by T. E. Price
As he rinses his mouth out, I hesitate beside him. I’ve got to placate his fury. I gently place a hand on his shoulder. In that instant, he snaps—straightening with such speed and determination that I’m blinded by his movements. He turns off the tap and grabs my wrist all in the same second. Slamming my arm into the wall and pinning me there, he leans in to kiss me. Through the stinging pain, I turn my head and stitch my eyes closed. I can’t do this. His heavy breathing remains on my neck for several excruciating seconds. The putrid smell of alcohol sours my stomach. He stays there … heavy breaths, one after another. My body begins to wrack as I wait for whatever will come next. I have denied his kiss. There’s no question now … I will pay for it.
“Jessica,” he whispers dangerously in my ear, and my eyes fly open. “I will have you,” he grunts menacingly, and in one swift move, his hands are around my throat.
I scream, but a silent screech is all I can force. His grip tightens as he rips me from the wall. I flail. Grab something … anything! My fingertips skim the ceramic sink, but his strength is too much as he wrestles me out of the bathroom, smashing me into the door as it crashes against the wall. I push against him, fighting him as he thrusts me down on the bed, my eyes bulging with my constricting airway. He’s going to kill me. His focused eyes that were blurry only minutes before lock with mine, and he smiles. He likes it.
His hands leave my throat and I inhale sharply, drinking in the air like my life depends on it. But he begins to tear at my nightgown. “No … no!” I gasp, through a constricted throat. He doesn’t stop. I thrash away from his readying body. Oh gosh—this can’t be happening. He hits me across the face. Hard. Harder than he’s ever hit me before, and I go dizzy for a moment. A moment is all he needs. He’s on top of me, forcing himself on me. I blink away the stars and push back at his massive body. This fight is exactly what he wanted, I can see it in his eyes, right before he hits me. Again. Then again.
I have to escape! With each blow to my face, the evil of his excitement escalates, but it’s not enough for him. His hands return to my aching throat. He will kill me if I don’t get away…now. My eyesight fogs, stinging from sweat or blood, I’m not sure. I fumble down the headboard. There’s got to be something that will help. My fingers meet the cold, iron lamp on the bedside table. With a burst of strength, I twist for the lamp and bring it down on Jonathan’s head with all my might. The crash accompanies his release of my neck, and I break free as he crumples from the blow. Hastily gathering myself, I run into the hall just as my legs give out. I fall in a heap as I cough violently. The sound of glass breaking from the bedroom as the lamp shatters against the wall peaks my adrenaline, forcing me to jump up and race down the hall. His pounding footsteps race after me. I turn just in time to slam the bathroom door in his face. I fumble, then secure the lock just as he rattles the knob. He releases the most terrifying roar, like an animal raging in a fight to the death. The guttural sound of defeat, partnered with his persistent pounding against the door, sends me stumbling back. He could get in if he wanted. Is he really trying to kill me, or did he get lost in a moment of living out his darkest fantasies? I collapse on the bathroom floor, finally letting my husband’s pure malice sink in. My sobbing turns to heaving as I reach for the toilet. His pounding stops, perhaps at the sound of my vomiting. Maybe he’s sobering up, or maybe he’s snapped out of the darkness. Does he know that he almost killed his wife? Whatever his reasons, he leaves me here, curled up in a ball on the cold bathroom floor. My tears continue to flow, mixing with the blood trickling down my head and collecting in pink droplets on the tiles beneath me. This is where I lay the rest of the night. This is when I know my marriage is over. I have to get out.
The walls of the office come back into focus, and I sit there with my pastor as silence fills the room. Pastor Noah rises from the loveseat and starts pacing. In the quiet that prevails, I sob uncontrollably. “How could … I just—” Pastor Noah stutters.
