Chapter 17
I sat on Katie's bed with my arms crossed against my chest and watched Katie sneak back into her bedroom. After she shut the window, I said, "Hello, Katie. I see you found your way back home."
I watched the expression on my daughter’s face turn from surprise to fear. Good. That meant I held the upper hand. I should. It didn’t always feel that way, though, and it might be only a temporary advantage, so I needed to run with it.
“Where were you?” I asked sternly. “And I want the truth, Katie.”
“I snuck out to get you a cheesecake from the bakery. After your fight with dad, I wanted to do something nice for you.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed so swiftly, my daughter flinched. Never once had I raised a hand to my children. My heart bled that my daughter thought I might. “That’s a whole lot of hooey, Katie.” I shook my head. “Do you honestly think I’m that dense?”
My daughter was wise enough not to answer, but not wise enough not to smirk. Smirks normally triggered my temper, but a smirk on the face of my daughter angered me even more. It took all of my resolve not to do something about it.
I composed myself, then strode over to her and looked into her face. “On second thought, maybe I’m not being fair,” I said softly. “Maybe I should give you the benefit of the doubt. What do you think?”
She raised her eyes and looked at me. “Yes, I think you should.”
I nodded, turned and walked a few steps before pivoting. “Where’s my cheesecake?”
Her startled eyes told me the question took her by surprise, but only momentarily. She regained her equilibrium quickly.
“The bakery was closed.”
If this were a movie and a character had said that, I’d think, good save. But it was not a movie and I couldn’t give my daughter points for deviousness. I checked my watch. Since I didn’t know exactly when she left or when the bakery closed on Sundays, that might be the truth, but the reason for her excursion was not. I knew that because doing something nice for me wouldn’t be high up on her to-do list these days. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But it doesn’t explain why you snuck out a window.”
“Sheesh, try to do something nice for you and you twist it all around.”
“Don’t try to guilt-trip me.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m asking you again, where were you and what were you doing?”
“I just went for a walk. Okay? I needed some fresh air. Geez. Make a federal case out of it, why don’t ya.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to take a walk?”
She jutted her chin. “Because I didn’t think you’d let me go. You’re acting all weird lately.”
Was I acting weird? God, maybe so. I sat back down.
“So, am I under house arrest?”
“Come sit.” I patted the bed next to me.
With hesitant steps, she walked over to the bed and sat as far away from me as she possibly could and still be on the bed.
“Where did I go wrong with you, Katie?” I asked softly. “Where did you learn it was okay to lie and manipulate people and situations? Did your father and I teach you that?”
For the first time since she climbed through the window, my daughter looked at me, really looked at me.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Friday night when you told your father you went for a walk instead of going to Phoebe’s and where you ended up in a car with two young men you don’t know.” The stunned expression on her face proved how little credit she gave me and Jonathan. But again, she swiftly recovered her balance.
“How do you know I don’t know them?”
“Do you? And before you answer, remember your father has ways of finding out.” I bluffed her. Given her lack of confidence in my intuitive judgment, it just might work.
She bowed her head. “No.”
“So, these boys picked you up.” I stood and flung my hands in the air. God, when did my daughter forget my talks to her and think it was okay to get into cars with strangers?
“Why didn’t Dad say anything to me if he knew?”
I sat back down and faced her. “Katie, that is not the issue here. Your behavior and fabrications are.” More harshness braced my words than I intended. “Lies weigh you down and get you in trouble. Somewhere down the line, the truth always comes out.” When all my daughter did was stare down at the floor and bang the heel of her shoe against the leg of the bed, I asked, “What do you have to say for yourself?”
A moment passed, then another. “Well?” I prompted.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so mad all the time. I’m mad at you because you weren’t a better wife to Dad and because you let on like nothing has changed, like you never loved him and I’m mad at Dad because he left us and because the two of you aren’t getting back together and because I know it’ll never happen. Not now. Not with Cindy expecting Dad’s baby. Most of the time I don’t know — ”
“Cindy’s pregnant?” I exclaimed.
My daughter stared at me. “Didn’t you know?”
I didn’t like the gleam in her eyes or the slyness in her voice. She'd manipulated the situation and me and enjoyed doing so. That angered me. I took a deep breath and gave myself a quiet moment.
“No, I didn’t know.” I fixated on the spot on the floor my daughter stared at moments before. Jonathan’s behavior made sense now. He felt trapped. And if I knew anything about him, I knew he liked choices. Cindy’s pregnancy forced him into a relationship and a situation he probably didn’t want. “How do you know? Did they tell you?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t have to. I could tell.”
