“That's a first!” one of the nurses said with a grin as she hurried off to take care of a child with whooping cough, and another with severe burns. Gabriella had been the darling of the pediatric ward, and they were sorry she was leaving too. But not nearly as sorry as Gabriella was herself. She hated leaving their safe haven, and returning to her life in hell.

Her mother was waiting for her when she got home, frowning darkly, with eyes filled with accusation. She had never gone to the hospital to see her, and had told John repeatedly that all that pampering was unnecessary and an outright disgrace. He didn't argue with her, but anyone could have seen how pale Gabriella was when he brought her home, and from the damage to her ear, she was still a little unsteady on her feet.

“Well, did you get enough attention playing sick for all the nurses and doctors?” Eloise asked unkindly as John went to Gabriella's room to drop off her things and turn her bed down for her. The doctor had told him she should rest.

“I'm sorry, Mommy.”

“You should be. Whining little brat,” she said, and then turned on her heel and disappeared.

Gabriella had dinner with both her parents that night, and predictably it was a silent and awkward ordeal. Her mother was clearly angry at her, and her father was lost in another world, and had had too much to drink by the time they sat down to eat. Gabriella spilled some water on the table, and her hands shook as she quickly mopped it up.

‘Your table manners haven't improved in the last week. What did they do, feed you?” Eloise asked meanly, and Gabriella lowered her eyes, and thought it best not to speak. She never said a word during the entire meal. And as soon as she'd eaten the last bite of her dessert, her mother ordered her to her room. Gabriella could sense that a battle was brewing and it was a relief to leave.

She got into her bed immediately, and listened in the dark as her parents argued, and it was no surprise when she heard footsteps in her room late that night. She was sure it was her mother, and braced herself for what was to come. This time the covers were peeled back slowly, and she tensed her entire body and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the first familiar blow to strike her. But for a long moment, there was none. She could feel someone standing over her, but she couldn't smell her perfume, there was no sound, and nothing happened. After waiting an interminable moment she couldn't stand the suspense and opened her eyes.

“Hi… were you sleeping?…” It was her father, he was whispering, and all she could smell now was the whiskey on his breath. “I came to say… to see… if you were all right.” She nodded, confused. He never came into her room like that.

“Where's Mommy?”

“Asleep.” She exhaled slowly at the news, deeply relieved, although they both knew it wouldn't take much to wake her. “I just wanted to see you…” He sat down gently on the bed. “I'm sorry… about the hospital… and everything… The nurses said you were very brave…” But he already knew better than anyone how brave she was, far braver than he was.

“They were nice,” she whispered, watching his face in the darkness. She could see him clearly now in the moonlight from her window.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay… my ear still hurts… but I'm fine…” The headache had been gone for the past two days, and her ribs were still taped, as they would be for the next two weeks.

“Take care of yourself, Gabriella… always be brave, you're very strong.” She wondered why he said that to her, what he was really trying to say. And she couldn't help asking herself why he thought she was strong. She didn't feel it. Most of the time, she just thought about how bad she was.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he didn't know what to say. And even he knew that if he had loved her, truly, he wouldn't have let her mother beat her to within an inch of her life. But Gabriella had no idea what was on his mind. He stood there looking at her for another moment, and then pulled the covers up around her again, and left her, without saying another word.

He paused in the doorway for just the fraction of an instant, as she watched him, and then closed the door as softly as he could. Neither of them wanted to wake her mother, and he was so quiet, she couldn't even hear him tiptoe away. She burrowed down in the bed again after that, and she was still asleep the next day when her mother threw open the door to her room, and shouted at her.

“Get out of there!” the familiar voice screamed at her, as Gabriella bounded out of bed still half asleep. Her rapid movements brought the headache back instantly, challenged her ribs, and caused her to lurch a bit from the damage to her ear. “You knew, you little bitch, didn't you! Did he tell you? Did he?” She was shaking Gabriella by both arms by then, with total disregard for where she'd been for the past week, or the injuries that had caused her to be there.

“Know what? I don't know anything, Mommy…” She was out of practice suddenly, and in spite of herself began to cry. She knew from her mother's face that something terrible had happened, but she couldn't begin to imagine what it was. For the first time Gabriella could remember, her mother looked frantic and disheveled.

