Rescued Runaway

  Chapter 2

  Cassie sat in the front passenger seat of Frank’s Infiniti glaring at him.

  “You don’t seem pleased, Miss Marcussen.”

  “You are a sneaky overbearing high-handed bully. I told you I can’t go back home.”

  “Yes, you did. But you didn’t say why, so I’m going there to find out. I need to know what you’re facing so that we can figure out what to do next.”

  Cassie blushed to her scalp making her almost white eyebrows stand out against the pink background. “I said I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Does it matter? You’re going to do what you want anyway, just like every other so-called adult I’ve ever met.”

  Frank reached over quickly to try to comfort her but she lurched away from him in panic. He felt both puzzled and ashamed at her reaction. Softly he said, “It does matter, Cassie. If you can’t speak of it because you’re ashamed of something or if you are trying to protect someone, I can understand that. If you won’t, then it’s likely that your parents are frantic about where you are.”

  Cassie gave a bitter laugh. “There’s only Mum and her new husband. Gord takes his pay in product to keep Mum happy and sells some of the extra for booze and his trips to the casino. He made a run to the States the weekend before last and there should be enough booze and oxys in the apartment to keep him and Mum wasted until at least the end of this week. I doubt they noticed I’m gone unless they ran out of money for pizza.”

  “What about your father?”

  “Dead. But he left years ago. He caught Mum with a neighbour when he came home early from a trip. He drove long haul truck and was away a lot. He was killed last year avoiding a head-on collision with a car full of drunk high school kids. I was supposed to get his insurance money but after Granny died Mum and Gord glommed onto it. I’m a minor, you see, and he didn’t put it in trust for me like he should have. The lawyer in the US is trying to delay the rest of settlement until I turn eighteen, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to. The insurance companies are still fighting over the amount of the payout, apparently. Dad’s estate should get something for the truck and to support me for a while but I don’t know how much. If they wait until I’m eighteen then I’ll be okay for university but the Iowa courts aren’t happy with rescheduling court dates without a good reason.”

  Frank pulled up in front of a badly maintained apartment building. “Is this the place?”

  Cassie folded her arms. “You know it is, Mr. Snoopy Ellis. You shouldn’t prowl through people’s wallets.”

  Frank refused to rise to her bait. He shrugged. “I could turn you over to Children’s Aid.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Frank turned off the car and turned to look at her. In a soft and slightly bewildered tone he said, “I don’t know. I just know that it’s the wrong thing to do.”

  Cassie turned to look into his face and got flustered when she saw the look of compassion there.

  Frank blinked. “You could have scooped the money I left on the desk and taken off this morning while I was in the shower. There was more than enough to get you to Toronto or Calgary even. Why didn’t you?”

  It was Cassie’s turn to look confused and she cast her eyes down. “I thought about it, but it felt wrong.”

  Frank shook his head. “We’re quite a pair.” He undid his seat belt. “Let’s go.”

  Cassie stiffened and got a mulish look. “I’m not going back in there, unless it’s for my stuff.”

  “If it’s that bad we’ll take everything right now, if we have room, then we can figure out what to do next.”

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Promise?”

  Frank crossed his heart. “Hope to die.”

  Cassie gave a brief grin then took a deep breath and said, “You have plenty of room. I don’t have much stuff. Let’s do this.”

  They walked up two flights of creaky stairs with broken linoleum tiles. The mingled scents of stale urine, bleach, rancid cooking oil and old garlic assaulted their nostrils. A blowsy fifty-something bleached blonde leered at Frank as they passed her on the stairs. “Got yourself a sugar daddy, eh, Cassie?”

  Cassie blushed beet red and stammered, “N-no, Mrs. Desjardins.”

  Frank took her arm and whispered, “It’s just words, Cassie. Let’s go.”

  At the other end of the short hall, Cassie pointed at number 11. “That’s it.”

  Frank knocked. Then he knocked again, more loudly. A woman’s voice from inside called, “Hold your arse, I’m coming.”

  A few seconds later a wobbly too thin blonde wearing a tattered bathrobe opened the door. “What the hell do you want? It’s not even eight yet.” Then she spotted Cassie and Frank's suit. In a sneering tone she said, “So you brought a social worker with you this time, Cass. Well, I didn’t give a shit last time they told me to take better care of you and I won’t be changing anything this time either. Not with you telling those lies about Gord. He never laid a hand on you. See if you do any better in one of them group homes.”

  Cassie almost said that Frank wasn’t a social worker. “I’ve come for my stuff, Mum.”

