Page 35 of Receiving His Mercy
“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll run them under some water and they’ll be fine.”
“Don’t coddle the girl, Eliza. Honestly, what do I pay you for? You’re here to assist me, not fuss over that failure. An experiment gone wrong is what she is. That will haunt me to my grave.”
Fuck.
How many times had she heard that she was an experiment that had failed?
So many it had almost become meaningless drivel to her ears.
Almost.
“Dear God,” Brenna whispered. “This is terrible. Was this what she was like to you growing up? Why did no one ever report the abuse?”
Caren patted her arm in sympathy, giving her a wry smile. “The leading child psychologist in the state of New York, possibly the whole country, accused of child abuse? It wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t physically abusive.”
Not exactly true.
“She was always aware of leaving . . . evidence.”
“There’s all sorts of abuse,” Brenna said fiercely. “Not just physical.”
“I know. Believe me. But don’t worry, my grandmother got me away from them.”
“When? How old were you?” Brenna cleared her throat. “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me any of this. Kind of unprofessional of me to ask.”
“Actually, I think it shows that you care. I was just about to turn sixteen when I went to live with Grammy.”
Brenna closed her eyes and nodded. “Right. I was worried you’d say that. Go wash your arms and I’ll get some ointment for them.”
“Oh, Eliza, you really are wasting your time on her. And stop acting so appalled that I gave her gift away. Gifts will make her weak. She needs to learn to fend for herself and not rely on others.”
Well, she had learned that. But it was definitely the hard way.
“Did you ever get any Christmas presents?” Brenna whispered.
“Not even one. My father told me that Santa wasn’t real when I was three.”
“Oh my God.”
“Oh no, it was really a blessing. The thing is, if I’d thought Santa was real then she likely would have figured out some way to turn it all into an experiment. Also, I likely would have wondered what I’d done wrong when I woke up Christmas morning to no gifts. This way I didn’t have to. Of course, there were a number of irate parents at school when I informed their children that Santa didn’t exist. One of the few times that I can remember my mother going down to my school. She eviscerated the poor teacher who ended up in tears.”
“I can imagine,” Brenna said. “Don’t speak to her until I come back.”
She nodded and watched as the other woman left.
“Where is Eliza going? I need a cup of coffee. Honestly, that woman is useless. Always asking after Caren. As if anyone truly cares how Caren is doing. Useless fool.”
Wow. She’d never realized that Eliza had cared about her. Although she had snuck her sweets the few times she’d seen her. She’d lasted longer than her mother’s other assistants.
“That’s not Eliza,” she told her. “That’s Brenna. The woman taking care of you. And you should be nice to her.”
“Nice to her? Why would I want to do that? Niceness breeds complacency.”
Oh yeah. She’d heard that lots too.
After washing her arms in the small bathroom, she walked back into the room where her mother sat, carefully avoiding looking at the piano.
“How are you, Mother?” she asked, sitting in a chair across from her.