“Yes, you do… Did he tell you in the hospital? Is that it? Just what did he say?” She was shaking her so hard, Gabriella could hardly answer.

“Nothing… he didn't tell me anything… what happened to Daddy?” Maybe he was hurt, or something had happened to him. She couldn't imagine it, but her mother spat the words in her face before she could ask again.

“He's gone, and you knew it. It's your fault… you were so much trouble to both of us, that he left us. You thought he loved you, didn't you? Well, he didn't. He left you just like he left me. He doesn't want either of us anymore… you little bitch… you did it, you know. You did it! He left because he hates you, just as much as he hates me.” She said it with a resounding slap across Gabriella's face. “He left because of you… and there's no one to protect you now.” And as she descended on the child with a vengeance, Gabriella began to understand. Her father had left them. That was why he had come into the room last night. He had come to see her one last time… he had come to say good-bye… and now he was gone… and all she had left was this. The blows that never ended, the beatings that were her life. He had told her to be brave the night before… told her she was strong. His words were all she had now, and as she remembered them, and her mother's fists flailed at her harder than ever this time, Gabriella fought valiantly not to cry, but she couldn't stop herself. All she had left now was this nightmare. Her mother said he hated her, and she knew that wasn't true. Or did he? He had never protected her, never helped her, never saved her from any of it. And now, whatever his reasons, he had left her. And all she could feel, rising up in her throat like bile, was fear.





Chapter 5




THE REST OF the year until Gabriella turned ten was a kaleidoscope of darkness, the patterns moving and shifting, but the theme always the same, the terrors always as acute no matter how varied the colors.

Gabriella's father disappeared as effectively as if he had vanished off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. He never called, never wrote to her, never came to see her, never explained how or why it had happened, what he had done, or why.

And the day her mother got her first notice from his attorney she was so enraged that, predictably, she nearly beat Gabriella senseless. Only her own exhaustion finally stopped her. But in the days following, she showed Gabriella no mercy. She blamed her for everything, as she had since Gabriella was born, and told her that he hated Gabriella as much as he hated her. She said he no longer needed her, the woman he was going to marry had two little girls who had replaced her. “They're not like you“ her mother raged at her venomously every time she mentioned them, which was as often as she could. “They're beautiful and good and well behaved, and everything you aren't. And he loves them,” she whispered cruelly. And once when Gabriella foolishly tried to argue with her, defending the feelings she attributed to him but no longer felt quite so sure of in the face of his defection, her mother took out a scrub brush and the laundry soap and washed her mouth out until the soapsuds oozed down her throat and she vomited, as much from the soap as from the bitter taste of her own sorrow and loss. She knew her father had loved her, she told herself, she knew it… or thought so… or perhaps only wanted to believe it. Until, finally, she no longer knew what to think.

She spent most of her time alone, in the house, reading, and writing her stories. She wrote letters to her father sometimes, but she didn't know where to send them, so she tore them up and threw them away. He had left her no address, and when she tried to look for it when her mother was out, she never found it. She wouldn't have dared ask her mother for it. She knew where he worked when he left, and when she called she was told that he had left the bank, and had moved to Boston. It might as well have been in another galaxy, for all Gabriella knew. And when she didn't hear from him on her tenth birthday, she knew she had lost him forever.

She still felt rising waves of panic sometimes, when she thought about it, remembering back to that last night in her room, when they had whispered in the moonlight. There was so much she would have liked to say to him… maybe if she had… if she had told him how much she loved him, he might have stayed, he might not have left her for the two little girls her mother talked about… the ones who were so much better than she was, the ones he loved now. Maybe if she had tried harder, or got better grades in school, though she could hardly have done much better… or perhaps if she hadn't had to go to the hospital at times… if she hadn't made her mother hate them both so much, maybe then he wouldn't have run away… or maybe he was dead, and it was all a lie. Maybe he'd been in an accident and she didn't know it. The very thought of it made it impossible to breathe… What if she really never did see him again? What if she forgot what he looked like? She stood and stared at pictures of him sometimes. There were two on the piano, and several in the library, but when her mother saw her doing that one day, she took all of his photographs out of their frames and tore them into a million pieces. Gabriella had an old one of him in her room, from when she was five, in Easthampton one summer, but her mother found that one too, and threw it away.