by Cindy Bokma
"He won't find out from me. Anything you say is confidential unless you talk about harming yourself or someone else. Delia, I want you to trust me. You are safe here." She gave me a small smile, a sympathetic look crossed her face and then she sat up straighter.
"Thank you," I whispered. Therapists were bound to keep things confidential. I was safe here. I took a ragged breath.
"Maybe we can switch gears and talk about your childhood. It's helpful for me to understand people if I know about their childhood and what impacted them during their formative years. Would you be open to talking about your past?"
I sniffled, nodded, then launched into my childhood, the death of my parents, living with my aunt before coming to California. Then all that time before Leo, when I was a different person. She asked me how I met Leo, about our courtship. I told her. The more I talked, the easier it became to open up.
When I finally felt comfortable and the words were flowing easily, she looked at her watch and announced, “Our time is up, but I would like to see you next week.” She pulled her day planner out of a drawer and we set up a time for the following week.
Driving back home, I thought about Leo. How could I even consider leaving him? Leo was the one who saved me from being poor; working a dead-end job, having no insurance, a car that barely ran and most importantly, rescued me from feeling like an orphan in the world.
How could I even consider for a second, walking away from him? He did so much for me, it was like he always reminded me, I couldn't live without him. He wasn't perfect, no one was.
I needed to start looking at him as someone who was vulnerable and needed help. In time I could change him.
Chapter 16
Present
It was a seaside town, hemmed in by a rocky coastline, where rusty fishing boats bobbed on dark blue water. Victorian homes painted in pale colors resembled gingerbread houses. The old homes featured large wrap around porches with swings to sit on and watch the sun go down. I imagined a cool night, sitting on a porch swing watching fireflies in the twilight. I could see Will laughing and running, catching fireflies in jars like David and I used to back in Ohio when we were kids. This place already felt like it could be home and we had only been in town for a day. I was glad it invoked the same feelings as when I was here with my parents as a child.
“I like it here. Can we stay? This is where I want to live,” Will said, as if reading my mind.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I told him.
Then he puckered his lips, narrowed his eyebrows and added, “No more car rides.”
His little face was pressed against the window as we passed a quaint downtown full of candy shops and diners with specials of the day written on chalkboards hanging in the windows. An old-fashioned ice cream parlor was positioned on the corner with red and white flags festooning the door and welcoming customers in for a root beer float, the refreshment of the day, according to the sign in the window. A beauty salon offered haircuts for $8, which was hard to imagine and unheard of in Los Angeles. The public library was an old brick building with oak trees in the front big enough to sit under and get lost in a good book.
I drove slowly, feeling like I was in a movie for small town America. Everything was picture perfect.
Golden marigolds, scarlet rhododendrons, fluffy violet delphiniums, and fat white blossoms lined the streets and yards. The air carried the salty taste of the sea, the smell was floral and slightly fishy reminding me this was a fishing town.
I parked the car, and then Will and I walked along the dock, pointing out the boats and fishermen. We bought ice cream cones even though it was morning, and watched the boats then counted lobster traps. A cool, light wind ruffled Will’s hair.
Back in the car as we drove through neighborhoods, I wondered about the history of the homes—Victorian, Federal, Colonial, and Greek Revivals with large windows and shutters, red brick chimneys, and terraces. Somewhere I read about the Underground Railroad going through this part of the country and I was curious about the history of the town. How many secrets did these homes have?
Though I smiled and pointed out unique features to Will- a chimney painted black and white, a widow’s walk on the top of a house, a mailbox shaped like a lighthouse- in the back of my mind lurked the thought I was being followed. Dark shadows in hotel rooms at night made me flinch. My heart hammered in my chest when I heard a deep voice, no matter where I was. In the car, I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror, always watching for anything suspicious.
