Every Other Thursday

By Gwendolyn Taitt - Relf

This stirring passionate story shares the journey of three happy and healthy little girls, complete strangers whose lives are abruptly interrupted and become congested with fear, loss, grief and shame at the hand of an unthinkable perpetrator's ghastly crimes of kidnapping and murder. Their paths finally cross as young adults and their bond is sealed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543965940

Book preview

© 2019 Gwendolyn Taitt-Relf. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-54396-593-3 (print)

ISBN: 978-1-54396-594-0 (ebook)

High Five!

It’s wonderful having someone near you, cheering you on and encouraging you through life’s upward and downward spirals. Thank you friends and loved ones—Chi V. Bair, Andrea Bragner, Garret Davis, Barbara & Gregory Ford, Phillipa Ford, Juliet Harris, Connie Johnson,

Iva Matokovic, Terri Mayfield, Immaculee Mugnada,

Carol Odom, Stan Parker.

Robert E. Taitt, my pride and joy, delight of my life,

my remarkable son, thank you!

In Loving Memory of

Carlita Eubanks, Edith Smith, Mary Williams,

and Jamie Ann Viray

Introduction

This stirring passionate story shares the journey of three happy and healthy little girls whose lives were abruptly interrupted and with fear, loss, grief, and shame at the hand of an unthinkable perpetrator’s ghastly crimes of kidnapping and murder. Their paths finally cross as young adults and their bond is sealed.

Table of Contents

Pinkie

Down Memory Lane

Flashback

Lulu

Pee Puddle

Happy Birthday

No Turning Back

Breaking News

That Halloween Night

Removing the Wedge

Empowerment

Danielle’s Rewind and Play

No Hiding From the Past

Confrontation

Always My Hero

King Solomon

Big News

Caught Off Guard

Last Leg

Parole Board Hearing

Life is Good

About the Author

Pinkie

The moon was still beaming over the valley and streaming through Pinkie’s bedroom window when the phone rang. Her groggy voice whispered, Hello, but her brother Lewis Spencer knew she was still asleep as he repeated Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie, wake up.

Lewis was a lighthouse in the Pinkie’s life: a military man and a successful hospital executive with a dry sense of humor, who loved his family.

Yes, Yes, I’m awake, what time is it? Pinkie inquired. 3:45am, Lewis continued apologetically, I’m sorry to call so early, but Mom has taken a turn for the worse and the doctor doesn’t think she’ll last more than another 72 hours. If you’d like to drive up, it’s now or never.

The doctors told us the same thing three years ago, replied Pinkie, as she shifted in bed and tried to gather her thoughts.

I know, Lewis said, but it’s different this time, I just thought you might want to come and say goodbye.

Pinkie sat up in bed, took several deep breaths, and committed to her brother that she would take the seven-hour drive to their hometown.

After the phone call, she continued to sit in the middle of her bed with her arms clutched around her legs and her face resting on her knees. She was thinking about the long journey ahead and the deep-rooted elephant that stood in plain sight between she and her mother.

Her mom, Lillian Spencer, resided in an assisted living facility within their hometown, for the past seven years, and for three of the seven, her health had declined after a diagnosis of early Alzheimer’s, congestive heart failure, and full body arthritis. Lewis lived in a neighboring community with his wife and their children, and managed her estate and medical decisions. Over the years, Lewis had forgiven their mom for the heartache that she had set in motion years earlier, and they had a relatively amiable relationship. Pinkie and their dad, Walter Spencer, were not as quick to extend an olive branch, although they remained cordial—but distant—in the presence of Lillian. Lillian never remarried, and over the years she doubled down and blamed Pinkie for ruining her life, further straining their relationship. Following the divorce between Lillian and Walter, they barely ever spoke; it was easier to ignore each other. However, at Lewis’s wedding, twelve years earlier, it was especially awkward, and despite the beautiful smiles on the wedding photograph, the aloofness was visible on each picture that included Lillian.

