One Last Fight Read online

  During the week of Madison’s return, we learned some of the things that happened to her during her kidnapping. We learned that she and Melissa slept in the same bed together. There were no sheets and only one blanket. They had meals, although they mostly consisted of bread and other starches. She had milk once a day, and had water with her meals. We also learned Melissa had some toys for her to play with. Checkers and a few board games with some missing pieces.

  Madison had a few nightmares the first few days and even wet the bed once. She had a follow-up appointment with her pediatrician, and everything appears to be fine. She also started seeing a psychiatrist once a week, at the request of her doctor.

  Drake paid our hair stylist to come to the house to fix Madison’s hair. She was frightened at first. I imagine she was having flashbacks of having her hair cut by Melissa. Madison has never had her hair cut before — it has been only trimmed at the ends. She keeps touching her hair and I wonder if she is waiting for it to grow back. Before the kidnapping, her hair was almost to her waist, but now, it’s short and goes only to her neck.

  Today, Steve is here playing Candy Land with the kids. Drake just finished up working and is getting the grill ready, and I am making cookies for dessert, for the kids and Steve to decorate. I was reminded of Leah and her visit here last week. Her mother and mother–in-law made cookies with Caden. I look at Madison and I have to wonder how much longer she’ll be with us. Will the courts give the Grethers custody of our daughter? I can’t bear the thought of losing her.

  “What shape of cookies do you want?”

  “Can we have bunny cookies?” Madison asks, excitedly.

  “You may,” I correct.

  “Sorry, Mommy. May we have bunny cookies?”

  I smile at her and then say, “Caden, what would you like?”

  “May we have boy-shaped cookies?” he asks as he takes the man-shaped red piece from the game and runs him up and down his arm.

  “You both may,” I say, smiling.

  Drake walks in smiling and takes the chicken breasts out of the refrigerator. I know he’s just glad to have his family back. As I roll out the cookie dough on the counter, he leans in and whispers in my ear, “I love a woman in an apron.”

  I look up at him and he winks at me and walks away grinning. I have to smile, too. I don’t get to see the playful side of Drake very often. He is usually consumed with work and spends much time at the office. Since Madison’s kidnapping, he has been home more often and has been in a much better mood. He no longer raises his voice, and he no longer spends excessive hours at the office. I must say, I like the new and improved Drake.

  I watch as Steve stands up from the table and walks into the kitchen where I am. He smiles and says, “I see my son is making some much-needed changes in his life.”

  “He is.”

  “I think the whole,” he looks at Madison, “experience was an eye-opener for all of us.”

  “I think so. Years of anger management did nothing for him and with one incident, he turns into a whole new person.”

  “Go figure,” he jokes. The music is softly playing on the surround sound and Drake is tapping his foot in rhythm to the music. “I can’t remember when I saw him like this last.”

  “I can. It was before we had kids.”

  Steve looks at me and says, “I think you’re right.”

  “After we had kids, he spent all of his time trying to make his business successful. He wanted the children to grow up and be proud of him. His work consumed him,” I whisper.

  “And then he realized how much he was missing with you and the kids?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “It’s strange that something good could have come from Madison’s kidnapping,” he whispers so Madison can’t hear him.

  I look outside and Drake is turning over the chicken breasts. He isn’t on his cell phone; in fact, I don’t even see his cell phone anywhere.

  “It is strange, but it’s true. The man I married is back.”

  That night, I go to bed and dream of my mother-in-law, Sally.

  “Chelsea, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m watching over you from above.”

  “Sally, so much has happened. I don’t know where to begin.”

  “I know, I’m with Jamie.”

  “You know about Jamie?

  “I do. I was waiting for her the day of the accident. She’s beautiful. Chelsea. She looks like you did when you were her age.”

  “I want to see her. I want to get to know her,” I cry.

  “She knows about you, Drake, and Caden.”

  “I’ll never know her, Sally. She’s gone and we may lose Madison, too.”

  “Chelsea, talk to Jamie — she can hear you. You’ll know what to do about Madison when the time comes.”

  “How? Everything is such a mess.”

  “Jamie and I will continue to watch over you. Things are already getting better, you need to open your heart and look around. Things will work out as they are meant to. You’ll see.”

  I wake up and lie in bed awake. I remember the dream like Sally was here talking to me. She’s with Jamie. She was waiting on Jamie the day of the accident. Jamie can hear me talk to her? How can things work out? What does she mean by that? I don’t fall back to sleep; I lie there awake trying to figure out what she means.

  Leah

  Robert is working out, and today is my first day back to work. Mom and Margie both are keeping Gracie while I work. I guess childcare won’t be a problem for me. I had actually thought of taking Gracie to work with me for a few hours. Mom and Margie said they would bring Gracie in for story time. I’m glad I’ll get to see her throughout the day and I’m also glad Gracie will be here to hear the story being told. You are never too young to enjoy books.

  I pull up at the shop and look at our sign: Jamie’s Cozy Corner: Books, Coffee, & Sweets. It’s Your One-Stop Shop. I need to change it. Jamie isn’t my only daughter. I make a mental note to call Kessler’s Sign Company to order a new sign. I notice that the bistro tables and chairs are already set out on the sidewalk. I wonder if Gus or Kyle did it when they dropped off their wives this morning.

