The Good Father

Soft-spoken and unassuming, Sara captured Ella’s full attention and respect as soon as she opened her mouth.

“You can’t just tell people what they have to do and expect them to do it,” she told the table at large. “We’re dealing with individuals who feel pushed into a corner—a lot of them literally as well as figuratively. So while, yes, we’re fighting a dragon and have to be willing to use every effort to slay it, we have to tread softly. To approach with an outstretched hand, not a raised fist. If we threaten, we risk doing more harm than good. We’re trying to prevent crime here. In most cases, the next choice isn’t ours—it’s theirs. We’re just here to try to shape that choice.”

She had more to say. Then, and later in the meeting, as well. Every person around the table had a chance to speak. To give a report or a simple introduction if there was no report to give.

Sara reported on a case she and her fiancé, a bounty hunter, had just worked on with the team. The victim was at The Lemonade Stand; all warrants against her had been expunged. The gunshot wound she had incurred from her husband was healing, and her parents had temporary custody of her infant son until she and child services—Sara gave a nod to Lacey Hamilton, the team’s child services representative—determined that she was mentally and emotionally well enough to give him a stable home.

Ella added baby Toby and his mother, Nicole Harris, the victim Sara had just mentioned, to her watch list. Just in case.

The meeting ended shortly afterward. Feeling overwhelmed, awed and ready to do her part, she put her folder in her bag, slung her satchel over her shoulder and was on her way out the door when she felt a tap on her other shoulder.

Sara Havens stood there, a welcoming light in her eye. “I’m Sara. Lila told me to make sure we meet.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Ella told the counselor in return. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You’ll need to meet Lynn Bishop, too. She’s our resident nurse and chief medical officer. Lila told her about you at our last staff meeting.”

Ella had heard about Lynn—she and her husband lived at the Stand along with his brother and sister-in-law, who were both mentally challenged. The number of people she knew in town—and wanted to know—was growing.

In a very short time, Santa Raquel was becoming home.

Sara told Ella about a couple other staff members as they walked together out of the police station to their cars. As Ella said goodbye and turned toward her own vehicle, Sara touched her arm again.

“Can we chat a minute?” She motioned toward a bench on the edge of the sidewalk.

Curious, Ella followed her. Clearly Sara had a favor to ask. Ella hoped it was one she could grant.

“It’s about your sister-in-law,” Sara said as soon as they were seated. “She’s not my client, and I haven’t spoken with her, but Lila told me about her situation and asked that I keep an eye on her for you.”

Ella hadn’t known. But... “I can’t thank you enough for that,” she told Sara. “She’s so vulnerable right now, and I’m holding my breath every day that she doesn’t go back to Jeff before he gets help. He’s never hit her, so she doesn’t think she’s as at-risk as the other women were...”

“I understand that he bruised her pretty badly, though.”

A vision of Chloe’s injuries two weeks ago sprang to mind. “Yes.” Ella swallowed, looked away and then back. “My brother’s not the stereotypical abuser,” she said. “He’s so easygoing...I can hardly remember him ever being angry when we were growing up. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...”

Sara said nothing as Ella paused. But her gaze showed that she was completely focused on Ella and Chloe’s situation. “I think that’s part of what makes it so hard for Chloe. Jeff’s normal demeanor...he’s like that dog that lets you hang off his ear. He’s gentle. Soft-spoken. Kind.”

Sara was nodding, and Ella stopped, worried that she wasn’t painting an accurate picture, that she was protesting too much, or not enough.

“It’s easier to wall your heart off to a mean person” was all Sara said. “Or one who has a hair trigger and keeps you constantly alert to potential danger.”

The sun was setting in the late-afternoon sky, practically blinding Ella if she glanced to her left. Feeling her eyes grow moist, she looked away from its brilliance.

“My ex-husband...he was a victim of domestic violence,” Ella heard herself saying, though this wasn’t about her. They were talking about Chloe.

About helping Chloe...

But she continued, anyway. “He described his home as a minefield. He said he never knew—whether he was getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, or coming down to dinner when he was called—if he’d tip off an explosion.”

“Was it his mother or his father?”

People came and went several yards away from them. One or two at a time.

“His father. The way he tells it, for the first ten years of his life, his dad was a great guy. The best. But then they found out his sister had leukemia, and his dad lost his job. I don’t know which came first, the drinking or the beatings, but they both came. And for the next eight years, my ex was on alert every day, setting him

self up as his mother’s protector. He intervened whenever he could. And bore the brunt of his father’s outbursts when his mother wasn’t around.”

Ella stopped short of giving Brett’s name. And then wished she hadn’t mentioned him at all. His anonymity at The Lemonade Stand had been the one sticking point for him. He’d been unwilling to compromise on that. Period. He’d felt, erroneously in Ella’s opinion, that if people knew the founder was a victim, they’d be less likely to take The Lemonade Stand seriously. He’d also once told her that he couldn’t stand the idea of being scrutinized as a victim everywhere he went. But that had been long ago.