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what do I do?
    * * *
    Pamela balled her fists and pressed her knuckles against the kitchen counter. She’d spent the past half hour arguing with her parents about Jack. He was the alcoholic who’d left her alone with two daughters, so why was she the bad guy?
    The memory of that night eight years ago swept over her. Jack’s eyes, bloodshot and glassy, peered at her with malice that sent tremors of fear down her spine.
    Emma had been sick, throwing up all over the place, and Pamela was only a few months pregnant with Emmy. The smell and sight of Emma’s vomit sent Pamela to the bathroom. Jack was left to clean up after their daughter. Disoriented, he slipped and fell in the mess. He’d been angry. Cursed. Jumped up. Pulled back his hand at the toddler. Pamela screamed before he could act, and his fury focused on her.
    For a long moment, time stood still. He wanted to hit her. The desire was etched in every muscle in his face. Somehow she mustered the courage to tell him to leave the house. He’d grabbed a few things, and that was it. He was gone. And he didn’t even try to come back.
    Pamela sucked in a deep breath, lifted her chin and peered up at the ceiling. But I’m the bad guy because I don’t want to give him a second chance. Her parents hadn’t been there that night. They hadn’t seen the look in his eyes.
    It was true he’d never hit her or Emma, and deep in Pamela’s gut, she knew her parents would never consider taking a chance if he’d abused them. She remembered the night when Emmy was a newborn and Emma wouldn’t sleep. Pamela had been so tired and sore that she’d come close to lashing out at Emma, but she hadn’t. She’d stopped herself, just as Jack had stopped.
    I’ve changed. His words echoed through her mind. She’d loved him with every ounce of her being. When he wasn’t drinking, he’d been all she’d dreamed. They’d prayed together, studied God’s word together, vowed to live their lives for Him. A lot of good that did.
    She pushed away from the counter and raked her fingers through her hair. She needed a trim. After talking with the girls about their dad, she’d need some pampering time.
    He has the legal right to see his children. Her father’s words pricked her mind. And a judge won’t turn him down if he’s sending money, as well. Her mom had piped in.
    Ugh. How it infuriated her that she had to have this conversation with her girls. He’d walked out of their lives, and she and the girls had done well, were doing well, and then he up and decided to traipse back to Bloom Hollow, sober and ready to reconcile. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be able to flip their lives upside down whenever he saw fit.
    Quit stalling. Just get it over with.
    She walked into the living room. Emmy sat on the floor with her favorite panda bear propped against the couch. She’d folded several papers in half and was illustrating a book she’d written. Emma was sprawled on the couch playing a game on the iPad. Pamela settled into her favorite leather recliner. “Girls, I need to talk with you.”
    “Give me a sec,” said Emma.
    Pamela didn’t mind. She’d give them as long as they wanted. Emma feverishly pressed the tablet’s screen. Emmy put the finishing touch on a purple-and-green critter she’d created.
    Emmy lifted the paper. “This is my main character, Albie. Do you like him?”
    Pamela grinned and nodded at her younger daughter. The child loved learning about writing, something Pamela never understood. Numbers made sense. They formed patterns. They were definite. Writing, not so much.
    “’Kay. I’m done.” Emma set the tablet in her lap and sat up straighter on the couch.
    Pamela clasped her hands together. “Well, I need to talk to you both.”
    Emma clicked her tongue. “You already said that.”
    Pamela peered at her older child. Only nine and already Emma tried to retort with smart-aleck comments. To Emma’s credit, she ducked her chin and appeared repentant under