Chapter Eleven
Declan
The doorbell rings, and I jump off the couch, determined to get to the door before it wakes Anna. I’ve only just gotten her settled after being awake with her for most of the night. The days are a mess and blending into each other. She’s not coping, and, to be honest, neither am I.
I keep telling myself that it’s been less than two days, and that she’s still grieving. It’s natural that she’s going to be an emotional wreck after what she’s been through. But, in the back of my mind I’m worried that I’m doing everything wrong. Should I be pushing her to open up? Trying to take her mind off things? Or should I just let her be upset? I feel the pressure a thousand times more because she’s my daughter. I should know how to comfort her. That kind of thing should come naturally, right? But all of this feels anything but natural.
Then, if all that isn’t enough, I’ve got to tiptoe around Hannah because my very existence offends her. There’s no winning with her, but I have to keep trying for Anna’s sake.
I sigh and rub my head as I yank open the door. My eyes widen when I see who it is. I haven’t seen him in two years, but he hasn’t changed a single bit.
The term father means so much more than god when I think of Father Brennan. I’ve known him all my life, and when things were at their worst with Dad, Father Brennan was there for me. Long before I turned to religion, I’d go to church to get away from everything. I had many long conversations with him in my teenage years, and after the assault … he helped me at my lowest point. When my father disowned me, Father Brennan was there for me.
All I ever wanted was to let Cecily move on. My father couldn’t understand that. He’s a proud man who was taught to fight at any cost, even when you’re in the wrong. I lost a lot of respect for him during and after the trial. Hannah struck a chord when she told me I should’ve fought, because I did fight. I fought like hell and it did nothing.
“Declan, how are you?” He sits down, his eyes full of warmth.
“I’m good, Father,” I shake my head and laugh. “Excuse me for being a little bit surprised to see you.” I squeeze my eyes closed and open them again, just to make sure he’s really here and I’m not hallucinating.
He chuckles, patting me on the back. “I’ve been out of touch, I know. I spent some time overseas doing missionary work, helping build schools. I should’ve made more of an effort to keep in contact with you, Declan. How is everything?” he asks. His expression turns serious. “I actually stopped past the church first to see you, and they told me that you were having some time off.” He smiles, his kind eyes hidden behind the worry on his face. “I heard about the little girl that you’re looking after. Father Anthony tells me you knew her mother?”
I swallow, my heart pounding. The church was worse for gossip than a group of lonely housewives. What did Father Anthony tell him? My relationship with Amanda happened during my time with Father Brennan. I’m not certain, but I’m sure he knew of Amanda and my situation with her. I swallow. I don’t have a choice but to take the risk that he thinks this is innocent.
“Yes. I didn’t know her well. I spoke with her a few times a few years ago, and then she came back wanting my help. But obviously I didn’t do a very good job.” I bow my head, the guilt still raw. Please don’t ask questions. “I wish I could’ve done more to help.”
“You’ve done a lot. You’ve done more than most people would, just remember that.” He hesitates. “Anthony is worried that you’re blaming yourself, and I worry too.” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “What is it about this girl, Declan? I haven’t seen you lose yourself like this since …” He doesn’t need to say it. In that moment, I know he knows about Amanda.
“I care about her; that’s all.” I choose my words carefully. “I didn’t realise there was anything wrong with wanting to make sure she’s looked after.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” he says. He sits forward, his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes darken a couple of shades as he studies my face. “There are people that are better equipped to help her. Why you?”
“Because she won’t let anyone else in,” I say.
My heart races. I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me the chance to confess. How much he knows I’m not sure. He suspects something went on with Amanda, but whether me being Anna’s father is even on his radar, I don’t know. And if it is, I’m not sure what he would do with that information. Father Brennan is a good man. I respect him greatly, but part of why I respect him so much is for his honesty and integrity. If he kept my secret, would I lose respect for him? I’m not sure what I fear more. The church finding out or him being the kind of person who could do that.
“Declan, you’re no use to her if you run yourself into the ground, are you?” He frowns at me again. “You’re a very noble and caring young man, and you’re doing a wonderful thing for this little girl, but just don’t lose focus of the big picture.”
The problem was I don’t think I’ve ever fully grasped what the big picture is. I go through life just trying to survive. This is just another hurdle I’m forcing myself to climb over. If I try and look at the bigger picture, I’m afraid I’ll lose the small grasp I have on my life altogether.
“I better let you get back to looking after that little girl,” he says. He rises to his feet and throws his arms around me. I smile. Regardless of the circumstances, it was great seeing him.
I wait until he’s safely in his car I before I retreat inside.
