by Beth Flynn
“Her voice sounded funny,” I interjected. I didn’t want to say what my suspicions were about a possible injury she may have sustained. “Why doesn’t she call the police?”
“She has in the past.” Jake glanced over at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Reported it and pressed charges. She did what she was supposed to do. Didn’t even back down from his threats and had a restraining order issued. He was fined and had to do community service and take anger management or domestic abuse classes.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t remember for sure. “He was on good behavior for a couple of years and she took him back, convinced that he’d changed.”
“She told you all this?” I asked his strong profile.
He gritted his teeth and replied, “I confronted her when I noticed the bruises. She tries to hide them, but she’s not always successful. She’s too afraid of him this time. He said that if she ever called the police like she did last time no restraining order would stop him from killing her.”
“Oh, poor Sheila,” I cried as we sped through the twilight dusk. By the time we pulled up to Sheila’s remote home on the backside of several acres, the sun had completely concealed itself behind the distant mountains and darkness blanketed the sky.
One car was parked in front and a front porch light was on, the only signs that someone might be home. We ran up the steps and Jake cautiously opened the unlocked front door and yelled, “Sheila, it’s Jake and I have Barbie with me.”
We heard crying and I sensed him feeling around for a light switch. Once he found it and the living room lit up, I suppressed a gasp at the sight before us. I ran to the unrecognizable woman sprawled out on a plush brown recliner. I looked back at Jake who said, “I only saw Sheila’s car out front, but I want to make sure he’s still not hanging around.”
“No…” came a small whimper. “No, please, Jake.” She coughed and blood spewed out of her mouth. She was in a lot of pain and her teeth were tightly clenched when she said, “He’s not worth it.”
“It’s okay, Sheila,” I said as I segued into trauma mode. “Jake is a smart guy. If he finds him, he’ll know what to do.” Switching tactics, I started checking her vitals and said, “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No, pleeeeaaaase…”
I gently swabbed her face, gritting my teeth at her eyes that were swollen shut, a nose that had been flattened, and a bottom lip that was hanging off. “Your jaw is broken, Sheila. You have to go to the hospital.”
Jake returned and informed me that he was certain her husband was long gone. I told him that she needed to be seen at the hospital. Ignoring her feeble objections, he wasted no time in carrying her out to my Jeep where he gently laid her across the back seat, her head resting on my lap. We drove in silence as Sheila regained and lost consciousness several times.
The sun was almost up by the time Jake and I headed for my house. We’d stayed at the hospital all night and explained the situation when Sheila’s oldest son and daughter arrived. The hospital called the police and her children assured us they would make sure their mother pressed charges.
The drive home was a very solemn one. I broke the silence by saying, “I can’t believe Sheila thought to call me instead of an ambulance. She had some serious injuries. I can’t imagine the pain she was in when we got to her.”
I watched as Jake gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. “A man who abuses a woman is the lowest form of a coward. Did you see a lot of it in the ER?”
“More than I care to admit.” I let out a long sigh. “I’m against violence. You know that,” I qualified.
Jake’s response was a grunt.
“But I can’t help but wonder, if a man who does this to a woman felt for one second the kind of pain he was inflicting, would it make him think twice about doing it? I’ve heard her husband is a mountain of a man. She didn’t stand a chance against him. She has a broken jaw, a broken nose, an insane amount of stitches in her lip and chin, a torn retina, a punctured lung, and a broken wrist.” I twisted hands in my lap. “He probably broke that when she was defending herself.” A tear dripped down my cheek as I tried to stifle a sob. Jake immediately pulled to the side of the road, and in one swift move reached across the front of me, unfastened my seat belt, and pulled me against him.
“It’s okay, Barbie, let it out,” he whispered into my hair.
I pulled my legs up so that I was sitting on them, tucked my face into his shoulder, and sobbed. Not just for Sheila, but for every woman who’d suffered abuse and lived in fear of the men to whom they’d once promised all their tomorrows.
Chapter 27
Would You Like Some Company On Sunday?
The next couple of weeks felt like they were going to explode with unwanted anxiety and unexpected activity. The anxiety came from Sheila being released from the hospital and refusing to press charges. The police were forced to make an arrest because of the severe beating she received, and the court issued a no-contact order against her husband. But with the state’s cases on backlog, there was a good chance it would get dropped. Especially with her refusing to prosecute.
Since only two of Sheila’s children lived in the area, and they both worked full-time, her friends at Hampton House and her church organized meal delivery and helped with chores. I did my part by bringing over a few dinners. During those visits, I tried to offer words of encouragement and comfort concerning the situation with her husband. It was a difficult fence for me to straddle. As much as I wanted to see him prosecuted to the full extent of the law, I’d never lived in fear of my life and therefore was out of my element in the advice department. I did offer my spare room, telling her I’d have a bed delivered immediately if she would accept. Just like she refused to stay with her children, she turned down my offer with a grateful but firm no. I also volunteered to cover for the resident doctor at Hampton House, who’d agreed to handle all of Sheila’s responsibilities while she was recuperating.
