Novel: Filling the Cracks—Chapter Four

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Welcome to the fourth installment of my novel, Filling the Cracks, posted exclusively here every Wednesday! Check in every week for a new chapter. (Access previously posted chapters from the tab on the menu bar above labeled “Filling the Cracks.”)

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 Four

Beth stopped at home after school on Friday only long enough to drop off her book bag and pick up Otto and their duffel bags, which she had left near the side door to avoid entering the house, running into Virgie, and risking her mom changing her mind about allowing them to go on the camping trip. She opened the side door, hung her book bag on a hook, and shouted for Otto. He came running from his bedroom, dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, looking more excited than Beth remembered him being in a long time. They grabbed their bags and headed to her friend’s house in silence. Lisa waited for them on the sidewalk, and together they hurried away from the Clark home before Virgie could stop them.

Mr. Jones, a tall blonde man in his forties and a plumber who owned his own business, came home at four to get an early start on the weekend. He helped Mrs. Jones finish packing their tent trailer with camping gear and groceries, and within forty-five minutes, the four members of the Jones household, along with Beth and Otto, were in the van and on the road. Their destination wasn’t far—about two hours away—but for Beth, it felt as if it were across the universe; she was so excited. She trembled with exuberance, giggling with Lisa and Aurora in the back as if she had no care in the world. Otto ignored the cackling girls, staring out of his window and naming all the cars they passed; it became a game between him and Mr. Jones.

It had been a long time since Beth felt this good, but along with that pleasant feeling came anxiety snaking around it. In Beth’s experience, good things often came with a price, and even if they didn’t, they rarely lasted long before bad things returned.

At the campsite, they found a spot just a stone’s throw from the lakefront, surrounded by trees for privacy and large enough to accommodate both the tent trailer and a four-person dome tent. The trailer could sleep as many as five people, but that would have been cramped, so they decided the girls would sleep in a tent while Mr. and Mrs. Jones and Otto enjoyed the trailer’s bunks. They set up camp as soon as they arrived, with the happy girls squabbling over the best way to erect the tent while the adults and Otto set up the trailer and other gear. After several false starts, the girls pitched their tent with the fly and inflated air mattresses using a foot pump. At last, they laid three thick sleeping bags and pillows on the beds, and their temporary abode was ready for habitation.

Next came dinner. Mrs. Jones covered the picnic table with a plastic tablecloth, laying out all the fixings needed to make hot dogs and s’mores. Mr. Jones lit the campfire in the pit, teaching Beth and Otto how to build a teepee of dry starter twigs and branches over dry grass and leaves, which he ignited with a long match. Within minutes, he added larger branches to the arch over the growing flames, followed by wood he had chopped from what they had brought along in the trailer. Once the fire burned low and hot with plenty of glowing embers, it was ready for roasting wieners and, after dinner, marshmallows to slip between the graham crackers and chocolate.

Beth and Otto hadn’t had chocolate in at least four months. Money was scarce at their home, and chocolate was a luxury that Virgie didn’t allow on her grocery list, though there was always enough money for trips to the liquor store for chardonnay or beer for Gary. Beth savored the sweet treat with every bite, only making one s’more until Mrs. Jones encouraged her to make another if she wanted. She wouldn’t say no; Otto was already on his third.

“What did you do to your forehead, Beth?” Mr. Jones asked, gesturing at the band-aid on her head.

Beth shared the ‘falling down the stairs’ story with her friend’s dad, ignoring the knowing glare from Lisa.

“Ah,” Mr. Jones said with a nod and a quick glance at Mrs. Jones. “That was some rough luck you had there. Did you fall down all the stairs or just a couple? Because those bruises on your arms look painful.”

“All the way down,” Beth said, laughing awkwardly and avoiding his piercing gaze. “Slippery socks.”

“Must happen a lot.”

Lisa nodded. “Yeah, Daddy. It happens to Beth all the time.”

Beth nudged her friend in the ribs, hoping the deepening dusk concealed it from the adults.

“What’s it been like having Uncle Gary live with you?” Mrs. Jones asked before sipping the tea she had prepared from water boiled over the fire.

