Gino beat me to the coffee shop and stood up when he spied me from his perch on a stool at the counter. Two large paper cups and two paper bags were stuffed into a cardboard carrier, waiting at his elbow. We walked to the new, white panel van parked in front of the shop, pausing at the passenger door.
“Here m’hija, favor de tomar these drinks for me just a minute.”
I took the tray from him, careful not to spill a drop from either cup. As I climbed in, the new-car smell imprinted into the vinyl seats made the perfect backdrop for the unique sights and sounds of the customized van.
Gino was singing some lively Cuban tune as he sprinted ahead with the van, dedicating the next five minutes to catching up to the expensive, “Nomad”-toting, Illinois Department of Corrections convoy. He exchanged nods with the driver of yet another one of his vehicles as the first driver slowed down to allow us to slip into position behind the armored bus. He worked the accelerator for a while, jumping us ahead in fits and starts, until he found a pace he liked. He then settled back, turned up the music, and drove quietly for the first hundred miles while I dozed.
Loud buzzing and humming noises coming from somewhere deep inside the engine of the van woke me as we drove through the barren land, rarely straying more than six car-lengths behind the behemoth before us. I’d never seen a bigger bus, and it looked to be brand new. Cameras were mounted along the top of the coach, and there were no windows, making its white sides seem unusually thick, even from this distance. Where did Gino get his ideas? It was all I could do to keep up with the maintenance needs of our vehicles; I couldn’t imagine designing one.
In direct contrast to Gino’s brilliance was the extreme lack of creativity apparent in the letters announcing the owner of the monstrosity. illinois department of corrections was stenciled in large, black letters on both sides of the bus, and the letters idoc graced the back panel... just in case you missed the sides, I guess. I broke our comfortable silence to ask him how much money he made on each bus.
“Forget the bus and the money, m’hija. Today we must speak of the unspeakable. I must hear from you about what you have experienced with that terrible man you married against my will.”
So that was how this was going down. I sighed. I should just clam up for the rest of the way. “Well, Gino, it’s... complicated. I…” I turned my head away to study the desolate landscape flashing by outside my window. “I don’t have it in me today.”
I tried to stem the tide of his need to know, but the dam had already broken.
“M’hija, you got it all. God has crafted a masterpiece. You are fearfully and wonderfully made in every way. And you got the brains, no? Not to mention beauty, as well. Your talent surpasses that of most men—those who are not so talented as me, verdad?”
“Yes, well, maybe, but Gino—”
“You know your way around guns, knives, kitchens. You are every man’s dream wife. What could that horrible man be thinking? It makes no sense. But still, I am glad you will be free of him. It will be for the best. You will see. Our great and merciful God has something so very much better for you.”
My only answer was more tears. So far, our little chat was not going according to plan.
“Is okay, m’hija, you can cry to me. You need to maybe get it out of your system.”
“Where do I even begin? It’s a sad story. And I hate it, and I’m ashamed of it, and I wish it weren’t mine, but it is.” I sniffed and scrubbed a tear from the edge of my eye. “He abused me, Gino. Del is an abuser. He hit me. He did things—nasty things. It nearly killed me, but it didn’t. I shouldn’t have stayed, but I did, and I wish I hadn’t. I guess I wasn’t brave enough to leave. So now I’m reaching down deep inside to gather all the courage I can find just to get through the day. That’s all I can do right now.”
“That’s all any of us can do. We only have today. You have to keep reaching for your strength within, m’hija. And as you reach, our great and merciful God is reaching for you. You just don’t know it yet.” He paused and looked over at me. “I am not loving this new you so much. I want my feisty Chief Josie to come back. I want you to learn you are a daughter of the King of Kings.”
Del’s face floated before me and, for a moment, my heart opened just a crack. Unbidden pictures of God assaulted me, and my heart turned stony. Anger rushed at me from within, and I raised my voice, clenching my teeth as I spoke. “I know I’ve got it going on. I know you’ll never understand this, but I lost it for a moment—lost sight of who I am for a season. A really long and terrible season. I got hooked up with Del and, before I knew what hit me, I lost myself completely.”