  I straighten my white blouse and gray pencil skirt before closing the door to the SUV. I’m happy I am finally in my pre-pregnant clothing. The abduction of Madison and its aftermath was all it took for me to lose the last few pounds. At such times, you forget to eat, or you can’t eat. I would have gladly carried the extra weight if it meant Madison was forever safe.

  The custody court date was postponed. We haven’t seen or heard anything from the Sinclairs, and I decided I wouldn’t bother them with calls. I know they are trying to move forward and leave the past in the past. That is easier said than done.

  Bruce told us that the nurse, Melissa Simms, didn’t have a weapon with her the day Madison was rescued. That was the same day she was killed. Although reports said she reached into her purse, she wasn’t reaching for a weapon. He also explained that sometimes people want to die and will have the police do it for them. She made it appear that she was reaching for a weapon so the police would shoot and kill her. Sadly, suicide by cop isn’t uncommon.

  Melissa’s mother ended up with the reward money because it was her information that led the police to Madison. She gave the police the address where Melissa was keeping Madison. The police interviewed Melissa’s mother extensively and learned that poverty and poor nutrition played a factor in Melissa’s mental illness. It saddens me to think about children suffering from malnutrition, hunger, and poverty. Poverty can decrease the size of children’s brains and lower their IQs and sometimes cause mental illness.

  I walk into the shop and the smell of cinnamon comforts me. The aroma of Jo’s cinnamon buns fills the air. I arrived earlier than usual. I am excited about returning to work and maintaining some sort of normalcy in my life.

  I walk into the back room, expecting to see Jo and Dove or Bethany, but instead I see Robert and Jo sitting at her desk
having coffee. Now I know who set out the bistro tables and chairs. Robert and Jo are laughing as he talks about Gracie.

  “Always the slacker, Ace,” I tease.

  He looks at his watch, smiles, and says, “Excuse me?”

  “Good morning, Josephine.”

  I smile as I walk past Robert to hug Jo. “It is so good having you back,” Jo says, returning my hug.

  “Thank you. I missed you and this place.”

  “There’ll be a lot of people happy to see you back to work.”

  “Thank you, Jo. Ace? Do you have anything you need to do today?” I turn my attention to Robert and he smiles. I have to smile, too.

  “No. I thought I would hang out here with you today.” He places both of his hands behind his head and kicks his feet up on the desk.

  I walk over and remove his feet from off the desk and say, “Good, the bathrooms can use a good cleaning and I noticed the sidewalks are looking a little dirtier than usual.” I turn to see Jo and ask, “How hot is it going to be today?”

  “Oh, it’s a hot one,” she says trying to maintain a straight face. “I heard on the news this morning that it’s going to be a record breaker.”

  Good job, Jo. Of course, Robert won’t let the heat stop him from running miles for his training.

  “Okay, you win.” He stands up from the desk, removes his iPod from his pocket, and unwinds his earbuds from around it. “Jo, as always, it was my pleasure and Leah, would you walk this slacker to the front door?”

  “Gladly.”

  We get to the front door and I wrap my arms around him. Although I am excited to see him at the shop this morning, I can’t let him know. It’s a girl thing and it’ll be my secret. If he knew how much I loved him, he would always be here.

  “Thank you for setting out the bistro tables for me.”

  “You’re welcome. I have to admit I actually came here for the cinnamon buns, but after I had eaten two of them, I figured I should work off some of the extra calories.”

  “Robert, do I need to tell you again about not eating those things,” I say. I am disappointed. If he is going to fight and win, he needs to take it seriously.

  “No, Sweets, I know. I’ll run it off and work extra hard today. I promise.”

  He kisses me and takes off running. I watch in admiration as he runs, and I continue to watch him until he is out of my sight. I walk in and ask Jo, “How many cinnamon buns did Robert have this morning?

  “Dear, he didn’t have any. He did have a bran muffin and some fresh fruit with black coffee.”

  Well, it looks like Robert also has a secret.

  The day is busy, and I feel like I am among friends. Deliveries come in, I am introduced to some new customers, and I also see old ones returning. Jo warns everyone to not mention Madison, her abduction, or the custody battle. I’m thankful. It’s still too painful to talk about. Everyone asks about Gracie and wants to see pictures of her. Dove and Bethany both came in to work, and it takes all of us to get the work done. The shop is a lot busier than it used to be.

  Mom and Margie come and bring Gracie in for story time. I watch as they tote in her carrier for her to sit in. I make a mental note to get one to keep here at the shop for her. I may just get a Pack-N-Play to keep here, too. Bethany reads Boomer, Be Nice, by Stacy Roberts. It’s an appropriate book for small children — and the message is appropriate even for adults. We all need to be nice to everyone all of the time. You never know what personal battle someone is fighting — or if they were malnourished as a child.

  A couple of school teachers come in after school and I overhear them talking about the free lunch program at the school where they teach. They mention that only a few of the schools in Manatee County offer free meals to every student.

