The Dollhouse

By A. Foster

This novel is about the life of Emma Shadows. Emma got married for all the wrong reasons, to all the wrong men. She had two autistic children. Her life was full of tragedy and miracles. Not in equal measure. The story is about hope, denial, and betrayal. It is also based on a true story.
Emma was molested as a child. This led her to dark thoughts and broken dreams. It was, only through perseverance and prayer, that Emma made it to the next day. Her grief overwhelming at times but serves to draw her nearer to the Lord.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Foster
• Release date: May 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005684082

A. Foster

Hello friends,Thank you for taking a moment to check out my site. I hope one of my stories catches your attention. Love to hear from you. Please like me, follow me and above all, tell someone else. I would be so grateful.I love to write, all kinds of stories. I am interested in real pirates from long ago, spaceships of tomorrow and all the time travel I can get. When I am not writing, I am thinking about new stories to tell and try out. Love to attend campfires and volunteer in classrooms often. A great place to entertain and experiment on themes.Hope to be invited to your campfire one day...Have fun and keep reading, dreaming, writing and hugging those you love most.

Book preview

The Dollhouse

by

A. Foster

BooksbyAFoster.com

All rights reserved.

Copyright A. Foster, Ann Foster, Annette Foster

c/o BooksbyAFoster.com

"This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents

are the products of the author's imagination

or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events,

locales, or persons, living, dead,

mistaken for dead,

or undead,

is

entirely

coincidental."

Also in no way what so ever

is the author giving medical, mental,

emotional or legal advice

in any fashion.

Thank you.

This book is dedicated to all the angels

that showed up in my life...

to help me raise my children.

Thank you for your sacrifices,

your wisdom, and your kindness... always!!!

A short note to say

Thank you

for also supporting a true dreamer.

God Bless!

Preface

You would believe the best way to start a story is with a great beginning. Well, the end matters. We assume it will be happy or at least all work out. But neither is gong to happen here. That should not drive you away from reading on. Think of it more of a challenge or question to you? What is happily ever after?

When Daniel was very small I called him Java Joe. He would not sleep well and often kept me up all night. Nothing I could do would make him lay quiet. This cycle sometimes went on for days at a time. There was no reprieve.

I was not a young mom. I was already 32. Time was running out when I got married, or at least that is what my friends and family wanted me to believe. Everyone that was going to have children in my circle, had already done so. In fact their children were teens or even adults in age. Those that did not have any, had gone that route on purpose. I however, was still trying to figure things out. Which way was best for my ultimate path. I had a job, in fact I had a career. I was a loan officer and had my own company. Well, it consisted of just me and my partner, but that was enough. I had money in the bank, and my own house nearly paid off. Why did getting married, and more importantly having children mean the difference between failure and that of success? I have learned a lot since then. Most importantly that motive(s) should always be questioned? The agendas of others often play havoc with one's own life. If that is not to happen, then you need to stand up early on. If not... you will pay dearly later. That is an important point.

Pay. Yes, that is what I did. Sometimes willingly, and sometimes not... but it always added up the same way. As I consider the past and wish it away, I stop myself quickly. I would not be where I am now... if it were not for everything that came before. God truly does give us what we can handle, but only with his help.

Table of Contents

1) The Parking Lot at The Medical Center

2) Explanations and Random Accusations

3) Maybe the next one will be okay?

4) You are going to have a daughter..., and the sky is blue.

5) When the sleepy truly wake up!

6)Ticking like a clock, running down... or blowing up?

7) Learning to walk again, and then run!

8) Looking back... is not worth more,

than the lesson it provided.

9) Echoes and Singing... Praise is the song!

10) Back to the roots of my soul!

11) What do you mean, your ending us?

12) Until Death Do Us Part

13) The Sea of Forgetfulness

14) Gentle Giants, and myths about refrigerator moms...

15) My son returns...

16) Girls are easy to raise...

17) Max Brand, the Cowboy Man

18) The Last Tango...

19) When things work out...

20) Seasons Change

21) Mayberry... located in America

22) Ever After

Thoughts and notes...

New and upcoming books!

A prayer.

God bless you!

1. The Parking Lot at The Medical Center

Emma. That is my name, Emma Shadows. It used to be Emma Pollent, but I have dropped that last name since I finally divorced my husband of just over ten years. Ten... that seemed like a nice round number. A time in life to sort things out, reaffirm your love, and set new and better goals. They should normally include family... husband and wife stuff..., but that was not how things were going to go, then, now, or ever. Why? Because we had kids. A blessing you would believe, or hope to have with any child, but the tests and challenges that came next would prove to be too hard. Our mutual grip on ever after was confronted with the unexpected and more importantly the unknown. The sea of darkness that consumed our chances for contentment took hold and held on with greedy hands and sharp teeth... It proved to be the end of all things once considered unbreakable.