  Frank didn’t say anything for a moment. He didn’t know how Cassie had managed to stay as sweet as she had but knew he couldn’t leave her here. And he had a very good idea what Gord had done to Cassie.

  He quickly rolled the alternatives over in his head. A good group home would be okay, if she could get into one fast enough. His brief research into Ontario law on line that morning said that she couldn’t legally live on her own until she was eighteen, that she had to be under the care of a parent or a court appointed guardian, unless she was married. Even if he could help her find a group home, after her birthday next May she’d be on her own, probably on welfare or maybe back on the streets.

  He sighed. It would be next to impossible for him to be appointed as her guardian and that wasn’t the relationship he wanted with her in any case.

  He passed his hand through his hair then spoke words that seemed to come from somewhere far outside of him. “Actually, ma’am, I’m not a social worker, I’m Cassie’s fiancé. We’ve come to get your written permission so we can get married. We’ll pack up her things then you can sign the permission letter and we’ll get out of your hair.” He felt a voice deep inside say, ‘Well done, Frank.’ and a sense of peace and rightness washed over him.

  Cassie and her mother both said, “What?”

  Penny recovered first. “Did he get you pregnant?”

  Cassie started to stammer “N-no…”

  Frank said, “No, she’s not pregnant. I just know that Cassie’s the woman for me and I want to take care of her.”

  Cassie heard the utter sincerity in his tone and cast her eyes downward wondering what he was really up to.

  Cassie’s mother finally took in Frank’s perfectly tailored suit and Rolex then said, in a more conciliatory tone, “Well, it would be good to have someone taking care of my darling daughter. We’ve run into some extra expenses recently.” The woman looked up expectantly.

  Frank almost rolled his eyes. He recognized greed when he saw it. He gave a thin polite smile and said, “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m Frank.”

  A big bleary eyed man smelling of stale beer and wearing boxer shorts and a stained tee shirt emerged from the hallway and sidled up to Cassie’s mother. “Penny, who’s the suit?” Then he spotted Cassie behind Frank. He raised his arm, fist clenched and snarled, “There ya are, ya little bitch. Are ya ready to do yer fuckin’ chores? We don’t have anything in the fucking house to eat and the place is a pigsty.”

  Cassie stood as close as she could to Frank and said, “I’m just coming to get my things and a permission letter from Mum. Gord, this is my fiancé, Frank.”

  Gord took in the expensive suit and belatedly tried to turn on the charm. He held out a hand.

  Frank did not shake the offered hand. Gord noted the stony expression on Frank
’s face then said, “I see.” Then he spotted Frank’s Rolex and his face got an avaricious look. “How bad do ya want the letter? I got other plans for the little bitch.”

  Frank smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Three to five, Gord.”

  “What the fuck do ya mean?”

  Frank almost winced at the crude language. “Her bruises haven’t quite faded and I bet if I called the right people they’d find some prescription drugs you shouldn’t have, wouldn’t they?”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Frank shrugged. “Lead the way, Cassie. Let’s get your things.” He moved past a dumbfounded Penny and stopped to confront Gord. Looking up at the much bigger man, he said, “Her memories will fade much faster if you stay out of the way, Gord.”

  Gord staggered backward and went to sit in what was obviously a favourite armchair. Empty pizza boxes were stacked on the coffee table and a tower of empty takeout coffee cups was ready to fall over onto a collection of empty beer cans. Gord pointed the remote and some sort of home shopping show began blaring away on the TV. He said, “Be fuckin’ quick about it.” Then he started to flip through the available channels.

  Frank followed Cassie through the clutter into the small bedroom just past the living room. It was clean and neat as a pin but very sparsely furnished and decorated. She closed the door behind them and got into his face. “Are you out of your mind?” Her whispered voice came out as a hiss.

  Frank didn’t know how to answer. “It seemed like the best way out of here for you.”

  “But marry you? You’re, like, ancient.”

  Frank said, in an offended tone, “I’m only thirty.”

  “So what is this then, your good deed for the year?”

  “Hey, I thought it was better than putting you into the foster system. You need to get away from here. We can get married this afternoon, if we can get your mother’s signature on that letter.”

  “And how is it supposed to work? I get a divorce decree for my eighteenth birthday?”

  Frank was quiet while he thought about how to respond. Marriage was a commitment for life, one he was more than willing to make with Cassie. “Only if you really want one when the time comes. I won’t be asking you for one.”

  Cassie was about to object when they heard Gord yell for Penny to bring him a beer. Her shoulders slumped as she weighed her very limited options. “But why marriage? Why can’t I just live with you or something?”