“It’s lousy,” Otto said, receiving a fierce glare from Beth.

“Okay, I guess,” Beth replied, staring at the flames instead of the person she was talking with. “He helps with money.”

“Is that all he does?”

“What do you mean?”

Mrs. Jones shrugged, glancing over the rim of her melamine mug. “Does he help around the house with cleaning and repairs? Does he discipline Otto and you when your mom is at work?”

Knowing a leading question when she heard one, Beth hesitated. “He watches us when Virgie—I mean, Mom—is working, yeah.”

“But does he punish you when you do something wrong?” Mrs. Jones’s eyes scrutinized Beth as if assessing every detail about her. This made Beth feel uneasy.

“Heck, yeah,” Otto replied, only to receive an elbow in the ribs from his sister.

“Sometimes,” Beth said quickly. “But only when we deserve it. I gotta go to the outhouse.” She jumped up from the tree stump she had been using as a stool and hurried down the dark path toward the latrine. She forgot to bring a flashlight and had to navigate by the moon and starlight.

“Wait up, I’m coming too,” Lisa called, hurrying after her with the flashlight. She caught up to her as she reached the outhouse. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Beth hissed, spinning around. “Why are they asking me all those questions? Did you tell them anything?”

“No, I didn’t have to. You’re covered in bruises and cuts. People notice.”

Beth wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed home. This was a mistake.”

Lisa grasped her by the shoulders. “Look at me. No, it wasn’t. Tell my parents the truth. They’ll help you like they helped Aurora.”

“I can’t. Nobody helps me.” Beth pushed Lisa’s hands away. “Whenever I tell someone about it, I get hurt worse. And then there’s Otto. That dummy. He’ll land us both in trouble when we get back.”

“I think Otto is brave to be so honest,” Lisa said, crossing her arms over her chest.

To end the conversation, Beth entered the outhouse and locked the door. Although she didn’t need to go, she wanted to avoid discussing that topic any further, as Lisa would keep pressuring her. After about five minutes of waiting, Lisa eventually gave up. Beth heard her footsteps returning to the campsite.

Beth returned to the campfire shortly afterward, and the rest of the evening went well; no further questions about her home life or injuries were asked, and she discovered that she relaxed and joked with the Joneses in a way she never could with her own family. She deeply yearned for the kind of love and camaraderie she experienced with these people and envied Lisa and Aurora for having this… goodness… every day.

As the fire dwindled and night grew late, Mrs. Jones told the kids it was time for bed. Beth grabbed her flannel pajamas from her duffel bag and went to the outhouse with a flashlight to change. Although Lisa was aware of most of Beth’s injuries, she was unaware of those inflicted on her nether regions and did not want to risk her friend noticing anything while getting ready for the night.

Otto entered the tent trailer to change his clothes. After putting on his pajamas, he went to the outhouse before bed while the Jones parents got ready to sleep.

Snug in their sleeping bags inside the tent, Beth, Lisa, and Aurora took turns telling ghost stories and judging who told the creepiest tale. Their giggles revealed their excitement until Mr. Jones called from the tent trailer, instructing them to turn off the flashlight and sleep.

Lisa wrapped an arm around her, cuddling in a way that felt comforting, not odd or creepy, like a warm hug.

“Good night, Bethie,” Lisa said. “We'll find a way to help you.”

“Yeah,” Aurora whispered. “Listen, I came from a home where my brother used to abuse me, and my dad recorded it on video. But someone helped me, and now I don’t have to be afraid of that anymore. There’s help for you, too.”

Beth remained silent, a tear rolling down her cheek unnoticed in the dark. She wanted to believe it was possible but didn’t dare let herself hope.

#

Beth woke to find herself alone in the tent; early morning sunlight filtered through the canvas, illuminating her surroundings with a pale green glow. She had slumbered like the dead, unable to recall the last time she’d slept the entire night without being disturbed by something or someone at least once. With a smile, she stretched the kinks out before crawling out of her sleeping bag, finding her mackinaw and making her way out of the tent.

