A Move to the Country

“Ali, are you awake?” Chelsea stepped quietly into her older sister’s bedroom. “Dad said you would help me with breakfast.” She waited by Alison’s bed, “He was grumpy at me.”

Alison jerked her head up, abandoning her plan to pretend to be asleep.

“Sure, Chelsea.” She trundled out of bed. “Try not to worry about it, Chels. What do you feel like?” Alison reached for her sister’s hand and they headed downstairs.

“Cereal is fine.” Chelsea replied sullenly.

“Cereal? You could do that yourself. What’s wrong?”

“I wish he would stop calling me Bucky.”

“Oh, Chels, I’m sorry. He’s definitely not ‘Dad of the Year’ material, is he?”

They smiled at each other.

Alison hadn’t noticed that their mother’s wheelchair wasn’t in its regular spot at the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s Mom’s wheelchair?”

Chelsea didn’t look up from her breakfast. “Dad put it in the garage.”

“What, why?”

“He said I was a pest and Mom wouldn’t need it anymore.”

Alison frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Mom’s still pretty weak from chemo. You are not a pest. Don’t listen to him.”

Alison was familiar with her mother’s reactions to her cancer treatment and knew it would be a couple more days before she would have much strength. With forced cheerfulness, Alison made a point to look directly at Chelsea, “We’ll just have to put it back, won’t we?”

“That will put Dad in a mood,” Chelsea replied with her characteristic drama.

“What doesn’t put Dad in a mood?” But Alison wanted the dark cloud hanging over them gone. “Why don’t we have a picnic down by the creek? Maybe Mom will be able to join us if we get her wheelchair for her. Pick out a book we can read and I will get a couple of games.”

Chelsea brightened, “That will make Mom happy, she always wants to pose us for pictures down by the barn.” Alison flinched.

The old barn was a major draw for their mother when they were looking to move.

Alison didn’t understand much of why they relocated but was vaguely aware that “downsizing” wasn’t just to save money for college. In a neighborhood with a variety of large homes, their other house seemed the opposite of everything here – shiny, new and expansive was replaced with “cozy,” and “rustic.” Her parents had endeavored to spin everything, “We thought we would have entertained regularly but that never really happened. Maintaining all of that space didn’t make sense. Besides, the quiet of the country will be nice.” That quiet felt spooky to Alison at times, especially during summer.

Alison tried not to complain about missing her friends. Because Alison was still at the same school, her mother reasonably maintained that the move wasn’t “so horrible.” And it was fine at first. Alison wanted to try to make things easier for her mother. She just wasn’t sure how she could continue.

The girls gathered items for their outing and then went to check on their mom.

“Mom, Mom, Alison is going to take me down by the barn. You can come too! Alison retrieved your wheelchair.” Chelsea bounded into the bedroom.

Lindsey smiled at her two daughters. Attempting to be reassuring to Alison, “It’s okay Alison,” as Alison tried to rein in her younger sibling, and encouraging to Chelsea, Lindsey could almost speak normally, “That sounds fun. Sure, I can probably manage that, but what do you mean ‘Alison retrieved’ the wheelchair?”

“Dad put it away in the garage earlier. He said you didn’t want it.”

Lindsey looked questioningly at Alison, who shrugged and looked away. Lindsey wanted to keep things light, “Did you have a good morning? It is still morning, right? What have you been up to?” Lindsey squinted at the clock.

Chelsea, as usual, was all over the place, enthusiastic and laughing one second and then somber or doubtful the next. Lindsey convinced her daughters she didn’t need their assistance and would come outside to them as long as they weren’t expecting her too quickly.

Lindsey was glad for the quiet so she could work through the previous night’s conversation with Alison – early morning, really. Why had Alison been so uncharacteristically cryptic?

Hearing the flute music coming up the stairs was comforting and she had dissuaded her husband from stopping it.

“It is too late for that annoying noise, she’ll wake her sister,” he grumbled.

“No, let her be. It is good to hear her playing. Besides, Chelsea can sleep through anything, you know that.” He didn’t comment as Lindsey struggled to navigate her way downstairs to talk with Alison.

Lindsey was feeling helpless to uncover what was disturbingly beyond her grasp. Alison was obviously troubled (was counseling helping?) and Lindsey felt like Alison was desperately wanting to share but couldn’t. Why? Why was Lindsey’s wheelchair removed?

Fitfully progressing to the stairs, Lindsey looked out the window and saw her husband’s car. Strange, he’s not ever here at this hour. Why didn’t he come to the house?

Searching towards the barn, it hit her. The wave of dread and horror nearly knocked Lindsey over. “Oh my god, oh my god, I am so sorry Alison. How could I have failed you so terribly?” She fumbled for her phone and dropped it. “Oh, shit. Ok, take it slow. Take it slow. Step by step, get down the stairs and to your wheelchair. Do this. Do this carefully so you can get to her.” She maintained the pep talk not just to keep herself going but to avoid having to process the awful truth and horrible pain inflicted on her sweet child.

Lindsey was crawling to the stairs when Chelsea came running into the house.

