Sweet Child of Mine: The Shuller Series, #3

By Kathleen López

It surprised no one when Sarah and Jack married right out of high school; not because Sarah was pregnant at 19, but because they had been inseparable since sophomore year.  Sarah gave birth to twins, Mark and Julie, and a year later, Jacob.  They had the 'mom and apple pie' life.  Their picturesque dream life turned into a nightmare when on a warm summer's day at the local park, the penny dropped.  What would forever be referred to as The Incident changed their family forever.

Four years later, they welcomed Christian into their home.  The foster child turned adopted son never understood why Sarah was overprotective, but dutifully obeyed all her restrictive rules.  When he started acting out, the couple were desperate to find out the cause of their son's bizarre behavior.  However, when Christian tells them about his friend they realize just why they are suffering at the hands of their son.

When it comes to family, it's the ties that bind…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wordsmith Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Aug 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781958256046

Kathleen López

Kathleen Lopez started writing early on at age 14 as a junior high school journalist; a career she continued with throughout college.  She also had several poems published during her college tenure.  While professionally she has turned from the world of journalism to the corporate world of project management, she has always continued with her passion for writing short stories and poetry.  Suspenseful thrillers, mysteries and stories that took the reader along for the journey have always been amongst her favorite to read as well as write.  Prodigal Son is a follow up to her first publication, Between the Shades of Light and Dark.

Book preview

Prologue

Are you sure?  This seems kinda mean, Christian asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.  Mom’s going to worry when she can’t find me.

We’re just playing hide and seek.  That’s the point, isn’t it?  If we tell her where we will be, then it wouldn’t be any fun.  Don’t you want to play with me?  It will be fun.

Christian studied Jacob momentarily.  He did not want to stop playing.  He liked playing with Jacob.  It is just that he did not want to upset his mom.

What if mom doesn’t think its fun?  I don’t want to get in trouble, Jacob.  Mommy always told me to stay close.

That didn’t bother her before, Jacob muttered under his breath.  Look, just come here, and we’ll see how long it takes for her to find us.

Jacob quickly motioned with his hand for Christian to climb the attic steps.  His father had left the stairs down while he went and retrieved another box to store in the musky storage space.

Hurry before they see you.  It won’t be any fun if they know where you are, Jacob said with an urgent edge to his tone.

Christian thought for a moment then hesitantly moved towards the ladder.  With one foot on the first rung, he heard his father approaching.  He quickly scurried up the ladder disappearing into the darkened attic.

Chapter One

––––––––

Looks like a bomb went off in here, Jack said.  He stood in the doorway and surveying the carnage left behind in his dining room.  Paper plates littered the fold out table placed alongside the dining room wall.  The colorful Happy Birthday banner that draped across the far side of the room had caught a bit of the afternoon sun causing a slight glare.  Discarded cups and crumpled up napkins lay scattered on the dining room table, and, as it turned out, under it as well.  It had certainly looked as if a team of kids supped up on sugar destroyed the room in a frenzy of festivity.

It’s amazing what ten-year-old boys could do in a few moments when given a slice of birthday cake and some Hawaiian Punch, he mused.  The funny thought had barely entered his brain before he saw the look on his wife’s face.  It was then his gaze caught the scowl of his wife standing dumbstruck before him.

Why are you in here?  Where are the boys?  Jack?  You’re supposed to be watching them.  Her voice was more heightened than required; at least to Jack’s assessment.

Relax, Sarah.  Your parents are outside watching them.  They are all playing outside in the backyard.  See for yourself.  Everyone’s fine.  He did not mean to sound dismissive, but it was hard not to be when you could hear them playing from where they were standing.

Sarah went to the large picture window that opened to the backyard to see just what the boys were doing.  They were doing just as described, playing around in the yard.  The kids were somewhat scattered across the expanse of the yard.  Her eyes darted from boy to boy doing a quick mental head count.  Thankfully, for the sake of her sanity, they all stayed within the yard’s shrub borders.  She was more thankful that no one seemed remotely tempted to venture past that border into the wooded area behind the property.  Sarah made yet another mental note to have Jack put up a proper fence in the back yard one day.  She scanned the yard until Christian came into focus.  It was then that Jack had come up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.  He planted his chin on her shoulder.

See?  They are fine.  They’re just having fun.  They are playing like a bunch of boys do.  And that’s a good thing too given how much sugar they need to burn off.

Jack knew not to push too much.  He wanted to tell her not to worry, but he knew that was a lost cause.  Sarah was always going to worry.  Him telling her otherwise was fruitless and only served as the beginnings of yet another argument.  He could feel the tension she mustered from the moment she saw her husband in the doorway ease slightly if only that.  He let go of her and stepped back, turning to face the table.

