Save Me (23 page)

“They never take him out, never play with him; he’s barely bathed. Janice told my cousin that he doesn’t even talk anymore. It’s like he’s not even there when she goes to the house. He’s timid and jumpy around everyone.”

“Have they ever hurt him?” I don’t want to know. Utter rage creeps up my neck.

“I didn’t have the heart to ask and my cousin didn’t say.”

“I’ve heard enough,” I say, ready to drive to the Hardings’ tonight.

“What are you going to do? It’s not like you can call in the A-Team.”

“I’m going to have to figure out a way they’ll give him to me.”

“Uhh…”

“What?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“They hate you, too. I think the word
whore
might have come up. The Hardings think if it weren’t for you, Stephanie and Jason would still be together.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I spout.

“I know. Of course this is not your fault. Stephanie’s their kid, though. Try and see it from their point of view.”

“There is no point of view that justifies treating a little boy the way they are.” I am completely disgusted and done with these people. They can rot in hell for all I care; I am getting Jay out of there. “Thanks for the information. I’ll figure something out.”

“I know you will. You always protect the ones you love.”

Margo and I hang up and I remember the one time I didn’t protect the one I love. I should have been protecting him from Jason and I didn’t always do it. That’s all different now.

I find Noble reading by the fire downstairs. I drop my phone on the coffee table and climb into his lap.

“I need to talk to you,” I say.

“Great,” he says, making fun of my ominous tone.

“If you want me to stop trying to help Jay, I will. You deserve a say in this. If there’s a reason that I’m not seeing, something that could hurt you or our marriage, please tell me.”

Noble kisses me and laughs, his lips still on mine.

“That’s so cute,” he says, mocking me.

“What?”

“The idea of you backing down or giving up. Really, Charlotte, it’s adorable.”

“I would,” I say, and kiss him so he’ll believe me.

“Well, in that case, no. There’s no reason Jay should spend the rest of his life in hell. What has you so worried?” Noble asks, searching my face for answers. I look up into his beautifully warm, blue eyes and feel strength oozing from him.

“I’m about to open up the seventh circle of hell on the Hardings.” Noble’s eyebrows rise. “I suspect it’s going to leave a mark.”

“Give ’em hell, Charlotte.” Noble pulls me to him and holds me tight.

They’re going to wish hell is the worst of it if they’ve hurt that little boy.

I
try on four dresses before I find one that might do the trick. It needs to say, “I’m really not a whore…obviously.” It’s embarrassing it took three to get here.

I settle on a black dress with three-quarter-length sleeves, a wide and high neckline, and a slight flare to the skirt that comes to my knees. It says, “What? This girl? Obviously not a whore.” I find my grandmother’s coral cameo in my mother’s jewelry box and carefully pull it over my head. If she were alive, she’d want me to get Jay. She was generous. I straighten my dress in the mirror.

What do you think, Grandmom?

I park on Main Street and walk by Ms. Cioffi, Mrs. DuBois, and Mrs. Heitter. I flash them each my “I’m really not a whore” wave but keep walking, not wanting to talk or explain. The door to the office sticks and I practically fall into Mr. Chambers’s familiar office. It consists of two rooms, the waiting room with a woman whose job description includes receptionist, assistant, and paralegal and his office behind a door to the left.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” Mrs. Rogers says, obviously not thinking I’m a whore.

“Hi, Mrs. Rogers. How’s it going?”

“Fine, and yourself? What brings you in today? Was everything all right with the wills and powers of attorney we did for you and Nick?”

“Oh yes. They’re perfect. I have a new matter to discuss with Mr. Chambers.”
As in, not with you.
I glue the smile on my face and Mrs. Rogers just stares at me, waiting for more information.

“Charlotte, good to see you,” Mr. Chambers says as he takes my hand in both of his while he shakes it. “Come on back.” He motions to the office.

“Mary, hold my calls.”

I wave to Mrs. Rogers and walk into the room to the left of the reception. I sit in the same chair I sat in when Noble and I came to discuss setting up a trust for Kate in the event something happens to us. Sadly, it didn’t seem that implausible, considering I have no parents. I hope I live forever with Kate.

Mr. Chambers sits behind his desk and pulls a legal-sized notepad out of the holder on the side of his desk. He searches his blotter for a pen and finally opens the drawer to his desk and takes one out. He’s set.