I didn’t mind working at Hampton House. It gave me more time with Jonathan and, of course, I got to see Jake. We shared a few meals together in the cafeteria, had breakfast at the diner, and he managed to tag along for a grocery store run with me. He spent his only days off managing all the workmen who’d suddenly decided to grace my house with their presence before the weather turned frigid. In less than two weeks, I had my roof and exterior siding replaced, and they were supposed to start painting the house, inside and out, in a few days.
I was now on my way home after an exhausting day at Hampton House and decided to stop in and see Darlene at the gas station. She saw me pull in and waved me inside.
“Where have you been hiding, Barbie?” She ran around to my side of the counter and squeezed me. “Yep,” she teased while pulling back to look at me, “you definitely look like a woman in love.”
“Oh, stop it,” I smirked. But she was more spot-on than I cared to admit. I spent the next twenty minutes filling her in on the time Jake and I had shared since that first kiss on my porch. I told her how busy we’d been, and about a make-out session in his truck that made my lower abdomen ache for more.
“And he hasn’t tried any more than that?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I shook my head. “Nope. He wants to.” I waggled my eyebrows. “I can feel that he wants to, you know?”
Her reply was a small giggle.
“But he stops right before we get there. I’ve spent more time with Jake at Hampton House in the last two weeks than I have since that first day he drove down my road. I see how he operates and he’s a take-charge type of man. But he’s reserved with me.” I brushed my hand through my hair and blew out a breath. “I’m at an impasse. On one hand, I’m still not ready to commit to being a bed buddy with him.” I paused and gave Darlene a direct look. “Before you ask, I don’t know how he feels because we haven’t talked about our feelings. So I’m still not sure how to define our relationship.” I picked at a piece of lint on my jacket. “And on the other hand, I wonder if t
here’s something about me that’s turning him off.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “I’ve been married since two weeks after my eighteenth birthday so I don’t know how all of this works. What I do know is that you’re not turning him off. I bet he reads you better than you think, Barbie.” She walked around to her side of the counter and leaned across it. “What if he’s not pushing because he senses you’re not ready? Or even better yet, what if he cares about you and this isn’t a casual bed buddy thing to him? Maybe it’s too important to him to mess up.”
I didn’t want her to see that her comments made me hopeful, so I casually shrugged before adding, “And he still hasn’t asked me over to his place.”
“I’m sure the invitation is coming,” she said while smiling past me at two teens who’d walked in. As was my custom, I stepped aside while the boys paid for their gas and made small talk with Darlene about an upcoming sports event. I recognized one from the clinic and asked how his shoulder was feeling.
“Healed up real nice, ma’am. Thank you,” he said with a respectful tilt of his chin.
Immediately after they left, my phone rang. It looked like a number from Hampton House but I didn’t know who it was. After a thirty-second conversation, I hung up and told Darlene, “That was one of the nurses from Hampton House. She thought I’d want to know that everyone there is a mess over what they heard.”
Darlene tilted her head and asked with concern in her eyes, “What did they hear?”
“Due to a huge backlog, the state decided not to press charges against Sheila’s husband and he’s back home.”
Darlene’s hand flew to her mouth as she slowly shook her head. “That is awful news.”
I told her I concurred, and after a few more minutes of conversation, I stretched over the counter to hug her goodbye. “Jake is coming over tomorrow night for dinner and I need to grab some groceries. He mentioned how much he likes Italian so I’m going to try to whip up something special from scratch.”
“Your place for dinner? That sounds like it could turn into an interesting evening,” she teased.
“It’s only dinner. One of the reasons we haven’t seen each other that much is because he’s been covering for one of the night shift orderlies. He has to be at work by eleven. Between working full-time, picking up a couple of all-nighters, and trying to manage some of my renovation on his days off, he’s running ragged.” I laid a twenty on the counter. “I’m gonna use pump two.” Afterwards, I headed over to the grocery store, got my supplies, and drove home.
The next night, Jake showed up on time with a bottle of wine and a big brown grocery bag.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked after he gave me a sound kiss on the lips before making his way to the kitchen.
“Stuff,” he called over his shoulder. “And what smells so good?”
After describing my homemade Italian cuisine, he told me, “Perfect. I knew you’d make something good. That’s why I stopped off for fresh cheese.” I walked up behind him as he was taking something else out of the bag. He held it up and said, “I didn’t know if you had a cheese grater, so I brought my own.”
Just like I felt during that first dinner of Brunswick stew that we shared so many weeks ago, Jake looked like he belonged in my kitchen. I set the table while he poured the wine. I fiddled with the flowers that he snuck in without me noticing while he messed around with one of my kitchen chairs that was wobbly. At one point, he stopped what he was doing, stood, and pulled me into his arms. Resting his chin on my head, he said, “I love how you smell, Barbie.”
I buried my nose in his neck. “You smell pretty good too.” I kissed him right below his left ear. I thought I felt his body stiffen as he cleared his throat and said, “I need to get that cheese grated.”
He grabbed a bowl and headed to the sink with the block of cheese and his grater. I went back to arranging the flowers in an old vase I’d found in the pantry.
“Would you like some company on Sunday?” he asked without turning around.
“Sure. I guess. Who?”