“Is she showing?”
“No.”
What did my daughter know about these things? Oh God, I hoped it wasn’t from experience. My gaze immediately traveled to her abdomen. “Then how do you know?” I asked around a catch in my throat.
“Because Dad patted her belly a couple of times and something in Cindy’s eyes when she looked at him told me they shared a special secret. I put two and two together.” She shrugged.
I breathed a sigh of relief. My daughter wasn’t pregnant. Hallelujah.
“I don’t want to spend any more weekends with them, Mom. I’m not comfortable there.”
“I know your father wants to spend time with you. He’ll miss you.”
“I won’t miss him.”
“Yes, you will, honey.”
“No, I won’t.” She jumped up from the bed and dashed to her desk. “You’re always putting words in my mouth. And you always think you know what I want.” She picked up a pen and flung it against the wall.
I let my daughter have her temper tantrum. She was in a lot of pain and angry with her life, with Jonathan and me and with the way things turned out. I understood that. But I needed to put a stop to her rebellion before I lost my daughter forever or before she ended up in juvie court.
Either might happen if this continued.
“You think you know everything, Mom.”
“Harumph. I wish I did.” Wouldn’t that be nice?
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“Maybe so.” Truthfully, she was right. I stared at her. The sadness in her eyes ripped through my heart. I closed my eyes over the tears and took a soothing breath. “I have to be honest with you, I want my daughter back — that young, vibrant, sweet girl, the one who is compassionate, truthful and forgives mistakes.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not that naïve girl anymore who believed her parents would never hurt her.”
I couldn’t deny that Jonathan and I hurt her. “It wasn’t our intention to hurt you. I’m truly sorry we did. If I could change the way things worked out, I would, but I can’t.”
She threw her arms up in the air. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda.”
I was at a loss. I had no experience dealing with this Katie, this rebellious teenager.
&nb
sp; I couldn’t say I didn’t see it coming, and obviously my method of handling her behavior by appealing to her better nature hadn’t worked. Maybe I should enlist Jonathan’s help. God, how I hated the thought of doing that. But whatever the admission cost me, if it helped my daughter, I would do it. Still though, laying down the law, as I suspected Jonathan the captain of the Sheffield police force would do, wasn’t the way to deal with her. Wouldn’t it cause her to rebel more?
“Bad things happen in life whether we like it or not, but how we handle them is what's important. How would you have liked it if I chose to handle the divorce the way you have?" I gave her a moment to think that over. "That young woman who listened to reason, who looked at both sides of a situation, still exists." I pressed my hand against her heart. "In here. It’s not too late to change your ways. Things can be good between us again, like they were. Will you at least try? If not for yourself, for me? This is tearing me apart, honey.”
Katie pulled out the desk chair and sat.
So much time passed I wondered whether it was her volley or mine.
At long last, she said, “Okay, I’ll try.”
Her answer made me so happy I jumped up and hugged her. “I’ll talk to your father about the weekends you’re scheduled to spend with him. Maybe we can work it out that you spend time only with him, without spending the entire weekend.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“God, Katie, the divorce didn’t destroy my love for you, or my need to protect you or the desire to help you when I can.” Was my willingness to help her really such a surprise?
“Okay.”
“Have you learned anything from this, honey?” I needed to know whether I got through to her, whether she understood what she'd done was wrong and whether she grasped there would always be consequences to rebellious actions.
“Yes. What I did was wrong.”
“And?”
“And I won’t do it again.”
My daughter didn’t sound sincere, but it was the best I would get. “And do you give me your word you’ll never get into a car with strangers again?”
She swung her leg back and forth through the air. “Yes.”
“There’s just one more thing. Your punishment.” Judging by her facial expression, I’d say my daughter thought I'd forgotten. “Do you think I should punish you?”
She lowered her head. “Yes.”
“What was that?” I cupped a hand around my ear. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I said yes.” She yelled.
That I heard. “What do you think it should be?”
She shrugged and avoided looking at me.
“If you had a daughter and she acted out and lied, what would you do to make her understand it is not acceptable behavior and that you wouldn’t tolerate it any longer?”
“I dunno know.”
“Well then, since you’re not going to give me any advice, I’ll decide. You’re grounded for one month. To school and back home and that’s it. I won’t board up your bedroom window. I’ll trust you not to sneak out again. Don’t make me regret that decision. Do I have your word you won’t get into any more cars with strange men?” She nodded. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
The words came easy. That my daughter made the punishment necessary, didn’t.
“I love you, Katie.”