Don’t Say a Word

By Sandra Shook

Shelly Parker's life of trauma and abuse was all she knew. Her dream world was her means of escaping. Beth Parker, her mother, stayed with Curt, her husband, out of fear. His threats of taking Shelly and Beth never seeing her again to destroying her parents' farm were constant.

Shelly loved her gramma and the safety in her arms as she prayed, but those times were not enough. It was easier when Curt worked in Chicago until he bought the house out in the country and moved Henry, his dad, in to watch Beth's every move.

The final blow started with the attack on Shelly, followed by Beth and ending with his dad. Henry told Beth to call her friend Helen to help get her and the kids out. With the help of dear friends, they hid out until Shelly became sick again. Curt found them! With police sirens in the background and Beth lying on the ground unconscious, fear had taken another turn. Shelly questioned, Will we ever be safe again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886854251

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DonaEUR(tm)t Say a Word

Sandra Shook

ISBN 979-8-88685-424-4 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88685-425-1 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Sandra Shook

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 publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Questions for Book Club Groups to Assist in Club Discussions

About the Author

Michael Seely, my brother, who went to be with Jesus during the writing of this book. You are rays of sunshine to my heart! You are so love and missed!

Foreword

Thinking of the different porches I have seen in our travels, none are as different as the one step in front of a tiny dwelling overseas where one or two babies would be sitting, trying to stay cool to the porch at my grandparents' farm.

The big porch on the front of the farmhouse, for us, was solitude and laughter from special family get-togethers. For us, it was sweet times and a place of safety and lack of fear.

Most everyone of us has a special place where we felt happy and safe in during our childhood. Sadly, that is not the case for all families. The feeling of being happy and unafraid is more like a dream than reality. No child should live in fear or fear for a parent, but too many times, that is the case.

This family's story is all too real for some of us. Their lives involve multiple porches, some happy, some sad, but all make memories that affect their lives, just like with all of us. All good memories assist us in moving forward through the trying and heartbreaking times, until Jesus comes to take God's children home.

When will we no longer need porches for comfort or a place of refuge because we will be in the arms of Jesus, our Savior and strength? Never to know abuse, fear, or tears again, only total peace and joy.

Chapter 1

Shelly

The lightning lit up the sky as the ground shook. I was sitting in the corner of my beautiful pink bedroom at my wooden table, having a tea party with my favorite doll, Cocoa. I was serving pink lemonade and vanilla wafers to my guest of honor, because today was Cocoa's birthday.

As I poured more lemonade, I was careful not to spill any on my pretty new polka dot dress. The dots were the same color as the bow that held my long reddish-blonde Shirley Temple curls back in a ponytail, which I loved to swish from side to side. As I shared my special secrets with Cocoa, not just my favorite doll but my best friend in the entire world, I glanced at the window.

Like so many times before, I knew I could not stay in my dream world pretending I was the girl in my make-believe world, but how I wished I could. To pretend I was someone else, that had become my life my only escape from my real life. I was born Shelly Marie Parker. My short life of four years had been a nightmare that seemed to go on forever. My dream world had become the place I went to when I could no longer bear to see or hear my life when he was there.

Tonight would be no exception, because the closer the time got to him coming home, the more anxious I got. The second I heard the car door slam or just shut, I knew what was in store for the night, just like Momma did. The code we had set up was, if Momma put her pointing finger to her lips, it meant Don't say a word! I knew the rest from how he climbed the stairs up to our two-room apartment. His steps told me if I needed to grab Cocoa and run for our hiding place under the table or if it was safe to continue to play in my little corner of the living room.

Our apartment was nice but small, one of the nicest places we had ever lived. The bedroom was to the left when you entered, but I slept on the couch. The living room and kitchen were combined, and Momma used the couch to be a divider to separate the two. The table and three chairs were set against the back of the couch on the kitchen side.

Under the table was where Cocoa and I played or would hide. When the chairs were in place and the tablecloth was on the table, with the couch on the fourth side, no one could see us. Momma had given me a towel to sit on. Thanks to Mrs. Brown, the property owner, Cocoa now had a bed. She had made it from a shoebox that she covered, and a little pillow and small blanket to match. It was nice when they invited me over to play with their granddaughter, Ashley. It was so different, like the time Mr. Brown had brought home ice cream. He came in the front door laughing and calling out, Grandma, grab some spoons. We are digging in!

Of course, Mrs. Brown dished it up, and laughing, she asked, We are civilized, paw. We eat our ice cream from bowls, don't we, ladies?

