by T. E. Price
Ainsley is quiet for a moment. “Well, my marriage is fine,” she retorts, her pitch hardened, “so you don’t need to worry about me or deal with anything that I’ve done. What happened last night wasn’t anything. And you certainly aren’t the one to challenge me on where I stand in my marriage.” Defense threads her retort. This isn’t going how I had hoped—she wasn’t supposed to take it personally. I just needed to share my feelings, I didn’t mean to push her farther away. Opening my mouth to attempt a placate of sorts, she abruptly ends our conversation by saying, “It’s really none of your business anyway, Hallie, so don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll drop you off at the lake house tonight, but when we meet at church tomorrow, I don’t want to hear another word about last night. We’re back in the real world, with real issues. My parents just texted me that there’s a leak in the kitchen, Will is staying at his apartment tonight, and that new worship leader who is supposed to have everything under control is in a panic about something. So, yeah, we are back to reality, and what happened in Nashville will stay in Nashville. Got it?”
CHAPTER 15
The taillights of Ainsley’s Highlander trail down the dirt drive of the lake house. As I stand outside the front door, my body begins to tremble. I’m completely alone out here…totally vulnerable. Why couldn’t Ainsley just apologize for her actions from last night? Then maybe she’d feel better about it, and we could both go back to the safety of her secured house with the tension from our trip far behind us. But no…here I am, shaking on the front stoop of the lake house, trying to determine whether it’s safer inside or out. In a flash, I unlock the door and swing it open. If he’s hiding inside waiting for me, the sound of my entrance announcing my arrival is not what I need to be fearful of.
After my thorough search of the lake house, I find the windows and doors intact. He hasn’t broken in. I’m safe, at least for the moment. But I can’t stay here, so I hastily repack my bag. Within minutes, I’m in my car, racing away from the lake house.
I drive aimlessly around town. What next? I don’t have enough money to spend on a comfortable hotel room, and I need a hotel room. There’s no way I’m going to risk the unsafe confines of a dingy inn. The minutes tick by, moving me closer to midnight as I try to work through what I should do next. Do I sleep in my car? Do I go to my parents’ house? Whatever I choose, I don’t have long before my driving becomes dangerous. Another yawn stretches through the tension of my clenched jaw. I shake my head against the vibrations moving up my spine. I’ve got to find out where Jonathan is, that’s the only way I’ll really trust that I’m safe. I nod and start driving toward my old house.
As I navigate down the familiar road, heat rolls through every muscle. The mailbox that reads “McClain” comes into view, and I slow my car to a speed that starkly contrasts the racing of my heart. Turning off my headlights, I inch past the last cluster of trees hiding the house. My heart catches in my throat. There it is, everything representing my past standing before me. My eyes search for his vehicles in the dark, and I loosen my grip on the steering wheel when I find both the truck and the Audi. He’s here, and hopefully, he’s sleeping.
I gulp as I catch a fleeting view of the dog pens in the backyard. My heart pangs. Those poor dogs are left out in the cold. Has Jonathan given them any attention since I left? Maybe I could sneak back there and cuddle them, even just for a minute. No! My head snaps back to view the house. I couldn’t risk it. Finding me in his backyard would be like hand-delivering a gift—allowing him to play out his darkest fantasy … without a witness in sight. I shiver, the movement slapping me with the memory of my life while living in that house—that prison—for three years.
The lights are off. From what I can remember, that typically means he’s home for the night. It’s a Saturday night. There’s no doubt he’s abusing some kind of substance…and probably passed out on the couch. At least he’s in there alone, there’s no one there for him to take his anger out on. My car rolls out of view, and the moment I’m past the house, I turn on my lights and pick up speed. My past is in the past—let’s keep it that way. Time to go to my parents’ place. I punch at the steering wheel, the memory of his inebriated nights stabbing at my brain. That’s not what I wanted out of a marriage. That’s not what I imagined it would be like with him. I would never have guessed I’d be on the run from my husband. Where did it all go wrong, or was it doomed from the beginning? A well of emotion erupts with the flood that rises from my heart, and I succumb to fierce sobs. After a few minutes of driving through my blinding tears, I punish myself for my constant need to take flight. What has my life come to?