  Frank was silent for a moment. He wanted to tell her that the Holy Spirit had put the words in his mouth but decided she wouldn’t believe him. He didn’t quite believe it himself. Then a rational explanation came to him. “I couldn’t have you live with me, Cassie, without marriage. Gord would probably press kidnapping charges against me to get you back. He says he has plans for you so I know you can’t stay here. Are you willing to press assault charges against him? Or report your mother to the authorities?”

  Cassie seemed to collapse further inward. “I can’t. I know I should, but I can’t.”

  “Then the system will send you back here, at least until a case worker sees the place. Then they’d get the police involved anyway. The way I see it, if you don’t get the police and Children’s Aid involved you have a choice between marrying me and going back on the streets.”

  There was silence. She looked up and searched his face for some sort of ulterior motive but saw only sincere compassion. Then she sighed, squared her shoulders and said, “Okay. I’ll marry you. But it’s in name only.”

  Frank felt unaccountably elated. “Fine with me.”

  “But we won’t share a bed, right?”

  “Not until you’re ready.”

  “Until we’re both ready.”

  “Okay. I promise we won’t share a bed until you say so. And I really do understand that no means no and that maybe means no, too.”

  Cassie sighed. “So, what’s next?”

  “I need written permission from your parents. You only turned seventeen two months ago, so don’t give me that line about being almost eighteen.”

  In a small voice she said, “I knew I could move out on my own when I turned eighteen, especially if I had the rest of Dad’s estate to live off of until I got settled. I wanted that so bad I had to tell myself I was almost eighteen so I could stand the wait.”

  “Well, I’m giving you a shortcut. I guess you only have one parent, unless Gord adopted you.”

  “He doesn’t want to adopt me and besides, it would cost money. His booze and his poker games are more important. So are Mum’s pills.”

  “We might have to prove that you only have the one parent, then.”

  “I have that covered.” Cassie took down a small battered suitcase from the shelf in her closet. She unzipped the pocket in the lid and handed him a translucent expanding file case. “It’s all in here. My long form birth certificate with the names of both my parents, Dad’s will and death certificate with the coroner’s report. I also have my passport, school transcripts, that sort of stuff. There’s scholarship money that I can get from the Teamsters when I go to college because Dad died on the job, so I made sure I kept this safe. Mum thinks she’ll be able to get some more money from me later. I really wish Granny and Dad had planned things better.”

  Frank saw the sadness on her face and said, “I’m sorry they’re gone.” He handed the folder back to her.

  Cassie’s voice was bitter when she said, “At least they have an excuse for not being here. Oxys aren’t an excuse.” She opened the drawers of the small dresser and pulled out a small handful of underwear to put in the suitcase. “If you want to help there’s a half full box in the back of the closet you can put the stuff from the walls in. It has my winter stuff and a couple of my favourite books that I managed to hide from Mum so she couldn’t sell them.” She took what looked to be a small handful of tops and tee shirts from the second drawer and put them in the suitcase.

  Frank put the box on the lumpy mattress. “Do you want your pillow?”

  Cassie turned to him with a puzzled look. “Why would I want that?”

  “Some people sleep better with their own pillow.”

  “Oh. No, the hotel pillow was way better.” She turned back to empty the bottom drawer of her dresser which contained only a photo album, a pair of jeans, a pair of walking shorts, two skirts and a pair of scuffed low heel pumps.

  Frank took down the three framed drawings and an exquisitely whimsical painting of a tree house. Then he reached into the closet and brought down another small box that contained a few magazines and mementos. Then Frank took down what looked to be an artist’s easel box. “Don’t open that!” Cassie grabbed the easel from him.

  “I won’t. And I won’t even ask what it is. You have the right to keep some things private.”

  Cassie searched his face to gauge his sincerity then said, “I’m sorry, Frank. My grandfather’s sketchbooks and some letters from Dad and some personal things are in there along with what’s left of my art supplies. Mom thinks the box is worth a few dollars, maybe enough to get her another pill or two. At least she hasn’t been able to convince herself to sell Grandpa’s paintings.” Tears started to fill her eyes. In a quavering voice she said, “This wasn’t how I was expecting this summer to go.”

  In a low tone he said, “I know. You just wanted to keep your head down until after you turned eighteen and could move out.” He opened his arms to offer her a hug.