“I need your help,” I begin. “I’m concerned with the care Jay Leer, Jason and Stephanie Harding’s son, is receiving.”

“Wow. I haven’t heard that name in over a year. To be honest, I forgot they had a son.”

“Exactly, no one has heard a word about him. It’s as if he’s fallen off the face of the Earth.”

“What kind of help are you looking for?” Mr. Chambers asks, still completely confused.

“I want custody of him.” Now that I’m saying this out loud to someone other than Noble or Margo, it sounds ridiculous.

“Why?” Mr. Chambers is slow on the uptake.

“He’s being mistreated by Stephanie’s family. They blame Jason for Stephanie’s incarceration and they’re taking it out on that little boy.”

“You have no standing as a family member.”

“What if I’m raising the child’s half sister? Would the courts want blood siblings to live together?” I ask, and recognize the detonation of my statement.

Mr. Chambers stares at me in silence. He turns his head a millimeter to the side, never releasing my eyes.

“Is that the case?” Mr. Chambers’s words laboriously fight from his lips.

“Yes. Kate’s father is Jason Leer.” My heart pounds under my prim-and-proper dress. I clutch the cameo in my hand. I haven’t spoken those words to another living soul. The only time I’ve admitted it was at the site of Jason’s grave.

“Oh, Charlotte, does Nick know?”

“I wouldn’t be here if Noble didn’t know,” I say as if I’m honorable.

“You know, there are limits to the name Noble?” Mr. Chambers says, and I know his comments are born of concern, not judgment.

“Yes. His limitations have recently become quite clear.”

“Well. It seems like you two are making it work just fine.” Mr. Chambers takes some notes and focuses on the painting of George Washington’s crossing of the Delaware River on the side wall. “I’ll need to do some research, but I think the easiest thing to do is have Stephanie voluntarily surrender her parental rights followed by your immediate adoption of the child.”

The thought of any woman signing over her parental rights makes me sick, even Stephanie. How did we all end up here?

“Do you believe it is Stephanie’s wishes to have you and Nick raise the child?”

“I doubt it. Stephanie and I haven’t spoken in years. I do think that if she knew what her son’s life was like, she’d want something very different for him.” I squeeze the cameo and take a deep breath. Maybe I should have let Noble come with me. “I’d like you to arrange a meeting so I can speak to her about it.”

“You want to visit Stephanie Harding in prison?”

“If there’s another way, I’ll take it, but I don’t think a letter or phone call will convince her.” I’m guessing Mr. Chambers is wishing I never walked through the door today. “Will you help me?”

He sighs. “I’ll contact her attorney to schedule a meeting and create the necessary documents. There’s not much more I can do.”

“I appreciate it. How long do you think it will take? The child is in misery.”

“I’ll call this afternoon and get back to you.” I stand up to leave him to his work. “Charlotte, have you considered what you’re going to do if she refuses?”

I lie awake every night thinking about it.

“I want the Hardings to feel as hellish as that little boy. I want you to bury them in legal proceedings. Children’s Services, the tax office, disability, any and all legal remedies that I can seek for Jay Leer I want explored. Bankrupt them if necessary. That child deserves a life.” The wretched resolve in my voice wipes the warmth from Mr. Chambers’s face. It’s best he knows now what he’s dealing with.

Some of the graves have mums, but most of them still have flags left over from the summer holidays. I sit down facing Jason’s headstone and crisscross my legs. It’s as if I’m sitting right on his chest, or as I like to call it, the sofa cushion.

“Kate is the absolute worst combination of the two of us,” I start, and smile as I admit I might be raising a monster. I close my eyes and envision Jason with her. If he were alive, he and Kate would make me completely insane. Noble’s influence might be the only thing that saves her.

“Jay’s sweetness must have come from the Hardings,” I say, and the memory stings. Of all the things Margo told me about Jay, the fact that he’s no longer speaking is the most painful. I try to sugarcoat every other piece of information, but he was always saying something adorable.

“She opened the door and walked out of the house this morning. I was watching her when she reached up for the knob. She had to stand on her tiptoes. She’s not even a year yet,” I say, appalled. “You’ll love this part. She turned and saw me, and I said, ‘Don’t you dare, Kathryn Grace!’ She laughed and walked right out the door.”
God help me.
This has to be payback from my mother.

“She’s beautiful, though. Just like you.” The words catch in my throat and I fight back the tears that always accompany me on these visits.

