“We got it, Duke,” Liam said. “We rendezvous here.”
“Damn right you do. All right, let’s go. You got the addresses.”
“Just go easy,” Quinn said. “A lot of people are scared.”
I kept my eyes down as we walked, just focussing on Duke’s back. I’d been rubbernecking pretty badly, taking in house after house, all boxed in tight behind low chain link fences, until he’d stopped and hissed at me.
“People don’t appreciate tourists around here.”
So we walked until Duke turned up a path leading up to a house painted a deep blue, the white trims bright against it, even if they were starting to peel a little. He opened the gate, the metal protesting with a creak. This was definitely a family home, a child’s bike and a scooter leaning against the side of the house. No car in the driveway though, so I wasn’t sure if anyone was home. I felt my heart rate pick up as we climbed the steps up onto the porch, the flowering vine growing over the side of the house smelling sweet.
“Stay back,” Duke said, then pulled open the screen door and knocked on the front door.
Mustn’t be home, I thought as we waited for a reply. The place had that still, quietness about it that said it was empty. I leaned back on the wooden railing around the porch, sure we’d be walking over to the next house on the list.
“Lucy? It’s Duke. Ashanti sent me to check up on you.”
His voice was low, calm, gentle. It made me want to open the door, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when it did. I stood up, saw a woman peering through the crack in the door, but as soon as she caught sight of me, then Mark, the door was shut again.
“Lucy? Open the door for me, please? These are just some friends here to help. I just want to talk. These guys, they can stay outside if you don’t want them coming inside.”
The door opened again, Lucy visibly steeling herself for the experience, her spine going very straight.
“Who are they?”
“Not cops, not from the government. Ashanti’s got them working with me for a while.”
“Who snitched on me? That woman down at the clinic?”
“Quinn? She’s worried. We’re just here to talk. That’s it.”
She held the door open wide, but I could see her fingers going pale with the intensity with which she gripped it.
“Fine. Come in.”
We hung back until Duke gave the nod, wiping our feet on the mat provided and then coming inside.
This looked like a house of love. There were kids’ toys everywhere, artwork on the fridge, children’s books on the table next to containers of crayons. No kids that I could see though.
Lucy walked towards the kitchen, then thought twice about it, because when she turned around, she did so bravely, facing a group of strangers down. There, down the side of her face, was a motley array of bruises sullying her beautiful brown skin. Her eyes glittered with challenge, daring us to say something, do something, and while I felt Marlow’s fingers twitch beside me, sparks skittering across my skin, wanting to erase all evidence of what had been done, he stayed still. We all did.
“What are you doing here, Duke?” she asked, world weary. She settled against the kitchen bench. “She told you what Izaiah did, obviously.”
“What did Izaiah do?”
“You want me to tell you that? In front of them? Who the hell are these people, anyway? If I’d known this was gonna happen after I got patched up… Is this one of them interventions?” She frowned, then winced, just a tiny thing at the feel of her facial muscles moving.
“Mama?”
A little voice, thin and querulous, came from around the corner, down the hall. I didn’t hear her come, the girl moving like a ghost. I saw why quickly enough. Big eyes peered at us around the wall, but it wasn’t that which had us hissing. It was the swollen lip, the small patch of dried blood below her nose. Lucy marched over, sweeping the girl up into her arms and putting her on her hip, like she was ready to fight the lot of us for her.
“It’s OK, baby. You know Duke. He played the music you liked that one time. They’ve just come ’round to help.”
“To help Daddy?”
“To help us, baby. Now, how about I fix you some milk and cookies, and you go and play while I talk to the nice people?”
“Before lunchtime?”
The girl looked excited but wary.
“Just this one time now, y’hear?”
Lucy offered us a drink as she prepared the girl’s snack, but our mouths were all glued shut by what we’d seen. All we managed was an awkward shake of our heads, but Duke took one. The little girl took her stash to the coffee table in the lounge room, eyeing us as she went, but the cookies took precedence.
“This is Kira, Mark, and Marlow. They’ve just come to work with Ashanti. They’re still learning the ropes,” Duke said between sips of his coffee.
“Thought they were from family services. That woman at the clinic said what happened was to be confidential.”
“Quinn works for Ashanti, and everything goes back to her.” He smiled to soften his words. “No one’s here to do anything you don’t want, Lucy. You’re in control.”
“But you want me to leave him.”
She looked around her house, her furniture, her memories, but her eyes came to rest on her child.
“You want me to leave this, leave everything we’ve…”
Her voice trailed away, and she relinquished her hold on her mug, raking her hand through her long braids. She didn’t say anything, because there seemed to be too much to say and she couldn’t work out what needed to be said first, so she was silent. I wondered how often that was the case.
“I don’t want you to do anything but make sure you and Yasmin and little Noah are safe.”
He seemed to be saying the right thing, the tension in her body slowly uncoiling. Her hands went back to the mug, and she spoke to the black depths of the coffee.
“Izaiah, he’s been hanging around more with some of his old school crew. He got laid off with the way the economy is going. Same with a lot of his ‘brothers.’ Seems to me that’s when he needs to be staying home, looking after us, working together to keep a roof over his head, but nope. He and them boys have been hanging around the bar on the end of the street. At first, I figured he was just lost. He’d been at the plant since he left school. He was his job. Good worker, on track to be moving up, maybe into a promotion, and then…” She gestured to the empty air. “Then it’s gone. The money, the security, the health insurance…” Her eyes went wide, just feeling the ever-present fear rush up before she pushed it back down again.
“I got a job at the store, working the register. Had to call in sick after this. He’s hit me before, but nothing like this. Just lashed out one night when he was drunk. His dad used to do it all the time, so I guess he thought he’d do the same. This was early in the relationship, so I just bided my time, waited for him to sleep it off, and then I sat him down and told him straight.” Her eyes burned with an unholy fire as she stared across the table.
“If he touched me like that again, I was gone. I didn’t give a shit what his mama put up with, that ain’t me. No man of mine was gonna lay hands on me.” Her eyes dropped down. “He tried to explain at first, said it was the drinking. I heard him out until those damn excuses dried in his mouth, and then I told him again. Nothing he said made a lick of difference. This would not happen to me.”