Do you want me to help you with all this...stuff? he waved his arm over the table.

Uh, no.  I got it.  Thanks, though, Sarah huffed.  She sighed and turned to face him.

Could you just...

Okay, I’ll go, he cut her off.  He knew there was no winning.  Jack cupped her cheek, gave her a smile, and a quick kiss on her temple.  He released her and made his way to the sliding glass doors leading to the patio in the backyard.

Sarah turned back to the window and watched until she saw Jack eventually cross the yard to play with the boys.  Her hand brushed her temple, smoothing a frazzled stray hair from her face as her mind drifted for a moment.  She fiddled with the end of a lock of hair.  Her brown hair had started to gray.  Noticing it some time ago, she was not sure if it was her age or her life that began the slow drain of color from her hair.  She looked towards her mom on the back porch with her dad.  Mom still has some traces of brown, she thought.  Hope is not lost.

She lingered in the window only briefly.  Sarah found the moment ironic.  Here was all this life going on outside, all this joy and celebration of life, and all she was doing was staring out from behind a glass wall.  Fitting.

She tore herself away from the window to continue straightening up the dining room.  She still kept an ear trained on the sounds coming from the boys in the backyard.  She knew that her parents were out there.  She knew Jack would not leave them completely alone.  She knew all that.  She chastised herself for being quick to panic when it came to Christian.  He was a good boy.  He was aware of the rules.  He had heard them enough over the years not to know that she did not want him to wander far, or out of sight.  He was to stay visible, to let them know where he was going.  Christian would know to listen to all the restrictive rules mommy gave him with the caveat that mommy was doing this to keep him safe.  The poor child just never knew what mom was keeping him safe from, though.

––––––––

Jack stepped out into the backyard into the warm sun of the late afternoon.  He closed his eyes and tilted his head up as he arched into a long slow stretch, feeling all 37 years slowly ebb away along with the tension of his back.  He then dropped his head and took in the sight before him.  The boys were doing their best to burn off the sugar from the cake by playing what appeared to be some form of football.  At least it was their interpretation of football, which seemed to consist of throwing a football, poorly, grabbing it, and then running at top speed away from the rest of the pack.  Whatever game it was, it was enticing roars of laughter from the boys.  Jack watched for a moment and then when they collected to see who would throw for the next round of the game, he decided to join them and offered to throw.

Sarah’s parents sat on the back porch, watched all the expelled energy, and only smiled.

See?  I told you it wouldn’t be too much time before she sent him back out here, the old man muttered under his breath.  He reached for his glass of iced tea on the small table that sat between them.

Now John, behave, his wife scolded.  You should know better than to say anything.  She’s just a bit...

Overprotective? he practically spat out, along with his tea.

Cautious, she continued after being interrupted.  You can’t blame her now, could you?  I mean, it’s understandable, well from her perspective at least anyway.  Granted it is not ideal, but it’s what she knows.

John exhaled loudly.

"I suppose not.  I don’t think that will ever change, sad to say."

Christian’s grandparents dropped the topic and returned to watch the kids play.  That was all they had wanted to do.  Helen did not want to continue the conversation.  It was a worn-out topic anyway.  However, something was nagging her; however, that was the point.  No one ever talked about it exactly.  They talked around it, referenced it, but not about it specifically; not anymore and not since shortly after the incident occurred.  It was not for their sake, but for Sarah’s.  No one wanted to discuss the topic within earshot of her so not to upset her more.  That was the problem at hand.  It was always there lingering in the background.  It was an ever-present dark cloud that hung over her that no one was allowed to notice.

"Do you think, I mean, should we try and talk to her about it again?"  Helen did not need to elaborate.  John knew full well what she meant.

I don’t know, he sighed.  He was frustrated over the whole situation.  You remember the last time we tried?  She gets agitated from the start.  Then she starts spiraling and then there’s no talking to her at all.  She needs to let it go.

"Well, easier said than done, John.  How do you let something like that go?"

You just do, he said exasperated, turning slightly towards her.  "It’s cold, and it’s hard, but you just do.  You have to move on in life.  I don’t mean to be cold, and I’m not saying it wasn’t a tragedy.  It was horrible; it is horrible to think about still.  God knows it has torn me up, it still does, but this isn’t healthy what she’s doing to herself, to her family.  I’m not quite sure she’s fully accepted it after all this time.  She sure as hell hasn’t forgiven herself, that’s apparent."

Helen drew a tight-lipped smile and nodded at her husband.  She looked around at the boys playing in the yard.  She sought out Christian amongst the energetic crowd and smiled again.

