Lost Innocence
By Steve Van Bakel
1Copyright 2013 Steve Van Bakel
ISBN: 978-0-9919889-0-7
Title 1 - Being Dad, Fathering after Separation or Divorce
Lost Innocence
Steve Van Bakel
It began shortly after Charlotte and her four-year-old daughter, Becky moved into the old Victorian house. In fact, as Charlotte recalled, the first incident occurred on the very first night they spent in their new home. She remembered that night so clearly because during the ordeal she had tripped over an unpacked box that had somehow been left outside her bedroom door. When she landed, she had smacked her head on the old oak banister leaving a large bump and a cut above her left eye. Though the cut had long since healed and the scar had faded to a mere blemish, the events of that night still remained vivid in her mind.
After learning of her husband’s insatiable desire for other women, Charlotte had divorced him and taken their one-year-old daughter to live in the basement of her parents’ home. To move back into her parents’ house wasn’t an easy decision, but she knew she needed the time and the help, to get back on her feet. Yet, even with the help of low rent, Charlotte vigilantly saved for three years to amass a large enough down payment to purchase their dream home.
With the help of her daughter Becky, Charlotte found and bought the ideal home in the small town of Milton Ontario. To her parents the house was nothing but a rundown money pit, but to Charlotte and Becky it was a dream home. Charlotte admitted that it was going to need a fair bit of TLC before it was perfect but even her home inspector had said that it was a solid house that just required a lot of cosmetic work.
It was a red brick Victorian style home with shutters on the windows and a large veranda in front. The property was adorned with large old maple trees that now boasted all of their magnificent Fall colours. Though the house backed onto an old cemetery, Charlotte found the backyard to be quiet and peaceful and she would never have to worry about looking into a neighbour’s backyard. The cemetery was also filled with colourful hardwood trees and, had the real estate agent not mentioned that it was a cemetery, Charlotte would have thought it to be just another park.
According to the real estate agent, in its day it had been quite a house and was known as the McDougall Estate. Of course, that was many years ago and unfortunately the previous owners had let the place slip into its current state of drastic disrepair. Eventually, the elderly couple could no longer care for themselves and they were moved into a retirement home. And that was why the place had come onto the market looking so unkempt.
Charlotte was able to see beyond the peeling paint, broken shutters, and overgrown yard. She saw the house as a historical piece that would be part of their new, and improved life. To her it was like a piece of antique furniture that just needed a bit of stripping to restore it to its original luster.
Moving-in day was chaotic but exciting. Becky wanted desperately to be a big girl and help out, but she ended up being more trouble than not and Charlotte finally sent her off to play. Becky was so excited that she ran from room to room, stopping only long enough in each room to say, “Mommy this would make a great play room.” That was all that Charlotte needed to hear to know that the small sacrifices they had made along the way had been worthwhile and that their lives had definitely taken a turn for the better.
With Becky drained from playing all day, and Charlotte exhausted from a day of moving furniture and unpacking, they were both ready for bed by eight o'clock. One by one, Charlotte turned off all of the lights, as together they dragged themselves upstairs. Although there was still lots of unpacking to be done, they both looked forward to a good night’s sleep under the roof of what was starting to feel like home.
The furniture in Becky's room had all been set up by the movers and boxes of her clothing and toys had been stacked in one corner. At one point during the day Becky had been adamant that she wanted to help, so Charlotte had taken down two boxes of toys, placed them in the centre of the room and sliced through the packing tape that held the boxes closed. “Okay honey,” she’d said, “this is your room and if you want to help you can start by putting your toys on the shelves or wherever you'd like them.” Now as Charlotte tucked Becky under the covers of the freshly made bed she looked around the room and saw that Becky had put a few toys away, but she had obviously been distracted by the playthings and had spent the majority of her time playing with them, as opposed to putting them away.
“Mommy,” Becky said just as Charlotte was about to leave the room. “Thanks for giving me my very own room. I just love it!”
“You’re welcome honey. But remember I'm going to be counting on you to help keep it clean.”
“I will Mommy, cross my heart,” the little girl said as she made a cross on her chest with one of her small fingers.
Charlotte had never before realized how important it was to Becky to have a space to call her own. Though she now wondered if Becky was aware that it would be a big change for her, and that it may not always be an easy one.
While they had lived at her parents’ house, she and Becky had been sharing a small bedroom in the basement. This meant that up until tonight, Becky had never had to spend a night in a room alone. Charlotte wasn’t sure who was more nervous about the new arrangements, her or Becky. She hoped that the excitement of having her own room would outweigh any apprehension Becky might have of sleeping alone. To help relieve this tension of Becky’s first night alone, Charlotte had taken her out shopping for a nightlight. Becky was allowed to choose any light and she settled for a small figure of Winnie the Pooh and his customary jar of honey which lit up when it was plugged in. Pooh was now plugged into an outlet near the bed and his honey jar cast a soft yellow light throughout most of the room.
“Honey, is that going to be enough light for you?” Charlotte asked.
“Pooh’s honey doesn’t need any light,” Becky giggled.
“You know what I mean, Miss Smarty-pants.”
“It's fine Mommy, I'll be okay,” the four-year-old said as if her mother was the one who needed her fears calmed.
“Okay. I'll leave the door open and remember, I'm just down the hall if you need me,” Charlotte said double checking that the sheets were tucked in tight around Becky and her favourite doll. She then kissed her daughter on the forehead and said, “Good night, Honey”
“See you later Alligator,” Becky giggled.
“In a while Crocodile,” Charlotte responded finishing Becky's favourite way of saying goodnight.
Leaving the child’s room Charlotte was careful to leave the door wide open just in case Becky did get up during the night. She continued down the hall to her own room where she also ensured that the door was propped wide open so that she could hear Becky if she started to fuss.
Like her daughter’s room, there were unpacked boxes in every corner of her bedroom. The bed still hadn’t been made but Charlotte had come across her bedding in one of the boxes that she had unpacked earlier. She quickly made the bed and without even taking the time to undress she fell exhausted on the soft mattress.
The bed felt good to her tired muscles but did little to settle the thoughts running through her head. This was not only Becky’s first night alone, it was also the first night that Charlotte had been alone in a very long time. She found it somewhat disheartening to realize that she appeared to be more upset about this than her four-year-old daughter. She dwelled on her daughter’s independence for a while longer but she was exhausted and sleep soon set in.
About two hours later Charlotte woke suddenly. At first she thought it was just the cold that had awakened her because she had fallen asleep on top of the covers. She slipped under the blankets f
or warmth but her instincts told her that it was something more and she was unable to fall back to sleep. As she lay awake, she heard a faint sob coming from down the hall.
“Becky!” she called out as she sat bolt upright in bed.
In her haste to get to her troubled daughter, Charlotte rushed out of her bedroom and tripped over a moving box that was sitting right outside her door. As she sailed through the air, Charlotte thought, “What in God’s name is that box doing there? I’m sure it wasn’t there when I went to bed.”
Before she was able to answer her own question she hit the floor with a loud thump and her head bounced off of the oak banister. Blood immediately ran down her face and she quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of her