“I can’t handle this, God,” I groan through my tears. “I thought by now I would be free from that monster. I prayed you would give me hope and a future. This is not the future I want—no money, nowhere to stay, no safety—are you even listening?” I approach a red light and drop my face into my hands as I come to a stop. My veins pulse with hot blood while my heart thumps heavily in my chest. The light turns green, and I take a deep breath. My heart drops, as if God has reached down from heaven and tugged on it himself.
Please, God—show me you’re trustworthy. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, and I feel like there isn’t a future here for me in Oklahoma anymore. I’ll never be able to stop looking over my shoulder, always worrying about where he is and whether or not I’m safe. But I don’t know where to go. Please…direct me. Lead me. Guide me. Show me I can trust you. I need to be able to trust you with my future, God.
* * *
“Hallie,” my mom pauses in the doorway to the bathroom where I’m getting ready for church, “you certainly got in late last night. You gave us a fright coming in like you did.” She places a hand on the frame, “But I guess now that you’re here, you’ll be coming to our church with us this morning. We’re leaving in two minutes.”
I cringe. She hasn’t asked why I stayed here last night, neither has my dad. It’s been awkwardly quiet all morning, but the unspoken truth remains … if I stay here, I should follow their rules and meet their expectations. But I can’t go with them to their church, nor can I spill the details of why I had to stay here last night. She removes her hand and folds her arms across her chest…she’s ready to be disappointed. “Actually, no,” I eventually grunt. “I’m going to Connect Church this morning. I have to serve on the worship team.” My mom disappears around the corner without a word, walking deliberately to the kitchen, marking her frustration with every step. As I turn back to the mirror, adjusting my long, loose sweater I paired with an old pair of low-rise jeans I rummaged out of the closet minutes ago, my heart does a little flutter. Do I have to go to church and sing beside Ainsley this morning? Jonathan will be lurking somewhere in the dark, at the back of the auditorium. Ainsley hasn’t texted me or thought to check on me since she dropped me off at the lake house last night.
My mascara stick freezes mid-stroke. This is the first Sunday of Pastor Noah’s sabbatical. He’s not going to be in the building, but Jonathan will. My heart begins to thud hard against my ribs. Has Jonathan pieced this all together? My tongue runs the length of my teeth. It’s fine, there is a whole congregation there, he won’t do anything in front of other people. He’ll put on the good-guy act, even if Pastor Noah isn’t there. I just need to be careful after the crowd starts to clear out…I can never be too cautious.
As I drive to church, I mouth through the conversation I need to have with Ainsley this morning. She told me not to bring up the incident from Friday night, but can I honor that? Wouldn’t it be better if I just address the elephant in the room? Oh gosh—I can’t do this alone. “Lord,” I pray, “please help me through this morning. After last night, I just need to connect with you. I do that best when singing on stage, and I don’t want whatever’s going on between me and Ainsley interfering with that. Worship is the only thing I have left.” I glance down at the clock on my dash. Ahhh! I kick the gas pedal. How did the time get away from me? I’m la
te for practice. What should I say when I walk in? It’s not like I can tell the worship team I spent the night dreaming about Jonathan and waking up to the nightmare of him finding me at my parents’ house or at the lake house because Ainsley abandoned me to fend for myself. Maybe I’ll just explain that I pressed snooze too many times. It’s the truth—I needed more sleep, and now I’m paying for it.
As I skid into the church parking lot, I whip into the first available spot and exit my car in a frenzy. I jog through the front doors. The music from the auditorium is reverberating through the building…practice has started without me. As I fumble through the doors with an effort to balance my belongings, the music fades on cue. I apologize to the team through pants— sorry is all I can offer anyway as my eyes remain focused on Levi. I can’t risk making eye contact with Ainsley … not yet.
“That’s fine, Hallie,” Levi says. “In fact, we are just getting started due to a small setback. Our bass player called in sick, so we have a new addition to the team this morning.” In that moment, Levi steps back. A gasp gets caught in my chest. My legs stop moving. Jonathan is standing on the corner of the stage. My mouth falls open, but Levi isn’t looking at me—he’s looking to Jonathan who offers an amused smile as his eyes pierce my heart like an arrow shot from across the room. “I thought we were in for it, but thankfully, Ainsley suggested that Jonathan could play bass for us this morning.”
