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Addicted to love

Why couldn't my Cassie give up the one thing that was bad for her...


Published by: Jai Breitnauer and Sharon Ward
Published on: 29 September 2011

I remember someone once telling me that you love your kids, but don't always like them. My eldest Cassie was a baby at the time, and I couldn't imagine not loving this gurgling, burping, bundle of joy. But as she grew up, she became a real handful, always pushing her boundaries. And mine...
Don't get me wrong, me and my hubby Ken, 66, loved her to bits. Beautiful, smart, funny, the complete opposite of her sister Alyssa, 32, who was Little Miss Sensible.
Cassie was always looking for a party, the fun crowd. She was a rebel, until she fell pregnant aged 19. ‘I want to keep this baby, be a good mum,' she told me.
‘Whatever you do, me and Dad will support you,' I assured her.
Cassie went from wild child to homebody overnight and, when her daughter Markia arrived, she threw herself into motherhood. 
Me and Cassie were closer than ever, shopping, gossiping, playing with the baby... and when she met Michael, a local lad, I was over the moon.
Soon, they were settled with Markia and three more kids, Joey, Dale and Chyanne.
Now, watching her serve up dinner, I was so proud. She and Michael had invited us over. ‘We've got some news,' she started, sitting down. 
‘Oh?' I said, spearing some peas.
‘Michael's been offered a new job, but it's in Tennessee,' she said.
‘We'll miss you,' Ken smiled. ‘But as your mum's said before, whatever you do, we'll support you.'
He was right. Even though she'd be more than 600 miles away, and we'd be lucky to see them once a year, I wasn't going to stop her getting on with her life.
‘I'll miss you so much,' she said. ‘But this is the best thing for us.'
We helped them move and Cassie was calling us more than ever, telling us about their new house, begging us to visit.
Before we knew it, they'd been gone a year, and we were saving for the flights, when Cassie phoned.
‘Me and Michael have split up,' she sobbed. ‘Things haven't been the same since we moved.'
‘Oh love,' I sighed. ‘I'm sorry. Come home, me and Dad will look after you and the kids.'
But Cassie had other ideas.
‘We're settled here now, the boys have friends, the girls are doing great at school,' she said.
I understood, but was worried. Cassie, a young single mum alone in a place she barely knew?
Who'd help her with the kids or if she needed to talk?
‘I've got my friend Beth,' she told me, as if reading my mind. ‘And I'm done with relationships.'
‘Good,' I said. ‘You need some time to be yourself.'
Over the next two years, Cassie threw herself into helping at the kids' school and in the local community. When we spoke - sometimes three or four times a day - she seemed really happy.
Then, logging on to my email one day, I noticed a new message from her. ‘She never emails, always phones...' I mumbled to myself, clicking it open.
Hi Mum! it read. Big news - I just got married!
What?! Grabbing my phone, I called her. She didn't answer at first but, second time round, she picked up. ‘Hey, what's up?' she said nervously.
‘Your email, that's what!' I cried. ‘Tell me it's a joke.'
Cassie laughed.
‘No Mum, it's not. His name's Brian Umphrey, and it was literally love at first sight.'
‘I didn't even know you were dating,' I blurted.
‘Neither did I,' Cassie chuckled. ‘We only met a few weeks ago! But he's great with the kids, so
we decided to go for it.'
I couldn't believe my ears... or could I? There was something in her voice, something that reminded me of the wild child I thought we'd left back in the 90s.
I took a deep breath.
‘Well, it would've been nice to get an invite,' I said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘It's not every day your daughter gets married. What's he like?'
‘You'd love him. He's really handy around the house, the kids think he's great and he's so funny.'
‘Well, I'd better fly down and meet him, then,' I said, as pleasantly as I could. But as soon as she hung up, I called her friend Beth. Cassie had given me her number in case of emergencies.
‘He's a loser,' Beth said sadly. ‘An unemployed labourer, always seems to be drunk, the kids hate him, but Cassie can't see it.'
My heart sank.
My daughter had turned back into a rebel - but this time she had kids who could get hurt too.
‘Talk to her, Ken, please,' I said, telling him about Cassie's wedding when he got home.
‘Okay, I'll try,' he smiled. But half-an-hour later, he came out of the study sour-faced.
‘She won't listen,' he said, rubbing his forehead.
‘She basically told us to keep our noses out.'
After that, we didn't hear from Cassie for days. Overnight, our close, loving relationship had reverted back to those terrible teenage years. Talking to Cassie was like shouting at a brick wall, nothing got through and nothing came back either.
‘She's so cold,' I sobbed three weeks later, after yet another argument. ‘I don't feel I know her at all any more.'
‘Time we went down there,' Ken sighed, flexing his credit card. ‘We'll book flights in the morning.'
But before our alarm had even gone off the next day, Cassie was on the phone. ‘Brian's gone,' she sobbed. ‘And so is my van and $600 (£380) from my bank account!'
‘Don't worry,' I soothed. ‘Call the police, we'll send you some money to help.'
I felt for Cassie, I did, but couldn't help smiling when Brian, 34, was arrested on an outstanding warrant and sent to prison for six months. It was for the best, especially when we found out he'd committed aggravated assault.
‘It was a horrible thing to happen,' I told Cassie when she phoned for some help with her divorce papers. ‘But I think it was a lucky escape.'
‘You're probably right,' she said. But she was still distant, still not quite the daughter I'd grown close to over the last 15 years.
She'd phone every day like before, but there was something hollow about the conversation, like she wasn't quite there.