The distance between Lillian and Walter and Pinkie was immense. Every watchful eye and wagging tongue paid close attention. Lewis hoped that the wedding would draw the family closer, but the wounds were too deep and much too raw for Pinkie.

Walter had moved on, having found love when he met and married Claudette, four years following his divorce from Lillian. It was wonderful to see him thrive and find happiness in his new marriage.

Down Memory Lane

At 6 a.m., Pinkie finally crawled out of bed and into the shower; she stood motionless under the running warm water, dreading the task that lay ahead of her. She was a real estate broker; it allowed her to work with a very flexible schedule. She loved real estate and helping families live out their dreams in beautiful homes; it was a career that didn’t require many close knit relationships leading to personal conversations, questions, and shady judgment.

I have spent years trying to forget the past, Pinkie thought to herself as she half-heartedly dressed and packed her bag.

Pinkie backed out of her garage and drove to Refill, a popular coffee shop where she would get her daily coffee as she was generally very hungry at the beginning of her days, but today was different—she barely touched the muffin or the warm coffee.

I’m much more stressed than I thought possible, she confessed to herself, as she made her way onto the interstate.

Oh, this is going to be a trip full of unwanted painful memories, thoughts, and recollections, Pinkie sighed out loud!

The traffic was stagnant, and Pinkie knew she would be alone with her thoughts longer than she had initially anticipated.

Flashback

The thoughts were haunting her, and she remembered being seven years old and unable to understand why her mother failed to protect her.

The memories started to fall into place. Every other Thursday Daddy would join his friends for a few bottles of beer and pool. And every other Thursday Pinkie recalled being instructed to go to bed, shortly after their dad left for the evening. Methodically, Lewis would protest to continue playing outside with the neighborhood kids, but lose the argument to their mom.

The parenting styles of their mom and dad were strikingly different, where Lillian was strict and enforced a tight schedule like a military drill commander, Walter relied on a more laissez-faire style: openly loving and encouraging his two children, relishing every minute with them, and never missing a school event.

Lewis and Pinkie’s bedrooms were next to each other in their craftsman-style four-bedroom home. Their rooms were each tastefully decorated, his with sports memorabilia including a rather advanced baseball-card collection and hers with porcelain doll displays, mini dollhouses, and a motley of stuffed animals. The Spencers had all the trappings of the American Dream, a nice home, favorable finances, great health, and a seemingly perfect life.

Approximately one hour after climbing into bed, Lewis would fall into a deep sleep, and Pinkie would lie wide awake, uncomfortable with anxiety.

Lewis never heard the doorbell ring or any strange male voice thundering from the living room, and at no time did Lewis ever hear their mom giggle or the soft risqué music that reverberated through the walls.

Every other Thursday Pinkie tried to tuck the covers tightly around the bed, but that did not work. She tried hiding under the bed and cowering in the closet as well, but there was nowhere to hide. She had convinced herself that wearing one piece pajamas would buffer her from alarm, but it did not.

I never know what to do, Pinkie thought as she trembled with fear and curled up with her doll and stuffed animals, and both of them failed to shield her from the pending attack.

The more I tried to protect myself, the more the evil swine seemed to truly enjoy torturing me, she recalled. The routine was unmistakable: their father would return home after being away for three hours and their mom’s secret visitor would use the bathroom before ending his evening with mom. But, on his way back to the living room, he would unlock the back door and a few windows. After returning to the front of the house, he would say good night to their mom and leave. But he only pretended to leave. He simply hovered outside the house on the dark side of the garage and waited for our daddy to pull into the driveway, enter the house, go to bed, and fall into a deep sleep. Every other Thursday I prayed that it would be the day that he would not be able to fall asleep. Just once, I hoped he would remain awake, and the offender would tire of waiting and simply leave.

That never happened. When their father fell asleep, the secret visitor would slip back into the house, entering through the rear door.