“And she’s going to run this town.” I know he wouldn’t want her any other way. “I’ve never seen a child more alive and aware of her place on Earth. She’s not even a year and she’s completely unstoppable.”

I look down at my legs and pull the grass from the ground around them. I throw the grass at the gravestone in disgust and fight back the anger as I cry.
Just love him.

“I wish you were here. I don’t know how that would work. Actually, I’m sure it wouldn’t work at all, but I still want you here with us. I think Jason Jr. is going to be good for her. She’ll love him and he’ll show her how to be sweet. Maybe. Until I see you again…”

I
would go and talk to her for you,” Noble says, and rescues me from trying to figure out what to wear for my first trip to a women’s penitentiary. Hopefully my last.

“But?” I ask, turning toward him. Noble climbs off the bed, taking both of my hands in his own and examining them as he runs his thumbs across my skin.

“But I suspect it’s you Stephanie needs to make peace with. Giving Jay to
you
will be nearly impossible for her.”

“Even if it’s what’s best for him?” I ask, hanging on to some shred of false hope I’ve been carrying around since I met with Mr. Chambers.

“She isn’t exactly known for making good decisions,” Noble says, and pulls me to him. He hugs me and I squeeze him tight.

I try and hug him this way at least once a day, terrified of the day when he’ll no longer be here.

“Why aren’t you dressed? It’s getting late.”

“I don’t know what to wear.” Noble looks at me, confused. “For women,” I begin, not really knowing how to explain it. “What we wear makes a statement even if it’s the wrong one. I don’t want to appear too happy. I’m afraid Stephanie will hate me more. I also don’t want to look like a wreck. I am asking her to give me her son.” Noble ponders me, trying to decipher the unspoken code of accessories. “I want my outfit to say, ‘I’m stable. I’m the best choice’ without pissing her off.”

“I suspect you lost out on not pissing her off a long time ago.”

“Why, though? I didn’t do a thing to that girl,” I spout, letting anger from years ago spill out. “At least not until…” My words trail off. I guess the day of Butch’s death is something to be angry about, but I wasn’t doing it to her. Maybe the things she did were never about me.

“I know,” Noble says, and hugs me again. “But for Stephanie to justify all the things she’s done, she probably needs a reason and I think it’s you. Everyone has to find a way to sleep at night, Charlotte.” I lean my head on his chest. Going to see Stephanie is a stupid idea. “Just don’t expect a warm welcome. I’m sure in her head you’re the reason she’s in there.”

“She’s never going to sign over custody, is she?” I ask, defeat weighing on my words.

Noble lifts my eyes to his with a finger under my chin. “You can do anything. Figure out a way to talk to her so she hears you.”

“I hate her,” I admit.

“Try something a little lighter,” Noble says, and I drop my head to his chest again. “I’ll be right here when you get home. If she won’t sign, we’ll figure something else out. Today is not the end.”

“I love you,” I say, and hold him tight.

“How could you not?”

Noble makes me laugh, even today.

Mr. Chambers picks me up at exactly nine. His Audi is dark blue, the color of a moonless midnight. The interior is sleek with tan leather seats, and as I place my bag on the floor by my feet, I realize Kate and BJ are destroying the Volvo. I’m glad he offered to drive. We head out of town and take the on-ramp to 295 North. The prison is in Clinton, about a two-hour drive from Salem County.

“What’s it like? The prison, I mean. What is the Edna Mahan Correctional Facility like?” I swallow hard as I ask and realize I’m going to have to toughen up. I can’t spend the entire visit crying or biting my lip.

“It’s like a campus. There’s grass and separate buildings. Some are housing and some are supporting structures. The buildings and grounds are picturesque; the entire campus, though, is surrounded by a high fence and barbed wire.”

“Oh,” I say, and realize in all of my preparation for this meeting I probably should have researched the actual facility.

“It’s two compounds, one for minimum security and one for maximum and medium. Because of Stephanie’s conviction, she is housed in the maximum side. There’s also a compound for inmates with specific mental health needs.”

That’s where Stephanie belongs. Crazy bitch.

When we pass Trenton, I pull my folders out of my bag and begin reviewing all the documents I have printed out and labeled with my notes. A clean set for Stephanie to keep rests in my bag.

“What are you reading?” Mr. Chambers asks me kindly.

