Chapter Twenty-Seven
Veronica
My phone beeps with a text from Erin, letting me know she and Brass are only a few miles out of town. She should be here soon but not soon enough. Cline has been crying all morning, knowing she was going to miss Erin’s arrival. When we first talked, my friend had planned to come the next day, but she had forgotten she had to go to court for some unpaid parking tickets. The one day Cline was told she was going to have to wait to see her turned into three. Now, it’s Sunday, and Cline has to go home with her mom.
“I want to see Erin,” Cline cries, looking up at me with sad puppy dog eyes.
Leaning my head down, I place a gentle kiss against her soft red hair. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry she couldn’t come sooner.”
Sitting on the couch, Cline has been cuddled to my side for the last half hour, crying her eyes out. She has been throwing a screaming fit ever since she got out bed. Gone was the little angel that I have known the last few weeks, and a fighting demon took her place. Denver hasn’t liked it either; he keeps trying to get in her lap, wanting to be close to her. I would like to think it’s all about missing Erin, but I think it’s more than that. In reality, she just doesn’t want to go back to her Mom’s house.
Heated voices make their way to my ears, reminding me that Van and Regina are arguing on the porch again. They have been going at it for nearly thirty minutes, and they just keep getting louder. Denver lifts his head, his ears perking up, as he keeps looking from me to the doorway. I pull Cline closer, covering her ears. I rock her back and forth, doing my best to comfort her, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.
As soon as I hear the door opening, my body jerks and I pull Cline tighter. I keep my eyes glued to the entrance to the living room until Van walks into the room. He looks at me, and it’s hard to tell anything by his expression. Until a big smile spreads across his face.
“I handled it, just like I said I would,” he states, not quite hiding the lingering anger in his voice.
“What?” Cline and I ask at the same time.
“After I talk to my lawyer in the morning, you won’t be seeing your mom for a while. Even then, she isn’t going to get more than visits at my house,” he tells Cline, coming over to pull her out of my arms. “I told you Daddy would fix everything.”
“Really?” he asks, placing her little hands on his unshaven cheeks.
“I promise, darlin’.” He nods, looking into her eyes. “You’re home, darlin’. This is where you’ll be staying all the time from now on.”
She lets out a sound of such relief that it tears my heart in two, then she drops her head onto his shoulder. He looks at me, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. My own tears are falling, knowing that he just performed a miracle. I keep looking at him, watching him fight the emotions trying to break free. I remember my dad telling me a man doesn’t cry, but he was wrong. This is the perfect time to cry.
“She is never gonna be mean to you again, baby girl. Never,” he says, not letting one single tear fall.
He talked to Cline a lot over the last week, asking questions but not pushing for answers. Only, last night, she broke down and told him how her mom had been treating her. It wasn’t terrible, not compared to what some kids go through, but it was bad enough.
The bitch told her she was going to grow up to be a piece of shit, just like her father, reminding me so much of my mom and Timothy. She also kept Cline on a strict diet, telling the six-year-old she was getting fat. Van seemed relieved, not happy but glad it wasn’t worse. I didn’t have the heart to tell him she wouldn’t admit the worst until she knew her mom couldn’t hurt her anymore.
He gives her a kiss on the cheek before releasing her. “Run on upstairs and wash your face. I don’t want to see any more tears when you come back.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she whispers, running out of the room like she’s on fire with Denver following behind her.
Van waits until she is out of the room, then comes over and sits down beside me. He pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. His arms are so tight, I can barely breathe, but I refuse to move a muscle. Instead, I just pull in what little air I can get and let him take the comfort he needs.
“I could have killed her,” he mumbles, pulling away just enough to look at me. “I swear, I could have put a bullet right between that bitch’s eyes.”
“What happened?” I ask, almost scared of what his answer would be.
“I talked to her about the shit Cline told me, and she lost her fucking mind,” he says, his body taut with anger. “She started saying shit, crazy shit. She told me she should have aborted my daughter, said people would have considered it a public service to keep more trash from littering our streets.”