We sat at the table, eating our ice cream while he told funny stories that had happened at work that day. I was not sure what impressed me most, Mr. Brown coming home in such a good mood or eating ice cream for no reason or the stories and all the laughter. Regardless, it was a wonderful hour, and I would not forget it, especially when I was leaving and Mrs. Brown said, We are praying for you, Shelly Marie, and we would love to have you come back anytime.

Momma had tried to tell me things did not start out this way, but something happened that changed him. She had married Curtis Lee Parker just after her seventeenth birthday. She had the same boyfriend, Christopher Rawlings, all through high school, and then he died in a car accident. Her broken heart and devastation brought on depression. Everyone kept telling her just because they had been a couple all through high school, she would get over it; she just needed to move on.

My momma, Elizabeth Marie Holloway, was the baby of the family, having six siblings, all married with families. Her parents, Maxwell and Opal Mae Holloway, were farmers, one of the most common professions in the area. That was how she met Curtis. His father, Henry, had worked for her dad, and they had lived on property in one of the two family quarters at the back of the land.

Curt was four years older than her, very handsome and quite the bad boy. He worked in construction, giving him muscles to go with his overconfident attitude. Still, she said he was so much fun and made her laugh when they were together. She believed whatever changed him, he still loved her and had said so several times. The last time she said whatever changed him had really affected everything. We just need to give him time to get those things worked out. I will try to work harder not to upset him so much. I just wish I knew what I do that upsets him so.

I would never argue with Momma, but in my mind, I did question how long was long enough, because of the pain he was causing. I knew I was just a child, but no one had to set him off, no one had to do anything. His temper was always ready to flair anytime or anywhere. He just took it out on Momma. It was times like these, when Momma talked to me, my mind would wander back over the nightmares we were trapped in what we called life. All I had seen and heard made me wonder what would happen next. I did not question if it would happen. I only wondered when, knowing it depended on how much and where he had been drinking.

Momma told me I was not the average four-year-old. I was around grown-ups most of the time, except when I got to be with my cousins or when I got to go to church. I even heard Gramma tell Momma one time she needed to stop talking to me so much like a grown-up and talk to me like the child I was. The sad thing was, I didn't feel like a little kid. I had seen and heard so much, I could tell if Momma was really okay or if she was just saying words. Kind of like if someone asked, How are you? We always answered, Fine, and how are you? Because we never knew anymore, and it could turn into a nightmare right there in front of whoever was speaking to us. Or sometimes it was best just to stay where we did and not have to talk or answer anyone. We were still learning which one was best.

Chapter 2

Shelly

Today, in particular, started as a normal laundry day. Momma carried the clothes down the stairs to the little patio at the back of the garage. It was like a small porch to me. There was an old ringer-type washer and a big metal tub to rinse the clothes on one side, and I played on the other side of the porch while Momma washed and rinsed the clothes. She carried them over to the clothesline to hang them out. I would hand Momma clothespins as she needed them. The day had gone slow, but once Momma was finished washing his work clothes and they were on the line, she dumped the water from the tub and cleaned up the washer. I sat on the concrete looking up at her. Even in her faded blue-and-green maternity top, Momma was so beautiful, with her big brown eyes and long blondish-brown hair, with red highlights when she was in the sun. Sadly, she seldom smiled except at me. He said such mean and hurtful things like, There is no money to buy fat people clothes, so make do! I think that would make me not want to smile either.

We headed upstairs, but Momma was moving very slow as she took each step and was holding her stomach. Once we were in the living room, Momma said she would make me a sandwich, and then she was going to lie down for a while. As she passed me, I took her hand and asked, Momma, is John-John making you want to throw up again? I can go ask Mrs. Brown to call Gramma.

Squeezing my hand, she answered, No, sweetheart. I just need to go rest a bit. We have had such a busy morning. Soup is cooking for dinner, and we have corn bread from last night, so that will give us time for a rest break for me and some playtime for you.

Coloring at the table for a while, I watched Momma keep going to the bathroom. Going to the door and checking on her before I put away my crayons. She had fallen asleep. I was glad and hoped she would sleep, but her sleep did not look restful when I went to the door to check on her again. Hating this feeling of knowing something was not right, but Momma had said not to call Gramma.

After a while, Momma came into the living room, and I could see she was very pale. She said, I am going to lay on the sofa, so if you want to go down and play on the porch, you can. The kitchen windows are open, so I can hear you.

I had been downstairs on the porch just a few minutes when I heard his car coming up the alley. I called up, Momma he is almost here! I ducked into the rinse tub that was on its side next to the washing machine.

