Love & All Things Broken

The call from David came at 9:47 AM, just as I was getting Macy settled with her food tray. I was annoyed that we still hadn't been released, but I also get that overnight staff is sparse. The nurse had said we should be out by noon. I really wanted to get Macy home—and shower. Damn did I need a shower.

Stepping out of the Emergency Department area, and out of Macy's hearing, I answered David's call.

"Caden? It's done. Emergency custody granted, effective immediately. The judge reviewed everything—police reports, hospital records, Jessica's circumstances. She called it 'a clear case for child protection."

My legs were suddenly weak with relief. "Great. I don't want any decision-making left with Jess. Thanks, David."

"You now have full physical custody, for now. To make it permanent, we need the judge's formal order at the final hearing."

"What's that mean? Why isn't it permanent yet?"

David continued, "Well, the emergency hearing was just for the present circumstances. There still needs to be a full custody hearing. That's where we'll request sole custody—so you'll get physical custody and full legal decision-making capability."

"How long will that take?"

"I'll start the process to file for permanent custody. Our first step is a temporary custody hearing in the next couple of weeks. Then we'd get a final hearing. All told, probably 3 or 4 months start to finish."

My stomach plummeted. That felt like forever, "Okay. You'll get everything started?"

"I'm on it. Go take care of Macy and Felicity. I'll keep you posted on how things go with the case."

"Thanks, David."

I walked back toward Macy, entering her space.

"Can we go home yet?" she asked.

"Soon, honey."

"I'm so boooooooooored!"

Felicity and I both smiled. Damn kids are resilient. I'm still freaking out, meanwhile she's bored. I don't know if I will ever be bored again given how my heart hasn't stopped pounding for the last eighteen hours.

Dr. Patel arrived an hour later for final discharge instructions. Six weeks for the cast, follow-up with her doctor at home, keep the stitches dry, go to the local emergency department if she experienced dizziness or increased pain. All standard stuff, but I found myself taking meticulous notes on my phone as if I were studying for the most important test of my life.

"She's been through significant trauma," Dr. Patel said quietly while Macy was in the bathroom with Felicity. "Physical recovery will be straightforward, but watch for her emotional response. You may find she has nightmares, anxiety, starts to get clingy. All normal, but she'll need support."

"We're setting up therapy," I said.

"Good. I hope I'm not overstepping, but I'd recommend family therapy too. This affects all of you."

"Already on it."

"Good. I wrote her out of school for the rest of the week, but I'd recommend getting back to routine as soon as you can."

"Got it."

The drive home felt surreal. Three days ago, I'd been desperately trying to save my marriage. Now I was bringing my daughter home from the hospital after her mother had kidnapped and hurt her. How the hell was this real?

"We need to stop at the drug store," Felicity said. "Need to pick up her prescriptions—and maybe some treats for her," The last part Felicity whispered.

But Macy had perfect hearing for things she loved, "Treats!? Treats like what? Can I have a snickers? Oh, oh, oh I want nutter butters! Wait—no, not nutter butters—Reese's Peanut Butter Cups! Yeah -definitely peanut butter cups." Felicity laughed.

"You have sonic hearing kid!"

"I know. It's true. It's my superpower."

That moment—where my kid could joke in the face of all she'd been through—that was a moment for the record books. I'd get her all three treats if she wanted. Fuck, she could have the whole store with what she experienced—just to see that smile stay on her face.

I watched Macy in the rearview mirror as we drove through town. She'd gone silent for a bit. Felicity had given Macy her phone so she could watch a show while we drove. I'd catch her looking out the window at times—with an expression I couldn't quite read. I'm sure there was a lot going through her head. Need to get that therapist scheduled ASAP.

At CVS, I would have left my girls in the car, but Macy wanted to come in. Felicity and she wandered around, filling their basket with everything from snacks to nail polish to markers to decorate her cast. I waited in line for prescriptions.

Finishing up, we all climbed back into the car—me with a small brown bag of prescriptions, them with three giant bags of I-don't-know-what. The girls were chattering away talking about colors for toes and nails or some such thing, and I had this feeling of calm wash over me. It's going to take a lot of work, but we're going to be okay. I'll make sure of it.

Walking into the house, the quiet came with the reminders of our rush out the door. The empty caramel corn bag still sat on the kitchen table. Our coffee cups with the dregs of coffee were on the counter. The lights were still on in the kitchen. You could tell we left in a hurry, but it was good to be back home.

I turned to Macy, and said "why don't you head upstairs, and get settled. I want to grab a shower and then I can make all of us something to eat. Sound good?"

"That sounds good. Thanks dad."

Felicity responded, "Ugh, I need a shower too."

"Okay, how about this—you grab the first shower. I'll get lunch started. Then we can tag team?"

"That's perfect," she leaned forward and in for a kiss. I deepened it, enjoying holding my wife close and just being with her. "It's a good thing we both smell otherwise I'd have to tell you that you smell ripe."

"Ha!" I swatted her ass while she walked away laughing. "Roses, Felicity! I smell like roses."

Her laughter followed her up the stairs, "sure! Keep telling yourself that!"

I thought back to that night when I watched her walk up the stairs after our argument about the purse. It resonated with me what a different feeling it was today, even after how tumultuous the last few days have been, the sense of belonging and rightness was a major juxtaposition of the sense of dread I had that night.

Feeling content, I turned to start prepping some lunch. Grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches were definitely called for.

I was just getting the pan heated when my phone rang. Detective Morrison.

"Mr. Barrett? I hope I'm not interrupting, but I wanted to update you on a development in the case."

"What kind of development?" I asked, lowering my voice and moving toward the living room.