My hands clenched into fists beside me, I frown. I sink down onto the couch, resting my head back against the cushions. The last thing I feel is noble. I’m not special, and I’m not doing anything beyond what I should. Only I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell him she’s my daughter because then the truth will come out. I’m the only person she has, and I’m not letting anything get in the way of her well-being.
I do my best to put aside the uneasiness I’m feeling and get up to check on Anna. I poke my head around the corner of the guest room and peer inside. She’s curled up on the bed, staring at the wall. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying, her long dark hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. In all honesty, she looks a mess, and Father Brennan’s words begin to ring true. I sigh. All she’s done is cry. She won’t talk about it at all. She looks so tired, because the little sleep she does get is interrupted with the nightmares. She’s bottling everything up and it’s tearing her apart. She needs to talk to someone. If not me, then someone else. She witnessed things that even I would struggle to be able to comprehend and she’s only six. I keep forgetting how young and vulnerable she is. This isn’t something she will just get over in time. She needs help. I walk over and sit beside her, taking her hand in mine.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I thought you were sleeping.” She shakes her head vigorously, as if sleeping would be the worst thing in the world that could happen. “Nightmares again?” I ask, and she nods, her gaunt face making her blue eyes appear even bigger. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help you feel better.” She shakes her head, her mouth set in a determined straight line.
My reply is interrupted by the doorbell ringing again. I frown. Really? I’ve had more visitors today than I usually get in a month. Why am I suddenly so damn popular?
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I say.
“Hey,” I say. I was wondering when I’d be called upon for a statement, but her timing couldn’t be worse. “Can we do this another time? Anna isn’t great and I’d rather not leave her alone.”
“Sorry, Declan; I’m actually here to speak to Anna.”
“As I said, now is not a great time,” I say with a frown. “She’s pretty shaken up still.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have much of a choice. I need to speak with her while things are still fresh in her mind.” Her expression is apologetic, but if she were really sorry, then she wouldn’t be here wanting to traumatize a six-year-old more than she already is.
“I don’t think she’s going to forget what happened anytime soon,” I mutter. I stand aside and let her in. “I was under the impression that he confessed?” I say confused. “Surely that would mean you can spare Anna the pain of having to relive what happened?”
“He did, but we still need to make the case as strong as possible against him.” She sighs. “I’m not the enemy, Declan. We just need to make sure we have everything covered. Trust me, it’s better if she does this here than down at the station.”
“Fine,” I agree. “But I can’t promise you’re going to get anywhere with her.”
I lead her down to the bedroom where Anna is still sprawled out on the bed, staring at the wall. I walk over to the bed and crouch down, gently stroking the back of her hand. She twitches, her eyes locking with mine for just a second, before she turns away.
“Anna, this is Officer Jeffries. She needs to ask you some questions about what happened to your Mum, okay?” I see the slightest nod. Encouraged, I stand back and let the officer move forward. There’s something so warm and gentle about her face, and I think Anna sees it too. She’s more engaged with her than she has been with anyone else—myself included.
“Can you tell me what happened?” the officer asks. “Take your time, and don’t feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
A few seconds of silence pass, but then Hannah takes a deep breath and glances at her. “I was crying, because I couldn’t get to sleep without Billy. So, Mummy said we would go back and get him.”
“Who’s Billy?” the officer asks gently. Anna reaches beside her and retrieves her worn bear. I breathe out. She went back there because Anna missed her bear? I glance back at Anna, my heart aching for her. She blames herself for this. It takes all my resolve not to fly across the room and lift her into my arms. I want to tell her that none of this is her fault, that what her Mum’s boyfriend did was horrendous, and that there was nothing she could have done to stop it.
The officer reaches out and takes her hand. “What happened when you got there, Anna?”
“Daddy was angry. He yelled at Mummy, and she told me to go into the kitchen.” I close my eyes at the sound of that word. Daddy. To think that he was the only father she’d ever known makes me sick. “I hid under the table. They were fighting and then Mummy started screaming, so I closed my eyes and blocked my ears and started to sing, but I could still hear them,” Anna whispers, tears filling her eyes. She’s on the verge of falling apart, and just as I’m about to put an end to the interview, the officer leans over and gives her a hug. “You’re such a brave girl, Anna. Your Mum would be so proud of you.”
She stands up and walks back over to me. I see the tears in her eyes and I get it. It’s so hard to sit there and listen to what she went through and have it not affect you.
“That’s all I need. If you want to stay with her I can see myself out,” she whispers. I thank her and focus on Anna. As I sit down on the bed, she falls into my arms, sobbing softly against my chest as I try my best to soothe her. The last forty-eight hours have been so emotionally draining that I feel empty, but I’m determined to keep going for her. If she can get through this, then so can I.
