Chapter 11 - UNDERSTANDING HIM DID NOT MAKE HIM SAFE
Wade entered treatment for gambling before any court ordered him to.
His attorney made sure everyone knew.
Natalie told me not to be cynical.
“If he actually gets help, that benefits the children.”
She was right.
I still resented the timing.
Wade also started a batterer-intervention program after his criminal attorney recommended it.
Again:
Motivation could be mixed.
Participation still mattered.
He sent an apology through counsel.
I did not read it for six days.
When I finally did, the first paragraph made me angry.
I was under enormous pressure from Mom, the business, the land purchase, and financial losses I was ashamed to admit.
I almost stopped.
Then the second paragraph:
None of that made me tie Caroline to the porch. I did that. None of it made me use the strap. I did that. None of it made me speak about my daughters as failures. I did that.
Better.
Not enough.
Apologies are not court orders.
Or changed nervous systems.
Ava still woke at night sometimes.
Molly refused to wear dresses with pockets because she associated them with my recording phone.
Grace startled when men raised their voices.
She was an infant.
Maybe that meant nothing.
I reacted anyway.
My own body remained alert in ordinary places.
Hardware-store rope displays.
Leather belts.
Porch posts.
The sound of Wade’s old truck model.
Therapy helped.
Slowly.
Financially, our divorce accounting became painfully specific.
The secret credit line balance was divided according to which charges benefited the household, Wade’s business, Harlan Heritage, or his gambling.
My signature complicated the lender dispute.
Wade’s admissions helped.
He agreed to assume most of the balance connected to land and gambling as part of settlement negotiations.
The trailer debt was different.
I had knowingly signed part of that financing.
I absorbed a defined share.
I hated paying it.
I paid it.
Accountability did not mean I got to erase every careless choice I had made because Wade’s were worse.
Ruth sold the rundown rental house.
She used part of the proceeds to repay money transferred into Harlan Heritage beyond reasonable rent.
The amount was negotiated after appraisal and accounting.
No giant windfall.
Enough to matter.
Wade sold his remaining equipment and closed Harlan Fencing.
Jason later told me:
“He should’ve done it a year earlier.”
Wade took a salaried job with a commercial fencing contractor in Arlington.
For the first time since I met him, he had a supervisor.
Ruth moved into a small duplex in Weatherford.
Harlan Heritage Holdings was dissolved.
The family land dream ended.
Yet Wade continued asking for expanded contact with the girls.
Their therapist recommended caution.
Supervised visits began eventually.
The first one lasted ninety minutes.
Ava refused to hug him.
Molly did.
Wade cried.
He did not force Ava.
That was the minimum.
It was also different.
Afterward Ava asked:
“If Daddy gets better, do you have to marry him again?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then she said:
“Can he still be our dad?”
Harder.
“Yes.”
“Even though he was bad?”
I chose my words carefully.
“He did bad things. Whether he becomes someone safe enough to have more time with you depends on what he does now.”
Ava nodded.
“Grandma too?”
My stomach tightened.
Ruth had requested contact.
I had said no.
May you like
“Not right now.”
Understanding Ruth’s grief did not make her safe either.