  A mother interrupts and says that one day her daughter didn’t have lunch money and the lunch lady paid for her meal out of her own pocket for her daughter’s lunch that day.

  I walk around the counter and say, “I’m sorry, I overheard your conversation about school lunches. May I ask what happens if a child doesn’t have lunch money for the day, or for the week for that matter?”

  ”The schools take their lunch tray from them and they are supposed to offer them a peanut butter sandwich.”

  “What do they do with the tray of food?”

  The teachers and the mother look at each other.

  “Sadly, they throw it away,” one of the teachers says.

  I find it hard to believe that anyone would throw perfectly good food away rather than feed a hungry child. I am reminded of Melissa and her malnutrition and poverty-stricken life as a child that ultimately led to her mental illness as an adult. I know sometimes hard times fall upon us and we have no control over it. And what happens when a parent gets busy and simply forgets to pay for their child’s meals for a few days?

  “Is that true? The schools throw the food away opposed to just letting the child eat it?”

  “It is, yes,” the mother says.

  “Why are some schools eligible for free meals and others aren’t?” I ask, trying to hide the rage that boils within me.

  “The schools located in poverty areas are eligible for free meals.”

  “That’s great for them, but what about the families that suffer unexpected hardships in non-poverty areas? Do they fill out a free lunch form and wait a week for it to get approved?”

  They all nod. “We know,” the teachers say in unison. “It’s not fair.”

  One teacher adds, “Last week, I handed out worksheets in my third-grade class. One of the questions was ‘What makes a happy home?’ One student wrote, ‘A steady paycheck.’”

  Gracie cries and I know it’s time for her to eat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation. I just had to see for myself if this is the school’s protocol.”

  One of the teachers says, “Sadly, it is.”

  “I need to go; I have a hungry baby,” I say, walking away to get Gracie, so she doesn’t interrupt the readers in the shop.

  After Gracie eats, Mom and Margie take her home. Robert shows up near closing to help us close the shop. On the drive home, Robert tells me about his workout. He tells me how good it feels to finally be getting things back to normal. I have to agree, it does feel good.

  I tell Robert about the conversation I had with the mother and the two school teachers. I explain to him about the school’s protocol for children who don’t have lunch money or who have forgotten their lunch money.

  “Leah, are you sure they gave you the correct information? This doesn’t sound right.”

  “After they left, I went to the Manatee County Schools website. Everything they said is correct. Manasota Elementary School offers free lunches and breakfasts to every child in their school while Saratee Elementary School down the street is a school where students pay for lunches unless they are on the free or reduced-price program.” I take a deep breath and say, “I looked up the protocol about school lunches and they were right. The kids aren’t allowed to eat the food on their trays; they are offered a peanut butter sandwich as a replacement meal.”

  “Maybe we should call the schools to confirm that,” Robert says.

  “Oh, trust me. I intend to.”

  Chapter Three: Courts and Custody

  Robert

  I get up and leave for my workout before Leah is even awake. I kiss her bye and tell her I was leaving, but I don’t think she’ll even remember it. I don’t run to Upper Cut for my workout, I run to the School Board instead. I get there just as they are opening. Now that I’m here, I wish I had driven myself instead.

  I walk in all sweaty, but I am greeted warmly by the receptionist.

  “Hi¸ may I help you?”

  I look at her name plate and smile. “Miss Stephens, I’m here to see the superintendent, please.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, you’ll need an appointment to see her. What is this about?”


  I want to know why you feed some of the children in the school, but you don’t feed all of them. I also want to know why you throw perfectly good food away and give a child a peanut butter sandwich instead. But I don’t say that.

  “We just moved to the area, and I wanted to check out the elementary schools in the county,” I lie.

  “Oh,” she says as she jumps up from her seat. “I can help you with that.” She hands me several pamphlets and asks, “What school district are you currently in?”

  I tell her, and I also tell her we have a six-year-old daughter. I ask about free or reduced price meals for that school. “No, I’m sorry. To be eligible for that you’ll need to qualify.”

  “I don’t think we’ll qualify for that now, but with the way the economy is, anything could happen.”

  “Then if the time comes, fill this out and return it to your child’s school,” she says.

  “One more thing, if we suffer a hardship and we need free lunches for our daughter, how long will that take to get approved?”

  “Only a few days, a week at the most.”

  So, my child will have to eat peanut butter sandwiches during that time? And what will everyone else be eating? And how embarrassed will my child be?

  “Thank you,” I say, taking the information from her.

  “How many schools in the county do you have that don’t get the free meals for every student?” I ask before I leave.

  “Every child who qualifies for free meals gets them. The children of every school in the county get free breakfasts without having to show that they are qualified, but children get free lunches only after qualifying for them. At twenty-one schools in the county every child gets a free lunch, and at twenty-nine schools in the county only children who qualify get a free lunch. Paperwork must be filled out to show that a child is qualified to get free or reduced priced meals.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” I say, honestly. “The county does feed a lot of hungry children for free.”

  “Thank you, it is. We’re trying to make it so every child in every school can get free lunches.”