She reaches a point where there are no more tears to cry, so she lays on the bed, staring into nothingness, her breathing shallow. I need to distract her. She needs to remove herself from everything that is going on and just be a kid again. I’m not sure that it will work, but at this point, anything is worth a shot.
“How about we go somewhere?” I say.
“Where?” she says, her voice barely audible. Her hands are clasped by her side, fidgeting with the hem of the bedspread, while she waits for me to answer.
“Good question,” I muse.
I’m lost because I have no idea what she even likes to do. My only contact with her has been in times of stress, when her mother was in trouble, and now this. All I want to do is fix things for her, but nothing is going to make this any easier for her. What good is taking her to the park or shopping going to do? I was stupid to even suggest it. She’s just lost her mother, and I’m expecting her to act like a kid? If I was in her shoes, the last thing I’d want to do is go anywhere.
“Mummy used to take me down to the water to feed the ducks,” she mumbles. I smile at her, a glimmer of hope surging through me that this might just work.
“Then let’s do that.”
She gets to her feet, unsteady from lying down for so long. I hand her a jacket that was left in the church a few weeks ago. It’s a few sizes too big for her, but she puts it on, silently rolling up the extra length of the sleeves.
“Ready?” I ask. She shrugs, disinterested, the tiny hint of interest that was there only minutes ago all but gone. I question whether taking her out is a good idea, but decide to do it anyway. The fresh air will be good for her.
“Let’s go into the kitchen and get some bread to feed to the ducks.” I suggest. I get a small grin out of her with that suggestion and it feels like a huge leap forward.
She follows me into the kitchen where I grab yesterday’s half loaf of bread. I take out a few slices and put them in a sandwich bag. Then, I grab a couple of juices and a handful of biscuits from the cupboard. If I do manage to distract her, then I want to keep it going for as long as I can.
On the way to my car I check my phone, wondering If I should be telling Hannah where we are going. No. It’s just down to the lake to feed the ducks. I refuse to be treated like a criminal because of something I was punished for a long time ago. Anna is my daughter, for God’s sake. I should be allowed to spend time with her without Hannah knowing my every move.
We drive the ten minutes to Royal Lake. I pull into the parking lot and reverse into a spot. Anna glances around, the sad look in her eyes never leaving. Doubt creeps into my head. Feeding ducks with her Mum was probably one of only a few positive memories she has. Maybe bringing her here wasn’t a good idea, because I feel like I’m disrespecting that memory.
“Look,” Anna whispers, interrupting my thoughts. Her eyes light up. I follow my gaze to a group of ducks that are congregating by the edge of the lake. She giggles as they fight over a discarded sandwich.
“Let’s go feed them,” I grin.
As we get out of the car, I look up at the sky. It’s an overcast day and the clouds are threatening to rain down on us at any moment. I hope they hold out.
“Can you take this?” I hand her the bag of bread slices. She nods, beaming, as she proudly takes the bag, as though being in charge of the bread is the most important job I could have given her.
“Shall we go over there?” I ask, pointing to where the ducks have moved into the water. She nods shyly and reaches up to take my hand. My heart swells, the small gesture meaning so much to me. It’s all I can do not to lift her into my arms and hug her tightly. Her words from earlier are still stuck in my mind. If only she knew I was her daddy, and that I’ll always be there for her, no matter what happens.
For the next hour, we sit by the edge of the water, tossing crumbs at the ducks and laughing as they fight for our attention. I watch her as she feeds the last of her crust to the smallest duck, as if she’s determined to make sure that he’s looked after. She catches my eye and smiles.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she whispers. She hesitates, her gaze falling to her feet, that familiar sadness creeping back into her eyes. “I miss my Mummy. Why did she leave me?”
Her words break me.
My throat tightens as I fight to comfort her. What do I say to a six-year-old who thinks her mother left her? How do I make that right? The answer is, I can’t, but I’m still going to try.
“Your Mummy loved you so much, but she had to go to heaven. She’s up there watching you. Anytime you want to speak to her, you can, because she can hear you,” I say. My voice cracks. She thinks she’s alone, but nothing could be further from the truth.
“She can hear me?” she repeats. She glances up to the sky, her eyes blinking back tears. “Please come back, Mummy. I don’t want to be alone.”
“You’re not alone, Anna. You’ve always got me,” I murmur. My voice is thick with emotion. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly, and I nearly collapse when she hugs me back.
“You’ll look after me? Promise you won’t leave me, Declan?” It’s the first time she’s ever said my name. I smile, nodding my head firmly. I don’t know what the future holds, but I can’t let her think that she’s not loved or that she’s alone.
“I promise you, Anna, I’m not going anywhere.”