Our Simple Peace

Bailey's POV

Inside the cramped, sweltering room, which reeked of grease and sweat, I could still hear the crude, filthy language of the workers outside loud and clear.

Mom’s arms shook violently as she held me close.

I covered my ears, nodding frantically. "I only want you, Mom. Wherever you go, I go."

"Okay. Then we leave tomorrow."

Mom began packing our things.

In reality, our luggage was incredibly simple. Everything we owned could fit into a worn duffel bag.

Suddenly, Dad pushed the door open and walked in.

Nervously, I stepped in front of Mom. To my surprise, he took one look at what we were doing and actually looked somewhat relieved.

"It's about time you threw those rags away. It keeps this place from looking like a homeless shelter."

He tossed a plastic bag toward us. "I brought you some leftovers."

I used to see this kind of food all the time when I helped the adults pack scraps for dogs.

I didn't move, and Mom held me steady.

"No, thank you. I took Bailey out, and we ate our fill at lunch."

"How can the stuff you eat compare to a five-star hotel? The kid is so short for her age. People are going to think I'm mistreating her."

For once, he picked me up, smelling strongly of expensive cologne.

He shoved a piece of chocolate into my hand, the kind I had only ever seen on TV.

Even though Dad was a construction contractor, he never gave Mom any money.

He always claimed times were tough and that he was drowning in debt.

Mom had to wake up at 3 a.m. every day to cook breakfast for the construction workers, and then work a part-time cleaning job just to afford meat for me.

However, most of the time, whatever money we had was lost by Dad at the card table.

"This is the kind your Auntie Abigail loves. It’s incredibly expensive, imported from overseas.

"If you like it, you better behave and please Auntie Abigail. If you make her happy, I'll buy you some."

A wave of anger washed over me, and I bit his hand hard.

He let go instantly, and I crashed straight onto the floor.

Mom rushed to pull me up immediately.

He savagely stomped on the chocolate, crushing it into pieces. "Ungrateful little brat, exactly like your mother! Watch it, or I'll dump you both!"

"Chris Nelson!"

Mom finally snapped. She rushed forward and slapped him right across the face. "Why on earth should my daughter have to please a mistress?!"

Dad's expression hardened instantly. He pulled out a marriage certificate. Dad had never registered his marriage with Mom.

"Take a good, hard look at this! Abigail and I legally signed the papers and had a wedding. She is my lawfully wedded wife!"

Staring at the date on the certificate, Mom froze in shock.

I leaned in to look, only to realize with a jolt that the day Dad legally married her was the exact day I had a high fever.

Mom didn't have enough money for the doctor, but Dad never picked up her calls. Later, he had even berated Mom for not making lunch for the workers on time.

Dad carefully put the marriage certificates away like a treasure, then sneered at Mom again.

"You wouldn't want your daughter to be mocked as a b*st*rd child, would you?

"I've said it before, I remember who helped me. I know exactly how hard you worked, doing heavy labor on the sites with me. So I won't abandon you two.

"But I finally made something of myself and got rich. Is it really a crime to have a young, beautiful wife by my side?

"I haven't even thrown it in your face that you couldn't give me a boy!"

Years ago, Mom was the only one who didn't care that Dad was dirt poor.

Every day, before the sun even came up, she followed him to the construction site to haul bricks, never stopping even when she was pregnant.

When she was close to her delivery date, she was struck by a steel rebar, which severely damaged her uterus.

I barely survived the birth, and my body had been weak ever since.

Back then, Dad had sworn to give us the best life possible. Later, though, he got lucky and made his fortune in construction.

From then on, he constantly berated Mom for failing to give him a son.

The chronic pain from years of hard labor began to flare up in Mom again. She sank to the floor, losing all will to argue. Large tears splashed heavily onto the concrete floor.

The words Dad was about to say caught in his throat. He reached out, wanting to comfort her.

Right then, Abigail Cook poked her head in, holding her nose. "Honey, the new house needs a deep clean before we move in. Can we use your housekeeper?"

"You bought her a house?"