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“He’s done this before?” I didn’t know what to think. She’d always been so happy and kind. It didn’t make sense to me how he would hit her in the face for punishment. Over something so stupid. “That doesn’t sound like a very good man, to me.”

With pursed lips, she nodded. She always promised she would never lie to me. I understood, though, that she also meant she would only tell me the parts of truth which she felt I needed to know.

“He’s done it a lot, hasn’t he?” My voice cracked.

Her eyes pleaded for me to understand. She tilted her head, then looked away.

Multiple emotions rushed through me, and I didn’t know whether to be sad, angry, or disappointed. I settled on sadness. I wrapped my arms around her and lowered my voice. “Is that why Jasmine died?”

Surprised to hear my sister’s name, Mom’s breath caught. She pulled away from me and looked into my eyes. She didn’t even need to answer. I already knew.

Over the years, Mom talked about Jasmine every now and again. She didn’t say much, but I could sense the despair in her energy when she said her name. My little sister had been born three months early; she died just a week later.

EVERY WEEKEND , Dad would invite a bunch of his friends over for late-night parties. They would make drinks and play cards until I went to bed, then they would go outside. Mom said it was so they wouldn’t wake me up, but sometimes they were loud enough for me to hear every word, sometimes not.

They all used to play football during high school and would sometimes throw a ball around in the yard.

One of the guys must have brought it with him because I’d never see it after they left.

“Susie, come over here.” Dad’s voice rose to my open window, so I crawled out of bed and over to the window to hear the conversation.

“Why don’t you take the guys for a tour of your precious barn? ”

I peeked at them through my bedroom curtains. Two men followed Mom to the barn; she didn’t sound happy about showing off our special place. She should have been proud of it, but the tone in Dad’s voice had been teasing.

“You’d think with all of us here, she’d do something with that hair.” One friend complained. “Why don’t you buy her shit to keep her prettied up?”

“Mind your fucking business.” Dad hissed and poked him in the chest. “You like her well enough, don’t ya?”

The man lowered his head. “Yeah.”

“Keep it up and I’ll make sure you don’t have a turn with her again.”

Tom Johnson, the only one of Dad’s friends who ever talked to me, strolled over to my dad. He was a good guy, in my eyes. “Hey, Robbie. You doing business tonight?”

“Why the hell do you think I invited everyone over?” Dad smiled and slapped Tom on the shoulder. “Just you wait; I got a good pile of crops for everyone to rummage through.”

Disheveled, Mom limped out of the barn. I wondered if someone had accidentally tripped her, the way she favored one hip.

Her pretty blue shirt was buttoned crooked, and she ran her hand through her hair, trying to calm the frizzies.

She frowned and wiped her eyes; I hated to see her so sad.

When she glanced up to my window. I ducked, hoping she didn’t see me snooping.

READY TO snuggle my sweet Peanut, I opened the stall door with an ear-to-ear smile.

The little fur ball and how she purred when she nuzzled my neck made all the bad stuff go away.

It had been a couple of days since we had time to visit, and I wanted to apologize with a treat and a string for the kittens to chase.

Dad followed us into the barn to make sure we didn’t waste any time on our chores; he did that sometimes. It annoyed Mom because he didn’t trust us to complete our tasks without nit-picking.

The box was gone. Confused, I glanced at my mom and her shoulders sank. Tears filled her eyes, which confused me even more.

“Robbie? Do you know what happened to the kittens?”

My dad responded with one word: “Yep.” He smirked at her. She nodded once, signaling that she understood not to put up a fight. A high-pitched, jovial whistle followed my dad through the barn doors and to the house.

“He found them homes already, Jake,” she lied.

My heart raced; tears burned my eyes. I didn’t believe him. He lied about everything. I didn’t want to cry; I was twelve. Twelve-year-old boys didn’t cry.

She read my thoughts. “I’m sure Peanut is with someone who loves her just as much as you do.”

Tears fell down my face, and my mom pulled me into one of her warm hugs. She held me for a few beats before she wiped my face dry. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know you wanted to keep her. It just wasn’t in the cards.”

“Why does he do that? He always ruins everything.”

Hay mixed with mud and poop covered the stall floor.

Mom pushed the pitchfork into my hand. “I wish more than anything that you could have kept all the kittens. You know your dad—he doesn’t think feeding useless animals is smart.

I’m sorry, Jakey. Once I have enough money …

” Her voice trailed off to the fantasy she kept alive in her mind.

“Why do you let him?” My thought escaped into actual words. For a moment, I didn’t think she heard me. I had hoped she didn’t hear me. Then and there, I made a promise. “I’ll stop him one day, Mom.”