Novel: Filling the Cracks—Chapter Five
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Trigger warning: The following story contains topics that may disturb some readers, including child physical and sexual abuse, domestic abuse, substance abuse, violence, and suicide. Although there is no explicit sexuality or language, this is written for an adult audience and may not be suitable for children.
Chapter Five
The rest of the weekend was spent at the lakefront, hiking, sitting at the campsite, playing card games, or gathering around the campfire. No one forced Beth to wear a bathing suit at the beach. She rolled up the pant legs of her jeans, waded, and splashed in the water with Lisa and her family. She relaxed on a blanket on the beach with everyone in her t-shirt and long pants, feeling overheated yet happy. No one mentioned the abuse she’d described Saturday night, and Beth found she could let her guard down and relax. While she enjoyed those hours with the Joneses, she dreaded each second that ticked away, bringing her closer to Monday when they would return to Coverville, and Beth would have to go home.
The sound of a single-engine boat motor in the distance reminded Beth of the fishing trips her father took the family on before he left them. Dave was an alcoholic but hadn’t always been wasted and violent. There had been good times, like when he took them to Lake Amisk; the fishing for Northern Pike and perch was excellent there, and Dave was an avid fisherman. They loaded the car and mounted the aluminum boat and motor on top of a trailer, driving two hours to their family cabin near the shore, where Dave docked their small vessel. They went fishing every morning, starting at the crack of dawn. Virgie stayed at the log cabin, sleeping in before preparing breakfast. Meanwhile, Dave, Beth, and Otto took the boat out to the deepest parts of the lake, silently sitting with hooks baited with earthworms and fish eyes, holding their rods over the side of the twelve-footer and waiting for the fish to bite.
Beth remained silent and still during those fishing excursions to avoid scaring away the fish. She moved only to swat the occasional mosquito or shoo away a horsefly. It was peaceful and quiet on the water. The boat rocked gently with the light waves created by the morning breeze, and the sounds of bugs buzzing past her ears or the calls of distant loons and ducks soothed her, lulling her to sleep until a strong tug on her line would bring her back to alertness.
Often, the fish at the other end of the line was too strong for Beth to reel in by herself. Still, Dave would let her try; her efforts wore the fish out before Dave placed his stronger hands over hers and guided her to turn the crank on the reel until it was close enough to be scooped up by the net. Dave allowed the catch to tire itself further, flopping around at the bottom of the boat before taking his pliers to remove the hook from the pike’s mouth and checking if it was big enough to keep. If it was, Beth had the privilege of tossing the fish into the cooler filled with dry ice at the stern near the small motor. If it was too small, Beth got to throw it back overboard to grow up and be caught by another angler someday.
Beth felt pride in her father's praise. He helped her add more bait to her hook and encouraged her to try again. They spent several hours repeating the process until it was time for them to return, as Virgie had expected. The motor powered the boat back to shore, and the three of them continued fishing, catching two or three more. By the time they reached the dock, their cooler was filled with fish waiting to be cleaned. Breakfast at the cabin came first—bacon and eggs cooked on the wood stove or pancakes on the butane Coleman stove.
After Beth helped Virgie clean up after breakfast, she followed her father to the lakefront, where he had set up a folding table and was cleaning the fish they had caught. Dave had taught Beth how to scale, gut, and fillet the fish, removing all the flesh from the bones before storing it in plastic bags and freezing it in chests of dry ice to take home and enjoy throughout the year. Those had been good days when her parents had managed to get along, and Beth had experienced some peace and bonding with them. At least she had a few fond memories of her life with her father.
Otto, she, and the Joneses packed up their campsite in preparation for leaving Sylvan Lake; Beth couldn’t stop the tears. Instead of running away to hide them, she relaxed enough around the Joneses to let them flow. Before they all climbed into the van for the drive back, Mrs. Jones gave Beth a careful yet tender hug.
“I promise. I will make the abuse stop, Beth.”
“I know you’ll try,” was all Beth said. She believed that. She also thought the Joneses would not succeed.
She and Otto were quiet during the drive, and when they reached the Jones home, Beth grabbed her duffel bag and walked down the sidewalk toward her house, with Otto following her.
“No, come back,” Mrs. Jones said as she hurried after them, wrapping her wings around the Clark children like a protective hen and hustling them into the house. She told them to stay inside while she and Mr. Jones unpacked the van and trailer. There was such seriousness in Mrs. Jones’s tone that Beth didn’t think to argue. The children went to Lisa’s room, listened to music, and talked for a good hour until Mrs. Jones came to the door.