"We've been tracing the financial transactions from your company accounts, and we've discovered something interesting. The money Jessica took wasn't just going to fund her addictions. A significant portion was being transferred to accounts controlled by Brad Jensen."

My stomach dropped. I took a second to process, confused, I whispered, "Brad?" That can't be right. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

"It appears that Brad may not be the innocent husband we initially thought. From what we can tell right now, it looks like Jessica may have started stealing on her own, but either Brad found out and started working with her, or he discovered what she was doing and wanted in on it. I think he may have known she was using and, instead of stopping her or getting her help, he used it as an opportunity."

"Jesus Christ. How much money are we talking about?"

"So far, it looks like close to half of what she took. Jessica was taking smaller amounts initially, but once Brad got involved, the thefts got bigger and more frequent. We don't know yet how that unfolded, but best guess—he could have been encouraging her addiction to keep the money flowing."

I sank onto the couch, my head spinning. "Holy shit. Are you telling me that Brad was profiting off his wife's addiction and her downward spiral?"

"It's not for sure right now, but it is our best guess. We'll start gathering the evidence and see where it takes us. For now, be on guard. Avoid Brad if you can. I'm assuming you don't have much of a relationship with him given what you've said so far?"

"Yeah, he always kept to himself and to his work. Seemed like an okay guy, and Macy never complained about him. But no, no relationship per se."

"What does this mean for Jessica? For the charges against her?"

"There's a lot up in the air right now. But she's still culpable for the original and ongoing theft and for taking Macy. But Brad's involvement might explain why things escalated so quickly. He may have been feeding her addiction instead of helping her get clean, and influencing her. Like I said, just stay clear of Brad. I'll keep you posted as the case progresses—to the best of my ability."

After Morrison hung up, I sat staring at my phone. Jessica had started this mess herself, but Brad had made it worse. Instead of being the husband who got his wife help, he'd been the scumbag who profited from her illness.

The thought made me sick. Macy could have been seriously hurt because Brad saw dollar signs instead of a woman who needed treatment.

I was still processing everything when I heard Felicity's footsteps on the stairs. She appeared in the kitchen doorway, hair damp from her shower, wearing comfortable clothes and looking more relaxed than she had in days.

"Macy fell asleep," she said softly, coming over to sit beside me on the couch. "Poor thing was exhausted. Probably the adrenaline wearing off—she's been through so much."

"Good. She needs the rest."

I put my arm around Felicity and pulled her close.

"Gross, you still smell! Go shower." She laughed.

I sat forward, elbows on my knees—sighing loudly.

"Hey—I'm sorry—I was just teasing," she said while rubbing my back.

I grabbed her hand and held it. "No, it's not that. I know you're teasing—and I smell." I smiled and continued, holding up my phone with my other hand. "Morrison called. They found something else in the financial investigation."

"What kind of something?"

"Brad. It looks like he knew about Jessica's stealing and wanted a piece of it. Maybe even encouraged her addiction to keep the money flowing."

Felicity's eyes widened. "No effing way, are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Morrison thinks Jessica started stealing on her own eventually funding a pill habit—though I don't know that anyone knows yet how that started. Regardless, Brad either found out and joined in, or discovered it and saw an opportunity. And then, instead of getting his wife help, he profited off her addiction."

"My God, that's disgusting." Felicity was quiet for a moment, processing. "So while Jessica was spiraling, losing her mind on pills, Brad was sitting there getting rich?"

"That's what it looks like."

"What does this mean for the case? For Jessica?"

I ran my hands through my hair. "Morrison said Jessica's still responsible for the theft and kidnapping. But Brad's involvement might explain why everything escalated as quickly as they did. She's still culpable, but maybe... maybe she was being manipulated too."

"Do you think that changes how you feel about what happened to Macy?"

I thought about it. "Fuck No. Macy still got hurt. Jessica still made the choice to take those pills, to take Macy away from us. But it does help me understand a little about how things got so out of control so quickly."

"And Brad?"

"Morrison told me we need to stay away from him. They're building a case, but for now, we just avoid him."

Felicity leaned back against the couch cushions. "We will need to go to Jessica's house and get some of Macy's things. Her school stuff, most of her clothes and—well, pretty much everything that she needs is there."

"Shit. I didn't think about that. I'll call Morrison in a bit and get his thoughts." I looked toward the stairs, where Macy was sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. "Whatever we do, I know I want to do everything I can to protect you and Macy. Everything else, we'll figure out.

"All right—go shower and I'll finish lunch."

I reached for my wife, ignoring her laughing protests about my B.O., and pulled her in close. I held her and kissed her deeply—passionately. Pulling back, seeing that dazed look in her eyes—knowing the same was reflected in my own, I felt grounded. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now go wash up."

I laughed and headed upstairs; running the list of things to do through my head as I climbed.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, I walked past Macy's room. I doubled back, peeking through the door she'd left cracked open. She usually closed it if she was in her room, but I'm guessing she wasn't quite ready to be all alone. I don't think I was either.

I thought of when she was just a baby—her first smile, first laugh, first uncontrollable giggle. I remember her first big fall when she tumbled from her bike and scraped up the whole side of her leg. I thought back to when she was little, how strong she was through Jessica and my divorce—she was only just about to be three at the time.

For as long as she can remember, Macy has always lived in two places. Being full time with Felicity and me is probably going to be a major adjustment. With one last look at my daughter's face, expression soft with sleep, and relief from the last twenty-four hours, I turned and continued on.

I took out my phone before heading to the shower. Scrolling through the list I had saved, I searched for a therapist specializing in family support.

Lifting the phone to my ear, I responded to the answering voice, "Hi, I need to book an appointment . . ."