We had known each other since junior high, Tim and I. We were best friends in high school. In many ways, we were closer. Yet we were never totally head over heels in love. I watched how he treated others, and never realized it was exactly how he would ultimately treat me. What was wrong with his actions? They were concerning. That does not always lead to the best recipe for any kind of success. The real ingredients and the good stuff are the base for any positive outcome. We had been through a lot no doubt, or so we thought. Actually, we were stupid and too young on so many levels we simply had no idea. Even if we were made aware of the truth, I don't think either of us would have listened. That is the way of the younger generation. They think they know it all until they are slammed in the face with true life.

The day was much like any other. It was a Monday. The sun was high overhead, the sky was blue with only a few soft clouds floating about. The main difference between this day and any other... was that I had waited nearly six months for it to come. It was the day of my son's medical appointment. We had to go to the big college hospital on the hill. We were to see a neurologist. Why is the word we important here? Mostly because it included just Daniel and myself. His father had refused to come. He had said repeatedly that our son would simply grow out of his issues... He had done that all along denying every problem that would not go away. However, Daniel was not okay. He was never okay. I knew that also from the first day home from the hospital. Yet... no one would listen to me for years.

I look back now and know that it might have gone differently if I had been a younger mom. I was late. I was 32 years old. That does not seem so bad on the surface, but the ripples of the situation were not known until later. All of my high school friends or even acquaintances had already had their children. They had helped each other through the good and bad. Oddly none had any setbacks that I was aware of. I have to pause here for only a moment to say out loud, Why me? Why my family? I know that sounds a bit pathetic and self-centered at first, but maybe by the end of my story, you will understand or at least recognize the facts. There were numerous issues beyond anyone's control. The real answer to most if not all the questions... set forth here, and a few yet to be written down will not be forthcoming for years to follow.

The second set, the women at work around me at the office... they were all on their second or third child, and now were only part-time moms. Their kid's having reached a maturity level, they no longer had to be cared for round the clock, 24/7. They were older mothers which could do a bit more outside the circle of parental boundaries in favor of personal living. That is a deep story all by itself. But the point is or was that they again had had children earlier than myself. There were more of them. Being on the late side, I knew no one to measure my life by. Everything I learned I took from books. No, the internet was not that widely available in the late '80s. On top of that, I was the only sibling to even have children. So, my kid was spoiled, in ways that took us down bad paths. Daniels's tantrums and screeches were more readily looked over than they should have been. We were isolated from outside social interaction, at that time. It only put off what was to be known, maybe for too long.

Daniel was now almost four. The realization that our son was disabled in some way was becoming all too obvious for even his father to deny. So, Daniel and I waited... We watched the clock as the moments ticked by. I wanted to ask myself questions but could find none worth considering. Blame was the best course of action. How had I failed? What could I have done before now? We had not even entered the medical building but I knew. I knew this was going to be a point in time, a moment like no other.

Daniel screamed off and on. He hit his head with his hands. First one then the other. Sometimes I could scream out and he would hold still a moment. Yet, I released no sound except my heart. He heard me anyway I know, as his spirit was alive. Yet he was trapped.

The time came. I got out of the car slowly. I moved to open the back door and get my son out of his car seat. A fight ensued that took three or four minutes to come under control. Daniel did not like a change of any kind. It set him off and this was one of those times. We had not gone to the usual park. We had not gone to the grocery store where he liked to look at the colored fruits. We had not gone anywhere he had been before. This was a recipe for disaster all by itself. I struggled a bit and maneuvered his little body into the stroller I had brought. That way if he had a bad time, I had an island near me. It would provide an arsenal of weapons against an unseen foe. The goal was to control my son and keep him safe from himself and others at the same time. Daniel quit crying... He quit screaming. Almost on, queue? I wish that I could figure out what that was, and use it too. But I never could.

I closed the car door and rolled off toward the big white building. My son liked rides in general so things became a bit calmer. We went to the main doors and cruised right inside. The security guard at the entrance gave us the eye... Did he know we would be trouble? Did he suspect? That happened at times, problems. They came out of nowhere and landed right on us. No worries however, we made it this time. Next time might not be so good, but this time... okay. The offices were on the third floor. We took the lift.