I would have thought that she would have forgiven herself by now.  I hoped she would have anyway.  I was afraid she’d hold onto this for the rest of her life, she said.  Part of me hoped she wouldn’t obsess.  I would have thought there would have been a breakthrough or something.  When they told us they were adopting, I was shocked but optimistic that she’d move on a bit, that she’d focus on the present and the future, and not stuck in the past.  Despite trying to move forward, she seems to be standing still.  And instead of healing, she brought more poor souls into it.  The poor child is smothered, and he has no idea why.

I’m amazed they adopted at all, John said.

She needed to be a mom to a little one again.

She was a mom, she had the twins, John admonished her.

The twins were teenagers.  Granted, she needed to resolve all her issues first.  I’ll give you that, but the twins needed her less and less; that with her void, it was making her worse.

So, fixing it with another kid? John scoffed.  Classic.  The best way to solve that issue now isn’t it.  You know that wasn’t a solution.  It was a recipe for disaster.

I’m not saying it was a smart thing to do, Helen conceded.  I’m just filling in the blanks here.  There was no way she was in a position mentally to carry another child, Helen started, but then trailed off.  She became lost in the realization that Sarah was not in a healthy state to take on a child either.

John made a noncommittal sound and rolled his eyes.  He turned and watched the boys play now.  He loved his grandson, and he was happy he did not grow up in a foster home or worse yet, a part of some county system.  However, that choice was made, and now John had to try to make the best of the situation.

At least Jack looks like he has accepted it.  Thank God for that, John said, returning to their previous topic.

Exactly.  Gosh, can you imagine if they both were mired down in it still?  Between the two of them, ugh.  I mean it is awful, but someone needs to keep their wits about them.  Thank God, he is there to ground her.  All the same, it must be hell for him, though.  While he’s accepted it, and has been able to move on, he still has to handle her still dealing with it.  It has to still be a constant reminder to him.  He has to keep putting it away, ya know?  It must put an awful strain on their marriage.  I don’t know how much more he can take.

What do you mean ‘how much more’?  Have you noticed something going on between the two of them? John asked concerned.

It’s written on his face, John.  When she’s reliving it, or reminding herself of it for whatever reason, he has to put aside whatever it evokes for him, again, and tend to her.  Help her get past it, again, Helen sighed.

That man wears patience like a finely tailored suit, John said shaking his head.

I wished she would have kept up with the counseling, Helen muttered.  It could have helped her, I think.  Still, I believe that it could help her now.  Funny how she bailed on that; saying she didn’t want to have to talk about it so she wouldn’t have to relive it.  What the hell does she think she’s doing to herself?  However, I believe that this year is going to be the hardest.  I mean, after all, he was only 10 when it happened.  If anything, I fear the worst of it will hit this year more than most.

Helen and John fell into an uncomfortable silence.  Just the mere mention of it sent a shiver up her spine.  Her stomach had tensed before she started again.

I don’t know why they didn’t move, Helen grumbled shaking her head.

"She didn’t want to leave him here.  That’s what she said over and over, remember?  This was where he grew up, John said, throwing up his hands at Helen’s glare.  She wanted to stay here, and Jack tried to give her what she needed."

"What she needed?  It’s not healthy, John.  A constant reminder is what it is.  That’s a major reason why she hasn’t moved on.  All her self-imposed guilt is eating her alive.  I know it would have done me in by now."

It certainly doesn’t help they didn’t move away.  Everywhere being a reminder of what was.  But Sarah never confronting the fact that it was not her fault is what has kept her in her own personal circle of hell, John added.

"She’s never gone back there ever since, you know that, right?"  Helen saw John’s facial expression change.  By the way, he looked at her she knew to discontinue the topic.  She turned to see Sarah had just emerged from the house.  Helen threw another tight-lipped smile to her husband.

––––––––

Sarah, her anxiety slightly less elevated than before, stood, and watched the boys play.  It had been a long hard day for her.  Her mother was right.  Ten was going to be a hard year.  She looked forlorn despite the lively scene in front of her.  She could not help to think of what could have been.  Christian seemed so happy with his friends.  He should not be so isolated from other children.  He should have fun and play as normal kids get to do.  It was not supposed to be this way.  Her gaze became unfocused as she mired in her thoughts.  Then suddenly she broke free of her internal rebuke; and that is when she panicked.

Where is he?

The sudden thought jolted her to the here and now.  Her breath caught in her throat.  Where?  She did not see Christian anywhere.  She knew he had to be there, he just was there moments ago.  Why is no one else concerned? she pondered.  She urgently tried to see where he went.  The sounds of the kids turned to garbled noise, and she scanned their faces trying to find the one that belonged to Christian.  She quickly realized he was just past Jack, slightly behind him.  She had just temporarily lost track of him watching the festivities.  She knew that in her heart of hearts there was no danger here.  Rationally speaking, there were a lot of people here watching, too many eyes, but Sarah’s mind was caught in a loop.

