Savior

Chapter One – Erin Wakeman

I was lying across my bed, still in my work clothes, trying to recover from another day at work. It was six o’clock on a Wednesday…we were having hot dogs for dinner. My daughters love hot dogs, and I’d been promising them for weeks that we could have them. I was just about to drift off into the luxury of a nap, when the phone rang. My seven year old daughter, Rory, got to it first.
“Hello? Hold on…MOOOOOMM!”
Grumbling, I rolled off the side of the sofa onto my knees on the floor, crawled the length of the living room to the start of the kitchen, slowly got to my feet and took the phone. Rory turned and immediately shoved her five year old sister, Marnie, to the floor, which of course spurned an all out battle to the death between older and younger sibling, directly beneath mom’s feet.
“Girls! That’s enough. Hello? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you…who’s speaking, please?”
There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the phone. Philip, my husband, hadn’t quite made it home from work yet, so naturally, my heart began to race at the thought of something happening to him. A trembling voice filled the receiver as I pressed it closer to my ear, straining against the cacophony.
“Erin? Is that you?”
I glared menacingly at my girls, who immediately scampered off into the living room, then turning my attention back to the phone, I tried again,
“I’m sorry…who’s calling, again?”
“Erin…I need you. She’s dead, Erin. She’s finally dead…and I think I’m going to kill myself.”
My breath caught in my throat. For a long moment, I stood glued to the spot. The familiar voice flooded my brain, and penetrated my thoughts. It was a voice I had heard so many times, in so many memories, for so many years. But, it was one that I hadn’t actually heard or spoken with in almost fifteen years.
“Jess? Jess, is that you? Where are you?”
“Do you remember what I told you that night? That night in the hospital? You said I could trust you…forever. That you and I would always be ‘sisters’…”
All I could hear for a few seconds was labored breathing, and soft sobbing. I said again,
“Jess, where are you? Are you hurt? What exactly has happened?”
With a heavy sigh, she spoke again,
“I’m in the house. Her house….our old house, on Cooper St. I’m really scared, Erin. I think I may have killed her.”
There was deathly silence on the line. Then a soft click, and a dial tone.
I slowly replaced the receiver on the cradle, and stood, leaning against the wall trying to breath. My mind was racing. My palms were sweating, and I could feel my eyes beginning to fill with tears as all of those old memories came back to haunt me.
The last time I had actually seen Jess, had been at my wedding. She showed up halfway through the ceremony, lingering just outside the sanctuary of the Baptist church. I hadn’t even known where to send the invitation, but apparently she had found out. She disappeared before I could get to her.
Thirty minutes later, I was halfway finished packing, when Jake walked into our bedroom. He dropped his briefcase when he saw me,
“Baby? What’s going on? What did I do? Whatever it was, I’m sorry, and we can work it out, I promise we can get through this.”
I stared at him, completely lost. Then, as the realization of his greatest fear struck me, I began to laugh nervously.
“Calm down, honey. It’s not you…or even us. I got a phone call earlier….from Jess. Her mother is dead.”
Jake swore under his breath, then dropped to the bed beside where I was packing. All was quiet for a few minutes. I finished my packing, while Jake sat in silence, idly fingering his tie. Then, he turned a concerned gaze on me,
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure, babe.”
I sighed a deep sigh, and sank into his arms, drowning in his perfect love, and perfect understanding. Jake Moore was the kindest, most loving and understanding man I had ever met. He was strong enough to be the rock I needed him to be when I cracked under pressure, yet loving and understanding enough to give me the time and space I needed when it was “my fight”. This is, perhaps, the thing I love most about him. He just loves me…no questions asked, no holds barred. And, I adore him for that.

By the time I hit the freeway headed east, it was half past eight in the evening. It was a six hour drive from our house to Milton, I knew, though I hadn’t actually driven it since the night I left, fifteen years earlier.


Last summer, Jess and I were at her house and her mother had asked her to keep an eye on Jamie, her kid sister, so that she could take a nap. Jamie was only three at the time, so we stuck her in her playpen, and went out into the yard to go under the sprinklers. About fifteen minutes later, the front door flew open, and a red-faced, angry Harriet Kincaid came barreling down the steps and across the yard toward us.