As I feared, the door slammed with a loud bang, and I could hear the rustle of the paper from the bag he carried. If tonight was like most nights that followed this kind of arrival, it meant he had been drinking for some time. There was no way to warn Momma; he was already halfway up the stairs.

Another day of leisure, I see. Too bad we do not have a television to entertain you while you nap on the sofa! What is for dinner, or have you had time to even do that?

I could not hear if Momma answered, but I did hear the explosive sound of the soup hitting the floor. He was yelling at the top of his lungs, Get up and clean this mess before I come back, or you know what will happen. I work all day, and you try to feed me potato mush slop! Why do you do things just to make me mad? I said get up, or I will jerk you up and throw you into the kitchen.

Momma must have gotten up because I heard water running in the sink. Then I heard him storming out the door and down the stairs, then as he passed the porch where I was hiding, he uttered the words that always chilled me to the bone.

I swear on my daughter's grave I will kill her yet! She does it on purpose to make me crazy. Why can't she just do what she is told!

Once he was in the car, he started the engine and gunned the motor. The spinning out of the tires threw dirt all over the clothes that still hung on the line. Once he was gone, I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. Momma had gone back to the bedroom and was lying on the bed. Going over to the bed, I put my hand on hers.

She opened her eyes and smiled as she meekly said, Shelly, there is a bologna-and-mustard sandwich for you on the table. I am going to lay here for a few minutes, and then I will get up and clean the kitchen.

Smiling, I nodded my head.

It was dark out when Momma called, Shelly, can you turn the porch light on and go down and ask Mrs. Brown to call Gramma and tell her to please come. It is an emergency. Please be careful, baby, going down those stairs. She sounded so weak!

Even with the porch light on, it was still so scary going to the Browns', but I knew if Momma was saying it was an emergency, I had to hurry as fast as I could. Going down the stairs seemed to take forever. As soon as my feet were on the ground, I took off running toward their door. Knocking as loud as I could, I did not stop until Mr. Brown opened the door. I was gasping for air when he asked, Shelly Marie, what are you doing out in the dark? What is wrong?

Looking over his shoulder, he called to Mrs. Brown, Mama, come quick! It's Shelly.

Mrs. Brown came into the kitchen, the phone already in her hand, calling Gramma. Yes, ma'am, this is Mary Brown, and Shelly is here saying her momma sent her to call you and that it is an emergency. She says her momma needs you quick! Yes, ma'am, I will tell her. Yes, ma'am, right away. Thank you too!

I was turning to go back to the apartment as fast as I could when Mrs. Brown said, They are on their way, and I am supposed to tell you to get your pink sweater on so you will be ready to go as quick as they get here. The way you are wheezing, Shelly, you probably need to use your inhaler too, okay?

I called out to them as I went out the door, Yes, ma'am, and thank you!

I hurried up the stairs to the apartment. I knew what Gramma was saying. We were going to the hospital again, and she knew I was always cold there. Hopefully, this time Momma would bring home baby John-John. The last two times she did not, and they said it was because of miscarriages. I called it from beatings!

I used my inhaler and got my pink sweater. I then sat on the edge of the couch, ready and waiting for Gramma and Grampa. Suddenly the door burst open—they were there! I watched as they rushed into the bedroom. They came out. Grampa was carrying Momma. She looked so lifeless as Gramma covered her with a blanket. Covering her was too late I had already seen the blood. It seemed like things were happening in slow motion as Gramma held the door open as Grampa carried Momma out the door and down the stairs. Grampa's breathing was wheezy, but he was going to get her to the car. He knew the danger all too well.

I sat still waiting for Gramma to come back for me and to lock the apartment. I heard Mrs. Brown's voice saying something about calling ahead, but I could not hear it all. Still, I waited, but I heard the car start and the sound as it was leaving.

Was Mrs. Brown going to come up and get me? Was I supposed to wait on the couch? As the minutes passed, I was starting to get scared, I kept sitting there. I put on my sweater. I did not know it was wrong side out, nor that my frizzy curls were going in all directions. Going to the other end of the couch and getting Cocoa and her blanket out of her bed, I went back and sat down in the same spot at the end of the couch, watching the door. Slowly I started rocking Cocoa and telling her, It will be okay, Cocoa. I am here, and I will keep you safe. They will be right back. They just had to get Momma to the hospital as fast as they could. There was so much blood! She did not look good, Cocoa!

Slowly, I looked around the apartment. I wished for daylight, like so many nights. Things did not seem so scary when it was daylight. To calm myself, I began to sing to Cocoa, Rock a bye baby in the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock.