I prayed each day that Leo would not find us. I wanted to live in peace, not with fear and terror, a silent hand always daring to reach around my neck and squeeze. I went to sleep at night anticipating an angry bang on the door and police surrounding whichever hotel we stayed in. Fright clutched my bones when I drove and I almost lost muscle control each time I saw police cruiser. I grew used to the flush of anxiety brought by eye contact with a stranger. I had a perpetual dread that at any moment Leo could appear and ruin what I had so carefully tried to construct these last couple of months—security, tranquility, and a sense of control over my own life. Finally, Will stopped asking when we were going to see daddy again.
“Honey, we’re starting a new life together, you and me.” I rubbed his back and kissed his sweet little head that I loved so much. “I know you miss daddy.”
He shrugged. “He’s mean. I saw him do this.” He made a face with squinty eyes and pursed lips, he held up his hand like he was going to hit me. I was silent for a minute, too stunned to speak. One of the counselors I spoke with told me what happened to kids who grew up with an abusive parent.
“You should know that boys who witness their mothers’ abuse are likely to be abusers,” she had said as I closed my eyes and imagined Will, grown up and full of rage like Leo. I could not let that happen.
Now, seeing the look on my face, Will lightly tapped my arm. “I love you, mom.” He softened his expression then paused, his eyes full of something I couldn’t read. “I don’t miss him. Not much.”
Hugging him close, I bargained with God that if He kept us safe, I would go to a church starting right now.
As luck would have it, we passed a community church, a picturesque white building with a sharp steeple shooting up into the sky and stained glass windows of Jesus tending to his flock of sheep. I turned the car around and parked under the shade of a large leafy tree. The service had started only minutes ago. I took Will’s hand and led him through the big white doors.
“Let’s check this out,” I said and he shrugged, still happy from his ice cream treat. I planned on sitting in the very back and sneaking out before the service was over.
An organ trumpeted out music and a blue robed choir stood in the front of the sanctuary. We sat in the hard backed pews. Sunlight flooded through the stained glass making a kaleidoscope pattern on the unadorned walls. The church was simple and traditional. I was instantly at ease and, strangely, at home. The congregation ranged in ages from very young to very old. I closed my eyes and listened to the hymns. I recalled going to church with my parents on holidays such as Easter and Christmas. I never believed in ghosts or spirits but in that moment, I could have sworn my parents were with me. I didn’t want to lose that feeling and I reached for Will to hold him close and smell the scent of his shampoo. He was everything to me.
I enjoyed the sermon, especially the peace I found in the church, although Will kept pulling on my sleeve, whispering, “Can we go yet? I’m bored. Is it almost over?”
“Hold on, almost over.” I whispered back to him, kissing him on the cheek. I snuck a piece of gum to him and smiled.
When the service came to an end, I tried to duck out, holding Will’s hand. A warm grip on my shoulder sent panic flooding through me. I ducked as if someone were going to hit me.
“Why hello. We haven’t seen you here before, have we?” a high-pitched female voice asked.
I slowly turned to find myself in front of an older woman with a Mrs. Santa Claus
appearance, portly and jovial. “Hi there! I’m Anne, Anne Dittman. I know all the familiar faces so when someone’s new, I notice right away.” She wagged her finger at me and grinned. Her hair was curled and close to her head, it carried the vague scent of perm solution. She wore polyester pants and a loose tunic, and a gold pin in the shape of a cross was secured above her right breast.
“Oh, well, yes. We are new. This is our first time here.” I squeezed Will’s hand. His eyes were on other children, running through the grass. He put his head down and shyly gazed back up at them, watching from beneath his eyelashes.
She clapped her hands, “Well, my dear, you are most welcome. It’s wonderful to have you. You’re staying for the fellowship picnic, aren’t you?” She bent over and started talking to Will. “And what’s your name, young man?”
I panicked. Would he remember he was now Ethan? We had gone over it every day in the car, me coaching him on our names and him repeating it until he whimpered, “I don’t want to say that name again.”
“I’m Spider!” he said boldly, a smile playing on his lips. “Spiderman!”