I begin stepping backward, unable to rip my eyes from this gut-wrenching scene. Jonathan’s grin spreads. Ainsley hangs the mic by her side—she won’t lift her gaze from her feet. Levi re-adjusts his guitar with an easy smile, he’s oblivious to this terrible act of betrayal. I can’t believe it. My eyes start to sting with a thousand tiny needles. Jonathan has finally gotten his way—he’s taken everything from me. And as this truth explodes in my head, rattling my entire body, I turn and run.
My tears flow as I rummage in my bag for my keys. The cool air slaps at my face while rushing to the car. I need to get in the car. I’ve got to get out of here. The front doors of the church open. That’s got to be Ainsley. She has to have some sort of excuse as to why she would do such a thing to me. I swivel, only to find Jonathan approaching. My hands freeze as my eyes scan the parking lot. We’re all alone. My stomach flips. I dig for my keys as he moves closer and closer. Hurry! He’s getting closer. The moment my hand meets the plastic car fob, I unlock the door and dive into the driver’s seat. Swinging the door shut, my hands fumble for the lock button just as Jonathan approaches the car and yanks on the handle.
“Roll down the window,” he demands. I squeeze me eyes shut for a moment, then I put the keys into the ignition and comply. He doesn’t deserve to speak to me, but I deserve to hear an explanation from him.
With the window partially down, I try to steady my rapid breathing. I gulp back my tears and swipe at my cheeks. With my jaw set, I yank up my head. “Haven’t you taken enough from me? Did you have to take this too?”
Jonathan smirks, “I was a little upset to watch you leave that lake house the other night. So, when Ainsley suggested I serve on the worship team, I couldn’t resist the chance to reconnect.”
“How did you even find out about the lake house?”
Jonathan leans his head back and snorts, “You haven’t guessed yet?” He raises one eyebrow, “Rita told me … when you buy that girl enough drinks, she’ll spill all her little secrets.”
I sputter a cough, like I’ve swallowed water down my windpipe. “How did Rita know where I was?”
Jonathan’s lips pinch around the tip of his tongue as he tilts his head, “Wow, Hallie—you really are stupid. Ainsley told Rita at some Christmas party. I guess it’s a female thing … when you girls drink too much, you’ll say just about anything. She told Rita exactly where you were hiding out—right down to the name of that dirt road.”
Fog fills my head. Ainsley told Rita?This final stab of betrayal is all I can stand, I’ve had enough. I throw my car in reverse. I don’t have it in me to hear another word. Thunk! In a flash, Jonathan’s hand is through the window. He grabs for my throat, and I punch the gas as he rocks back with the car. He lets go, but jabs again, getting hold of my sweater, taking the bulk of it with him as his arm is forced to leave through the window. With my foot moving to the break, I fumble to roll up the window. How did he move that fast? I thrash about, leaning back toward the center console. Let me go! But he tightens around his handful that stops the window from closing. Our eyes meet for a sickening moment. He moves his gaze slowly down my body, drinking it all in. He loves a good fight—always has, always will. His eyes stop on my exposed stomach, on my scar, and his face curls into a dangerous smile.
“Let go,” I hiss.
He takes one more second before ripping his eyes from my scar, then says, “You’ll never escape me, Hallie. And somehow, in the darkest corners of your mind, I don’t think you really want to. That’s why you haven’t sent the divorce papers yet. I think you enjoy our little fights as much as I do.”
A hallow, dark throttle builds in my throat, and I laugh. Now, it’s my turn. “You’re wrong. My parents are forcing me to wait a year before signing the papers—I’m only respecting them. I’ll see you at the courthouse in October.” And with that, I hit the gas again, turning the car away from him. I no longer care if he lets go of my sweater, I’ll drag him alongside the car if I have to.
Jonathan stumbles for a second, then releases the material as the car surges backwards. The moment I stop to shift into drive, he charges the car. My words can sting as much as his. I’m glad I’ve just infuriated him. Now he knows the real reason for the delay in filing for our divorce. He pounds his fist on the roof of my car. But it’s too late—I’m off.