  Cassie came into his arms. Frank gently gathered her close so she could cry on his shoulder. “Dad was on his way back to Toronto after I told him Granny had maybe a month left but he got killed when he ran into a drainage ditch near Des Moines avoiding some drunken idiots coming home from a high school grad party. He was supposed to start a regular short haul run with one of the Toronto companies as soon as he got home. We were going to keep Granny’s apartment so I wouldn’t have to change schools and the landlord was okay with that although the charity that owns the building us
ually rents only to widows and widowers. Granny hung on for another three weeks before she passed. I miss them both so much.” Frank could feel his shirt getting damp from her silent sobbing as he stroked and patted her hard bony back. After a moment they could hear Penny call. “Are you about done in there?”

  Frank whispered. “Are you okay now?”

  Cassie backed away and gave him a crooked smile as she dabbed at her tears with her sleeve. “Not really but I should be able to get down to the car without losing it again.” She took a deep breath and put the two dresses from her closet into the suitcase and zipped it shut. Then she shrugged on her spring jacket. “Ready.”

  “That’s it?” Frank looked with surprise at the two boxes, the artist’s easel and the suitcase and thought about the overflowing closets in his apartment in Halifax and the piles of his stuff at the summer home and his parents’ house.

  Cassie’s face shuttered as she nodded. “Mum took all of the good stuff and sold it for pills.”

  Frank scanned the bare closet and opened the dresser drawers to confirm they were empty. He took a look under the bed then moved the dresser away from the wall after he saw a flash of gold. There was a thunk as something hit the floor. He held up a book.

  Cassie moved quickly forward. “Thanks.” She retrieved the book and hugged it close. “Granny’s missal. I wondered where it was.”

  Frank looked at the well-thumbed onionskin book and said, “Are you a Christian? Like me?”

  Cassie grinned. “I don’t know. Are Catholics Christian? The ISCF kids at Rideau were skeptical about that but Mum didn’t want to make the effort to put me in Pearson ‘cause she thinks the Catholic church is full of hypocrites. I think I’m only half a Christian because I believe but I don’t have a community to belong to.” She gave a pointed look towards the living room where the TV was still blaring. “I haven’t been to a regular service since Granny stopped being able to walk, maybe three years ago, although the priest gave us both Communion when he visited. My spare grannies made sure I got to go at Christmas and Easter. Mum never went to church after she left home and Gord hasn’t let me out of the house without him since January except to go to school or the library, so I missed Easter this year.”

  Frank nodded to indicate he was listening.

  “How did you know about the bruises?” Cassie hung her head in shame.

  “Lucky guess.” Frank moved forward to give her another gentle hug. She blinked away the returning tears and gave him a squeeze before taking a small toiletries kit from the bedside table and putting it in the bigger box. “Well, that looks like everything.”

  Frank looked at the small pile of Cassie’s worldly goods. “Do you have any writing paper?”

  Cassie opened the art box and took out a pen and a pad of paper.

  “What’s your mother’s full name?”

  “Penelope Anne Caswell Marcussen Sanschagrin. That’s Anne with an ‘e’”

  “And the initial G. in your name?”

  “Gudrun.”

  Frank moved to the dresser and wrote out two copies of a permission letter.

  Penny called, “Are you done in there?”

  Cassie opened the door and said, “Everything’s packed.”

  Frank cleared a space at the kitchen table and had Penny sign both copies. Penny’s hand began shaking after she put down the pen and asked, “Gord, you got a little something to help me out?”

  Gord growled something incoherent in French that Penny obviously understood and she went to the larger bedroom. Then he looked daggers at Frank and Cassie. “She’s spoken for, Ellis. She owes me. Or you do.”

  “Do you have any papers to prove you’re Cassie’s guardian?” Frank took the two signed letters and folded them to put in his shirt pocket. Cassie stood behind Frank.

  Gord stood to face Frank. “I had plans for her.”

  “Well, they’ve changed. Deal with it.”

  Penny came out of the bedroom with a green pill in her hand and brushed past Gord on the way to the kitchen sink to get some water.

  “Thank you, Penny. We may see you later.”

  Gord said, “Don’t fuckin’ bother unless you’re bringing money.”

  Penny looked up uncertainly at Frank. “Take care of my baby. Please.” Her expression changed as she became more lucid and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better mum, Cassie.”

  Cassie hesitated, but stepped forward to give her noticeably taller mother a hug. “Bye, Mum. Remember I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Cassie G.”

  Cassie picked up her suitcase and the easel and looked at Frank with resigned hurt showing in her moist eyes. “Can you get the boxes?”

  “Easily.” He picked both of them up and made a motion with his chin. “After you.”