Suddenly, with tears in her eyes, Gramma was coming through the door. She glanced at the kitchen, seeing the mess all over the floor, cabinets, and stove. Not stopping, she came straight for me. Shelly, I am so sorry, baby girl! Gramma's mind is not working good tonight. Are you okay?

I nodded as Gramma took my hand, and we headed to the door, flipping off the light and locking the door as we left. Going down the stairs as fast as we dared, Gramma quietly asked, Did anyone get hurt when the potato soup decided it would decorate the cabinets and floor?

Smiling up at Gramma, I shook my head no, knowing she really knew what had happened. We both knew she was trying to lighten the scariness of the dark that seemed to be closing in on us. Climbing into the front seat, I scooted over to the middle next to Grampa. The engine was still running, so as soon as Gramma shut her door, we were moving from the alley to the street. We were moving fast enough that the lights reflected one after another, almost blurring into a steady stream of light.

I had not gotten a chance to look into the back seat to see Momma before the car was headed to the hospital for the second time. We pulled into the emergency drive of the hospital, which was all lit up with bright lights that lit up the interior of the car as well. We were met by the hospital staff as soon as the car stopped. Grampa and Gramma were both out of the car, offering to help. Opening the back door, the interns and nurse lifted Momma onto the gurney ever so gently. They started to wheel her toward the double doors when I heard the nurse call out, Hurry! She is in shock. There's lots of blood!

Laying Cocoa on the seat beside me, I eased up ever so slowly to peek over the back of the front seat. Biting my lip, I glanced at the back seat, where Momma had been laying. The blanket Gramma had covered her with was on the seat as well as a blood-soaked towel. I had seen blood and bruises before but never like this. My heart was pounding as I slid back down the back of the seat. I felt very cold and sick to my stomach.

My head was spinning as I half whispered, You better not have killed my momma! I don't care if you did swear on my grave you would do it. I am going to tell Gramma, and she will tell her father when she goes to pray at the chapel what you have done!

The driver's door opened, and Grampa got into the car and said, We are going to park the car out front, and then we will go in and wait for Gramma in the waiting room.

I did not answer. I just nodded because I knew it would be a long night even after Gramma got to the waiting room where we would be.

Chapter 3

Shelly

We watched quietly as nurses, interns, and aides moved quickly up and down the hallway from their stations to patient's rooms. The walls seemed brighter than when we were here last. I remembered it all! Gramma had told me once the smell was from the overpowering disinfectants combined with the strong cleaning chemicals. I also remembered how time just seemed to stop while we waited with only the memories of the day to occupy my mind. I was so tired but did not want to go to sleep and dream this nightmare all over again. I rubbed my eyes. My head hurt so bad. I watched for Gramma, but there was no sign of her coming down the hall.

Finally, the silence was broken when we heard the squish of Gramma's shoes slowly coming down the hallway. Her slow walk meant sad news for sure. As if on cue, Grampa stood and went to meet her. They stood in the hallway whispering back and forth. Listening as best I could, there were words and things they said I understood, like too weak, blood loss, and old bruises. The ones I heard that I did not understand were ones like anemia and proper arrangements. The one thing I did know for sure was there would be no baby again.

Dr. Howell owned the farm next to Gramma and Grampa's. Grampa farmed part of his land in exchange for using some of his land for their berries and strawberries. The two families had been friends for over twenty years. He was not just their doctor; he was a good friend. He knew all about the past emergencies, as they were called. I could see the sadness in his eyes as he walked up and put his hand on Grampa's shoulder.

So sorry, Max. We did everything we could, but Beth was just not strong enough to be pregnant again so soon and go through what she did. Any sign of the husband? I want to talk to him if he gets nerve enough to show up at the hospital!

Gramma and Grampa came over and sat down. Gramma was saying something to me about my sweater.

I answered, I'm sorry, Gramma.

Smiling, she said, You are okay, child. How could you know your sweater was wrong side out? That is not important. You do not worry about it. She took it off and put it on me correctly and sat me in her lap.

I asked quietly, blinking back tears, Where is Momma? Gramma, can I see my momma? Please make them let me see my momma.

Gramma hugged me tightly and just kept me close as she said, The doctor is with her, and when he comes back, we will go home so we can all get some rest. We will all feel better tomorrow.

Cuddled in the safety of her arms, listening to her pray for grace and mercy for Momma, I drifted off to sleep.

Gramma and Grampa had been married many years ago. I heard her and my aunts talking sometimes on Sunday afternoons. They would be on the end of the porch, where the swing and chairs were. Some of us cousins would play by the door with paper dolls. The boys would be playing ball or with marbles in the yard. One of the daughters, Aunt Kay, asked Gramma to tell them the story of their first few years together again.

