Page 93 of A River of Crows

Ridge looked at his hands. “Not really.”

Libby’s brow furrowed. “Why not? It’s been a week since you talked to her. She loves you very much.”

“Do you love me too, Libby?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Will you still love me as much after I go home with Mom?”

“I’ll love you always, forever, and no matter what.” She angled her chair toward him. “But we were talking about your mom and why you haven’t wanted to call her.”

Ridge began wringing his hands. “She never lets me talk to Sloan.”

Libby frowned. “I think she’s worried Sloan won’t understand. That she’ll tell someone she shouldn’t.”

“But Mom promised I could talk to Sloan. I’m doing this for her, and I can’t even talk to her.”

Libby cocked her head. “When you say you did it for Sloan, what do you mean?”

Ridge looked up at her, his face ashen. “Mom didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Ridge stared past her at the kitchen wall. Libby swept his bangs away from his eyes. “What did your mother tell you, Ridge?”

“Daddy was hurting Sloan. She told Mrs. Evans, but Mrs. Evans didn’t believe her because she liked Dad so much.”

A lump formed in Libby’s throat. Why hadn’t Caroline told her this? “So, your father was abusing all three of you?”

“No. He was nice to me. I’m not sure why he hurt Mom and Sloan.”

Libby pressed her back against the kitchen chair. This boy needed counseling, and soon. He was confused about so much.

“Nice? But he was hurting you, Ridge. That’s not nice. Hitting isn’t nice.”

Ridge looked confused. “That time he was sleeping and threw me off of him? That kinda hurt.”

“Yeah. I bet it did. And remember how you had those bruises on your face and arm? How did you get those?”

“Oh, when I slipped? I was running in the kitchen with my socks on. Doreen told me not to, but I did anyway.”

“You don’t have to lie anymore. We know your father hurt you.”

Ridge gave a slight headshake. “Just that one time, but he was asleep, so it was an accident.”

He was in denial, Libby realized. He wanted to pretend he was the lone family member who was not a victim.

“Did you ever witness him hurt your mom? Or Sloan?” Libby wondered if Ridge would give his own stories to them. That way, he could share but still not paint himself as weak or victimized.

Ridge shrugged. “Well, that time I jumped on his back. He was on top of Mom, but he was asleep. He had been on top of Mom before shaking her, but Walt pulled him off her. Those were the only times I saw him try to hurt her. Mostly he screamed in his sleep. It’s from the war.”

“Your mom got a black eye after you got your bruises. Do you remember that?” Libby asked.

Ridge brought the collar of his t-shirt to his mouth. “Yeah. She told me Daddy hit her.”

“And how did it make you feel to know that?”

“Surprised. Because Daddy was real nice to her. Noah said sometimes Walt and Doreen yelled at each other. But my mom and dad never fought. I didn’t know he was hurting her.”

Libby heard the stress in Ridge’s voice. She needed to let it go for tonight. “Why don’t you go play in the backyard? I’ll call Vince and tell him to pick up ingredients for ice cream sundaes.”