“Beth, Otto,” she said, “there’s a police officer in our living room. He’s here to discuss… your home life. You must tell him the truth so we can protect you. Will you do that for me?”
Beth glanced at Otto, who shrugged, ready to follow her lead, whatever it might be. She turned to Lisa, who was moaning with worry. Her friend nodded.
“Do it. It’s time.”
The girl redirected her attention to Mrs. Jones; her stomach knotted with anxiety. After a long moment, she nodded. The four children followed Mrs. Jones into the living room. Sitting in his recliner was Mr. Jones, and across the room from him, on the sofa, sat a uniformed constable from the RCMP.
When Beth saw who it was, her heart dropped.
“Hello, Beth,” said Constable Derek Hughes with a smile. She recognized him; he wouldn’t help.
#
In the months between Dave's departure from the family and Gary’s arrival, Virgie brought home several men, but only one accompanied her more than once. This particular man was the closest thing to Virgie’s actual boyfriend. He was married and had two boys of his own, whom Beth knew from school. His name was Constable Derek Hughes.
Constable Hughes was one of three RCMP officers assigned to patrol the village of Coverville, stationed out of the Spruce Grove detachment. Coverville was too small to have its own detachment, and Spruce Grove was at least twenty minutes away. If someone called 9-1-1 and one of the three constables wasn’t in Coverville or was otherwise occupied, it could take a long time for help to arrive. Usually, the criminal was long gone before law enforcement could respond.
Hughes was the laziest and least reliable of the three constables patrolling the village. He often slept in his parked service car behind the post office or enjoyed coffee with locals in the hotel’s Chinese restaurant, where Virgie worked, instead of keeping an eye out for crime or responding to complaints from businesses and residents. During one of his extended coffee breaks at the restaurant, he met Beth’s mom, and they immediately hit it off. Neither of them seemed bothered by the fact that they were still married, though Virgie was separated from her spouse.
Hughes had a loving family eagerly awaiting his return home after each shift, aware that for the average RCMP constable, there was always a distinct danger that any call could be their last. Instead of returning home after his shifts, Hughes spent a few hours of overtime with Virgie at the Clark residence.
He visited once or twice a week after his shift, just before Beth and Otto left for school. Virgie dragged herself out of bed to greet him on the days he dropped by. He came only when he was off at six or seven a.m. and stayed for at least two or three hours. Beth realized this when she forgot an important assignment, and her teacher let her run home to retrieve it instead of receiving a zero. Beth walked in on her mother and the cop having sex in the living room. The kitchen clock read ten-ten. The adults halted their movements and stared at Beth; she ran past them to her bedroom, grabbed her assignment, and rushed past them again out of the house.
Sometimes, Hughes arrived early enough to have breakfast with Beth and Otto. Virgie made pancakes or French toast for her lover, and Beth and Otto enjoyed their meals as well. Hughes tried to bond with the kids, and Otto required little persuading. They chatted about cars or baseball, which were Otto’s favorite topics. Hughes found it more challenging to connect with Beth. Distrusting him, she kept him at arm’s length.
She had good reason. There had been one middle-of-the-night visit from Gary when her uncle brought a drunk Hughes in to observe. The inebriated cop sat on the end of Beth’s bed, watching Gary’s technique before staggering out with her uncle afterward. Hughes hadn’t touched her, though he’d appeared like he’d wanted to.
Virgie once sent Beth to the corner store to buy a pack of cigarettes for her (the clerk at the corner store sold them to Beth without any trouble, but the cashiers at Gordon’s grocery store required a written note from Virgie every time Beth went there to buy them). While at the store, she encountered Constable Hughes, dressed in street clothes, at the checkout, paying for a two-liter of Coke.
Beth approached him with a smile, saying, “Hi, Derek!”
He gazed down at her, his face emotionless, before he turned his attention back to the clerk as if he had no idea who she was. Hughes paid for his soda and walked out of the store. Beth watched him climb into a station wagon through the storefront window. Inside was a pretty brunette woman of Hughes’s age and his two sons, whom Beth recognized from school. The car drove away. He hadn’t acknowledged her because he didn’t want his wife to ask how he came to be on a first-name basis with the strange little girl.
The next day, Beth awoke to find Hughes sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and reading the local newspaper. He looked up from his reading to greet her.
“Good morning, Beth. Ready for school?”
Beth remained silent; she skipped breakfast and hurried to Lisa’s house early to wait until it was time to leave.