The elevator was the first Daniel had ever been on. He seemed to like the sensation as we moved to the upper floor. Once there we rolled out into the hall. The smell that greeted us like a terrible perfume was that of ammonia and cleaning liquids. It was stronger than most hospitals I had been in before. We moved quickly to the right door and went right inside. I checked us in. I gave over my insurance cards and filled out papers. All the time Daniel was quiet. I was thankful.

We waited nearly one hour passed our appointment time. No one said a thing. I kept watching the clock and looking at Daniel. I knew that my time, my perfect time, was running right out. Finally, they called us. They put us in a back-office exam room. There we waited nearly twenty more minutes. I heard voices.

I know I am late. It does not matter I am the boss here. People wait on me. Do you understand? The woman was angry and pressed. The two nurses at the front desk were both quiet now. They gave their direct attention to the doctor, so as not to make her further upset. No one had argued with her at all. they had only just let her know that my son and I were waiting. I heard our names. That is what caught my attention and kept it, through the cracked door. Then, the one nurse dared to explain who we were a little further, and what room was next on the schedule. I could barely hear her, but strained hard, as I did not want to miss anything. My heart was so set on this meeting. Then the doctor replied, and I heard every word. You, meaning the nurse, only scheduled me for a fifteen minutes interview. I need a full three hours to test. Who did this scheduling? The last part was not pretty. She was angry now.

Then, quite suddenly without warning, the door opened wide all the way. A dark-haired, middle-aged woman in a crisp white coat looked in. She, obviously the doctor I could only hear before said, I will be right there. This time she was speaking to me and my son. The doctor then glanced over at my son only one time. He was still in his stroller. He was rocking from side to side... hitting his face from time to time with his hand and rolling his eyes. I had seen this before. It was his way of passing time. I did not like it at all, but he was not as bad as he could be at times. So...

The doctor continued speaking not to me now..., but over her shoulder to the nurse at the desk. Never mind. The declaration was like a giant bell ringing in the distance, the echoes ever getting closer to my heart, until it felt like it would explode with the rhythm of the sound. Bells... from a church... declaring death. The sudden picture in my head was not just dark, it was black. I thought I was prepared. I had read ahead on all kinds of possibilities, and childhood issues... but this was not like any of them. It was a moment that said,

It does not matter what you do from here. Hell, has a voice?

No. That is what I wanted to say. No. But I had no speech left at all. My throat was constricted. The truth could not be dismissed or denied. I had become mute. Slowly I fought off the effects and straightened.

The doctor stepped inside the room. She did not close the door. I did not think she planned to stay long... by her comments. I was right. The woman had come to her diagnosis. Of course, there would be tests ahead, to confirm at different dates and times, but the declaration of that moment... the words... the evil... could not be dismissed. It had to be addressed and fought. For now, unwanted acceptance was the path.

Your son is autistic. The statement was clear and precise. It was also really easy to say for someone that says it often. The doctor must have seen that my eyes were filled with tears. She softened ever so slightly. We can do a few things. The words hit the blank wall of my mind like hand-sized rocks. I was busy putting up a barrier between her, and me. Oh, and the rest of the world. Straining I tried to hear her... still. We will put him in a special school. and then almost as an afterthought, I would like to enroll you in our research program. There she smiled. I thought at first it was friendly. Now as I look back, in the half-light of memory... I am not as sure.

After that... somehow I finished the rest of the appointment... mostly shaking my head in agreement. It seemed like the right response. Then, I found my way out of the office. The way back to the car, pushing my son was lost to memory. Perhaps it does not matter except to note I felt like a zombie. Dead and alive, and moving in the direction I was supposed to go, was at least routine-like. Our minds..., amazing in that they can fill in the blanks and go on overdrive at times when pressed. Then I was back in the car. Daniel was in his car seat. I was in the front. How did I get here? I don't know.

In my hand, I had a business card. It was curled into a roll. I slowly unfurled its contents. I looked at the card. The nurse had given to me. She had pressed it in my hand to make sure I would keep it safe. There were seven dates and times to follow. Funny, it took me six months to see the doctor this one time, and now they were lining me up... weeks ahead. Why? Because at the time this happened... children were being born 1 in 92 just like my son. The year, 1996. If you are not afraid now, you should be.

The card is still in my collection of items I have kept over the years. It is a tangible challenge to the existence of true faith. I knew God. I was unequally yoked with my second husband at the time, the father of my son. But