There were people there too when it happened.

The thought echoed in her head.  Her chest tightened.  Her mouth went dry.  She inhaled deeply to settle herself.  Her mind started to relive that moment, that feeling of panic she experienced that day.  It was too easy to start; the panic attacks, which once had controlled her.  They would emerge so quickly and over the slightest things.  She shook her head as if to dislodge its hold on her.

Are you alright, dear?

Her mother’s voice cut through the fog sharply.  Sarah turned to see her parents eyeing her cautiously.

Yes, just tired.  The kids are wearing me out just watching them, Sarah replied trying to disguise the strained tone of her voice.  With her answer seemingly appeasing them, she returned her attention to the kids.  Nothing had fazed them.  She exhaled a ragged breath.  There was no cause for alarm, no danger.  Sarah stood for a moment watching the boys play, and she found herself slowly giving in to the joy of the afternoon.  Her guard was now easing back to within normal levels.  Her breathing just back into a more comfortable cadence, she turned to head back into the house.

––––––––

While Sarah thought she had hidden her distress, as brief as it was, it did not escape the attention of a few of the parents at the party.  While 10-year-olds typically were dropped off at parties, these parents knew better.  They knew of the incident and they knew it would be hard for Sarah.  They just hung back and enjoyed some barbecue, but mostly they were a silent support group.  They thought it would help if there were more people there watching the kids.  It was understood that Sarah might need the extra monitoring, whether she asked for it or not.  The kids were oblivious of the background to why their parents were lingering about, but that was all right.  They did not need to know the details.  It was a kindness.  It was a shared desire that none of them wanted to know the particulars of the incident.

She had gathered up the full trash bags and placed them by the door leading to the garage.  Sarah moved back to the dining room, stacked all of Christian’s gifts, and made her way down the hallway.  She was headed to Christian’s room.  Laden with various board games and a few action figures, she reached Christian’s bed and deposited the games and toys there for him to sort through later.  She turned and stopped immediately.

This was his room.  The thought was abruptly sharp and unwelcomed.  Sarah snapped her eyes shut to the idea.  Her body seized and became rigid.  She bowed her head as if the idea weighed her down physically.  Oh god, please not now, she pleaded with herself.  I can’t anymore, just stop, please.  She rolled her shoulders back and took in a shaky breath.  She tried to escape the images in her head; how the room used to be green, how there used to be a border of baseballs and bats that encircled the room, how that ratty old stuffed monkey was ever present on his bed.

Sarah willed herself to open her eyes.  All those thoughts vanished within an instant.  She stood in the center of the room now painted blue.  Gone was the wallpaper border, the old stuffed monkey.  Gone were all his things, safely tucked away in a box in the attic.  She had packed them herself.  She thought it would help put it all to rest if she tended to his room personally.  She packed all of his things, not once considering throwing anything away or donating it.  Those were his things.  She could not bear storing them in the attic herself.  She left that task to Jack.  After all, he was not there that day.  He was not the one that was to blame.  He did not have that burden.  No, it became Jack’s task to put his things out of sight.

She shook herself again.  No, don’t go down that path, she warned herself.  She took a moment to collect herself and left the room.  She sighed as she slipped down the hallway slowly.  Not meaning to, her eyes drifted towards the ceiling, towards the hatch to the attic.  She felt her stomach churn.  He’s up there, she thought grimly.  She knew what was once his now lived in boxes in the attic.  Her mouth was drying again.  Her movements slowed to a virtual stop.

Why?  That one word has nagged her for years.  Her head dropped again.  She could feel the tears welling up behind her closed eyelids.  The taste of bile was in the back of her throat.  It was these moments that she too wondered why they stayed in the house.  She wanted to flee, to hide from the pain.  She flashed to the illogical reasoning behind why she never wanted to move.  He was still here.  She felt him.  She could close her eyes and hear him.  He was there in the house.  She could picture him in her mind, playing, laughing.  How could she leave her little boy?

Then the part of her that felt she deserved to re-live the pain emerged.  The part of her that wanted her to remember what her actions caused.  It was her fault.  The incident.  This was her penance living here amongst his memories.  These feelings were to serve as a painful reminder for her to be better now than she was to him then.

The pain was not always there.  It did not always hit her when she goes to Christian’s room.  This feeling was sporadic.  It would strike at a moment’s notice.  Once it did hit, it was unforgiving, paralyzing.  Sarah was helpless to stop it.  She had to ride the wave until it subsided.  Those pills that one doctor prescribed for her only made it worse.  While they were supposed to help her depression, it only helped suppressed everything.