The View from Alameda Island

by Robyn Carr

  “Well, good for you,” she said. “But he’s cute. Thirty seconds and I would have fallen for him.”

  “Tsk, tsk, what would Jeremy say?” Lauren teased.

  “I’m just saying—”

  “It’s nice to know a guy other than your uncle Chip, who can help if I run into trouble or need a little carpentry, but I am absolutely not in the market. Period. I am looking forward to getting to know him a little better, though. On the surface of things, he seems so utterly perfect.” She sighed. “I assume that means he’s probably a psychopath.”

  “I think the sad truth is, my dad is the psychopath. Not your garden-variety Criminal Minds psychopath. More of a CEO or billionaire type of psychopath.”

  “Oh Cassie, I didn’t want that for you.”

  “I think it’s time we stopped glossing over the facts, Mama. That’s Lacey’s job. You really want me to ignore what he did?”

  “No,” Lauren said. “I just didn’t want you to be hurt.”

  “You might want to rethink that,” Cassie said. “Pretending is lying. Lying hurts.”

  * * *

  Early Monday morning, Lauren and Cassie said goodbye and Lauren went to work. She still had to try to camouflage her purple bruises, but at least the swelling was down. The first people she ran into at the lab said things like, “Welcome back! I heard you had a fall! Are you okay?” She said she was fine but was pretty ugly there for a few days. Then invariably they would say, “What in the world happened?”

  “One of those klutzy slips while unpacking the kitchen. You know, up on the step stool, down on the floor, whacking the countertop on the way down and biting my lip.”

  And if she wasn’t mistaken, she got a few quizzical looks wondering if that was really the whole story. Her decision had already been made, but if it hadn’t been, those few looks would have been convincing. But she was going to tell her boss first. She asked her supervisor, Bea, for a few moments of her time.

  Bea frowned. “Yes,” she said tightly. “How about right now?”

  Lauren tensed up. Bea always treated her fairly but there was something about the response Lauren felt that made her wonder if her supervisor disliked her. It hardly mattered—they worked together successfully, respected each other’s boundaries, played by all the right rules. Lauren always thought the distance between them was because they had little in common. Left to their own devices, Lauren and Bea wouldn’t meet for lunch or drinks, but they both joined in when the office staff went out together. Bea was the single mother of four grown children and now had several grandchildren. She had a great position as director of the product development lab and owned her home, but it was not in posh Alameda and she had never had a surgeon husband to go home to. Lauren tried not to speculate, but thought it was possible Bea was just a little jealous. If only Bea had known the truth...

  “Sit down, Lauren,” Bea said. “You obviously took quite a header.”

  “I wonder if we can have a confidential conversation,” Lauren asked. “Because I didn’t exactly fall. I really don’t need the details all over the lab.”

  “I don’t talk about my employees,” she said.

  “My husband did this to me,” Lauren said. Her eyes briefly filled with tears, not because her heart was breaking but because she was embarrassed.

  “Dr. Delaney?” Bea asked in shock, half rising from the chair behind her desk.

  Lauren nodded.

  “How long has this been going on?” Bea asked, her face grim. Lauren thought she detected a blush in that beautiful ebony complexion.

  “Nothing like this has happened before, and I say that honestly. I’d like to think I’d have filed for divorce long ago if it had, but I’m no longer sure. I managed to lie to myself so many times, in so many ways. Yes, he was always abusive. Yes, I left a couple of times. Really, this is all such dirty laundry...”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’ll go no further. But you’re kidding yourself if you think people don’t pick up the signals.”

  “Oh God, has there been talk?”

  “That he’s been beating you? No, not at all. That he’s a mean and superior son of a bitch? I’ve heard a whisper or two. Do you have some good help to get you through this?”

  “Help?”

  “Legal help? Psychological help? Emotional help?”

  “Oh, of course. Yes. Listen, it’s not that I’m ashamed, but—”

  “Lauren, anyone who has been through what you have has felt ashamed,” Bea said. “Believe me, I know. My husband was abusive. We divorced thirty years ago. I was so young. There were all those children. It was the hardest time of my life. And I never learn. I frequently make the mistake of thinking there are some people who are immune, who live charmed lives, just because they appear to have it easy. But you never really know what is going on in another person’s life. Don’t worry, I won’t be talking about your issues with anyone else. I respect your privacy and I completely understand. And if there’s any way I can be of help...”

  Lauren was deeply touched. “Bea, would you like to go to lunch sometime?”

  * * *

  Cassie went to her father’s office on her way to the airport. She left her suitcase with security at the front entrance and went upstairs. The receptionist in his office actually recognized her immediately and grinned a big hello, until she saw the firm line of her lips.

  “Will you please tell my father I’d like to see him at the earliest free moment he has? It’s urgent.”

  “Of course!” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but he’ll want to speak to me before I leave town.”

  “Yes,” she said nervously. “Yes, of course. I’ll tell him.”

  Just a moment later a nurse came to the reception area and called for her. Cassie couldn’t remember the woman’s name but she was very sweet and asked her how she was liking Harvard. It was so like her father to brag about her accomplishments as if he had anything to do with them, yet refuse to help her with tuition to punish her mother.