“I created a presentation of sorts for Stephanie. I researched all relevant information regarding children of the incarcerated and the pros and cons of kinship guardianship. It’s a statistical-based account of why Jay is not being given the best opportunity.” Mr. Chamber raises his eyebrows at me, impressed. “I also brought some pictures of Jay from the last summer I saw him. I thought she might like to have them.” I stare at the pictures in my lap and it’s Jason looking back at me, smiling that I’m on my way.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but since you are not Stephanie’s attorney, your entry into the facility will be treated the same as every other visitor.” I watch Mr. Chambers as he exits onto 31 North. I stay quiet, unclear on what his statement means. “You won’t be able to take any of that in,” he says, and my chest caves.

“What?”

How will I show her?
“You’ll need a photo ID to gain entry. Other than that, you may take one key into the facility. No purse, no cell phone, no money, no sunglasses, no pictures.”

“Oh my God. Prison is horrible.”

“And you’re only going to be there an hour,” Mr. Chambers says, and the pang of empathy I feel for Stephanie surprises me. I try to fit the emotion somewhere next to the bitter hatred I’ve shelved in her honor.

“How will I show her?” I say, desperately trying to organize the presentation in my head.

“You’ll have to speak from the heart.”

“There’s nothing in there for her,” I say, and realize she killed any chance when she killed Jason.

“Try and remember this is not about her,” he says, and looks down at his directions. “Hopefully she’ll realize the same.”

Mr. Chambers is a good man. I watch the trees go by as we ride in silence. The leaves are beginning to turn the farther north we go. The holidays will be here soon. Who will they be worse for, Jay or his mother?

“What does she do all day?”

“Stephanie?”

“Yes. How does she spend her time?” I ask as we take the 78 West exit.

“Her attorney said she’s involved in the Puppies Behind Bars program.” I look at Mr. Chambers quizzically. “They raise service dogs.”

“Oh. That’s nice. I’ll bet Stephanie likes dogs.” I remember the sound of Jay’s giggle when BJ used to lick his face.

“The inmates of Edna Mahan also sew the uniforms for the entire state prison system. She probably participates in that work as well.”

Mr. Chambers takes Exit 15 and I miss the highway. We’ll be there soon. Too soon. What if she says no? He turns right on Freedom Road. How poetic. We park outside the visitors’ entrance. I pack all my belongings into my tote and place it in the trunk of the Audi. I brush some stray hairs off my face and straighten the buttons on my black hooded cardigan. It’s long and I’m wearing it over a white tank top. No jewelry except my wedding band. I even asked Noble if he minded if I left my engagement ring at home. It’s too beautiful. My hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail and the only makeup I have on is ChapStick.

Mr. Chambers looks at me encouragingly as we maneuver through the intake procedures. The guards are not pleasant or nasty; they are just doing their job, which is apparently to maintain security rather than put me at ease because the whole thing, from the color of the walls to the guns on their waist, is scaring the hell out of me.

We take our seats in a small room. My chair is uncomfortable, or maybe it’s just me that’s uncomfortable. Mr. Chambers hops up at the arrival of Stephanie’s attorney. He shakes his hand warmly and they exchange pleasantries. They are peers.

“Charlotte, this is Craig Simmons. He’s Stephanie’s attorney.”

Mr. Simmons takes my hand and smiles at me as he shakes it.

“Pleased to meet you,” I eek out. Shouldn’t he hate me, too? This is just a job to him as well. What a strange way to make a living. He turns his attention back to Mr. Chambers.

“I set the attorney meeting up and told Stephanie that Charlotte wants to discuss Jason Jr. with her, but I haven’t had a chance to speak with her again since you and I talked. She doesn’t know the details. I did at least have a chance to do some research on the surrendering of parental rights. If she considers it an option, I can explain everything to her in detail.”

“What are your thoughts on her openness to the idea?” Mr. Chambers asks as we hear footsteps in the hallway.

Stephanie is escorted into the room and I can’t take my eyes off of her. She is wearing her prison-issued khaki V-neck shirt and pants. They are both the exact same color—the color of nothing. She has a neon-green hair tie holding her ponytail back and I wonder if she likes neon green or if that was the only option.

Stephanie looks straight at me and I can’t decipher her emotions. There’s no hatred, which is what I expected to ooze from her, or maybe disgust. Either way, none of it’s evident. Her attorney motions for us all to take a seat. I pull out my chair and wish Noble were here. He’d be better at this than me. He’d make her understand.