Gramma was thirteen, and Grampa was twenty. It was a prearranged marriage, which was common back then. Gramma had been taught to cook and clean and care for children just as women were in the horse-and-buggy days, as she referred to them. Once they were married, she said Grampa was a foreman on a farm, and she took care of meals and etc., for the men who worked under Grampa that lived in the bunkhouse.

She continued telling her daughters again about her babies coming about every eighteen or so months. They all worked together as a family to take care of each other and the farm back then. Gramma loved to talk about her family. She gladly shared about her marriage and how they supported one another. She shared how they enjoyed raising their children and teaching them to grow. Her prayer was they would all be in his service. She said she and Grampa looked forward to growing old together when they retired. She ended with saying she continued to pray each day that each of their children, their spouses, and the grandkids would truly know the Lord as Savior and that they each would serve the Lord with a true heart. Then they girls would start to sing one of the songs they had sung at church in the past. It was like they all liked going back in time just for a little while.

I woke up the next morning in the room where we slept when we were at the farm. Lying there, I knew I had dreamed about the Sunday after-dinner front-porch visit again. I realized Momma was not in my dream like she'd been when they were really on the porch.

It was so very quiet, so I figured Gramma was feeding the chickens or at the table reading her Bible. My stomach hurt as I walked to the kitchen, knowing I fell asleep last night and then woke up back at the farm. Momma had not been in the bed with me, so I did not have to be told she was not here. My mind was going crazy as my eyes filled with tears. By the time I was standing in the doorway going into the kitchen, they were running down my face. As I sniffed, Gramma looked up from her reading, smiling as she started to tell me good morning.

Oh, my child! What are all these tears for? Did you have a bad dream?

I don't know. I dreamed about you and your daughters being on the front porch. They wanted you to tell the story again, and then they started to sing, but Momma was not there. He killed her like he swore he would do, didn't he, Gramma?

No, sweetheart! Gramma said as she got up from the table and came over and knelt in front of me. She is still in the hospital and will be for a couple of days. Today, Grampa and I must go into town do take care of some business. How about we have lunch while we are in town?

I nodded okay as she led me over to the table for some breakfast. I climbed up in the chair while she got my biscuit sandwich. Glancing toward the door, I asked, Gramma where is Cowdog? I don't see him by the door.

As she sat my plate and glass of milk on the table, she laughed. You and that crazy dog. Next to your doll, I think you love him next!

I was smiling again and answered, Yes, ma'am, but Momma and you and Cocoa come first. He is the smartest dog ever! Gramma, I know the business you are talking about. We have had to do it before. It is to get our stuff from the apartment, right?

Yes, Shelly, it is. We also have to do a few things while we are in town too, but you and Grampa will wait in the car while I go in to take care of some important business.

I did not say anything, but I sat there wondering if the business was what they meant by making arrangements. The morning passed, but even Gramma seemed preoccupied until Grampa came in and said Hank was going to take over for him so we could get to town and be home before dark.

Chapter 4

Shelly

As we drove to town, I again sat in the front seat between Gramma and Grampa. This time, I did not try to look behind me to see the back seat. I was not sure, but for some reason, I sat there not saying or thinking anything. I was not the only one; they were not talking either. We stopped at Belcher's store in Sparta, and Grampa went in and got boxes. We drove to the city to the apartment. Once we were there, Grampa got the boxes out of the trunk of the car. They carried them up to the apartment and set them on the floor of the living room. I went to get some pillowcases to put my clothes and things in.

All I could do was think. I did not want to move again. I liked our apartment, and the Browns were so nice. If only he would go work out of town again. Maybe we could stay. I knew in my heart that was not going to happen. Once I saw the apartment and that everything was just as it was when we left it, I knew what was ahead.

Staying at the farm was fun. I liked doing that. It was what happened after Momma got better that I dreaded. For now, I needed to pack my clothes and stuff while Gramma cleaned up the kitchen, and Grampa was packing certain things in the boxes we brought, after he got the clothes off the line and put them on the chair. Once everything was loaded, Gramma went to talk to Mrs. Brown. She sent me some chocolate chip cookies. I decided to save them until this feeling in my stomach was better.

We went to another couple of places. One was a flower shop. Gramma went in but came out with nothing, then to another place, and this time, Grampa went in and then came back out after a while. They both seemed very sad, even more than they were when we first started for town.

We went to the hospital for a while. Gramma went in to see Momma. Grampa and I sat in the car with the windows rolled down. There was a nice breeze as we listened to music on the radio. Someone was playing