She was breathing so hard, I thought she might explode, or pass out. Jess looked very frightened,
“Mom? Is everything…”
I don’t remember exactly how it all happened, but I remember a hard smacking sound, and a scream. When I looked over at Jess, she was holding her face, and crying hysterically. The enraged woman stood very still for several moments. It was the most awkward thing I have ever experienced. Then, in a very quiet, whisper-like voice, she said, never taking her eyes off her daughter,
“Erin…I think you should go home now.”
No one moved at first. I was rooted to the spot. I’d never seen anything like that before. I mean, my mother had swatted my behind before, for being bad, but not since I was little. I’d never seen an adult hit a child, much less their own. I was dumbfounded, and didn’t want to leave Jess right then, so I said,
“Mrs. Kincaid, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Slowly, she swung her bleary gaze my way, and breathed,
“Go.”
“But…”
“I SAID, GO!”
Her shout scared me to pieces, and I turned and ran as fast I could back over to my house. I only lived four houses down, it didn’t take long. I waited, anxiously for the phone to ring. When she finally called me, she sounded okay, a little whimpering, but alright. Like nothing had happened, but she said she was grounded for three weeks. THREE WEEKS! To a twelve year old only on vacation from school for six weeks, that was an eternity. So, I decided I would sneak over to her house, and climb up to her window. I’d done it half a dozen times, it was not big deal.
I put together a little “care package” for Jess: Crazy 8’s playiardsards, the picture of us we had taken at the faire in one of those little picture booths, a cold bottle of orange soda (her favourite), and some candy. I told my mother I was going to see if Mary Jane was at home, since Jess was grounded (her mother had called mine, of course.) I walked down towardr hor house, then ducked into the bushes that ran along the side of it.
Jess’ window was the third from the left, on the second floor. I wanted to surprise her, so I didn’t alert her or anything before climbing on up. I carefully secured the little bundle over my shoulder, then began climbing the white trellis full of ivy. Mrs. Kincaid had planted English ivy directly beneath the trellis, and it grew until it reached the bottom, then began climbing it. It was very pretty. I had always thought that I would like to have one when I got married and had a home of my own.
When I reached the window sill, the window was open, with the curtains drawn. Soft pink, gauzy curtains hung loosely from the valance over the window, and billowed gently with the soft summer breeze. I pulled one side back slightly, so that I could peek into the room, make sure the coast was clear. Jess’s bed was made, the soft pink downy comforter pulled up over the pink and white checkered sheets. Little decorative pillows were strewn casually about the head of the bed. And, there in the middle, sat Jess herself.
She was sittin the the center of the bed, with her knees pulled up to her chest, resting her cheek on top of them, her face turned away from the window. I grinned, congratulating myself on a successful mission. Silently, stealthily, I climbed through the big bay window, and lightly touched my toes to the creamy coloured carpet. Tip-toeing toward the bed, I stopped just shy of the edge, and said, in a barely audible whisper,
“Boo!”
She jumped, nearly came out of her skin, and when she raised her head to see who had stolen inside her bedroom, I gasped in horror at the sight before me.
Her right eye was swollen almost completely shut, it was black and purple, with a tinge of blue. The left corner of her mouth was also quite swollen, and there was a small gash just below the bruised area. She also had a slightly larger cut across the upper part of her cheek, and it was beginning to turn the same purple as the eye. Both her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying, and they grew enormous, frightened and filled with fresh tears as she spoke,
“Oh, Erin…you shouldn’t have come. I told you I was grounded. If she finds you in here, she’ll kill me. She really will. You have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll call you later, if I can.”
Slowly I settled onto the edge of the bed, and reached out my hand to gingerly caress her swollen, ravaged face. She winced in pain, and drew back. My own eyes filled with tears. I was at a loss. I mean, I had had my share of disciplining. My father was most effective with a wooden spoon. But, I had nebefobefore witnessed a beating of this magnitude. I opened my mouth to speak, and was overcome as a sob escaped. Then, recovering, I said,
“Oh, Jess. Oh my god, Jess. What happened? Did your mother do this?”