While I regain my composure, Pastor Noah hands me a Kleenex box and returns to his seat with unrest, then I quietly fumble to break the silence, “My plan to leave him began not long after that. I wanted to get out as soon as possible, but I needed to stash away money here and there without him noticing.” I dab at my damp cheeks as my pulse begins to slow a little. “I needed help leaving, so although it took almost a month, I got up the courage to tell my brother and Ainsley. My brother decided to come as soon as he could, so he booked a flight for October. I kept out of Jonathan’s way, doing what I needed to do until my brother arrived. Jonathan and I never talked about that night, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he would do it all again.” I crumple the damp Kleenex in my hand. The worst is over now that I’ve shared what happened that night. It’s all up-hill from here. I raise my chest and swipe at a stray tear. “I don’t have proof that he was ever having an affair, so my biblical grounds for this divorce may seem unfounded, but I know I can’t go back into that marriage. He made a lot of promises that he was going to change, but he never kept those promises. I know him too well—he isn’t going to change. The evil look on his face that night will haunt me forever. The marriage is over for good. It took all the strength I had in me to leave him, and I will never go back.”
Pastor Noah leans in, opens his mouth, pauses, then says, “Thank you for sharing, Hallie. I know how difficult that was for you.” He sighs deeply. “You are so strong, stronger than you know. God’s going to use your past to grow you in ways you didn’t think possible, and I hope you can trust him for that.”
Another tear slides down my face as I reply, “You know, not long into the marriage, I started praying that things would change. I prayed that Jonathan would realize how desperately he needed God—I prayed that God would save me. I’ve only been a Christian for a little under five years, but I know God is capable of the most beautiful miracles.” I take a couple short breaths, then add, “I thought God would change Jonathan’s heart, and maybe he still will, but I eventually realized that this change I was desperate for would only come if I left him. If I started over. And that’s what I’m doing now. My parents are ashamed of me and my failed marriage. They’ve requested that I give it a year before I file for a divorce, and I’m going to honor that request. Honestly, they don’t know everything that happened to me, and I don’t think I have it in me to tell them.” It’s worth keeping the secret. My parents wouldn’t believe me even if I did tell them. I press my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth. They will never know. I can’t handle being re-victimized by their unwillingness to believe. I pinch my lips together, then add, “But for now, I just need to be rid of him for good.”
Pastor Noah nods, rubs his face in his hands, shifts in his seat, then takes a deep breath to say, “I understand, Hallie. And I want to thank you for coming in here and telling me this when I know how hard that was for you.”
I shift in my seat. “Well, I wanted to tell you all of this because I need your help,” I squeeze the tissue balled up in my hand. “Jonathan showed up here yesterday morning. I’ve been keeping this whole thing quiet because I don’t want people knowing about the divorce, but Jonathan has used my silence to his advantage, and he made me sit with him through the service knowing that I wouldn’t make a scene.” I clench my jaw. What I’m about to say jabs at my heart. But enough is enough. “I don’t care anymore if people know about the divorce—I’m not sitting through another service with that … that man. I need your help to persuade him not to come back next week. I’ve told him not to, but he doesn’t care what I say. I begged him to go to church for years—now he is using church just to get to me.”
Pastor Noah glances down at his shoes, shakes his head, then looks back up at me. “I’m sorry you had to endure that, I didn’t know that you had left him, and I can only imagine how difficult it was to see him again in church.”
I tilt my head slowly. “I know that someone told you about an affair, and I think I know who did, but I’m not having an affair—I think she
was just confused at seeing me with Jonathan at the service yesterday.” I pause, “And maybe she’s a little jealous too regarding a text sent to me that was really misleading—a text I never responded to.”
Pastor Noah shakes a hand lightly at me, then says, “I don’t need to know the details, Hallie. I don’t know how reliable this woman’s claims are, but I’m glad she made them simply because it led you here to share with me about your marriage. Does anyone else in the congregation know about your upcoming divorce?”
