Free Apart at the Seams by Marie Bostwick Page A

Nobody can make me see him if I don’t want to!”
    â€œBethany,” Sheila said evenly, “I can see that you’re upset, but your father has said that he would very much like to see you again. A judge has said he’s entitled to do that, so you do have to see him.”
    Bethany whipped her head toward me, eyes wide, looking for my support. She had it; I didn’t think she should have to see Hodge if she didn’t want to. But I also knew that my opinion wouldn’t carry any weight in a courtroom and that trying to argue Bethany’s point for her not only would be fighting a losing battle, but also might end up prejudicing Sheila Fenton’s opinion of me. I had to find a way to comply with the legal realities while doing what I could to protect my kids.
    â€œHoney, give it a chance.” I reached out to take her hand, but she snatched it away.
    â€œI don’t want to see him. He hit me! And he hit you too.” Eyes blazing, she turned back to Sheila. “He used to hit her all the time. He slammed her hand in the door of a car. I was little, but I remember.”
    Sheila nodded, her expression patient but immovable. “I know. I’ve seen the police report and your mother’s medical files. But I’ve seen your father too. He’s very anxious to see you. And I’ve talked to the people who have been working with him at the prison. They say he’s been a very good, cooperative prisoner. He hasn’t been involved in one fight or violent incident in the last five years. That’s why he’s being released early. The parole board thinks he’s been rehabilitated,” she said, looking at me and then at my daughter, simplifying her explanation so Bethany would be able to understand. “They think he’s learned from his mistakes and has changed. Five years is a long time.”
    People can change. I really believe that. But just because people can change doesn’t mean that Hodge has. Sheila Fenton doesn’t know him like I do.
    Bethany looked at me again. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes begged me to do something.
    â€œWill she have to be alone with him?” I asked.
    â€œNo. Definitely not,” Mrs. Fenton said, addressing herself to Bethany. “Especially at first, your visits with your dad will be supervised. Someone will be with you all the time. Later, if things go well, that might change, but we would talk about it first and make sure you were feeling comfortable with the idea.”
    Sheila clasped her hands together and leaned closer to my daughter. “Your dad really is anxious to see you again and to be part of your life. He wrote you a letter,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a white envelope.
    â€œI don’t want it.”
    Sheila’s eyes shifted in my direction, seeking my support, I suppose, but I didn’t say anything. I know that Arnie said I should be cooperative, but if Bethany didn’t want to read that letter, then she didn’t have to.
    Bobby was sitting in the waiting room while all this was going on. Sheila had thought it best to speak to the children separately, so she could explain everything to them at an age-appropriate level.
    I didn’t suppose Bobby would be as distressed by the situation as Bethany was, but I really wasn’t prepared for his response to the news of Hodge’s imminent return. He was excited, elated. And full of questions I didn’t know how to answer.
    â€œHe’s coming home! Really?”
    â€œYes. Well, not home exactly. Your daddy and I aren’t married anymore, so he can’t stay with us.”
    This didn’t seem to faze him; lots of his friends have divorced parents too.
    â€œI’ve got a big bed. He can stay in my room! I don’t mind sharing.”
    â€œNo, honey. He can’t stay in your room either. He doesn’t . . . We don’t . . .”
    I looked at Sheila, hoping