Silent Cry (25 page)

While Nate was serving his sentence, he often called and sent letters, repeatedly
asking to see the kids. I wasn't sure what to do.
Should I keep the boys away from
their father? Should I take them to visit Nate and expose them to prison? What's
best for them? What's best for me?
I honestly didn't know what to do.

Tré missed his father and was old enough to understand that Nate had broken the law
and was serving time as punishment.
King was still young enough that he didn't understand
anything about the situation, but he also missed his daddy and kept asking to see
him. I had reservations about exposing the boys to prison, but I felt sorry for Nate
and was heartbroken for the boys.

I decided that keeping the boys away was selfish, and so I committed to taking them
to Texarkana once a month to visit Nate in prison. I had no idea what to expect.
As the date for our first visit drew near, I longed for someone to talk to who could
prepare me for the experience. I could think of no one, so once again, I prayed about
it. I was scared to death as I made the long drive, but I knew God was with me —
watching, guiding, protecting. I hoped that seeing Nate in jail would not disturb
the boys.

Visitation took place on Sunday, and it was too far to drive there and back in one
day, so we drove over on Saturday and spent the night in a hotel. The first visit
with Nate was awkward and strange, but Tré seemed relieved to be able to see with
his own eyes that his dad was okay. King was more interested in the playground out
front, but Nate seemed glad to see him. We made the long drive home, and I put the
boys to bed. I went to my room and collapsed on the bed, completely drained.

This became our monthly routine until the last year of Nate's sentence when he was
transferred to a prison in Louisiana. The Monday mornings after our trips were difficult.
We were all so tired. Mornings were already hard. Tré had to be on the field for
football practice at 6:30 a.m. Every day, I had to wake up five-year-old King, put
him in the car, and drive Tré to practice. Then I drove back home, got King fed and
ready for school, and went to work.

For all the years I was married, I'd never had to worry about money. Nate gave me
what I needed for monthly household bills. If the kids needed clothes or shoes or
fees for any of their activities, he gave me his credit card to take care of it.
When I scheduled his appearances, I received a small percentage for my work, and
that took care of my personal needs, which were never much. Now I thought about money
all the time. I had to be super-frugal. Every month, I had to manage and balance,
and then adjust and balance again. Even though it was a fight to survive, it felt
like a light load in comparison to what I had lived through. I gladly dealt with
financial issues in exchange for peace of mind and safety. My heart was filled with
gratitude that God had brought me through.

For the most part, our friends didn't want to talk about Nate's situation, and we
didn't volunteer any information. I believe we wanted to open up and share what we
were going through — we just didn't know how. We didn't know where to begin! Even
with caring people all around us, it sometimes felt as though we stood alone in our
past and in our pain. It was our burden to bear. It was our responsibility to deal
with.

I knew God wanted to do great things through me and the boys. I wanted us to focus
on others and not get bogged down in our troubles and what we were dealing with when
it came to our experiences with Nate. We got involved in Presbyterian Night Shelter
in Fort Worth, supported food drives and clothing drives, and were actively involved
in reaching out to others.

Tré was now fourteen and held a Bible study in our home. He was a phenomenal athlete
and an outstanding student. Though he was quiet, he was friendly and open about his
faith. Instead of turning bitter when things were hard or allowing the
trauma experienced
in his childhood to overwhelm him, he excelled in everything he did. I was immensely
proud of him.

King was seven, and he and Tré were close. Tré was very protective of King and became
his hero. King loved watching Tré play football. He followed him around and listened
to him. Disciplining King was never a problem for me when Tré was around.

Tré's high school team, the Southlake Carroll Dragons, was a championship-caliber
team, and his games were always exciting to watch. One night, I was sitting in the
stands cheering him on and visiting with other football moms, when out of nowhere
—
there was Nate!
He had been released from prison and wanted to surprise us. I had
not heard from him in months. Now here he was, looking like a wild man — and he'd
brought the woman he was with the night I called the police to make him leave our
property. I knew the time for his release was approaching, but I hadn't given it
much thought. I was completely shocked!