  “Classes haven’t actually started yet,” she said. “I came home for a family emergency.”

  “Oh no!” she said. “The doctor didn’t mention anything. Is everyone all right?”

  “I think she will be,” Cassie said. She walked straight to her father’s office.

  Of course it was furnished with the best of everything, as was the rest of the office. The examining rooms held the latest equipment and were smart and efficient. Brad Delaney sat behind a large mahogany desk, surrounded by bookshelves and a couple of TV screens even though most of the medical files were now accessible via computer.

  He rose. “Cassie?” he said, as if shocked.

  “Stop it,” she said. “You know I’ve been in town. Lacey is reporting every tidbit to you. I came running the second I heard Mom had been so badly hurt. You never contacted me.”

  He took on the expression of a slapped toddler. “I was under the impression you didn’t want to see me.”

  “But I do want to see you,” she said. “I’m leaving today. I came here to tell you something. I think you know, you’re in trouble. You have a problem.”

  “I certainly do,” he said. “My wife of twenty-four years is leaving me for a younger man.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Cassie said. “She has filed for divorce because of your abuse. You could get help, you know. It won’t save your marriage. It’s really too late for that, but it could save your life. And if you got help and changed, you might be a part of your grandchildren’s lives. As it stands, you won’t. You’re not safe. You’re a dangerous megalomaniac who hurts people.”

  “She’s lying,” he said. “She did that to herself and blamed me! She wants a big divorce settlement!” he spat out.

  “There is proof, you know. You, the great saver of lives, have inflicted so muc
h pain. On the people who loved you most.”

  “Do you think it’s smart to accuse me this way when you’re hoping to have your tuition to law school paid?”

  “First of all, you already threatened to pull your support, just like you do every other month. Lacey seems willing to be held hostage but I’m not. I’ll find a way. For that matter, it would feel dirty now, knowing how cruel you can be. Since I assume you won’t try to change, won’t get help, I suppose this is goodbye.”

  He glowered, not speaking, his eyes narrow slits. If this office was like all others on the face of the earth, someone would have an ear to the door and the word would travel. She decided to make the most of it.

  “My mother’s face has healed enough for her to go back to work. I’d like you to know one thing. If you ever lay a hand on her again, you will be sorry. I would ride into hell to make sure you’re sorry. Leave her alone.”

  “Get out, Cassidy,” he said, keeping his voice carefully quiet.

  She turned and left but she was acutely aware that one of his staff looked at her hard. She wasn’t sure if the expression was one of disdain or pity. Perhaps he had already briefed his staff that he was being railroaded by a greedy soon-to-be ex-wife.

  She had an Uber pick her up to go to the airport. She’d lived in the Bay Area her entire life and she loved it, earthquake rumbles and all. This was her part of the world. Leaving her mother here during what could be one of the most stressful, frightening times of her life didn’t feel good at all, but she would be back. Leaving her mother terrified her, but she was right—they had lives to live right now. There were important transitions. They were headed for new lives and it wouldn’t be too long until they’d be together again.

  Lauren would be safe, she reminded herself. She had a baseball bat, she had Beth and Chip. Too bad they no longer had Honey. Honey had been looking for an excuse to pound the crap out of some man for almost fifty years.

  But then there was the guy. Beau.

  She was pleased to hear her mother was being overly cautious. After her father? Beau would not be around one second after he pinched.

  * * *

  Lauren heard from Cassie that she’d been approved for a low-interest student loan, just enough to get her class schedule started. Lacey was knee-deep in her master’s of English education and when Lauren saw her, they avoided talking about the divorce. And Brad was silent.

  Lauren’s lawyer was not silent. She’d had no difficulty securing a restraining order but she was having a hard time getting an accurate accounting of the Delaneys’ net worth, since Brad handled all their finances and investments. She had copies of the couple’s tax returns so she knew what the family income was, but the value of property, medical equipment from his private practice and his total investments was a little murky.

  “I suspect we need a forensic accounting,” Erica Slade said. “He’s offered you a settlement, which usually means he’d like to get off cheap.”

  “A settlement?” Lauren asked. “Seriously?”

  “Four million. The house plus two million. I suggest you reject it. It almost certainly means your estate is worth far more than eight.”

  She was dumbstruck. “He’s worth more than eight million?” she asked in a whisper. “Really?”

  “Lauren,” Erica said. “You contributed mightily to that. Your income and blood, sweat and tears. Quite literally.”

  She thought for a moment. “The house is probably worth closer to six, but there is a big mortgage. The practice must be very valuable, though I never thought of it as ours. The investments—I can’t imagine. He controlled the money. This is terrible. I feel so pathetic and incompetent. Why don’t I know what we have?”

  “Because your husband didn’t want you to know,” Erica said. “He was obviously never secure. He may have been concerned that you might file for divorce throughout your marriage. When we get a believable accounting, we’ll talk about a settlement. In the meantime, I’ll get his lawyer to agree to a stipend during your separation.”

  “Is there something I should be doing?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes,” Erica said. “Begin to rebuild your life.”