Anne burst out laughing. “Oh my heavens. Isn’t he so cute? You have to meet my grandson, he’s about your age. What are you? Six, seven? Come on, let me introduce you to Andy.” She took his hand and led him into a crowd of happy faces.
I followed close behind, irrational thoughts waltzing through my over-active brain. What if Leo sent this Anne woman to befriend me and then steal Will? What if Leo warned these people about me? Did they recognize me? A million nagging considerations, mostly outrageous, bounced around my brain. I almost expected to see Leo’s face, sneering at me.
I did not take my eyes from Will’s head. I drew in a breath and tried to steady my racing thoughts. Now was the time to adopt the survivor mentality I read about in secret; I was not a victim. Leaving Leo was an act of empowerment. I took control and I walked away, changing my life.
While Leo was gone, either at the studio or away filming, I found everything I could about breaking negative patterns. I read while sitting in the car, in the garage. I figured he still watched me from the cameras he installed in every room, so I found corners where his eyes could not find me.
Watching my son walk away, I realized that everything I read led me to this point, right here in a small town on the east coast, three thousand miles away from Leo’s grasp.
Though an emotional hurricane swirled within my body, I reminded myself that now we were safe, not everyone was going to hurt us and not every person we came in contact with was looking to cut me down. There was no Aunt Priscilla and no Leo to tell me I was worthless.
“Come meet Midge,” Anne called to me, still holding tight to Will’s hand. I was shocked he went with her so willingly. He was introduced to another boy about his age, smiling timidly at something the little boy said. I tried to remain relaxed and casual, like a normal mom, but fear in the marrow of my bones put me on high alert. It would be a long time before I would be able to trust and relax.
“This is my dear friend, Midge McKinney, this is . . .” She stared at me, searching for a name.
“Grace,” I said, maybe a little too loudly, holding out my trembling fingers to shake the other older woman’s extended hand. She was tall and thin with a head of pure gray hair cut short with long bangs. Dressed in a cardigan and comfy pants, I surmised she shopped at the same store as Anne, garments for the over sixty-five set. My lips twitched as I thought of the women in Beverly Hills, they’d never be caught dead in such outfits. Even older women dressed in tight pants and the highest heels. It couldn’t be comfortable and I much rather wear clothes I could move in. I remembered Leo shaking his head at my sweatpants and loose cotton shirt. “You’ll never fit in,” he told me, his eyes narrow and small, judging my every move.
I smiled at Midge. Her face was long and thin, a pair of black-rimmed cat’s eye glasses perched on the narrow bridge of her nose, a gold chain connecting one end of the glasses to the other. She looked like a friendly librarian.
“It’s been nice meeting you, but we should be going.” I gave a tight grin and turned to Will. “Ready, buddy?”
“Mom, can we stay and eat hamburgers? We’re going to look for bugs, too. Please mom? Come on.”
“Honey, I don’t think so. We just had ice cream and-”
“Please?” Will whispered, his eyes serious and round.
I licked my lips.
The two women stood there, friendly smiles and welcoming gestures directed toward me.
“Oh, stay. Please, have lunch with us. There are burgers, fried chicken, potato salad, cornbread, and green beans. Am I forgetting anything? We have so much. The senior prayer group made it all. We love visitors,” Anne begged.
I bit my nails, looking at Will, his little face turned up, the sun shining on his hair made him look like an angel. He clasped his hands together.
“Please mom?”
I opened my mouth to say no then quickly shut it.
I did tell him we would settle down and promised no more long car rides and frantic middle of the night disappearing acts. We were done driving on long stretches of black, endless highway, I said. There would be no more fast food eaten on the go and hotel beds with scratchy sheets and strange noises in the night.
Upon entering the town, I noticed a handcrafted wooden sign, proclaiming its establishment in 1740. There were numerous inns and bed and breakfasts, art galleries, and hand painted signs for clambakes, horseback riding, whale watching, and antiques. It was the perfect place for us. This was where I had chosen to stay and sooner or later we’d have to meet people, make friends, we’d have to learn to trust.
