Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RACHEL
Since Frankie’s parents weren’t home after conferences were through, Mojave took us both to what had quickly become Frankie’s favorite restaurant during her small stint of suspension.
He never complained about feeding someone else’s child, or watching her well after the time it would take to walk her home safely from school. He just kept showing up for her.
Frankie walked between us on the journey back to her home.
She clung to Mojave’s hand, sometimes dropping her weight and letting him swing her.
He never flinched. Just readjusted her grip to a safer hold so she wouldn’t slip and kept going.
It was endearing to watch, and eased a little of the tension I’d been feeling all afternoon.
Unfortunately, it all came back when we arrived at Frankie’s home to find both parents had returned.
Somehow, before even stepping foot into that house, I knew how this conversation was going to go.
Knowing or not, I couldn’t ignore it so I pushed through the metal gate and knocked on the front door.
Mojave didn’t follow me if he had no reason to be there, and Frankie wouldn’t part from him before she absolutely had to, so those two would remain in the front yard.
It was for the best. I didn’t like when Frankie was around and her parents were so careless about what they said.
I didn’t want the little girl to overhear and think she didn’t deserve the love and attention she needed.
Thanks to the thin walls, I heard the argument going on inside as the parents went back and forth on who answered the door.
When Frankie’s mom, Violet, finally ripped it open, she was already irritated and she rolled her eyes when she saw me.
“You again? I told you, we don’t need help.
Frankie, get inside! She won’t leave until you do! ”
Frankie made a dejected sound, but I put a hand up to stop her before she could join us. “Actually, I was hoping to have a minute to talk to you privately. Can I come in?”
“Do we even have a choice?” Violet shot back. She spun on her heel and stormed inside, leaving me to follow behind her. When I glanced behind me, I noticed Mojave’s concerned frown and waved him off. This wasn’t an unusual reaction from some parents. I’d dealt with worse.
“Watch Frankie for me. I just want to talk to them for a minute.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it.
Something in his expression looked almost anxious at the thought of letting me go inside the house alone.
If there wasn’t a window overlooking the living room to let him see inside, he might not have allowed it without following me.
The sweetly overprotective man was too good to his core to put me at risk by letting me go in alone.
Frankie at least was happy with a few extra minutes with Mojave and ran over to swing on his arm again, talking a mile a minute and completely unbothered by it all.
I let that be a small comfort. At least she wasn’t one of those kids who fought tooth and nail to defend unfit parents.
Those cases were a lot more heartbreaking in the end.
Stepping into the house, I drew in a fortifying breath. I was here for Frankie. I’d keep fighting for her until her parents eventually figured out what to do to better care for her. Even begrudging care was better than nothing at all.
Violet was waiting for me in the living room, arms crossed and body language already defensive. I looked around for Max, hoping at least one parent would be willing to listen this time. If they were unaware of the bullying, maybe at least that would get their attention?
“Is Max going to join us?”
Rolling her eyes, Violet lifted her voice to shout, “Max! CPS lady wants to talk to us! Again!”
I heard a frustrated groan from the hallway, along with some shuffling. When Max came out, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, a dark glower on his face as he stomped past and dropped onto the couch.
“What now? This is the first day in two weeks I don’t have the night shift. I need sleep, damn it.”
While I commiserated with him, the double shifts couldn’t be easy, it still irritated me that neither of them seemed to understand what was going on.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a few days now to discuss what can be done to support Frankie and your family. I sent a few emails with resources–”
“Yeah, no,” Violet interrupted. “We don’t need your charity. Frankie is fine. Just because she’s not home all day staring at a screen doesn’t mean there’s a problem. You should be happy she’s outside playing instead of glued to a screen.”
“Playing outside with supervision is different than allowing her to freely roam around town unsupervised. She could get hurt–”
“But she hasn’t,” Max pointed out blandly. “She’s never broken a bone or anything. She’s fine. She barely ever gets sick either. Being outside is good for her.”
Neither of them seemed to understand the risks of letting such a young child wander around alone.
Our small town sometimes got pass-through traffic that ignored speed limits.
She could get hit by a car, she could follow the wrong person, or she could get tormented by bullies without an adult around to protect her.
If they’d taken my suggestion for parenting classes, they’d know Frankie still needed supervision at her age.
From the stubborn expressions on their faces, I could see they weren’t going to indulge me for much longer. I decided to focus on my original intention in coming here instead. “I’m here to talk about Frankie’s schooling. I’m not sure if either of you are aware, but she’s been struggling and–”
“That’s not our problem,” Violet interrupted with a sneer. “It’s the teacher’s job to take care of the kids during the school day. If Frankie isn’t acting right at school, that’s their problem.”
