “No problem at all. I hope things get better for your family.” He was racking his brain about how he could see her again. Cara had finally stopped talking about Darlene, so he couldn’t use his daughter as an excuse. It might be a setback for Cara. But the thought of not seeing Darlene again caused him an unfamiliar pang of anxiety.

“Thank you. For everything.” She smiled, then closed the door.

Dave watched her walk inside until she was out of sight.

He knew he was going to find a way to see her again.

Dear Lord, help me.



Brad tapped his pen on his desk, glanced at his watch. It was already seven o’clock. If he left now, he wouldn’t be home until around eight thirty. He’d left the house early this morning, completed more work than he expected any of his associates to do in a day, and still he felt like it wasn’t enough.

Logically, he knew he was trying to overcompensate for the way he’d been treating Darlene and the situation with Grace. Darlene was sad, needed comfort. And Grace just needed her dad to act normal. Since Tuesday, he could hardly face Grace without a knot forming in his throat, and he didn’t have the emotional strength to comfort Darlene. Which, in the end, left him feeling like an even bigger failure.

But here he was. Still at work. And not wanting to go home and face anyone.

His prayers had been heartfelt, asking the Lord to guide him, help him to be a better man for his family. He thought about how he and Darlene had prayed together at the counselor’s office. He’d often prayed at church, at night before bed, and silently during the day. But never with his wife.

He twirled his pen between his fingers as he pondered why that was. They’d prayed aloud with the children when they were young. Why didn’t he ever pray aloud with Darlene?

When no answers came to mind, he figured he would bill out a couple more hours, then maybe he’d be ready to head home. He opened a file on his desk, the most complex corporate tax analysis he had, and buried his head in it.

By the time he took a break, it was nine o’clock. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed home. Darlene answered quickly, as if she’d been waiting for his call.

“Hey. I’m just now getting ready to leave work. I had some stuff I needed to finish.” He looked out his window into the darkness, a mirror of his heart. “But I’m leaving now.”

“Okay. I’ll keep your dinner hot.”

Darlene assured him all was well with Grace, but the conversation was strained. Just like every word they’d spoken since Tuesday.

Visions of his precious daughter covered in blood haunted Brad, and he’d even started having bad dreams again, after all these years. Usually he was running . . . trying to get to Grace . . . She was covered in blood, and Brad never could reach her. Last night, his entire family had been covered in blood, and he couldn’t get to any of them. Darlene was screaming for him to help them all.

He picked up his keys, shut everything off, and closed the door behind him.



Grace picked up her Amish book. She’d been waiting for her dad to come home, and he’d finally pulled in the driveway at almost eleven o’clock, even later than last night. She’d hugged him, tried to be as cheerful as possible so he’d know she was fine, then she’d come upstairs.

She wondered if her parents were fighting. Actually, they didn’t seem to be speaking much at all. Grace knew it was her fault. The images of her parents’ faces when they walked into her room the night they’d caught her haunted her several times each day. The last thing she’d ever wanted to do was to cause worry for her parents, to disappoint them.

She thought about what Dr. Brooks had said. “Everyone disappoints and is disappointed throughout their life. It’s how we cope with these downfalls that counts.” Then she went on to say that no one was perfect, and those kinds of expectations were unrealistic. In her mind, Grace knew all that. She tried to absorb herself in the story she was reading, but she couldn’t focus.

After tossing the book aside, she lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She wanted to be the best she could be, and upsetting her parents, causing them to fight . . . that was only making things worse. She knew she couldn’t cut. If her parents found out, they’d go over the edge. But as her anxieties welled inside her, so did the urge. Just one tiny cut, one moment of relief, her mind in another zone, away from everything.

Tears were building, and her heart was beating against her chest. She reached over to her nightstand, hands trembling.

And she called Skylar.