Oh gosh! Chip. I got so caught up in explaining everything that happened between Jonathan and me that I almost forgot about the whole thing with him and Becca. Butterflies fill my stomach as I clear my throat, “Ainsley knows, and she felt like I should tell a man in case anything serious happened.” I quickly add, “And I’m confident nothing serious will happen— Jonathan’s always been very conscious of his reputation, so I know he won’t ever do anything in public.” My gaze flits to the door, “But I did tell Pastor Chip, and I think he saw it as an opportunity for me to serve more on the worship team.” My skin crawls with a tightness that reaches across my shoulders as heat courses through my veins. “But as it seems, he was wanting me to replace Becca, and that may have caused a problem, especially since Becca found out that was his plan when she overheard our conversation about it yesterday morning.” My knee begins to bounce, “I didn’t want to let Pastor Chip down, but I also didn’t want Becca to feel badly about her singing. I just felt like I was stuck in the middle of it all when I should have just declined Chip’s request and avoided the drama.” My posture dips, “After yesterday, I left here wondering how I could come back next week if my safety net at Connect Church is gone. I don’t feel like I can trust Chip, the women at church hate me, and I’m scared of Jonathan.”
My proclamation hangs in the air for a few awkward moments while Pastor Noah curls his lips. Ugh! I would hate to be him right now, processing all I have just shared with him, trying to come up with a solution that will placate the masses. Finally, he nods his head and answers in a low voice, “I’m sorry that Pastor Chip put you in an awkward position. He, uh—he’s confessed to some issues he’s had with the worship team, and in turn, it seems like those issues are bleeding into his marriage. I should probably have a talk with him and Becca to make sure that they’re working out their differences in a healthy manner.”
Now look what I’ve done. My presence has created a bigger issue than just the problems with the worship team. How did I get myself caught up in such a mess? My chin starts to quiver. “I didn’t mean to come here and get Pastor Chip in trouble. It’s just, when Becca stormed out of here yesterday, I really felt like she was holding all this against me, and I never intended to get stuck in the middle of it. I told Pastor Chip that I wasn’t going to sing on Team B … that I wasn’t going to replace Becca on the stage. And I—”
Pastor Noah throws up a pulsing hand to stop me, “This is not your fault, Hallie. There are some other things that have contributed to this problem. I am just telling you this so you know you can come back to church next week without feeling like you need to explain yourself—to Becca or to Pastor Chip.”
I take a few steadying breaths. Okay—so maybe that situation isn’t as bad as it seems. “And what about Jonathan?”
Pastor Noah strokes his cleft chin and blinks slowly, “Unfortunately, Hallie, I cannot tell him to stop coming to church. We keep our doors open for those who want to draw closer to God. We extend grace, even in the darkest of situations. If Jonathan wants to repent of his behavior and develop his relationship with Jesus, then we want to help him. We realize how difficult it may be for you to see him week after week, but we can’t close our doors to those who need Christ—if that were the case, no one would be allowed into our church. We all have sin in our life. We all need Jesus. I can’t deny someone the opportunity to attend church unless something happens at church.”
Well, what did I expect? He makes complete sense, and I respect his willingness to extend grace. This is what Christ does, time and time again— for everyone, no matter their past. Pastor Noah has said what he needed to say. But what do I do about Jonathan? He can put on a show with the best of ‘em. I do want what’s best for him. And wouldn’t it be best if he were developing his relationship with God? That’s his only hope for recovery. But what about the controlling clutch of his hand in church yesterday morning? That’s confirmation he’s attending church just to re-establish authority in my life. “I get it,” I say with a begrudging shrug, “but I don’t want him sitting beside me at church.”
“That’s fair,” Pastor Noah says. “I’ll have a talk with him next week. And if anything happens—anything serious, anything at all—I will tell him he cannot return to this church.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. But nothing will happen. He’s playing his cards right. Sure, I’ve given up caring who becomes privy to our upcoming divorce. But that won’t matter. He will work hard to convince the congregation that he’s a changed man and that he deserves to have his wife back. There’s nothing that can be done, I just have to deal with it. Hmph. I stand to leave.
“Just one last thing I need to address,” Pastor Noah adds, “please don’t share anything about Pastor Chip and Becca. I would appreciate if this information remains between us, even if the worship team does catch wind of some changes that Pastor Chip would like to make.”
