"I feel so hopeless when I can't help her."
"All this mind stuff is totally out of my league."
"I just don't want Martha leaving here with something important hanging over her head. She has enough on her mind trying to reestablish some relationship with her mother. Maybe if we talked to her again. . ."
Dean began buttoning his shirt. He preferred the direct approach over any form of subtlety. "Martha!" he yelled over his shoulder, knowing the young girl would hear in the next room. She timidly entered their room before he'd finished buttoning.
"I'm ready to go," she mumbled.
"You look like a princess," Dean said. Martha smiled shyly, smoothing her red skirt. She mimicked Cynthia's lead in dressing for the family's outings.
"Sit down," Cynthia said, but in spite of the pleasant way she said it, a fleeting look of trepidation passed over the young girl's face. Dean remained standing as Martha took a seat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry I called that lady cop a pig and got you in trouble."
Dean smiled. "I was in trouble before you opened your mouth. That's not what we want to talk about. But I am curious. Why did you did you call her that?" He turned and looked down at Martha, who sank even lower into her seat.
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"What about our honesty pact?" he asked. "You must have had a reason to mouth off."
Martha pursed her lips. "I was there when they busted my ma. Three of 'em came in the door and they knocked her down and hit her-after she tossed the toaster at them. I hate 'em all." She added, "All but you-and maybe Sheriff Weller."
"All cops aren't bad, Martha. They're only doing a job. Sometimes they mess up and over react, especially when they're scared."
"She wasn't scared. And you weren't driving that fast."
"No. I guess she's just a natural-born bitch," he muttered, earning a frown from Cynthia and a smile from Martha.
Cynthia used Martha's smile to pursue the reason for their questioning. "I think something is bothering you, Martha. We don't want you leaving here with a problem on your mind."
"It's nothing," she said, hardly above a whisper.
"Honesty?" Dean reminded her. Martha nodded, her lips tight. "I want honesty now," he continued. "Not because someone will take a hairbrush to your backside if you're not honest, but because. . .Cynthia and I both love you and I think you love us as well. Now, how about it? Some real honesty and trust?"
Martha bit her quivering lip and began to cry. Dean didn't stop. "You're leaving to see your mother-Patsy-and I know that's very upsetting. But if there's more on your mind, maybe it's something we can help you with. Please trust us and tell us. We're your friends-we love you. That's what love is-trust and promises."