“It’s supposed to be the last warm day in fall. Jonathan always talks about a fishing hole somewhere in the back of your property. I’ll borrow the van and bring him and Cindy for a picnic and some fishing.” He stopped and turned around to look at me. “Only if you want to, though.”
I was stunned to hear that Jonathan remembered the lake. The last time I’d been fishing was with him and Kenny almost forty years ago. The freshwater lake on my property was where I’d met Kenny the first time. I smiled as I remembered crouching down in the mud while I attempted to set a broken leg on a frog. The frog’s leg wasn’t broken, but I thought it was. He was too slippery for me to get a popsicle stick to stay in place with tape, and instead of making fun of the misguided efforts of a nine-year-old girl, eleven-year-old Kenny grinned and offered to help me.
“Yes, that sounds like fun. It’s about a mile hike though. Do you think Jonathan and Cindy will be up for it?”
“Yeah, they can handle a hike.” I could hear the happiness in his voice as he added, “And one of the guys I work with said he’d loan us all the gear.”
“I’ll make lunch,” I offered. “Are peanut butter and banana sandwiches still Jonathan’s favorite?”
He didn’t answer, and I thought I heard him grunt and say something under his breath. Before I could ask what was wrong, he said, “I think I may have ruined the cheese.”
I walked over to the sink and peered around him. “What happened?”
“I wasn’t paying attention, and I used the grater to take the skin off my knuckles.”
“Ouch!” I replied before retreating to get some disinfectant. He told me he didn’t need a bandage, but I convinced him it was the only way to control the bleeding.
After I cleaned and wrapped his hand, he insisted on wiping up the mess in my sink. He carefully grated more cheese, teasing that he felt obligated since it was his blood and skin that ruined the last batch. Our time together flew by, and before I knew it, I was on the front porch kissing him goodbye. He seemed reluctant to leave me but said he had to stop at home and change before heading to work.
“Speaking of home,” I pressed, “where exactly do you live?”
He rattled off an address from the next county over that I didn’t recognize. I tried to remember if it was the same one from when I looked at his employment application so many months ago. It wouldn’t surface and there was an awkward silence as I held my breath in anticipation of an invite. When it didn’t come, I must’ve looked crestfallen because he took my hand in his and hesitantly asked, “Would you like to come over sometime? I asked you when you were out of town if I could make you dinner. The offer still stands.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, somewhat skeptically. “Because I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being a little curious about where you live.”
“We’ll pick a night when I bring Jonathan and Cindy over on Sunday.” He gave me another lingering kiss that made my heart flutter. I stood in the soft glow of my porch lights until his truck disappeared.
Chapter 28
Ironic Coincidence Indeed
It was Saturday morning, a couple of days after I’d made Jake dinner. I was handling rounds at Hampton House when I received a page. As I approached the nurses’ station, I spotted Jake talking to two men. I got closer and recognized the badges around their necks, indicating they were with law enforcement.
“Dr. Anderson,” the younger of the two said, extending his hand. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
I ushered us all into a conference room. After a round of introductions, the detectives explained that Sheila’s husband was in the hospital. He’d sustained a severe beating after leaving The Mangy Mutt Pub on Thursday night.
“A severe beating?” I asked.
The older detective, who reminded me of Richard Nixon, nodded his head and explained. “The Mangy Mutt is his regular Thursday night haunt. A couple of other patrons heard h
im bragging about how the day before he’d learned all charges were dropped against him. He was out celebrating. Buying everybody drinks.”
“We know what he did to his wife,” the younger one interjected, a tone of sympathy attached to his comment. “We have witnesses that said he left the bar alone at exactly eight o’clock. People that left after him said they remembered seeing his car in the parking lot much later than that, but he wasn’t around. They assumed he’d called someone to pick him up.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you.” I glanced over at Jake, who was sitting at the end of the conference table with his left ankle crossed over his right knee. He was casually leaning back in the leather chair, focusing on what the younger man was saying.
“Someone grabbed him, dragged him around behind the bar, and beat him pretty severely.” He stopped and looked over at Jake before returning his attention to me. “The bartender found him at two a.m. when he was closing up and taking the garbage out back.”
“Why are you telling us this?” I wanted to know.
Richard Nixon’s twin straightened up in his chair and said, “We hear from the interviews we’ve conducted that the general consensus says this man deserved every bit of what he got. Especially after what he did to his wife. It’s possible there are people who might want to serve up their own form of justice.” He rolled his eyes Jake’s way and I felt my posture stiffen.
“If you’re hinting that Jake may have had something to do with this, you’re wrong,” I stated emphatically.
“We know you two were the ones who brought Sheila Dunn to the hospital. We know you’re close to her. And with Mr. Chambers’ past criminal record—”
I cut him off. “You can stop right there.” I scooted my chair closer to the conference table and leaned over it to get up close to the two detectives seated opposite me. “I can assure you that Mr. Chambers couldn’t have committed this crime. Would he have wanted to? The answer is probably yes, along with more than half the people in this town. But it’s impossible. I will swear to anyone that asks that he was with me that night. He arrived at my house a little before seven and he left right around ten so he could go home and change his clothes before going to work.”