Chapter 70
Seventy
E mmy bounces back with surprising aplomb. The children’s advocate was kind, gentle, and thorough. While the ordeal scared Emmy, she proved resilient both during and after the three-day kidnapping.
Despite her mother being a stranger, Emmy initially trusted Darlene, who deftly pulled, then played, the mother card.
She confessed to being Emmy’s mom, explaining how much she loved and missed her, apologizing for ever leaving.
She asked if she could treat her to a sundae at the pharmacy downtown, promising that Butch approved and she’d have her back within the hour.
Darlene shed a few tears and Emmy felt sorry for her, plus her own curiosity took over.
She wanted to spend time with her mother and learn why she had left, where she had been, and if she was staying now.
Darlene steered Emmy to the passenger seat, but Hemi attempted to physically come between her and Emmy. When Emmy leaned over and gave the dog a big hug, calming him down, she thinks her tiara probably fell off because she didn’t notice its absence until Darlene sped off.
There was no stop for ice cream. There was no stopping at all.
And as Emmy watched the woman nervously driving her away from her hometown, she began to realize something was very wrong.
Emmy cried to go home, and Darlene said she’d like to provide her with a new home.
Give them a chance to get to know each other.
Give her a chance to do things right. When Emmy asked where they were going, Darlene remained vague.
When Emmy asked to call her daddy, Darlene answered, “in a while.” But a while never came.
Emmy cried more, scared she might never see her daddy, dog, family, or me again.
Her mother’s volatile emotions scared her too.
Darlene was smiling and laughing one moment, fearful and anxious the next.
She wept. Pleaded. Railed about Butch and how he’d prevented any interaction she tried to have.
She deftly pulled on Emmy’s heartstrings by telling her about the night she was born and other memories of her first year.
Darlene stopped only when necessary and was careful when she did, keeping Emmy in line using promises to take her home or let her call Butch only if she obeyed.
She made Emmy stand quietly by her side during gasoline or food stops.
They slept in the car only in remote places, just a few hours at a time, limiting her chances to escape.
But Emmy was also wary and unsure what Darlene would do if she ran or screamed.
Emmy intuitively understood if she complied, she’d eventually get to a telephone or find help. So smart, that girl. She also figured those boxing skills in her back pocket might prove useful if the opportunity arose.
When the Valiant was spotted at a Shell station matching the APB in Lymon, South Dakota, Darlene was apprehended quickly.
Since Emmy’s return, we’ve watched her like a hawk, looking for signs of distress.
She’s had a few nightmares, but even then, this brave girl understands how to take care of herself—she simply crawls into bed with us and falls asleep with the assurance we’re there.
Emmy’s therapist said her resilience is likely due to how she’s been raised, with love and security surrounding her.
She has strong self-esteem, a level head, and wisdom beyond her years.
Butch hasn’t bounced back quite as gracefully. He compulsively checks on Emmy—when she’s sleeping, doing crafts, watching a movie. He won’t let her run the path to her grandparents’ house alone. He doesn’t want her outside without an adult. He’s needy and worried and riddled with guilt.
When I gently suggested he try a few therapy sessions himself, he scoffed me.
So I’ve taken to soothing him my way, through touch.
Stroking his hair, his arms, and his body anywhere and anytime—on the sofa, as he drifts to sleep, in the car.
He says it grounds him, so that’s what I offer.
My words attempt to assuage his conscience, reminding him what a good, loving father he is, imparting strong values, common sense, and useful skills.
I understand what happened to Emmy presses all his buttons, not to mention his pride.
He identifies as the protector—the one who keeps us safe.
Between what transpired with me and my boss and now this, it shakes the foundation of who he thinks he is.
But he’s not responsible for what others do.
And I don’t think he understands the foundation he lays for all of us, which is not only mighty, but allows us to rise beyond life’s uglier moments.
Family boxing resumes with gusto, along with “what you should do if this happens” scenarios—Butch’s bid to help the women in his life anticipate the evil in the world.
I think he also grapples with what happened to Darlene. Emmy experienced uncertainty and fear while with her mother but still came home worried for the woman’s fate—and still curious.
Darlene told the authorities she didn’t set out to kidnap Emmy. She showed up that day to confront Butch again and reason with him. But when the opportune moment arose, she spontaneously snatched Emmy up, thinking it might be the only way she’d ever see her daughter.
Butch is compassionate enough to wonder if Darlene should have a role in Emmy’s life.
Despite what she’s done—an act of desperation he believes he’s guilty of contributing to—he doesn’t know what’s in his daughter’s best interest. And it’s all complicated further by Darlene going to prison.
We talk some about how and when to broach that, aware it’s a choice his daughter can make when she’s older.
Sometimes relationships are tangled, confusing, and complex. I know that the hard way.
Our lives return to a new normal. I’ve found a groove living with Butch, putting the unpleasantness from Virginia Now behind me, and outlining the parameters for Gus’s dream.
Gus not only greenlights the magazine but offers me the job of managing editor.
Editor. After intensive research, pulling together costs and vendors and distribution companies, plus sketching out the first four issues, I’m thrilled to take on that role.
Granted, it’s a big title for a ton of work.
Maybe it’s false confidence, but I believe in myself.
I credit two of the most important men in my life for getting me here: Mick, for always encouraging me to pursue my dreams, and Butch, who lavishes me with praise, support, and unflappable faith. He is unwavering in his love for me…and it makes me sturdier on my feet.
I’m not discounting what I’ve brought to the party either. I’ve stood on shaky ground, navigated uncertainties, and sometimes worry I’ll never fill the holes received from heartbreaks and heartaches. But through it all, I’ve endured. I’ve overcome. I’ve risen.
I once believed my destiny was to live solitary, alone, relegated to self-reliance.
It’s understandable why. But loving again is a choice—a risk, yes, but a choice.
An opportunity to blossom, to share companionship, to experience a profound connection.
It’s a gift to myself, honestly. Believing I’m worthy, embracing it, letting it flow through me, and returning these same things to the spectacular human being who adores me.
I’m a better person because of Butch. Perhaps the best version of myself to date.
I hope he’s a better person because of me.
And when you allow someone you love, respect, and trust into your life, you reap all the dividends around them. For me, that’s priceless.
Emmy has shown me what motherhood means. It’s not about biology. It’s about who shows up for you every day. Who nurtures you. Who loves you without condition.
Gus and Jerri have shown me what it means to have parents. People who are in your corner, heading up your posse as a guiding, loving force that values inclusion at its core.
Liz has shown me another sister exists in my world, and she is alive, funny, and a special brand of cheerleader.
And family…a word I thought meant only one thing. Family is not always the people who gave you life, with whom you resided in your formative years, or blood relations. No, the definition is so much more prolific and profound.
And thank God for that.
I’ve always craved love. Connection. Belonging.
And now I have it.