by Robyn Carr
“Yeah,” she said. “I should have. I never did.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Beau had his assistant, Cheryl, move his morning appointment. There was only one and it was to review a plan. He pled a personal matter that wasn’t too complicated, just had to be taken care of today. He was not the secretive sort so when he offered no further explanation, Cheryl didn’t ask any questions.
He heard Lauren call her supervisor, heard her say she’d fallen and had a black eye and split lip and needed a couple of days for the swelling to go down. She explained she was released from the hospital after getting some stitches but was still in pain. He fixed a soft breakfast for her and they had to make do with some frozen corn while he refroze the peas.
She was feeling a little bit better but looked worse. Her lip was still grossly swollen and the bruising around her cheek and eye were intensified, which was what happened with bruises. They started out bad and only got worse for a couple of days. It was horrific. He insisted she take a picture of her face.
“The police already did,” she said.
“Have one of your own,” he said. “You might need it. Email it to your lawyer. You should think about an order of protection.”
“And what? Wave a paper at him while he’s coming at me?”
“No, I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He went to his truck and came back with a baseball bat. “Be glad I don’t clean out the truck bed too often. This has been in the storage box since last spring. If he comes here and somehow gets past the locked door, call the police first and start swinging second.”
“I hope the police have their A-game on,” she said. “I can barely lift the bat.”
“Well, if all that transpires, tell him goodbye because it will be hard not to kill him. And really, I’d hate to kill even a bad man. I’m not a fighter. I’ll be back after I get some groceries for you—soup, eggs, yogurt, ice cream, that sort of thing. I checked your fridge—you need some soft foods.”
“You’re really going above and beyond...”
“I’m glad I happened along,” he said. “You have to talk to your family right away. Both daughters. Show them what happened to you when you defied your husband. If you have to explain, which you shouldn’t have to, this is not normal behavior. And they should beware of him. If he’ll hurt you...”
“I know. I know. Listen... I can order groceries. The market delivers.”
“If you don’t want me around, just say so. But wouldn’t you rather not show the delivery boy your face today?”
She looked down.
He lifted her chin with a finger. “Lauren, it’s not your fault. But you need ice packs and privacy, not a lot of panic and questions.”
“Of course you’re right,” she said.
“Those cards the doctor gave you, you might want to check in with some of those people. I’m afraid you might be downplaying this. You’ve gotten so good at keeping the peace, it could leave you unprepared for the kind of violence he’s capable of.”
“I will call someone, but I’m not unprepared. You might want to run for your life. It was seeing me walking home with you last night that set him off.”
“You didn’t mention that,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to but this is crazy. If we’re not honest with each other, we’ll just be starting the same cycle all over again.”
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me about your life before today.”
They talked for another hour, then he got her resettled into the bed with a bag of frozen Italian cut beans, nice and soft.
Before going to the grocery store, he drove toward Mill Valley, to Divine Redeemer. He hadn’t called ahead. Part of him hoped Tim was busy, then he’d just check in at his office and maybe return some phone calls.
Tim was in the sanctuary. It being summer, school was out and he was meeting with some altar boys, having a quiet discussion about their duties. They seemed awfully young. He sat in a pew nearby and waited until Tim noticed him.
Tim raised a hand and excused himself from the kids. He leaned on the pew. “This is a surprise,” the priest said.
“I can see you’re busy,” Beau said.
“I’m done.”
“I’m looking for someone to talk to,” Beau said.
Tim raised a tawny eyebrow. “Office or parsonage?”
“How many people at the house?” he asked.
“Just Mrs. Johnson, cleaning. She’s pretty much deaf. Father Damien is away today.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get arrested for making little old ladies work like that? Elder abuse.”
Tim just smiled tolerantly. “I can make us some coffee.”
“Got anything stronger?” he asked.
“Of course, but isn’t it a little early?”
Beau stood. “I want to invoke the Seal of the Confessional without getting in that damn little box.”
“Come on,” Tim said, leading the way out the back door to the parsonage kitchen. Once there, he set about making a fresh pot of coffee while Beau took a seat at the table. “When have you ever had to ask me to keep a secret?”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Beau said. “I bet your ears are burning with juicy stuff.”
“Spit it out before Mrs. Johnson smells the coffee.”
“Remember Lauren? From the garden? I spent the night with her last night.”
Tim was silent for a long moment. “What do you want from me? To say you sinned and give you ten Hail Marys?”
“It wasn’t for sex. We had dinner together and ten minutes after I left, her house was surrounded by police and emergency vehicles. I’d stopped at the market for bread and in the space of a few minutes, she’d been assaulted. She was battered.”
“Dear Mary,” Tim said.
“Her face,” Beau said, a catch in his voice. His eyes filled with tears. “It’s indescribable. It’s horrible. Her husband did it.” Beau wiped impatiently at his eyes, not sure if it was the pain of grief or rage that brought the tears.