“Mom, are you ok?” Chelsea asked automatically even before she reached the stairs. “Alison sent me to check. Oh!” Chelsea froze at seeing her mom on the floor.

“I’m fine, Chelsea, I just dropped my phone. I need to get downstairs. Can you help? Don’t be scared, Chelsea, I’m ok. I just need you to listen and help. Please?” Lindsey could see Chelsea fighting back tears. “Listen carefully. Come take my phone and call Uncle Steve. Go to the contacts and call his work number. I don’t know if he will be available but we need to try.” Almost hypnotized, Chelsea nodded and got the phone.

Lindsey continued scooting down the stairs while Chelsea called. Lindsey’s mind was racing to work out the next options, discouraged by the long wait. It must have gone to voice mail.

“Hi. I am trying to call my uncle. Sorry. Steve.” She looked at her mother. “I had to press zero for operator. She said he was just getting out of a meeting and transferred me back.”

“Good thinking. Smart girl.”

Chelsea still had the phone, “Hi, Uncle Steve. Mom wanted me to call you. I don’t think so.” Uncertain, she looked again at her mother, “He wants to know if everything is ok.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Do you remember my old walker? Can you get that and try to make a path for it so that I can get to the wheelchair you put outside? We’ll get down to the barn together, alright?” Taking the phone from Chelsea she spoke quietly to her brother.

“Oh, Steve, thank god we caught you. I’m trying not to alarm Chelsea too much. Call the police. They have to arrest him. Can you come out here? I can’t believe I have failed Alison so terribly. Please come out. She didn’t tell me anything. I will call 911 and then call you back.”

“Thanks, Chelsea. Can you go upstairs and get my shoes, please? From the closet.”

As soon as Chelsea was on the stairs, Lindsey completed the emergency call. “Please send help right away. My daughter is in danger. Do you have personnel who can counsel someone in crisis? She is only 16, please come rescue her. No, I’m not worried about her hurting herself, I am worried about her being assaulted. Her father.“

Lindsey had made it to the front door and was scrambling to get into the wheelchair. Chelsea came out with Lindsey’s shoes. “Thanks, honey. Do you know if Alison has her phone, is it up in her room? She should have it.”

“No, she doesn’t have it. She said Dad took it away from her for being inconsiderate.”

“Really? Oh, God. Why didn’t she tell me? Chelsea, just one more thing and then we will head down to her, ok? Look in the top drawer of your dad’s dresser. Her phone is probably in with his socks.”

Back to the 911 operator, “Yes. That is the correct address. But she is down in the barn across a field, I don’t know if your cars can get to it. Yes, it is pretty flat, but it is a field, not a road. My brother should be calling you with more information. I am in a wheelchair, with my younger daughter, we are going to try to get to her.” Lindsey knew they wanted her on the line but she needed to get to Alison and try her brother again.

When Chelsea came running out, Lindsey was once again in no-nonsense mode, “You found it, good. Hop on, Chelsea, we need to get down there.”

“I’m not supposed to ride in your wheelchair.”

“We will make an exception today, come, get on my lap.”

“But mom, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, Chelsea, trust me. Let’s go. The police are coming out to make sure everyone is safe.” Chelsea was alarmed and confused by everything that was happening. Despite her anxiety, she didn’t argue.

“It’s ok to cry, Chels, I’m scared too. But we’re together and I will try to keep you safe. No crazy wheelchair driving, I promise.” Chelsea smiled hesitantly.

“Call Steve on his cellphone. Tell him everything that happened this morning.”

This was only the third time Lindsey tried using the wheel chair to cross the uneven field, the first was when her family presented it to her and then to see if she could load it up with her camera and paint supplies before this latest round of chemo. She kept reminding herself to be careful and to go slowly. She knew this was not the time to test its speed.

As they approached the barn, Lindsey stopped. “Go around the side. Quietly. Find Alison. Pretend you are playing hide and seek, with me and Dad on the other team. Don’t let him see you.”

“Mom, I’m not five.” But Chelsea hurried off.

Lindsey tried to sound casual when she shouted for her husband. “Bill? Bill! What’s going on that you’re back so early? Bill? Have you seen Alison?”

She was hoping Bill would come out and felt that if she just kept talking, he would respond. Steve was still on the line and said he was about ten minutes away, the police probably five.

Lindsey wasn’t surprised at Steve’s question, “What if you’re wrong?” and she held out hope that she was.

“That would be infinitely better,” she replied.

Bill walked towards Lindsey scowling, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“She is your daughter, Bill. How could you?”

They both watched the police cars coming towards them and Bill stopped, turning on his lawyerly charm.

Alison and Chelsea came around the other side of the barn towards their mother. Lindsey stood up to embrace them and they fell sobbing into each other’s arms, collapsing to the ground together.

“I am so sorry, Alison. You have been incredibly brave and amazingly strong. You shouldn’t have had to be. I’m sorry. This is going to be hard, but you need to do that more so now. Be honest and tell them everything. I will be right here.”

A police officer walked Alison towards the house.

They took Bill to one of the cars. He smirked at Chelsea as he passed her and said “Don’t believe them, Bucky.”

“My name is Chelsea.”