It smelled delicious outside. The aroma of bacon frying in a cast iron pan over the campfire mingled with the sharp scent of wood smoke and the rich fragrance of a pot of coffee percolating on the grill beside it. While Mr. Jones cooked the meat, Mrs. Jones prepared Bannock dough, and Lisa and Otto scraped the bark from the ends of green willow branches with two small pocket knives, wrapping the dough around the sticks to bake it over the flames. On the picnic table rested melamine plates and mugs, butter, and strawberry jam for the Bannock. Beth’s mouth watered. She was lucky if she and Otto got a bowl of Rice Krispies for breakfast on any ordinary day. She always ate like a queen when sharing meals with Lisa’s family.

The six campers planned their day while baking Bannock and eating. They agreed to hike around the lake in the morning and spend the afternoon’s heat at the beach sunbathing and swimming. While the hike sounded fun, Beth was less enthusiastic about the beach. Still, she kept her opinion to herself, not wanting to complain. She was happier to be with Lisa and her family doing anything rather than being at home with her mom and uncle.

The hike was fun. Mr. Jones was an amateur naturalist; they walked along well-trodden paths through the brush and trees as he pointed out interesting flora and fauna to the three young girls, Otto, and his wife. Beth learned which plants to avoid because they were poisonous and which ones were edible. At one point, they came across a porcupine chewing on a branch and observed the quilled creature from a safe distance until it wandered deeper into the underbrush. A little while later, they encountered a young buck. It crossed their path, pausing long enough to stare at the humans for several seconds before moving on. Beth watched the wildlife with breathless awe since she loved all animals. She’d always wanted a pet, but Virgie never allowed it. Virgie claimed they were too dirty and a nuisance. Despite the mice that invaded the Clark home, a cat was considered worse than the vermin.

They returned to the campsite for lunch—ham and cheese sandwiches with potato chips—before Lisa and Aurora eagerly retreated to their tent to change into their bathing suits for the afternoon at the beach. Otto was excited to take his swim trunks to the outhouse for a change.

Beth stood outside the tent, paralyzed. Lisa poked her head through the zipper door.

“Come on, Beth! Get ready!”

Beth shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. Despite knowing they would camp at a lake, she hadn't brought a bathing suit. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that they would do something that didn’t require her to wear something as exposing as a swimsuit. Even a one-piece revealed too much of Beth’s damaged flesh.

At that moment, there was only one solution to her problem: she couldn’t join them, so she had to leave them behind.

Turning heel, she ran into the bush, following one of the well-established hiking paths. When Lisa, her parents, Otto, and Aurora called after her, she hid deeper in the brush and forest, leaving the path and picking her way through bushes, branches, roots, and fallen trees. She grew tired but kept going, instinct telling her that she had to hide; the further she went, the harder it would be for the others to find her. She didn’t know what to do once she was lost—how to survive alone in the forest—but she had to run and flee. Confusion in the woods was better than having to explain her injuries.

When her adrenaline ran out, she sat behind two fallen logs, one stacked on the other and covered in moss. Panting, she did her best to remain still and quiet, knowing that the Joneses would pursue her. If they found her, they would demand to know why she had run—if Lisa or Otto didn’t blab the truth to them first. Either way, they would learn of Beth’s secrets, and her life would be forfeited. Virgie would find out whether the Joneses contacted her or the authorities. Her mom would punish Beth and, later, again punish Gary in the middle of the night. Help wouldn’t come. Support never came—only pain.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks; she had learned at home to weep silently. Her entire body convulsed, yet no sound escaped her mouth. She cried so hard that once it was over, her emotions spent, so were her body and spirit, and she dozed off leaning against the logs. Not even the mosquitoes were bothersome enough to keep her awake.

#

She woke up while it was still dark outside, and someone was carrying her. Slowly, she opened her eyelids and studied the side of Mr. Jones’s face. His expression was somber, his brow furrowed, and his jaw muscles tightened. He had found her after what must have been several hours of searching. He must have been angry that she had been such an imposition to him and his family after they had been kind enough to take her camping with them.

