On the other hand, her dad, in Ashley’s opinion, was handling her just right. He was sweet and understanding, he asked her opinion on subjects and he treated her like he wanted to be around her. After she got out of the hospital, every time I wanted to locate my daughter, all I had to do was find Mike. He seemed to overflow with lots of patience, love and compassion.
Mike began arranging his schedule around her. If he had construction work, he’d leave early in the morning and come home around the time he thought Ashley was getting up. Any place he went, she went too. He had the office in our basement, and this was where he liked to disappear frequently when he was angry or to get away from the family. Now, she was hanging out with him. I know they were discussing a range of topics, and it wasn’t until much later, after a lot of damage had been done, that I found out the extent of it. I didn't know that they had ganged up on me. Who knows, maybe they didn’t consciously realize it either.
Mike told me he was starting to have second thoughts about Heidi Cook. He felt she was too strict and began to doubt she could help Ashley. She complained about not feeling comfortable with her, and Mike listened, believing that having a therapist she could trust superseded Heidi’s experience with defiant teens. Naturally, the complaints of discomfort came about because she couldn’t sweet-talk her way out of trouble with Heidi. But in what was to become an exasperating routine, Ashley got her way.
I felt that the psychologist was okay because she didn't put up with Ashley’s crap. Oh, she wasn't perfect, as you will see. But I liked the fact that she was beginning to notice the subtle over-closeness between father and daughter. In one of her last therapy sessions with Mike and Ashley, Heidi chewed them out for banding together and ignoring me. While Heidi personally didn't appeal to me, and I questioned some of her ideas, I think she was a smart lady who could have helped Ashley if left in place as her counselor.
Mike and I had continued to see Kerri Martin, our church counselor, during this time. We had a few sessions together and several separate ones in which I talked a lot about my childhood and family of origin. I told Kerri about Ashley's experiences at camp, and she shared my view that Ash probably wasn't technically raped. But there was a lot of "he said- she said" going on, and Kerri was confused.
Two days after Ashley left Charleston, our church had a baptism at the beach, and I was baptized. Ash was just happy to go to the beach, although I would've been happier if she'd stayed home with her father. Mike and I spoke to a woman whom Kerri knew, introducing her as Marilyn. She worked with our church high school department, and she took an interest in Ashley.
The following Sunday, our adventure with our child took a new and frightening turn. I love camping. Not the traditional tent-in-the-ground type of camping, but I enjoy going up to the mountains in our motorhome. We have a campground membership, and there's a pool to swim in, miniature golf, fishing and crafts for the kids. Mike and I had planned a week-long camping trip, and I'd so looked forward to getting away from the house. Not only were we all in need of the vacation, but I thought it would provide a chance for everyone to share thoughts in a neutral setting.
Our children all like camping too, and when the departure day arrived, I was swamped with unpacked gear. This wasn’t unusual, and sometimes I stayed behind to finish up and join the family later. Mike decided to go up with the kids in the early afternoon in the motorhome. I followed in the car about two hours later with the remainder of our food and clothing. But just before I left I went into Ashley’s room to grab a pair of jeans and found two expensive, recently-purchased shirts cut into skimpy halter tops. The car was giving me problems in the mountains, so I was not in the best mood when I arrived at the campground.
Mike was pissed too. I'd taken too long to arrive, the kids were hungry and he didn't know what they could eat. He didn’t like our campsite because we were too far from the pool, and the kids had bored and misbehaving. I tried to explain about the car, and Mike just didn't want to listen, saying I was making excuses. I was being treated like a child, and I resented it.
Already feeling disgruntled, I took out my frustations on Ash and immediately started chewing her out for ruining her clothes. She argued back, and the discussion began to heat up. Out of the blue, Mike decided the best thing to do was take her home in the car, and just as fast it occurred to me that maybe what he was doing was trying to get out of camping in the first place. I had always wondered if he tolerated camping more than liking it. I couldn’t tell, however, if he was angry at me for being upset about the damaged shirts, but removing her from the situation seemed like a good idea if the argument was going to turn into a free-for-all. She tended to get angry very quickly, and it wouldn’t be pleasant having the children witness a big blow-up.
They headed outside to get in the car, and Ashley broke free and started to run. Mike followed her up the gravel road, and when he caught up with her, she began to cuss him out and appeal to people in neighboring campsites that she was being hurt. She was also kicking him in his legs and groin, and from the motorhome I quickly sized up the situation. I could tell that the spectators didn't know whom to believe. Several men from the sites began to walk over, looking as though they were going to interfere and allow Ashley to escape.
I walked up to join Mike and Ashley, and I grabbed the hand she was pummeling my husband with. But not before she got a couple of good punches in at me.
"This is our 15 year old daughter," I explained, wrapping my leg around hers so she couldn’t kick my husband. "She has emotional and drug problems, and she's just trying to run away because she doesn't like being told what to do." Mike, who was attempting to stay away from Ashley's heavy shoes, asked someone to contact the ranger. Ashley was out of control with her cussing, spitting and violence, and Mike and I were calm and purposeful, so the truth was pretty obvious. Embarrassing but obvious.
The ranger came, and we asked him to summon the sheriff. When the deputy came out and heard our story, Michael said he felt confident enough to transport Ashley to Charleston himself. The sheriff fastened her hands together with a plastic strap so she couldn’t hit or escape, put her in our car and followed Mike to the freeway. All in all, I felt we were very lucky not to be evicted from the park.
****TTFN,
Julie