this Dennis. But I did understand that I was about to lose what meant more to me than anything in the world. So I pleaded, "There has to be a better way. For the children's sake. A gentler way. They Page 23
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knew I was coming home today. How will you explain my absence? How will I explain it? And when? I need to see them, Dennis. It can't wait until Monday."
"That court order--"
"I don't care about that court order, I care about my kids!" I was starting to cry, but I didn't care about that either, not even when the doorbell rang. I was on his heels all the way to the front. "They're terrific kids. They're well-adjusted and secure. They're happy. What you're doing--the way you're doing it--is going to screw them up, it can't help but screw them up. You're going to ruin them, Dennis!"
"She won't leave," Dennis told the police officer. It was Jack Mulroy. We knew him and he knew us, ours was that small a town.
"I'm their mother," I told Jack through sniffles and swipes at tears that kept coming. "I love my children. They love me. Some judge I've never met can't just--just order me out of my own home, away from my own kids!"
Jack opened a hand for the court order that was crushed in my fist. I uncurled my fingers and gave it to him. He would understand, I reasoned. He had helped me once when Kikit had had a bad attack. He had helped me another time when Dennis had been away and our burglar alarm had sounded in the dead of night. He knew I was a decent person. He knew that I loved my children and wouldn't ever, ever do anything to hurt them. He knew that I didn't deserve to be booted out of my own home. He was a law enforcement officer. He believed in justice.
"I'm afraid you do have to leave," he said. "This is official. I can't nullify a court order." "But it's wrong. I haven't done anything wrong."
"You'll have to say that in court on Monday."
"I can't wait until Monday. Don't you see? If I do, the damage will be done, the kids will be hurt." I looked at Dennis. "There has to be a better way."
He folded his arms on his chest.
"Dennis," I begged.
"Please, Mrs. Raphael," said Officer Mulroy. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. Are these your bags? Here, I'll carry them to your car."
I was half hysterical. "My car was totaled. I haven't bought a new one yet."
"There's a rental in the garage," Dennis told Jack. "The keys are there."
Jack took my arm. I took it back. "I returned the rental car before I left," I told Dennis.
"I rented another for you yesterday."
Jack touched my arm again. "I don't want to have to call for support," he said so quietly that I knew he was embarrassed, but the reality of the situation hit me then, good and well.
If I didn't leave, I would be removed.
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If I had to be removed, Dennis would tell the judge. If that happened, the judge might believe I was out of control, and if he believed that, I might lose my kids.
Arms, legs, insides--everything seemed to be shaking. I pulled a tissue from my pocket and pressed it to my nose, took a deep breath that was part sob, and thought of what my mother had said, incredibly, not twenty-four hours before. Well, what choice do I have? she had asked about having to deal with her body's betrayal.
My body wasn't betraying me. My husband was. Well, what choice do I have? I could panic. I could scream and yell and rail against a system that was making me do something I didn't want to do. Or I could seek a remedy.
Ignoring Dennis, I said to Jack in a small voice, "I'm not sure what to do. I've never been in this situation before."
"You need to leave here. That's the first thing. Car's in the garage?" I nodded, pressing my lips together to keep them from trembling. I didn't want to cry anymore. Not in front of Dennis. Not in front of Jack.
I knelt to slip the strap of my carry-on to my shoulder. Jack took the larger bag. "Is this everything you'll need?" he asked.