She nodded mutely. Silent tears coursing down her battered cheeks. Absently, she raised a hand to push a few stray, golden strands back from her face, and I saw long, jagged scratches all over the backs of her hands, and up and down her arms. My breath caught again,
“Jess! Why? Why did this happen?”
She slowly shook her head and answered,
“Because I’m bad. You know how she gets when she’s drinking.”
“I thought she quit drinking?”
Again, she shook her head, sadly. She laid down on her side, facing me, curled up in a fetal position. For a long while, she stared blankly into the empty air behind me, then she turned her gaze on me and said,
“Was the car in the driveway when you came up?”
I thought back. I hadn’t noticed a car. No, I was sure of it, there was no car in the drive.
“No. I didn’t see it.”
She sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the effort. Then, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she rose and made her way to the door. She turned slightly toward me, and said,
“I have to check on Jamie. I thought I heard her crying earlier, then it stopped. I’m worried she might have really hurt her.”
I could see there was real concern in her eyes, and I became very frightened at the prospect of finding little Jamie seriously injured…or worse. But, I rose from the bed, and followed her as she quietly pulled the door open, and stepped into the hallway. She spoke as we walked,
“Right after you left, she yelled at me to get into the house. I could smell the alcohol on her breath as she shouted in my face. I went into the den and sat on the sofa, waiting for her. Jamie still in her play pen, asleep. She looked so peaceful. When mother finally made it into the room, her eyes were wild with fury. I couldn’t figure out what she was so angry about. She was so drunk, she could hardly walk. She stumbled over toward the sofa, and said, ‘Where is it!’ I stared at her, not having any idea what she was talking about and I said so, ‘What are we looking for, mother?’ Boy, when I said that, she lost it. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen. I had started crying then, her nails were digging into the flesh of my arm.
When we got to the kitchen, I gasped. The entire room had been completely torn apart. All of the dishes were smashed and strewn across the floor. The refrigerator door was wide open and food was spilled all over inside. Everything that had been on the counter tops was now on the floor, broken. It was unbelievable. She grabbed the back of my neck and guided me roughly over to the sink. I saw that it had been filled with hot water, steam was billowing up from the surface. She was still holding me by the back of the neck when she grabbed my hand and said, ‘Tell me what you did with it, Je Tel Tell me, or I’ll give you something to cry about!’ I was crying so hard I couldn’t see very weand and I still wasn’t sure what was missing, so when I didn’t answer, she forced my hand down into the scalding water. That is pain I have never felt, Erin. It scalded me.”
With that, she held up her left hand. It was still an angry red, and there were tiny blisters over the surface. It was very ugly. She continued,
“ I screamed and when she finally let go, she slapped me hard, across the face. The force made me fall down. I hit the back of my head on the edge of the sink as I fell, and it made me scream again. She reached down and grabbed me by the shirt, ing ing me up to face her, and she screamed in my face once again, ‘If you make one more noise, I will beat you, until you can’t walk straight. Do you understand me, little girl?’ I nodded my head quietly. But, I continued to cry silently, and that must have annoyed her too, because she punched me in the stomach. Before I could stop myself…I was sobbing loudly. It hurt so much. It had knocked the wind out of me at first, but once it came back, that sob escaped before I could control it. That’s when the real beating started. Jamie must have woken up some time in the middle of all of this, because I could hear her crying…then wailing. When my mother dragged me up the stairs, and threw me in my room, I could still hear her crying. Then, all of a sudden…it stopped.”
We came to a stop in front of the nursery on the third floor. The door was closed andre wre was no noise coming from inside. Jess looked over at me. I was trying to mentally prepare myself for what we might be about to find. But, when we opened the door, I found out that there are just some things nothing can prepare you for.
The room had been painted a soft yellow with a border that went all the way around the room. Here and there little animals peeked their heads out from behind letters and numbers. There was a crib in the center of the room, a changing table on the far right, and small chest of drawers on the left. Everything, save for the crib, had been completely torn apart. There was baby powder all over the floor and the furniture, and all over the inside of the crib. And, there, in the crib lay the body of the three year old. She wasn’t moving…at all. We were both completely silent for what seemed like an eternity. Jess reached in and pulled back the tiny pink blanket that seemed to cover everything inside, and we both recoiled. One of her tiny arms lay at an awkward angle out to the side, and her face was completely covered by the little pillow that had apparently been used to smother her.
