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Mantle of Trust

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Opening the doors of average homes, paramedics Abby Martin and Morgan Keene feel inundated by victims of abuse and neglect, particularly among LGBTQ+ youth. “Why can’t the police do something about intolerant parents who throw their kids away instead of trying to understand them?” Treatment of these marginalized individuals reveals a deep disconnect between a local conservative politician and those working to support youth discarded by their families. Abby finds that the web of support she envisions is woven closer to her than she knows while her girlfriend discovers that her father may again be enmeshed in the unsavory situation. Human compassion and winning at all cost vie for the upper hand as the women battle evil disguised in a conservative suit and tie. Who will take up the mantle of trust before it’s too late?

This story of community and inner strength reminds readers to protect and nurture those who need it the most.

Next to her, she felt JC squirm and Abby reached over to take her hand. “Are you okay? You seem tense. Or maybe distracted. Does your foot hurt?” Abby paused then continued, “Anything you want to talk about?” Through their joined hands, she could feel the waves of tension flowing through JC’s body.

A flock of geese flew overhead, their calls filling the empty air around them. As the vee faded in the distance, JC leaned forward, picking invisible detritus from her cast. Finally, she sat up and turned, her dark eyes locking on Abby’s blue ones. “I got another letter yesterday. From my father.” JC stopped, letting the words rest for a moment. “I haven’t taken his calls or any from his lawyer. I still haven’t opened the last letter he sent either. The one that prompted my, um, little accident.” Her eyes flicked to her casted foot, the tone of her voice flat.

Seconds ticked between them with no words exchanged. Abby wanted to hear what came next but this was JC’s story, not hers. Her impatience grew with the quiet until finally she couldn’t hold it in. “And?” she queried.

JC sighed. “And I haven’t opened either one. I just can’t. Now I feel like I’m in one of those horror movies where the damn unopened letters are haunting me wherever I go. What was the Edgar Allen Poe story? The Tell-Tale Heart?” She grimaced. “It’s like I can hear my father’s voice muted inside the envelopes. Abby, I don’t want to know what he wants. I spent so much of my life trying to live up to his expectations and I’m just getting past that now. Why won’t he leave me alone? He already tried to ruin my life more than once.” There was a pleading in her voice that Abby had never heard before.