Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Chapter 30
Caleb
Itriple check the straps on Raine’s car seat in the back of my new Volvo. “This is gonna be so much fun, Rainey. You’re gonna love feeding the ducks.”
“Duckies!” Raine shouts, fist pumping the air.
My stomach twists again. Little does she know, she won’t be feeding them with me.
When the social worker revealed I’d have to do this unthinkable thing—namely, bring my sweet angel of a daughter to meet the devil himself—granted, under the watchful eye of the social worker—I tried to refuse. Pleaded my case. But apparently, the exercise is court-ordered and non-negotiable. And so, after some major reassurances from the social worker and a very long conversation with Aubrey last night, here I am, strapping my baby girl into my car to do something I don’t want to do. I wanted Aubrey to come with me for the hand-off today, but the social worker said things will go more smoothly for Raine, in terms of her separation anxiety, if she only has to say one goodbye.
“It’s going to be okay,” Aubrey says behind me, as I shut the back door of the car.
“If he lays a finger on her, I’m pulling the plug.”
“He won’t. The social worker said she’s instructed him not to touch her at any time.”
“Just saying, if he does, I’m taking her away.”
“We have to follow the judge’s order, Caleb. Keep your eye on the forest, not the trees here. Please.”
The meeting spot for today is a neighborhood park with a duck pond that’s only about five miles away from my house. As I park the Volvo in the parking lot, the social worker waves in greeting. A moment later, a white-haired man exits a car that’s already parked nearby.
Ralph Beaumont.
By now, I’ve seen him in photographs. But now that I’m seeing him in the flesh, I’m even more convinced he was the fucker on the rowboat. Unfortunately, Rowboat Guy was too far away to know for sure, though.
“Duckies!” Raine shouts from the back seat, kicking her legs happily, and a spear of guilt impales me. My shy, skittish daughter trusts me completely now. How can I betray her trust by handing her off to two strangers, even if only for a few minutes? The social worker handled Raine perfectly the other day, as promised, so I guess it’s possible she’ll work miracles with her again today, even in Ralph’s presence. But there’s something about Ralph’s demeanor that sends a chill down my spine, and I’m worried Raine will sense it, too.
“Lots of duckies,” I mutter. “You’re going to have so much fun.”
With a crashing heart, I exit the car, unstrap Raine, and carry her in a tight embrace toward the social worker and the devil himself.
“Hello, Mr. Baumgarten,” the social worker says politely. To Raine, she says with a smile, “Remember me? We played dolls together in your room.”
Raine nuzzles shyly into my chest and doesn’t speak.
“Hi, Raine,” Beaumont says. He takes a step forward, so I take a step back, much to his obvious annoyance. “I’m your grandpa,” he adds. “Your mommy’s father.”
I bite my tongue. You’re not Raine’s grandpa. And you weren’t poor Claudia’s father, either. You were her fucking rapist.
“I heard you like to feed ducks,” Beaumont continues. “I was thinking we could feed them together and talk about your mommy.”
The social worker says something about me putting Raine down, but I reflexively squeeze her tightly against me, like I’m protecting her from shrapnel from an explosion.
“Mr. Baumgarten, she’ll be fine,” the social worker says. “I’ll be here the whole time.”
“You want to feed ducks with this nice lady?” I choke out.
“No,” Raine says into my chest, and my heart feels like it’s physically cracking.
“You love feeding ducks, Shortcake.”
“Dadda feed ducks.”
The social worker tries to coax her, but Raine digs in her proverbial heels.
I’m at a loss.
Unwilling to set her down, now that she’s clinging to me for dear life.
But like Aubrey said, this isn’t optional. I’m required to do this by court order.
Shit. If I come home and tell Aubrey I never handed Raine over today, she’s going to lose her shit. “Just for a few minutes,” I coo to Raine. “It’ll be fun.” I start to put her down again, but she clings to me even more fiercely and screams, “No, Dadda! No, no, nooooo!”
My heart feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces. No is her favorite word these days, but her normal protestations don’t sound anything like this. In this moment, my baby sounds genuinely terrified. Like she’s seen a ghost. Does she have a sixth sense about this dangerous, soulless man, or is my body language somehow setting her off?
Stuffing down tears, I tell Raine I’ll be nearby. That this will only take a few minutes. That this is the same nice lady she played dolls with the other day. But reasoning with a toddler is a fool’s errand, and my words have zero impact.