Fighting back my temper, I schooled my face to remain neutral. “The teachers are there to teach with the support of the parents. Frankie needs guidance and reassurance from both home and school environments. She’s also had trouble with bullies–”
“So tell her to hit them back,” Max offered with a bored expression. “If she fights back, they’ll leave her alone eventually.”
My eyes widened in surprise. I knew Frankie had a skewed version of conflict resolution, but I hadn’t thought it would be encouraged by her parents.
“Mr. Smythe, that’s not an appropriate way to handle issues with other students.
Frankie already has a hard enough time connecting with her peers.
If she doesn’t learn new ways to handle conflict–”
It was Violet’s turn to let out a frustrated growl. “What do you even want us to do?” she snapped. “Hold her hand and walk her to her classroom every day? We’ve got work! And if it’s happening at school, it’s the school’s problem, not ours!”
“She’s your daughter!” I argued back, my control slipping for just a second. The way neither of them seemed to care that Frankie was being bullied or struggling in school was appalling. She was only seven.
“Well, I didn't want her!” Violet shouted. “Our parents made us keep her! Now we’re doing our best to provide for her and all we get is this kind of bullshit! She’s fine!”
My pulse thrummed in my ears, my rein on my emotions straining as I fought to hold back everything I wanted to say to them.
Frankie was a bright and beautiful little girl.
I knew so many parents who would be happy to have her.
If she was my kid, I’d be overjoyed to be given a little girl with so much spunk and imagination.
That Frankie’s mother could even utter the words out loud that she didn’t want Frankie was not only disgusting, it was heartbreaking. Poor Frankie never even stood a chance.
Max, while more restrained than his wife, didn’t seem to find any issue with what Violet said. He just nodded. “She’s right,” he agreed. “We were only kids ourselves when we had her. We’re doing what we need to do to keep a roof over her head. What more do you want?”
In that moment, seeing the irritated expressions on both parents' faces, I realized nothing was ever going to change. Neither of them wanted to change. They saw Frankie as a burden, not their daughter, and nothing I could say or offer would change their minds about that.
I had to try, though. I couldn’t give up on Frankie.
And while I didn’t like threatening parents into better behavior, I had no other option.
“Frankie might have a roof over her head and clothes to wear, but there’s more to raising a child than just that.
She needs proper care, guidance, and support.
If the emotional neglect continues, I’ll have no choice but to recommend Frankie be removed from your household. ”
Violet scoffed. “So do it. I don’t care. I’ve got work.”
She pushed to her feet, bumping my shoulder as she walked past me. Max stood as well, not a hint of conflicted emotions on his face.
My heart shredded in my chest as I demanded, “That’s it? You’re not even going to fight for her?”
He stopped beside me, looking at me with a bland expression.
“Lady, you’re the one who’s not getting it.
Frankie is fine. You’re the only one seeing a problem here.
If you think it’d be better for her to be taken from her parents, then whatever.
Do what you gotta do. We’ve been working our asses off for that kid since she was born.
If that’s not enough, then it’s not worth it.
I’m going back to bed. See yourself out, will you?
And tell Frankie not to be too loud when she comes back in. ”
He shuffled away without a backward glance and I heard the bedroom door click as he shut it behind him a few seconds later.
For a few moments, I just stood there, the defeat so heavy, it was almost suffocating.
This wasn’t how I wanted this to go. I’d hoped with support, resources, and maybe some parenting classes to give the parents a better understanding of what a child needed, they’d realize where they were going wrong and step up eventually.
I hadn’t thought they’d give up entirely.
It took a minute for me to get my emotions under control enough to leave the house.
When I stepped out, Frankie was on Mojave’s shoulders, both of them looking up at the stars and pointing out made up constellations that were just as silly as their cloud conversation had been earlier.
Another stab of pain hit me in the chest watching them together.
I never imagined a single overprotective biker would be better than a two parent family.
Mojave offered Frankie the love and connection she needed without even trying.
Mojave turned to look at me, his eyes narrowing when they took in my expression. He squatted to let Frankie slide off his back, taking her hand as he moved to stand in front of me, his tone concerned. “What happened?”
My eyes flicked to Frankie, who looked up at me curiously, and I shook my head. “Nothing. Frankie, your dad asked me to tell you to come into the house quietly. He’s trying to sleep. Can you do that?”
She nodded, then shrugged. “I’m fine.”
That’s what her parents always said. It’s what they taught her to believe.
I was a little afraid of how she’d react when my recommendation to remove her from the home went through.
Would she insist she was fine where she was?
Or would she not care either way? I wasn’t sure which outcome would be more heartbreaking.