I grabbed Jess’ hand and said,
“C’mon, Jess. We’re leaving. We’re getting out of here NOW.”
She was in shock. She stood rooted to the spot. Sobbing quietly, gently caressing the soft cheek of her baby sister. I put my arms around her, trying to comfort her, knowing that her mother could be home at any minute. I said,
“Jess. We have to go. If your mother comes home and finds us in here…there’s no telling what she might do. Come on!”
I half dragged her back through the door and started down the stairs. That’s when I heard the key in the lock. We panicked. We turned and scrambled back up to the second floor, and threw ourselves through the door of her room, shutting it quietly behind us.
“What are we going to do? My mother will kill me if you’re in here…she might kill me anyway!”
I scanned the room quickly, my mind was racing. I could feel the adrenaline rushing all over my body. Then, I spotted the open window.
“The tis! is! That’s how I got in…it’s how we’ll get out!”
I pushed her through first, and then followed. We carefully made our way down to the ground, before we heard her mother scream,
“Jess! Jessica Alyson Kincaid! I told you not to leave this room until I came for you! Where are you? If you don’t come out at the count of three, you are going to be so sorry, little girl! One!”
I grabbed Jess’ hand and we ran as fast as we could back to my house. My parents were shocked and outraged when they saw Jess’s face and body. They took us immediately to the police station, where we were told to repeat our story to the authorities. They took pictures of her face and body, and called a nurse to give her a check up. They also called her mother.
We were both so shocked and scared when she walked in the door. We didn’t know they had called her. They took her into another room for questioning, while we watched through a two way mirror. We listened as she lied to the police. Jess cried as she listened to her mother tell the police about her imaginary spill down the stairs. That that was, in fact, what had caused the damage to her face. She talked about how clumsy Jess always was, that she was always walking into doors and things. I just sat there, in awe of such a person. I held Jess as she cried. She kept mumbling to herself, but all I could make out was,
“They’re going to send me home with her. They’re going to send me home with her…and she’s going to kill me…just like Jamie.”
I didn’t find out until later that this had happened before. Jess and her family had only lived in Milton for almost three years. They moved in right before Jamie was born. Jess and I had become immediate best friends, and she spent a considerable amount of time at our house. Her mother and father had been off and on for years. Since Jess had been about five or six years old. Her father would leave them for months at a time, and her mother would go a little crazy when he left. She would go on terrible drinking binges, often making little Jess bear the brunt of her wrath. Once, a baby-sitter had noticed some markings on Jess’s back during a bath, and had questioned Harriet about it. The woman went stone-faced, and informed the girl that it was none of her business. A few weeks later, Jess had appeared with still more bruises and wounds, and a black eye. This time, she brought the little girl to the police station, and gave her report. They called in the mother, and she fed them the same line about the little girl being hopelessly clumsy, perpetually falling down and bumping into things. She was sent home with the mother, and nothing else was ever done. Then, they would move again.
While we sat there, Jess raised her head and looked at me with wild eyes,
“I can’t go back there, Erin. I’ll die. Please! You have to help me. Help me convince them that I am in real danger here!”
I spoke with my parents. They were rather hesitant about getting involved in a mother-daughter quarrel. I tried desperately to convince them that this was no ordinary disagreement. There was real danger here.
The police finally got around to inquiring about the youngest daughter. The woman smiled warmly and said,
“Jamie? My little darling…my husband’s parents picked her up yesterday. They’re going to take her for a little while. You see, my husband and I are separated at the moment, having some personal problems. With him not around right now, looking after the two children, alone, has been quite a strain on my nerves, if you know what I mean.”
Everyone smiled, knowingly. Jess and I sat, stunned. As unbelievable as it seemed to both of us, it appeared that this woman was going to get away with murder. It looked like they weren’t even going to go to the house, and check out our story. There was nothing we could do. An hour later, they sent her home with her mother.