“Stephanie, do you know Paul Chambers?” her attorney asks.

“Yes. From church,” she says, and Mr. Chambers shakes her hand.

“How are you, Stephanie? We miss you and your family at church,” Mr. Chambers says.

Stephanie looks concerned and I suspect this is the first she’s heard her family no longer attends church.

“And of course you know Charlotte,” her attorney says, and I wish I could be as removed from this situation as he is. To him this is an introduction; to Stephanie and me it’s an historic battle. One whose history sentenced Stephanie’s future, and my own.

Stephanie nods and purses her lips. She folds her hands and sets them on top of the table in front of her. I see her unpainted nails and my eyes travel up her long khaki sleeve to her face. Everyone in the room seems to be waiting for me to say something and I lower my eyes in fear.
Don’t look away
, I hear Jason say in my head, and I close my eyes and fight back tears. I can’t do this.

My mind searches and lands on Jay and Jason playing in the moonlight when he released his cricket. Regret lies in my stomach like concrete, settling me to face Stephanie.

“I want to talk to you about Jay, Jason Jr.” The words somehow come out of my mouth and I watch them register with Stephanie as if they were spoken by someone else.

“You have no right to talk to me about him,” she says as if she barely cares about the topic. I take a deep breath. I am failing…everyone.

“Then let’s talk about Jason.” The men in the room simultaneously shift in their seats, the two women threatening the civility of their Tuesday. “Why did you kill him?”

The room is completely absent of sound as all eyes focus on Stephanie Harding. She is unmoved by the attention.

“I wanted to kill you,” she says, and her attorney opens his mouth to interrupt. Stephanie rolls her eyes and silences him with her hand. “Do you have any idea what it’s like?” She pauses, deciding how much to share. She leans onto the table and it’s as if we are alone. “Spending every day of your life watching someone you love, love someone else?”

“Why didn’t you kill me, then? Why him?” I ask, and the pain in my voice cracks it on the last word.

“Because the thought of him moping around, mourning you every single moment for the rest of our lives was too repulsive to consider.”

“We weren’t going to be together,” I say, willing her to believe me. Why, though? Who the fuck cares at this point?

“Why did you text him? I saw your text asking to meet you in the woods, and I saw the way he skipped around after he read it. He was going to leave me forever.”

“I didn’t send the text,” I say, and my chest releases its air. “Noble did,” I add, and the attorneys swing their heads at me.

Stephanie is shocked.

He was skipping around because we both knew we would never be together. We had accepted it and were through talking about it. Until Noble sent that text from my phone.

“Why?” she asks, shaking her head, trying to fit together the pieces Noble and I never speak of.

“Because he couldn’t stand to watch it any more than you could,” I say, and it’s as if the shocked attorneys are no longer with us. Stephanie lowers her eyes. “What did you expect would happen when you told him about Stoners Lane?”

I watch Stephanie rummage through her own head and for the first time since she entered the room her face displays an emotion, but I’m not sure which one it is.

“I wanted him for years. I loved him. At least I thought I loved him. Everything was him,” she says, and I realize neither of us can say his name. There’s more common ground here than should be. “I had no idea what I was getting into. I knew he still loved you the first night we were together, but he was so pissed off at you; I thought it might be the end.”

“It was,” I say, and stare at her.

“I tried everything to make him happy. I would have done anything for him, but it always came back to him gazing out the window, or up at the moon, or only half smiling at Jason Jr., and I always knew he was thinking about you.”

Guilt swallows me for something I never did. I wish Stephanie and Noble had never met Jason and me. We could destroy anything. Noble and I nurture things; Jason and I demolish them.

“It drove me crazy. Like everybody else in here,” she says, and I feel awful.

“I’m sorry all of this happened,” I say, and mean it. All of it, starting with the death of my parents.

“Do you think he was a bad man?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, realizing the jury is still out for me some days.

“All of this,” she says, looking around the room, “was because of him.”

Because of us
, I think.

“I think he was a man without a mother, and at one time he was a boy without a mother,” I say, and tears fill Stephanie’s eyes, knowing history is alive. “And I think that’s a painful existence.”

Stephanie looks away and wipes a tear from her face.

“What about Jason Jr.?” she asks, and relief spreads through me.