Puppet Child by Talia Carner

Author:Talia Carner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mother judge family court daughter child abuse molestation custody divorce love sisters chase friendship sacrifice jail media
Publisher: Talia Carner

“Look at the shooting star,” Jacqueline called out.

Rachel peered over at the light tumbling quickly through the dark night, its frosty ribbon disappearing with it. Did Ellie, too, at this moment, spot it? She could hear her child’s delighted cries as she watched the star’s path ending in the water. The ocean’s inky surface, covered by frayed gauze, announced its presence in muffled, growling sound like a practicing orchestra of basses and tubas.

Rachel yawned. “Do we have to go out so late?” She rose to clear the dinner dishes.

Dan, Jacqueline’s singing buddy and their host, jumped to his feet. “Go take a beauty nap,” he ordered Rachel and Jacqueline. “I’ll clean up. You’ll owe me a foot massage.”

Rachel retired to the guest room assigned her. It smelled of potpourri and ocean salt. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the south wall. Lying on the bed, she watched the white foam of the colliding waves. They crashed in a thunderous racket yet their rhythmic roaring was comforting.

Next thing she knew, Jacqueline was shaking her, her touch gentle. “It’s disco time,” she whispered. Her fingers patted Rachel’s hair and tenderly removed a strand stuck to the corner of her mouth.

Rachel groaned.

Jacqueline flicked the light switch on the bedside lamp. In a jaunty jig she made it to the door. “We have a bottle of champagne to wake you up.”

“Nothing but a shower could do that.”

“Ten minutes,” Jacqueline said. “And bring a jacket.”

Outside, Dan handed Rachel a bicycle and a flashlight. They rode on the narrow boardwalks, dark and silent in the still of the night. The breeze on her face was fragrant with pine and wet salt and felt refreshing. Her legs, pedaling, were losing their stiffness.

A dozen blocks later, the unlit path merged into a main area of activity, bright with restaurants and boutiques doing fast business at midnight. Summer faces and muscled legs in shorts presented a glow of suntan. People licked ice cream cones, gathered around a street band, sat on the pier to watch the passersby, bantered and laughed.

All around Rachel, the carnival atmosphere spilled out from the side streets and restaurants. But she felt encased in a translucent, impenetrable bubble whose walls prevented her from hearing or touching any of it. How odd it was to watch life streaming by, so normal, so unlike hers. Her world was crumbling, closing on her, the marching beat of a catastrophe loud inside her head.

The three of them settled in a surprisingly uncrowded bar where Jacqueline talked the bartender into pouring their champagne for a corkage fee.

“Let’s drink to a better week.” Jacqueline touched Rachel’s fluted glass with hers.

Rachel hooked her legs on the high stool and leaned on her elbow. Her eyes felt unfocused, glazed over. The feeling of strangeness, of not belonging, wouldn’t dissipate even after the second glass of champagne. More than sleep, she craved to hibernate until the day Ellie grew up and returned home.

“Here comes your cute friend from the ferry.” Jacqueline nudged Rachel’s elbow from under her.

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