“Come back, m’hija. It is time. God calls you gently to Him.”
Gino’s words were like a hummingbird I’d found one day, trapped inside my garage, banging his tiny body against the garage window. The poor little guy wanted to break through into the fresh air, but there was no place for him to escape. I’d like to know Gino’s words, to let them in, but there was no place for them to rest. Gino’s kind of calm never seemed to find me. Maybe I’d been keeping too many secrets from too many people for too long. Maybe today I’d start to let the secrets out. One little hummingbird secret at a time.
“On our honeymoon, Del was wonderful. He was thoughtful and charming. He reeled me in by being the man every woman’s looking for.”
“The wounds are deep, m’hija. But the healing will be deeper.”
“The first time he hit me, I was stunned. And I never told anyone. I couldn’t.” I took off my gloves and stared at them resting on my lap. “We were driving home to Illinois from my family’s home in Wisconsin. He was at the wheel. After the honeymoon... maybe three or four weeks later. He seemed to be angry all the time, simmering like an over-cooked stew. I thought it was me.”
“So much pain. So many lies he had you believe. And you—you are the sweetest and the toughest, and well, let’s face it, you can also be just a little bit frightening, but—”
“I was so confused. It never happened in a straight line. He would hit me, or push me, or threaten me, and as quick as the episode began, it would end, as if it never happened. In the beginning, I would press him about why he acted that way, and he would cry. He’d beg for my forgiveness and promise never to do it again. Then it would stop... for a while.”
“But nothing ever really changed.”
“No, nothing changed.”
“You should’ve challenged right up front, m’hija. Did you not, at the very least, think of it?”
“I couldn’t. Every time I thought about standing up to him, I just fell back into myself. I froze—couldn’t move, couldn’t react, couldn’t bring myself to leave him like I should’ve done a thousand different times. I second-guessed my every move.”
“It is so hard to believe. When are you unsure of yourself? You are the wisest, strongest lady I know. This is a side of you no one else has perhaps seen—a side that motherless son of a rat did not deserve! This tender Jo is to be cherished, and this... this puerco malismo should have been adoring you, protecting you. Not…” He shook his head. His dark-brown knuckles grew lighter as he gripped the wheel so hard I wondered if it would snap in two.
“Gino, I’m okay.”
“No, listen to me. A man must never hit a woman, no matter how much she annoys him. Never! Your husband is a coward.”
Opening his hands wide, Gino drove as if also making supplication on my behalf. Dreary scenery zipped past the windows as he spoke. “You have made me sad this day with your story. Happy to have you tell it to me, but sad to hear it. Sad, as you had maybe forgotten that you had so many friends. You could have come to me or to Nick. We would have helped you. And let us not forget, m’hija, you have a gun.”
“Seems like all I’ve got sometimes is my fear and my doubts and my shaky second-guessing, but yes, I most definitely still have you, Nick, Mitch, Jim, and Donna on my side. And I need you. I need you all.”
Gino’s cell phone chirped, but he ignored the t
ext and glanced at me. I looked out the window as a gas station flitted by on my right.
“But why, m’hija? Why could you not stand up for yourself? Fight back? Leave?”
“I don’t know. I just couldn’t. I just kept caving in.”
“Okay, this I can accept. But then, why did he decide to go? What happened to make him cheat on such a beautiful wife as you?”
I squirmed in the seat. A large bag of barbeque corn nuts would be welcome right about now. “That’s the wrong question at this point, G. The real question is, how much is he going to hurt me on the way out?”
I fell asleep again for the last few minutes of the ride, rousing when the van slowed to a stop and the temperature shifted dramatically. Gino had opened the door for me. I did a quick cat stretch and squeezed the sleep out of my eyes.
“You are finally awake? Good! I can’t hold this door open for you all day.” Gino leaned over me to release my seat belt and help me out of the van.
