Protector by Laurel Dewey Page A

doorjamb. Jane starts to fall to her knees but catches herself. She looks at Mike. “Go to your room, Mike.”
     
    Dale pulls Jane upward then slams her flat against the wall. “Don’t you ever say that kind of shit to me again! You understand me?”
     
    Jane pushes her face just inches from her father’s face. “It’s fuckin’ true!”
     
    Dale lets go with a punishing series of slaps to Jane’s face. Mike still stands paralyzed in the doorway.
     
    Jane falls to her knees, blood trailing from her nose and into her mouth. She screams at Mike. “Go to your room!”
     
    Mike tears across the living room and races up the stairs to his bedroom.
     
    Dale leans down, barking in Jane’s ear. “You think you’re so fuckin’ smart? You don’t know shit!”
     
    Jane pulls herself up, fists clenched. “I know more than you’ll ever know!” Jane swings at her father’s face but Dale grabs her arm before it makes contact.
     
    “You wanna play hardball?” Dale uses one hand to jerk Jane’s arm behind her back and the other to pull her head backward with a clump of her hair. “You wanna play hardball, bitch! You got it!”
     
    Jane tries to break free as Dale shoves her forward to the kitchen door that leads outside. “Get your hands off me!” Jane screams.
     
    Dale kicks the screen door open wide. “Shut up! You understand me?” He pushes his body against Jane’s, forcing her outside in the fast-falling snow. The snow flies against her face, the icy cold stinging her flushed cheeks and cut lip. Jane digs her heels into a patch of snow as Dale tries to push her closer to the workshop door that stands ajar. He swings open the wooden workshop barn door with his foot.
     
    “Move!” Dale yells.
     
    “No!” Jane shouts before shooting a thick wad of spit mixed with blood at her father’s face. Dale rears back, his rage at the boiling point. With all his strength, he pushes Jane forward into the workshop. She skids across the soft dirt floor on her shoulder. Dale closes the door behind him, whipping off his thick black belt. He lunges toward Jane and . . .
     
     
    “Hey, you can’t park here!”
     
    Jane snapped out of her daze and turned. A Denver patrol officer pounded on her window trying to get her attention. The heavy rain continued to fall relentlessly.
     
    “This is a tow-away zone, ma’am! You have to move your vehicle!”
     
    Jane, still in a daze, reached over and grabbed her badge. She slammed it hard against the driver’s window.
     
    The patrol officer backed off. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t know!”
     
    As the officer got back into his patrol car, the rain let up. Jane popped the Mustang in gear, Dale’s voice still screaming in the distance.
     
     
    It was noon when Jane pulled in front of her house on Milwaukee. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her neighbor Hazel watering her lawn. Jane braced herself for the inevitable questions as she made her way to the front door.
     
    “Home again so soon?” Hazel said, looking surprised. “Are you sick?”
     
    “Not now, Hazel,” Jane said, unlocking her door and walking inside. Jane slammed the door behind her. She scooped the near empty fifth of Jack off the dining room table and took a swig as she made her way to the kitchen. Poking through the freezer, she pulled out a frozen macaroni and cheese dinner. It was covered in ice. Jane slammed it hard against the counter top, sending the chunks of ice flying across the kitchen. She shoved the frozen entree into the microwave, set the timer and headed down the hallway to her bedroom.
     
    After shuffling through an eclectic tangle of CDs that ranged from country rock to classical selections including Pavarotti singing selections from Turandot and La Bohéme , Jane selected Grieg’s Peer Gynt and placed it into her CD player. As the haunting melody lay heavy in the bedroom, she set the bottle of whiskey on her dresser and kicked off her boots. Jane sat on the edge of her bed,