The Good Father

“In a minute, buddy,” she told him. “Auntie El needs to get out of her work clothes, ’kay?”

He was already staring at the television again as he nodded his little blond head. The boy’s constant need for technical stimulation bothered her, but raising Cody wasn’t her business. Loving him was.

Chloe asked how her day was.

And didn’t meet her gaze.

Motioning down the hall, Ella headed back to her bedroom and waited for Chloe to follow her.

“Did you go to the Stand?” she asked.

Chloe nodded. A

nd started to dust her dresser. Ella did her cleaning on her days off. Which started tomorrow. “Cody cried when I told him it was time to go. He didn’t want to leave.”

“But you didn’t like it?” she asked, pulling her stained scrub top over her head and tossing it in the hamper in her en-suite bathroom.

Swinging around, Chloe met her gaze. “I loved it, El,” she said. But the moisture in her eyes didn’t seem to carry the same message. The woman turned back to the furniture.

“But?”

“No but. I have so many ideas, and Lila gave me a budget and told me I can have carte blanche. There are at least three cooks for every meal and other women who do all of the dishes. It’s a dream opportunity. She even offered to put in for a small salary for me since I’ve never been a resident, but I don’t need the money.”

Ella was glad to see Chloe enthused. If Chloe could make a life for herself here, the rest wouldn’t be as difficult.

She just wished she’d quit dusting and tell her what was wrong.

“Did you have a problem with one of the residents?”

“No! They were wonderful.” Chloe looked up again. “Everyone was so eager to help. Almost too eager.”

“They’ve all been through a lot,” Ella said, her pants following her top, and then her bra landed last. Pulling on a robe, she stepped out of her panties, too. “And everyone handles turmoil differently. Some are friendly and kind. Others lash out or withdraw...”

She’d done her homework.

“They were fine, El, really.”

Chloe was on to the nightstand. Carefully lifting. Dusting. Returning things to their proper positions.

“So what’s the problem?”

The smaller dresser got the rag. Then her rocker. And Ella stood there. Waiting.

Afraid Chloe might just dust her, too, she remained still as the other woman approached her. Stood eye to eye with her. “I’m one of them, aren’t I?”

“You’ve been through some of the same things they have.”

Chloe nodded. “The first step to recovery is admittance,” she said. Something they’d talked about before, but Chloe’s tone was different. As if she had learned something new.

“This isn’t just about my husband having trouble at work. I’m a victim of domestic violence.”

The Lemonade Stand must have brought the truth of Chloe’s situation more intensely into focus.

“You’re preventing yourself from becoming more of a victim. And helping your husband before he does something neither of you will be able to recover from.”

The high-risk statistics weren’t drama. They were frighteningly real and fresh in her mind.

“Seeing myself there, like them, I panicked.”