“I must’ve dozed off for a minute there. Sorry. What are you doing? Where’s the bus... and Nomad?”
“I’m letting you out here at the front, m’hija. Like the perfect gentleman I am. No need for you to join me for another tour of the seedy side of Paradise County to deposit this animal we’re hauling.”
“No, I’m going with you. Keep driving around to the back.”
“Forget it. I got my orders. And anyway, isn’t that your right-hand mujer coming around the corner with your ride home?”
I followed the nod of his head toward the approaching set of headlights, fully awake now that the chilly late-afternoon air washed over me. Sure enough, Mitch pulled into the parking spot in front of us as Gino remained double-parked in front of the courthouse steps. The IDOC bus had been surrounded by both the heavily armored county van and two county squad cars.
This was like the fourth of July for some of these guys. Not much happened in our little county during the holidays beyond the occasional domestic violence call. The deputies wanted to get up close and personal with a real criminal while they could. There were often “accidents” in transport, and they happened more often than not as guards escorted prisoners from cell to cell. From the sounds of the voices gathering, there would likely be more than one “accident” for Nomad to contend with tonight. He might’ve earned it, in my book, but with Gino in the background, the other guys would be kept in line. Gino’d long ago proven his mettle as a local, county, and, ultimately, state cop. Respect as deep as his stayed alive among the boys.
“Vaya, m’hija! I gotta go see about keeping the integrity of our boys in blue intact.”
“All right, all right. Go be the amazing man you are. But first, I get a hug. Thanks for the truth talk, Gino. You mean the world to me.”
“Vaya con Dios, m’hija.”
I nodded and half hugged the rugged man before sliding out of the van. I leaned in to grab my purse and briefcase before shutting the door and waving him away. He jogged back to the driver’s side and jumped in. Flashing the lights, he drove off after the bus, a growing parade of squad cars falling in behind.
Mitch and I launched into the standard news and gossip from her day’s shift as I drove her home. We pulled into her driveway for the drop-off without wasting a minute. We were both exhausted.
“Thanks for the company, Mitch. See you tomorrow. Say hi to your hubby for me.”
I hugged her before giving her a gentle push toward her house. I watched her walk up the stairs and waited for her husband to come to the door. We exchanged happy waves as he ushered her in, and I pulled out of her driveway.
The front of my home was all lit up as I approached and, for a moment, I froze, a terrifying sense of deja vu falling in around me. But this was something really different.
The scene was enchanting. My house was framed in thousands of white holiday lights. The porch was lit so brightly, the fresh paint that livened up the wooden decking and the glass of the porch lanterns sparkled. White icicle lights hung from the eaves, a lit Christmas tree was set up in the living room window, and decorations of varied shapes and sizes hung scattered along the length of the front porch. I parked, got out of the car and walked to the front steps to get a closer look. Fragrant green boughs curled around the square pilasters of the farmhouse porch and streamed down the railings.
At the top of the stairs, I nearly doubled over laughing. Shapely urns held a festive collection of plastic rifles, shotguns, and pink, plastic machine guns, each decorated with lively bows of every color, some with poinsettia flowers blooming out of the business end. It was hilarious. It was beautiful and must’ve taken someone a great deal of time to pull together. I grabbed one of the longest plastic rifles, with its protruding poinsettia, ran my hand down the length of the barrel, and burst out laughing again.
“Dude! What’s so funny? Never seen a little Christmas display before?” Jim walked up the steps, with Donna by his side. I hugged them both, still laughing. “Anybody can do a crèche. I figured you needed something a bit more avant garde.” Jim’s widespread arms gestured to his handiwork.
“Thank you! Donna…”
“I had absolutely nothing to do with it. This was all Jim’s idea.”
“You guys… I…” Donna and I just stood there, grinning and crying on my front porch. Jim rolled his eyes and shooed us toward the front door.
Donna smiled at me and reached into her pocket. “Oh, here. Take your house key back. I’m staying here with you two tonight. Think of me as a chaperone. For your virtue. You’ll thank me later.”