“Listen, Beau, you don’t have to tell me, but are you involved with a married woman? A married woman with a violent husband?”
“Not exactly,” Beau said, sniffing loudly and wiping the tears from his eyes. “One of the first things we learned about each other was that we’re both going through divorces, both separated. She’s living in her own house now, one she rented. Coincidentally not too far from my house. A complete and unplanned surprise.”
“On the island?” Tim asked.
Beau nodded. “I ran into her at the market. We shared a bottle of wine. I stopped by a few times. She always saved a chore she needed help with—changing locks, hanging shelves, that kind of thing. Nothing serious. No dating, no texting or calling. Well, just texting to see if she wanted to walk down to Park for a drink or sandwich. She’s been out of her house about a month. Pam’s been out of mine over six months. We’ve both served papers, so I thought it was possible we might date. Down the road.”
Tim pulled out a chair across from Beau. He folded his hands on the table. He moved a box of tissues closer to Beau. “Beau, you might want to put that on the back burner for a while. Let the dust settle...”
“And leave her defenseless against a man who kicks her in the face? Kicked her in the face, Tim! She took some stitches in her lip and it’s about as big as my thumb.”
“This can get way more complicated. She’s a battered wife...”
“She won’t quite admit that because this is the first time he slugged her and kicked her, but we talked about the abuse. He talks down to her, tells her she’s a liar and a loser and has this ugly little habit of pinching her, hard, leaving her arms speckled with small bruises. But this...” He sniffed again. “This demonstrates what he’s really capable of doing.”
“And trust me, he wouldn’t m
ind doing it to you.”
Beau’s face took on a mean twist. “Bring it,” he said darkly.
“You should step away. Find her some good resources and step away,” Tim said. “Help her get safe, and walk.”
“Too late,” Beau said. “I can’t do that now. I won’t do that now. I know what you’re saying but tough shit. I dare that bastard to—”
Tim whistled. Long and loud and high. “This is starting to sound eerily familiar...”
“Pamela was never battered,” Beau said.
“Not physically, which kind of amazes me,” Tim said. “She’s the most aggravating and dysfunctional woman I know, and I know some beauts. Even I wanted to belt her sometimes.”
“Now you’re going to hell,” Beau predicted. “There are many differences between Pamela and Lauren. Many.”
“Oh hell, you’re not objective! You’re a rescuer! You always have been. When we were kids you tried to help the dorks wear their socks right so they wouldn’t get picked on. You stood up for the little guys and took a few shots for it. You took the ugliest girl in school to the prom!”
“She wasn’t ugly,” he said. “And that group of bitches set her up to get dumped right before prom and how could I let that happen, knowing? Besides, she was really nice. And smart. That’s probably why they hated her.” He blew his nose. “Lauren is really smart.”
“This isn’t going to end well,” Tim said.
“I think we kind of need each other right now,” Beau said.
“Oh Christ,” Tim swore. “Listen, you can tell her, you know. You can be honest. Tell her you really like her but things like this usually backfire, so you’re going to help her find the right protection, counseling, security system, whatever it is. And then you’re going to step away until these matters of divorce get settled. Including yours. And then you can revisit the idea of spending more time together.”
“Yeah, that would be really smart,” Beau said.
“Hallelujah!”
“That’s just not going to do it for me,” Beau said. “I want to be the one to help keep her safe. Be with her. Know her better.”
“Oh God,” Tim said. “I’m almost drowning in the testosterone here, could you ease back on that? I’m a priest. I try to keep the male hormone under control... Are you perfectly hopeless?”
“I hope not,” he said. “I’m not as pathetic as you think.”
“What if I told you it might be better for her if you backed way off?”
“She wanted me to help. She had other people to call, even a brother-in-law cop, but she was glad I was there.” He shrugged. “She likes her brother-in-law and didn’t want him to commit murder.”
“Well, I knew the second I met her, she’s a very giving and kind woman...”
“I gave her a baseball bat, just in case...”
Tim couldn’t help it. He let go a little huff. Then he burst out laughing. “You haven’t changed one bit in all these years.” He shook his head. “I’m going to be on my knees a lot over you, you know that, don’t you? Why don’t I pay her a visit? I’ll wear the collar. I’ll carry a bible. But I’m still pretty tough if anything comes up. I could be her protector until things—”
“Maybe when she feels better,” Beau said. “Give her a little time, then by all means, lend your very fine clerical support.”
Tim just shook his head. “They didn’t write enough prayers for you.”
“I know.” He stood up. “I’m really glad we had this little talk.”
“I made coffee,” Tim said.
“I have to go to the store, get Lauren some soft things to eat, some more frozen peas to put on her face. And I should talk to Drew...”