Adults were dishonest and untrustworthy—even those in uniforms.
#
“Beth and Otto, please sit,” Mrs. Jones encouraged, guiding them to the loveseat. “Constable Hughes has a few questions for you.”
“Will you stay?” Beth asked, her heart pounding. She took a seat as Otto plopped down beside her, chewing on a hangnail until it bled. Mrs. Jones sat in the armchair next to Beth.
“Of course.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones mentioned that you kids are having difficulties at home,” Hughes said, pulling out a notebook and pen from the pocket of his uniform shirt. “Why don’t you share what’s going on? Maybe I can help.”
Otto stared at his hands, showing no intention of speaking. Beth saw through Hughes’s smile at the insincerity beneath. “There’s nothing to say about home. Everything’s fine.”
Mrs. Jones’s tentative smile faded, and the inner ends of her eyebrows peaked. “That’s not what you told us. You can trust the constable; tell him the truth.”
Beth glared at Mrs. Jones and gave her a slight shake of her head. She wanted to tell her that she knew Derek Hughes, that he was one of Virgie’s boyfriends, that he couldn’t be trusted any more than Virgie or Gary, but she had been sworn to secrecy regarding the constable. Virgie had threatened to cut Beth’s tongue out with the butcher knife if she told anyone about Hughes’s visits to their home.
“Beth,” Lisa stage-whispered from the doorway of the living room, where she and Aurora stood observing. “Tell him!”
Hughes asked, maintaining a straight face, “Are you and Otto being abused at home?”
Beth picked at the trim of her seat cushion. All she wanted to do was run, just like she had on Saturday. But there was no easy escape from this situation. She resorted to her usual tactics when faced with a tough spot.
“No, sir,” she whispered, gazing at the coral-colored carpeting on the floor. “I fell down the stairs.”
Lisa groaned and rolled her eyes, while Aurora nodded with a frown.
Hughes raised an eyebrow and pointed at her with his pen. “How do you explain the other bruises on your arms and neck?”
“I hit a lot of stairs on my way down,” Beth said, her voice monotone and rote. The practiced, memorized answer slipped out without her thinking about it. “Can we go home now? I want to go home.” Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t really want to go home, but desired to be interrogated even less. Every word she spoke felt like another nail in her coffin—and Otto’s.
“Yes,” the officer said, shrugging at the Joneses. He put away his notebook. “You can go home whenever you want.”
Beth nodded and took Otto’s hand, guiding him to follow her. She ignored Lisa and Aurora's confused, hurt glares as she made her way to Lisa’s room, where they had left their duffel bags. After grabbing them, the Clark children headed for the front door, stopping just long enough to mutter their thanks to the Joneses before hurrying outside and walking the half-block to their house.
Virgie waited for them in the kitchen, reminiscent of the day Beth confessed to Mrs. Nestor. Beth braced for another attack, but Virgie crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at them.
“Otto, go watch TV.”
He obeyed his mother silently, hurrying to the living room. Beth stood alone before her.
“What’s the cop car doing over there? You telling people more lies?” Virgie asked.
Beth dropped her bag, ready to flee if necessary. This time, she would run outside instead of trapping herself in the house. “I don’t know, Mommy. He came by to talk to the grown-ups. I was in the bedroom with Lisa, Aurora, and Otto. We didn’t say anything to anyone. I swear.”
Virgie’s eyes scanned Beth’s face, searching for clues. “Is that Derek over there?”
The hollowness returned to Beth’s chest. She wasn’t sure what to say, uncertain of how Virgie would react. However, lying was not the right choice. All her mom needed to do was ask Hughes the next time he stopped by.
“Yes. It’s him. But I left quickly, Mommy. I never told anyone I knew him.”
Virgie appraised Beth once more, then stepped aside to let the girl walk past her into her bedroom, seeming satisfied with the answers she had received. “Unpack and get busy on the dishes. There’s a full sink of them.”
“Yes, Mommy.” A wave of relief washed over her. Beth rushed past her mother to the relative safety of her bedroom. She tossed her dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, put the duffel bag away in her closet, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes that hadn’t been cleaned since before she left for the weekend.
To earn extra points with Virgie, Beth tidied the living room and dusted before preparing for bed. Her mother said nothing about the extra effort, but she would notice it, and a mark would be added to the plus column for Beth.
#
At this point, both to promote my novel and get feedback, I’m sharing the first chapter of From Sackcloth and Ashes on my blog as it currently stands. I’m asking you to read it and give me your constructive critique….