My stomach drops as bile works its way up my throat, knowing Cline had probably heard those exact words leave her mother’s lips. She may not understand exactly what they mean, but she knows enough for them to cause her a world’s worth of pain.
“What kind of mother would say shit like that?” he asks, looking completely confused. “Mom was fucked up, but she wasn’t that bad.”
“Mine did,” I say, without thinking of how my words will affect him. “She used to tell me that it would have been better if I was never born. It was like her mantra or something. By the time I was ten, Timothy and Miles were mimicking her.”
When he goes silent, I look up at him. His eyes are burning into me, filled with hatred for his daughter’s mother and the woman that gave birth to me. I understand how he feels because I feel the same way.
“How did you get her to let Cline stay?” I ask, wanting to know how he magically fixed everything.
He drops his head against the back of the couch and says, “I knew she had been up to something, so I had Ram follow her the last few days. She’s had a few meetings with the judge who presided over our custody case, and it just so happens that each of these meetings has been at a hotel off Buckhead Road. He was on my side last time we were in court. I guess she was trying to get him back on her side.”
I’m so shocked; I can do nothing more than stare at him. I just can’t wrap my head around it. She doesn’t want Cline, that much is obvious, but she is willing to sleep with the judge to get her away from Van. That just doesn’t make sense.
“We have another hearing at the end of July, to see how the shared custody is working. At that time, the judge was going to decide whether to make it permanent or let her get full custody again, leaving me with only every other weekend. Regina has never liked to lose, so she was ensuring that she would win. It didn’t matter that she had to suck a sixty-year-old man’s cock to ensure the win,” he says with a shrug.
“So, now she’s gonna hand Cline over?” I ask, my mind not able to comprehend everything he is saying.
It’s a stupid question, and I know that, but I can’t keep myself from asking. I just don’t understand how someone could turn their back on a child, especially one as wonderful as Cline. She’s perfect, even when she is crying and screaming. I’d walk through fire for her, let it burn me to the bone.
His arm on my shoulder pulls me closer as he answers, “I told her that I have pictures, so she thinks there is no way she can lie her way out of it. So, the answer is yes; she will just hand Cline over.”
I want to rejoice, but I just can’t wrap my head around it. “But, it’s Cline. Isn’t she going to at least try to fight for her? How the hell can she give up someone as special as Cline? That just doesn’t make any sense.”
I get it, I do. I realize being caught screwing the judge will look bad, but it’s not enough to keep a child away from her mother. Parents see their children, even when they do whacked-out shit. They do drugs, abuse their babies, even use their kids in ways no child should ever be used, and they still get to see them.
Screwing the judge isn’t really that huge of a deal, not in the grand scheme of things. For the judge, yes. He will probably lose his position, and he may even serve some time in jail. For Regina, no. She won’t get anything more than a slap on her wrist. Granted, she probably won’t be able to keep partial custody, but she would still be able to get visitations.
“Fuck, I’m glad my little girl has you fighting at her side,” he states without answering my question.
“Of course, she has me.” I reach up and run my hand through his auburn locks. “I just hate that she won’t have her momma.”
He leans down and brushes his lips over mine. “She’ll have a momma.”
Still not quite following him, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Before he can answer, the sound of a car pulling up hits my ears. I jump up from the couch, instinctively going to the window, seeing Brass’s truck parking out front. Excitement fills me as I realize one of my two best friends is here. I run to the edge of the stairs, deciding to think about how fucked-up Regina is later and let Cline know that Erin is here.
“Come on, Ronni. Erin’s here,” Cline squeals, running down the stairs. “She’s here, she’s here, she’s here!”
I follow behind, watching as she slings the door open. As soon as I see my friend climb from the truck, I start running. It only takes a minute to get to her. My arms wrap around her, pulling her close and inhaling her familiar scent.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper, still holding her.
She pulls back just a bit, looking into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I think about her question. There are a million answers, but the one on the tip of my tongue is that Regina is a raging cunt. Suddenly, I realize that isn’t a problem. Yes, it’s something that we will have to deal with in the future, but for now, we have Cline and can make sure every waking moment of her life is filled with happiness.
I look to my right, seeing Cline standing right beside me. “Not a damn thing.”