* * *
Lauren hadn’t spoken to her daughters, though she called both of them. She left them messages to call her back. She called her lawyer and emailed the video and was forced to take a selfie because Erica Slade demanded it. “I’ll come over there and take one myself,” she threatened. She was still on the phone with Erica as she received the selfie and listened to the tape. Erica gasped. “Don’t leave the house!” she said. “Keep the doors locked! I’m going to get the arrest report and find a judge. You’ll have a restraining order by noon. I’m going to pin this bastard’s ears back!”
“You’re kind of terrifying,” Lauren said.
“Terrifying is what you need right now, since you’ve been pounded into mush. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be in touch.”
Lauren made one other call, hoping it had not been a mistake to involve another person in her drama. She called Divine Redeemer and asked to speak to Father Tim. He was very surprised to hear from her and she sensed a little hesitation in his voice, but he offered to help in any way he could. “There is something I could use help with, if you have the time. I need to talk with you about Beau.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make time.”
Lacey knocked on her door at ten in the morning. Her beautiful Lacey, wearing white summer jeans, torn in all the most fashionable places, a fitted tee that showed her midriff, tall, lean and tan all over.
“I can’t believe you,” Lacey said before she said hello. “You sent him to jail?”
Well, that explained one thing. Brad had called his favorite daughter.
“I called for medical assistance and the police came. They took him to jail. But thanks for your concern.”
“He said your new boyfriend did this!”
Lauren made a sound that was almost a distorted laugh. “Please, it hurts to laugh.” She pulled her phone out and clicked on the ring icon. She turned the volume up so Lacey could hear her father snarling at her and then slapping her, hitting her, calling her a whore. Lauren winced at the sound of her own begging, whimpering.
The look on Lacey’s face illuminated her shock. Her pretty mouth hung open. Her eyes welled with tears. “This is fake,” she said. “This must be fake. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
“He has always lied. He’ll say anything.”
“Tell me the truth, Mama—did you fake this?”
“Oh for God’s sake! Of course not! The police arrived within five minutes of when I called them. This is a closed circuit security camera. I showed the officer and paramedic. The officer emailed himself the video and they arrested your father for battery domestic violence.”
“You could have told them he’s not like that.”
“He is like that! And they didn’t take him to jail because I told them to—that’s the law!”
“I lived in that house! He didn’t beat you!”
“Honestly, Lacey! Do you think I’m getting a divorce because he adored me and treated me with love and respect?”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Oh my God, of course not!” She split her lip open and a little trickle of liquid ran down her chin. She wiped at it thinking it was drool, but it was bright red. She went for a towel in the kitchen. Holding the towel against her chin, tears rolled down her cheeks. “The man is a neighbor, a man I met months ago in the Divine Redeemer gardens and again at the Andy’s kids fund-raiser. Your father met him, too. I ran into him at the market and we discovered we both live in the neighborhood. He hung some shelves for me and I bought him a beer and sliders to thank him. He’s a friend. He’s kind and honest and helpful. But I’m sure this face and the presence of a violent husband will end the friendship.” She went to the freezer for an ice cube. She pressed it to her lip. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Lacey was sitting on the sofa, weeping quietly. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just manage the way you always have.”
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears that rolled down her cheeks. She just shook her head. She had longed for a husband who would tenderly hold her, comfort her, especially after her babies were born. She had craved kindness and love, praise for everything she did to keep him happy. Appr
eciation. She’d learned how not to admit how lonely it was in that house sometimes. Lauren and a couple of babies, her husband either away or finally home but angry.
“You can think about that awhile and maybe you’ll come up with an answer,” Lauren said.
“I know you’d get impatient with him, but—”
“Impatient? Oh Lacey... If he didn’t have his way all the time, he was intolerable. Just avoiding his abuse was a full-time job!”
“He didn’t abuse you!”
“He called me a liar! He kept telling me I was poor and uneducated, that I was weak and stupid! He inflicted pain! He could be a monster!”
“But he was also good to you!” Lacey argued.
“By allowing me to live in a big house? Wear good clothes? Take vacations?” Lauren went to the sofa and sat beside her daughter.
“Lacey, I love you. I have always loved you so much. I did everything I could to make your life good. But there are some things you understand, whether you’ll admit them or not. You know there have been endless arguments, temper tantrums from your father that made us all want to run and hide. You know that as often as he was nice, he was mean. He was demanding, he was bitter and angry. He’s been sued by employees twice! You know I haven’t slept in the same room with him for years. And now you know—he kicked me in the face! If you think I’m going to cower and give him another chance, you have lost your mind. And if you’re going to find a way to excuse him, that’s going to be your problem.”
“If he’s so terrible, why didn’t you divorce him a long time ago?”
“Twenty reasons but mostly to protect my daughters, to ensure your safety and private education. He’s a mean man. But you’re an adult now. You can take an objective look. You can look back at our family life and decide for yourself. If you want to blame me for this,” she said, pointing at her face, “you’ll have to live with that. It would make me sad, but I am done explaining myself. That any woman would have to explain something like this...” She shook her head. “I am done.”