After the game, Nate found Tré, and they talked for a while. My friends just kept
looking at me, perhaps for an explanation, but no one said anything. I'd never talked
to any of them about Nate, and I certainly didn't know what to say now. My thoughts
were racing.
He's back. What does this mean? Is Nate going to leave us alone? Does
he expect to come around the house now to visit the boys?

It had been nearly three years since Nate left. While he was in prison, I felt completely
safe, knowing he couldn't show up to bother us. I wasn't sure how to handle it now
that he was back in Texas. It turned out that I didn't have to wait long to find
out what it was going to mean having Nate nearby again. He asked if I was sure we
weren't going to get back together again, and I assured him we would not. He said
he wanted to retrieve all the
belongings I had stored for him while he was gone,
and then he wanted to take me back to court over custody.

“What is it you really want?” I asked him. “Surely you don't want joint custody of
the boys. They are settled in their life. They are active in school. Tré is very
involved in sports. Why would you want to interrupt their stability?”

There had been no child support during the entire time Nate was in prison. He didn't
want to be responsible for back child support, and he wanted the monthly amount he
was supposed to pay further reduced. I knew he didn't have any income — he didn't
even have a job. We had gone all this time without any help from him, and I didn't
care about that — all I wanted was custody.

Our attorneys argued back and forth, and we finally agreed that Nate would pay $850
a month to support the boys and 20 percent of the back child support over a period
of time. I wondered if he had any idea how hard it had been on us financially while
he was away. It didn't matter. He was giving me full custody, and we would stay out
of court. That was what mattered. The boys would stay with me.

CHAPTER 27

Familiar Tune

Difficult things take a long time, impossible things a little longer.

André A. Jackson

Y
es, Nate was back.

While in prison, he was as active in the boys' lives as prison allowed him to be.
Whenever he called, he was nice to us. He was interested in the details of their
lives and expressed concern for them in his letters, so I was hopeful that things
might be amiable between us now that he was back. But it wasn't to be. It seemed
like every encounter with Nate was difficult and disagreeable. He was angry whenever
he was around me. I didn't want his anger spilling out around the boys, so I avoided
him as much as possible.

Now that I was working full-time, it was important to me that I focused on the boys
whenever I spent time with them. I didn't take calls on my cell phone or answer email.
When I was spending time with them, I gave them my full attention. My friends knew
this and respected our family time.

One Sunday afternoon, I took King to his Little League baseball game. He was so cute
in his uniform! I loved watching him play ball. Nate also came to watch. I kept my
distance and sat with several other parents. Another little boy on the team was hitting
home runs every time he got a turn at bat. He was having quite a streak! All the
boys wanted to use his bat — after all, it must be the bat that was responsible for
all those home runs. When it was King's turn to hit, he picked up the boy's trophy
bat to give it a try. I was smiling from ear to ear as he took his turn at home plate.

Then I heard, “Dot!”

“Dot, what bat is that?” Nate shouted at me from across the stands.

I didn't answer.
What difference does it make? King is up. Watch the game
, I thought
to myself.

“Dot!” Nate shouted again. “I said whose bat is he using?”

People around me got restless. I was embarrassed.
Why did Nate have to shout and
make a scene? This was just Little League. Stop it!

“I spent my f______ money on a bat for King, and he's using someone else's bat? Why?”
Nate ranted.

He continued shouting at me in front of everyone. I was mortified, and the parents
in the stands were clearly getting uncomfortable. I couldn't bring myself even to
look at Nate. I took out my cell phone and called Ingrid. “Hi, Ingrid,” I said. “Can
you come and sit with me at King's game?” I never called Ingrid during their family
time, so when I called her on a Sunday afternoon, she immediately knew something
was wrong.

“On my way,” she said. She arrived within a few minutes and came to sit by me. Nate
would not let it go. He was stirred up and kept demanding to know whose bat King
was using and why wasn't he using the bat he had bought for him. It was awful.

King knew something was wrong. Throughout the game, he kept looking into the stands
and hearing Nate yell at me.

When the game ended, I gave Ingrid a quick hug, and she looked me in the eyes, knowingly.
I gathered King's things and hurried him along to the car.