That December, me and Ken spent Christmas with her and the kids. I was helping Cassie tidy the kitchen, when I knocked some paperwork on to the floor.
‘Sorry love,' I sighed bending to pick it up. Then I saw what it was - envelopes, from the local prison...
‘I'll take those, should've chucked them ages ago,' Cassie gasped, snatching them off me.
‘Are those from...'
‘Brian, yes,' she sighed. ‘He writes to me, wants me to take him back. I haven't bothered replying. I'm not stupid.'
I was glad to hear that sensible side of Cassie coming through. But when we got home, the phone calls from Cassie dried up.
‘Is there something wrong?' I said when I finally managed to get through to her a few weeks later.
‘No, we're fine,' she said, sounding distant. ‘Can I, er, call you later?'
It was a few days before the phone rang again, but it wasn't Cassie, it was Beth.
‘Cassie's in hospital,' she said breathlessly. ‘Brian beat 10 bells out of her and...'
‘Brian?!' I gasped. ‘What's he doing out of prison?'
Beth was silent for a moment.
‘Donna, didn't you know?' she said quietly. ‘He's been out for months, been living with Cassie and the kids.'
‘But we were there...' I started to say. Of course. It was an elaborate lie.
She didn't want me to know she'd taken Brian back, so he'd stayed elsewhere. I bet she'd even planned that charade with the letters to convince me he was off the scene for good.
‘I'm going to see her,' said
Ken, booking himself on to the first flight.
Cassie was in hospital for two weeks. I talked to her on the phone every day, and Ken looked after the kids. Brian was charged with aggravated burglary, theft and assualt, and jailed for a year. She promised us he was out of her life for good.
‘She meant it, too,' Ken said when he got home. ‘I've never seen her so angry, so upset. We've heard the last of Brian Umphrey.'
Within weeks, Cassie was calling us twice a day and gossiping with her sister Alyssa, who was expecting her first baby.
What a difference a year had made. ‘Finally, things are getting back to normal,' I smiled to Ken. ‘Maybe I'll visit her in the spring. It would be good to go shopping, drink coffee, play with the kids.'
‘You do that, love,' Ken smiled. ‘I'm just glad you're close again.'
The next day, I called Cassie to make arrangements.
‘I don't know, Mum,' she said when I suggested I visit that April. ‘It's a big month for the kids at school...'
‘May then, or early June?' I suggested, but Cassie went quiet.
‘Love, what's wrong?' I croaked.
‘Mum, don't be angry with me,' she started. ‘I've been meaning to tell you for weeks... me and Brian got married again at New Year.'
It took a minute for the news to sink in.
The same Brian who stole her money, who beat her up, who spent time in prison...
‘What the hell do you think you're doing?' I cried, unable to control my anger.
‘He's no good, Cassie. You're putting the kids in danger.'
‘So much for supporting me whatever I do,' she spat. ‘I'm 35, and I love him!'
The phone went dead. Sobbing, I dialled Beth's number, and she confirmed it was true.
‘They're going on honeymoon next week,' she sighed. ‘I agreed to look after the kids, but Markia wants to visit you.'
Ken made the arrangements with Cassie, and we picked Markia up from the airport.
She was 17 now, but instead of a confident teen, there was a frail little girl.
‘I've missed you,' she sobbed, hugging me tight. Back home, she told us about Brian.
‘He hits Mum,' she sobbed. ‘He calls her scum, lazy... and at night, in the bedroom, we hear her sobbing.'
‘I've heard enough of this,' fumed Ken. ‘I'm going there to sort this Brian out.'
‘No Grandad!' Markia cried. ‘Brian said if we told anyone, we'd never see you and Gran again.'
‘That's not going to happen,' I croaked, tears welling up.
Suddenly Markia's mobile went - it was Cassie. I grabbed it and answered. ‘Come home,' I said. ‘You're not safe with Brian.'
‘Don't fuss, I'm fine.' she snapped, hanging up. When Markia called her back, she wouldn't talk to me, said she'd call when she got back from her honeymoon. But the days went by, and the phone stayed silent.
Finally, almost a week after they'd left, it rang.
‘Cassie!' I gasped, but it was her friend Beth.
‘She was supposed to be home last night, but I haven't heard from her,' she panicked.
Feeling sick with fear, I called the police, asked them to look for her. A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.
‘We've had a call from police in Tennessee,' said our local officer. ‘They've found Cassie.'
‘Thank goodness,' sighed Ken. ‘Is she okay?'
But I could tell by the look on the officer's face that something was wrong.
‘I'm afraid she'd dead. She was found with multiple stab wounds in her hotel room. Her husband's been arrested.'
She'd been killed on her honeymoon. Shaking, I reached
for Ken's hand.
‘Dead?' I repeated. Suddenly
I was sobbing uncontrollably, begging the policeman to tell me it wasn't true. ‘We knew he was violent,' I wept. ‘But this? No, not my Cassie.'
Next morning, in the cold light of day, I wondered how I hadn't seen it coming.
We flew to Tennessee to identify her body. She was covered in deep cuts and bruises.
‘She fought for her life,' an officer told us sadly. ‘But we caught Brian after he tried to get away in her car. He'll appear in court to face charges tomorrow.'
‘I want to be there,' I said to Ken. I'd never even met this man, never spoken to him, yet he'd taken away my most
precious possession.
The next day, I clutched Ken's hand in court as Brian stepped up to the dock.
A scraggy looking man with flat eyes and matted hair, I couldn't understand what Cassie had seen in him. But friends told us she was besotted with him, couldn't let him go, and for that she paid the ultimate price.
Now me and Ken live in Cassie's house. We look after the kids, and I visit Cassie's grave every day, talking with her like I did before Brian. He's still awaiting trial, and I hope when his case gets to court, he's ordered to pay the ultimate price too.
Donna Petry, 59, Rockwood, Tennessee, USA