“Absolutely,” I respond. Pastor Noah extends a gentle handshake, but his tired eyes say much more. As Pastor Noah says good-bye, he assures me that he will have a talk with the disgruntled church member about the rumors of my alleged affair. Whatever good that will do. Rita’s a gossiper, and she may not get her way with the pastor, but she’s a fighter, herself. If she went to the trouble to tattle on me to our pastor, then she will try to persuade others in the church that her tall-tale is true. Ahh—who cares? The reality of my life is complicated enough. I can’t start worrying about her next rumor … at least not until it spreads.
Pastor Noah goes to close the door behind me, then swings it open again. “Oh, Hallie,” he stays poised in the doorway, “This Sunday, I’ll be announcing my upcoming sabbatical, so if you want to meet to talk more about this—about anything—let’s plan on it soon.” I open my mouth to decline his offer, but he stops me with the wave of his hand. “You don’t have to decide if you want to now. Pray about it. It may be good to talk to someone about everything that has taken place during your marriage.” I close my lips and offer a soft smile with a nod. Hmm. Today was rough, but now he has a better idea of my reality…who knows, maybe it would be good to take him up on that offer to talk more.
CHAPTER 13
I turn up the heat in my car as warm air blasts from the vents. Brrr. I hold one hand over the vents while my other stays glued to the steering wheel. What a pleasant contrast to the below freezing temperature and February winds outside. I navigate down some unfamiliar roads on this side of town as I follow the GPS to Noah Herald’s home. When I didn’t see Chip and Becca at church this past Sunday, I approached Pastor Noah to ask about their absence. He said they were taking a break to think over some things. It’s none of my business really, so I turned the conversation back on me. Before long, I had booked a mid-week appointment with him, just to work through a few things I’ve been dwelling on since our meeting two weeks ago. The GPS keeps me on track as I cast a few side glances at the neighborhood of brick homes framed nicely with cement porches, modern pillars, and well-attended lawns. Ahah. There it is—the Herald’s home…in the middle of nowheresville. I park on the road beside the drive and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
Exiting the car, I lean my shoulder into the wind and rush toward the front door that has the Herald’s name on a decorated, wooden slab. As I approach the front entrance, my hand pauses briefly on the doorbell. My downcast look focuses on the two flower pots that frame the front door. These pots used to hold life, but now they are covered with dead leaves. Humph. Can there be a better depict
ion of my dismal reality? It’s like the life has been sucked out of me. I don’t have much more to give.
I shake my head. Can I go inside and discuss more details of my broken marriage? If I don’t, does that mean I’ve lost my will to fight? I stand completely still, the counseling appointment looming like a cloud that won’t stop following me. My mind plays a reel of all the demoralizing events that took place in my marriage, as if I’m watching jagged clips of a horror film. It’ll get better if I talk about those events rather than keep them bottled up. Pastor Noah suggested as much … he even brought up the shame and lack of trust I carry from my past. He’s right—I’ve got to talk through those problems. I also need to be free from the fear that stabs at me everywhere I go, as if Jonathan is lurking in the shadows, watching my every move. But will talking through those kinds of things help? When it comes to my safety, I’m not sure anything will.
I fill my lungs, lift my shoulders, and ring the doorbell. Footsteps approach, then the door swings wide. “Hallie, you made it,” Pastor Noah greets. He ushers me through with an open palm. “I hope you don’t mind meeting at my home office today. I like to change locations for some folks who prefer the comfort of a home. So many have appreciated the change of setting that most of my Wednesday work is done from home now.” He leads me through the short, wide hall and into a spacious living room. The beige couch off to my left holds a few peach and navy-blue throw pillows. A side table, which has a few spiritual books lying across the surface, separates the couch and matching chair, creating an L in the center of the room. We head left toward an office space just off the living room when I hear Mrs. Herald’s greeting from the other side of the room. I offer a friendly wave to the woman who has appeared in the frame of the kitchen entrance, then follow Pastor Noah into the office.