“I—I can walk,” she told him, squirming. He didn’t seem to hear her and continued to carry her over the rough terrain. He wasn’t alone; Lisa hiked beside him. Her expression was more relaxed than his, but the red puffiness around her eyes spoke of the tears she’d shed not long ago.

Beth let him carry her; it was easier than trying to wiggle out of his arms. She didn’t want to upset or offend him further. When they arrived at the campsite, Mrs. Jones waited there with a blanket. Mr. Jones set Beth down on one of the tree stumps next to her brother, and Mrs. Jones wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“You had us worried,” she said, her tone soft and soothing. “Are you all right? Did you hurt anything out there?”

“No,” Beth replied, feeling self-conscious. “I-I’m fine.”

“I bet you’re hungry,” Mrs. Jones said, filling a bowl with stew from the pot on the grill above a low fire. She brought it to Beth and placed it in her hands. “Eat this; we’ll talk after.”

Beth’s stomach growled at the aroma of the delicious food, but discussing what had happened made her insides twist, so she set the bowl down.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You scared us,” Lisa scolded, sitting on the other side of Beth and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You need to tell Mom and Dad everything. They need to know.”

Beth glared first at her friend and then at Otto. “How much did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” Otto replied, his mouth full of food.

Lisa shrugged, her eyes askance. “Just that Gary hurts you badly. So does your mom. They want to help.”

“They can’t,” Beth whispered. “They won’t.”

A hand rested on her shoulder. Aurora stood behind her and said, “Give them a chance to prove you wrong.”

Beth swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She glanced at Lisa’s parents, who sat on the opposite side of the fire, observing her with indulgent smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.

“You can trust us,” Mr. Jones said softly.

“No, I can’t,” Beth said, summoning more courage than she truly felt. However, they weren’t going to let the subject drop. With a deep sigh, Beth allowed a tear to fall from her eye. “Gary hurts me sometimes.”

There were neither gasps nor scowls. No one appeared surprised. Otto gazed at his feet and kicked at the dirt.

“How?” Mrs. Jones’s tone remained calm.

Beth looked at Mr. Jones with discomfort. Talking to another woman about these matters was hard enough, but she couldn’t express them with a man or her brother present. He understood the hint when her gaze fell on him as he rose from his stump.

“Otto and I will gather more firewood.” Gesturing with his chin for the nine-year-old to follow, Otto nodded, set his bowl on the ground, and trailed behind the man to the pit where the campground offered free logs for burning. It was about a hundred yards away. They took their time.

Lisa squeezed Beth’s hands. “Speak,”

Beth exhaled shakily. “Gary… he comes into my bedroom at night… and touches me.”

And from there, Beth described how her uncle regularly raped her under threat of harm if she didn’t participate. Mrs. Jones listened, expressionless, without interrupting.

“He used objects and hurt me after that,” Beth whispered. She stared at her hands, intertwined with Lisa’s. “And they’re going to hurt me for telling you. You can’t tell anyone what I said, Mrs. Jones. Please.”

Mrs. Jones left her stump and came around the fire to sit on Otto’s stump beside Beth. She ran her hand through Beth’s hair, and the girl couldn’t help but press her head into it. She wasn’t often caressed. Once again, she found herself wishing the Joneses were her family. However, hoping didn’t make it true.

“I’ll do everything possible to make sure you aren’t hurt again,” Mrs. Jones said.

Beth couldn’t bear to look at her. “They will. They always do.”

“Then I won’t let you go back there,” Mrs. Jones promised. “We’ll keep you and Otto with us. They’ll have to pry you from my hands.”

Beth remained silent. A part of her yearned to trust Mrs. Jones, yet something deep within her indicated that the woman wouldn’t be able to fulfill her promise.

#

Thanks for reading! Chapter Five will be posted next Wednesday here on my blog, so be sure to return next week. Refer to the menu bar at the top of the page to access past chapters posted on the “Filling the Cracks” page. If you have any comments or questions, please leave them in the comment section below. Also, remember to subscribe to my newsletter and share this blog with your family and friends. Check out my other blog posts, also found here at paulinejgrabia.com. God bless, and have a great week!

Pauline

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