I squeal out of the parking lot, leaving it all behind. I can never return to this church. Now, my race is with the ticking clock—I have until the end of the service to clear out of the lake house and make my escape.
CHAPTER 16
The drive back to the lake house is busied with frantic phone calls. The first one is to my brother…he’s the only one I trust. I need to stay with him, not because I can’t do this on my own, but because I need someone who’s got my back. The conversation is easy and quick, I’m going to Ann Arbor, at least until the divorce is final. My call to Jim leaves me apologizing as I tell him I can’t return to the job. A brief explanation is all he needed, he said he would send my final check to the address in Ann Arbor. My next call is to my parents…they’re just leaving church. I humbly request they meet me at the lake house with my dad’s truck to help me pack. Again, they refuse to ask any questions. Weird, but not abnormal—I guess ignorance is bliss.
My final call connects to Ainsley’s voicemail. Just what I expected. At the sound of the beep, I blurt, “How could you, Ainsley? You knew exactly what you were doing when you suggested Jonathan play on the worship team.” My lip quivers, “You were my best friend, and you betrayed me. You were the one who spilled the details about my separation. You were the one who told Rita about the lake house. You were the reason Jonathan found out where I was hiding. It was all you.” Tears stream down my face as pain rips through my heart. “I can’t trust you. And I can’t stay here anymore. You can find the key to the lake house under the front porch mat—I’ll be out by the time you get this message.” And without the strength to say a final farewell to the one person I believed was my true friend, I hang up.
I skid into park and race from my car. There’s no time to waste, I don’t plan on being here by the time the service finishes. Bursting through the front door of the lake house, I begin my hasty collection as if time has unkindly thrown me back into the panic of leaving Jonathan five months ago. Luckily, some boxes were never opened. I rush to the bedroom to load up bags and rip clothes from hangers.
The front door creaks ever so quietly. I freeze. That better be my parents, but why didn’t they call out? Thump-thump. Footsteps lead back to my bedroom. I shiver, as if a bucket of ice has been poured down my
back. “Hallie?” my mom questions as my parents move into view.
My coiled muscles unwind as I nod at them then return to my packing. I say over my shoulder, “Dad, can you pack the boxes by the door in your truck?”
My father departs with heavy thuds. He’s annoyed, but if there was ever a time I needed him to just stay quiet and not give his two-cents, it’s now. My mother doesn’t join him, instead she saunters up beside me and asks, “Why are you leaving? And where are you going?”
Forget the first question, I can’t tell her why. I shove a few pairs of jeans into a trash bag with my back turned to her. “I’m going to stay with Harrison for a while. But please don’t tell anyone where I am—I just need to get away. And don’t worry,” I lift both hands in surrender, “I haven’t moved on the divorce yet—I’m gunna keep my promise to you and Dad.”
I sidestep my mom, who’s standing uselessly in the middle of the room, and move toward the dresser, but my mom puts a hand on my shoulder, halting me. “Hallie, what happened to your face?” My hands fly up to feel my skin. What is she is talking about? My tears have run dry since the moment I started packing. “Oh my, you have scratch marks all down your neck. One of them is bleeding.” She turns my chin gently to the side to examine the angry welts that are now searing my skin. My fingertips slide gingerly down my neck. How could I have ignored them before?
“It was an accident that happened at church. It’s not serious.” But it is, and the truth of this painful reality catapults me into a frenzied rush.
My mother exhales loudly as the return of her harsh tone erases her momentary concern, “Well, maybe if you went to church with us this morning, like you should have, then you wouldn’t be all scraped up.” My shoulders sag, but I continue packing. Yeah, maybe I could have avoided all this if I had gone to your church, but then I wouldn’t be my own person. I’d just be complying, like I used to when I was the fawn of the family, like I used to when I let my husband walk all over me. That’s not me anymore. I lift my posture as she pulls up beside me at the dresser and starts removing my clothes from another drawer. She checks her watch, “Is your church service over this soon? Well, you young folks must not appreciate the value of a lengthy service.”