As I opened the front door, an unshaven, wet-haired Nick sauntered down the stairs. “Welcome home, Josie. Like the decorations?”
“They’re stunning.” I stepped into the living room and gasped. A six-foot artificial spruce, completely decorated, stood in the corner between two of the front windows. I had only glimpsed the Christmas tree from outside, but now I could see the detail and care with which it had been set up.
“You like?” Nick grinned from ear-to-ear.
“I like, Nick. Thanks. Maybe Christmas won’t be such a bummer after all.”
“Say, Jim,” Nick said. “Could you tell me what day this is?”
“Sure, Nick, I’d be glad to. Why, it’s Friday afternoon. Practically Friday night.”
“Friday night? Really? Hmm. Isn’t there some sort of suburban ritual involving pizza on Friday nights?”
Jim nearly danced over to the double ovens recessed into the far wall of the kitchen and pulled open the doors simultaneously to reveal two large, thin-crust pizzas.
Jim waved a slice of pizza under my nose, chasing out all vestiges of resolve, and the party began. We spent hours eating snacks and laughing late into the evening. We even put our coats on and shot a few frigid games of makeshift darts in the garage before the party broke up. By the time I collapsed on the sofa in the great room, my face was sore from smiling. The power of their friendship still surrounded me.
Nick had agreed to stay with Jim and Donna in their comfortable guest room at the urging of all three of us. Designer sheets trumped my basement’s sleeper sofa, so I was truly all alone in my big, empty house. It might’ve been my exhaustion, but in the evening solitude, I felt as if I weren’t alone, almost as if Gino’s God was watching over me.
As I fell into bed upstairs, I held on to the warm feeling as long as I could, and as I drifted off to sleep, I smiled. I was actually looking forward to tomorrow.
I awoke to an eerily quiet Saturday morning. Today marked the beginning of the second weekend after the unthinkable had happened. I smiled. Nothing like having a hot Special Agent living with two dear friends right next door to give a girl peace of mind 24/7. I stretched out like a cat in my bed as I slowly came alive, limb-by-limb. Morning sun flooded my room, the warmth reminding me so clearly of my Magnificent Being’s brilliant presence that I half expected to see Him materialize before me. The thought came to me in a flash and then dissolved, but His peaceful presence stayed with me. Maybe
I needed more sleep. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe if I stayed in bed a little longer, He would come to me in a new vision or dream.
The airplane motor sounds of coffee beans grinding convinced me to get out of bed, toss on my jeans and hoodie, and head downstairs for a little surveillance. I’d programmed the coffeemaker before I went to bed, a small semblance of normal returning to my world. I’d even placed Nick’s navy FBI coffee mug next to the machine, along with my requisite two packets of sweetener.
I’m home. Smiling, I opened the fridge. Nick’s handwriting, on a note he’d taped to the large carton of heavy whipping cream before his departure last night, left me instructions to be careful and check the door locks twice.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, doctored it to perfection, and headed over to the comfy sofa. The saxophone sound of my phone rang softly inside my purse, and I rooted around in the bottom of it. Unfortunately, a cop was always on-duty. My grumbling turned to squeals when Georgi’s name appeared on the caller ID. I hit the little green icon.
“Hey, Georgi!”
“Hey, Jo! How are you, girl? How you holding up? Cliff and I are worried sick about you, and we really want to see you. What’re you doin’ today? You’re not working, are you?”
“The day is all mine.” I took a sip of coffee and almost purred like a cat.
“Great.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“You had breakfast yet?”
“Nope.”
“Good. You dressed yet?”
“Yup.”
“Perfect. You had your first cup of coffee yet?”
“I’m on it. I may even have two or three before I’m through.”
“Pour it into a travel mug and get your lazy butt off that sofa. Cliff and I are taking you out to breakfast, so get moving. We’re starving, and you can stand a few hours off-duty, over the border.”
She probably wore her trademark triumphant smile as she hung up the phone without giving me time to reply. Looked like I was headed to Wisconsin.
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