To Will, I nodded. “Okay, go play.”
He ran off, happier than I had seen him in a while. I noticed he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure I was still there. I’d never leave him.
I waved and nodded, smiling at the picture before me. My son was happy and there was no sign of Leo.
Panic was a cloud that enveloped me wherever I went. A cold despair clung to me like a wet shirt. I nervously scanned the newspaper each morning looking for any bits or pieces about Leo and my “disappearance.” I left my laptop at home, thinking there would be a way Leo could trace it to us. I had no computer, no fancy phone. I depended on an old fashioned newspaper for information.
We were no longer front page news, so I read the entire newspaper. I didn’t see anything. Two weeks ago, People Magazine ran a single page article about the success of Leo’s newest film and mentioned in the last paragraph the mystery of our apparent abduction.
The inhabitants of the town couldn’t have been nicer. The phrase “salt of the earth” described everyone I met.
Anne and her friend, Midge sat down with me at the picnic, loading up a heavy duty paper plate trimmed with yellow marigolds that reminded me of my mother. “Eat.” they urged, piling on more potato salad.
For a second I imagined Leo next to me, bristling at the amount of food on my plate. But Leo wasn’t here.
“What brought you to our fair city? Have you been here before? Is your husband here? Where are you staying?” Over lunch, they peppered me with a myriad of questions I was not prepared to answer.
Although I tried to pay attention to the women talking to me, I kept my eyes focused on Will, who was goofing around with boys his age, looking for bugs, running, and kicking a ball on the thick green grass. Families sat together at long folding tables, having a lazy lunch while the children played. It was so heartwarming and I longed to fit in to the happy picture. I was in the middle of a Hallmark movie and didn't want it to end.
Midge and Anne looked at me expectantly, waiting politely for answers to their questions. As I munched on a green bean, I recited my well rehearsed story. A backstory that I knew backwards and forwards, the fiction I fed to Will so that he knew we were no longer Will and Delia from California but Grace and Ethan.
“My husband . . . left us,” I said slowly. I took a sip of lem
onade. What was a picnic without lemonade? “We needed a fresh start and I used to come here with my parents when I was a child.” My cheeks started to burn. They murmured their apologies and sympathy. “Do you have parents nearby, dear? Family?” Anne asked with concern in her voice.
“They’re dead. They died when I was sixteen. And my husband’s family, well, we’ve never been close.”
I thought about my brother and how I tried to get in touch with him over the last couple of years but he was stationed in the Middle East and it never seemed the right time to fill him in on what was going on with Leo. We spoke sporadically when we could and unfortunately many times Leo lingered, listening to my side of the conversation, making comments as I spoke to my brother. I was eager to call David and tell him everything, we had so much to discuss. He could be trusted. My heart longed for my big brother. Happiness bubbled up inside me as I imagined calling him with no Leo trying to listen or check my phone and examine who I spoke with and for how long. I was free to do what I wanted without worrying about Leo’s reaction.
The ladies asked where I was staying, what were my plans?
“Ethan and I are booked at a hotel for the next couple of days. We have to find a place to rent, I need a job.” There was so much to do. I did what I could online but renting a place needed to be done in person, same with finding a job. I didn’t care what I did; I needed a small paycheck to supplement the money I saved. I worked out a budget and knew money was okay for a while but I wanted to have a small income. From the local papers that I read online, I knew there were various positions available like working as a waitress, cashier in a shop that sold crystals, a developer at a photo studio. Simple, stress free work was what I needed.
After telling the women what I was looking for, they introduced me to a lady named Clementine who owned a small publishing company.
“This is the Lord’s timing. How did you know I’m currently interviewing for an assistant position?” Clementine laughed and clapped her hands together. “I was worried I wouldn’t find someone and here you are like magic.”