  She was more than anxious to do that. She began by making an appointment with the last counselor she had seen and felt comfortable with, Jan Straight. In the first session, they renewed their acquaintance and then Lauren filled her in on what had been happening in the last six months, including Brad’s violence.

  “I didn’t realize I’d been in denial,” Lauren said. “The more I confront the truth, the more comes to the surface. Stuff I just didn’t want to believe, so I ignored it or tamped it down...”

  “Give me an example,” Jan said.

  “Well, he was sued by an employee. She alleged he kicked her in the operating room. When she did something he didn’t want her to do or failed to do something he expected, he kicked her. Not hard, but still... Of course he said she was crazy—it never happened. Eventually, he settled with her and she quit her job. I never learned the details. He said he had deep pockets and was a target as a result and it was to be expected people would go after him from time to time. And I accepted that.

  “Then, a couple of years later I went to the dentist, a new dentist. Oh my gosh, he was a handsome young man with the most beautiful smile. His assistant was a young woman who’d worked for the previous dentist who’d retired. She was a single mother, was gentle and kind with a good sense of humor.

  “During the procedure, he corrected her twice, harshly. Then he kicked her leg underneath the back of my reclined chair. I said, ‘Stop! Did you just kick her?’ And he said, ‘Of course not! Please relax, Mrs. Delaney.’ I couldn’t relax. I was on high alert. Then he did it again. And she winced. And I knew in that moment—Brad was guilty of doing that to one of his nurses. I tore off the bib, pushed away his tray and with my mouth stuffed full of cotton, I sat up and spit it out. I told Ashley she should sue him and if she needed a witness, she could call me. I walked out. And cried all the way home.”

  “You’re sure that’s what happened?”

  “I have a mental closet full of those things,” she said. “Sometimes I buried them so deeply, I couldn’t even remember them. Like the time he deliberately tripped me at Disneyland—my daughter Cassie never forgot it, but I did. Or at least I refused to think about it. Because if I thought about it, I’d have to do something about it. And that took way too much courage.”

  “But you found the courage now?” Jan asked.

  “My daughters are grown,” she said. “They’ve moved away from home, though their bedrooms are still preserved for them. I can’t live there anymore. Especially now.”

  “Let’s set up some appointments,” Jan said. “I want to help you through this.”

  * * *

  September brought Lauren’s very favorite time of the year and she began to relax as the air became crisp and cool. The harvest from the farmlands of the central valley brought out the most delicious displays of fresh fruits and vegetables in bins outside the grocery and at roadside stands. The last of the tomatoes were displayed among ears of corn and ripe apples. Next would come the squash and pumpkins. She brought home artichokes by the bagful, so cheap they were practically free. The fall colors gave her a sense of renewal, a hopefulness.

  Lauren’s do-over began. She pushed herself to become friendlier with her coworkers, beginning with Bea. They had lunch together soon after their meeting and while they spent a little time discussing their war stories, they soon moved on to their very similar childhoods, both of them being raised by single mothers. Then she pushed her way into the small cliques that met to lunch together. She asked if she could join them. She was welcomed and quickly realized that she had been aloof and kept herself separate from the social side of work.

  “Of course you were,” Bea told her. “I imagine you didn’t really want too many people to understa
nd how imperfect and secretive your life really was. Time to get some counseling and support, Lauren.”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” she said. “I started counseling already.”

  She shared some of the beautiful vegetables she bought at out-of-the-way roadside stands. She made cookies and brought them to the office. And she kept her appointments with Jan Straight. For the first time she felt she might actually realize her hopes and dreams for a new kind of life.

  She grew comfortable in her new friendships. She went out for drinks with the girls from work one evening and they all giggled like children. They were women she’d known for a long time and yet hardly knew at all. Carly, in her early fifties, was single and her widowed mother moved in with her as she grew older and had medical issues. Merline was just thirty-five, married to a contractor and the mother of three young children who drove her crazy most of the time. Shauna was forty, divorced and the mother of two teenage girls. Anne was sixty with her seventy-eight-year-old husband now in memory care. Her children were grown and didn’t live near enough to help out.

  Lauren was pleasantly surprised to fit right in. They were all dealing with personal challenges of some sort. Some of them seemed rather alone, some had large families they were close with. But none of them had worked at Merriweather for as long and remained as remote as Lauren. They all supported each other and were willing to support Lauren, too.

  “Sorry about the divorce, Lauren,” Carly said. “But I’m glad you decided to come out and play.”

  “Me, too,” she said, and meant it.

  “Congratulations on taking your life back,” Jan said after their first few sessions.

  The changes that started with a new house and fresh vegetables proceeded to lunching with coworkers, seeing Lacey without arguing about the changes in their family dynamics, talking for at least a little while with Cassie almost every day and meeting Beau for an occasional glass of wine at the pub a few blocks away. She and Beau easily graduated to laughing over ordinary things like one of his fussier clients or some of her failed recipe experiments. On one lovely fall evening she made them gourmet artichokes, the leaves stuffed with blue cheese and bacon, doused in garlic butter. They ate on the front porch, drank wine and watched the sun set.