by Janie Crouch
True to his word, he asked a few questions about her fruits, although most of them, even the kumquats, he’d tried at least once before.
A few people came up to her to ask if she was okay, but Marilyn handled them with grace and aplomb. Noah even forced himself to make small talk. He wasn’t great at it, but he at least tried.
She relaxed as they went, keeping it together even as they passed the area in the bread aisle where her episode had occurred. He stayed with her as they finished getting everything they needed, even though he knew the danger had passed and she was going to be fine.
He stayed with her as they paid for their groceries and walked out to her small car.
Damn. He couldn’t seem to force himself to leave her.
“Thank you. For everything.” She loaded a bag into her trunk. “If you’re ever having a nervous breakdown on a grocery store floor, I promise to pick you up and carry you wherever you need to go.”
He had to laugh. “I might take you up on that.”
“Listen.” She stared down at her feet. “I don’t want you to take this any sort of weird way, but can I bring you dinner this week? The kids and I can come out and I’ll cook. They’ve been talking nonstop about seeing Thing One and Thing Two again.”
“Marilyn, that’s not necessary—”
“Right. Of course. No, don’t worry about it. It was stupid of me to even have suggested it.”
He wanted very much to touch her. To put a finger over her lips so he could stop her words. But he didn’t want to frighten her in any way.
“Hey. Look at me for a sec.” He wasn’t very good with gentle but tried to make his voice as soft as possible.
She finally looked up at him.
“I just wanted you to know that what I did for you here today was because we’re friends. There’s no repayment necessary.”
“Okay.”
She was still taking his words as rejection, even though he didn’t mean them that way.
“But I’ll never turn down a home-cooked meal. If you want to come see the pups and bring food, I’ll never say no to that. But don’t feel like you have to.”
Her smile brightened everything about her face. “Then how about Thursday?”
5
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “Am I doing it wrong or something?”
Marilyn took the dish Noah handed her and began to dry it.
Why was she staring at him? Evidently, he didn’t find it odd whatsoever to be washing the dishes after dinner.
This man, this former Special Forces soldier, had not only offered to do the dishes, he’d insisted.
“No, you’re doing it fine.”
“Then why that look?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I’m just surprised that you offered to help with dishes at all.”
Now his other eyebrow joined in the raising. “You cooked, so I do dishes. That’s the rule, right? At least that was the rule when I was growing up. Although, admittedly, Mom usually made us kids do the dishes since Dad was pretty tired when he made it home for dinner.”
“What did your dad do?”
Noah went back to scrubbing the lasagna pan and Marilyn thought he might not answer. It was none of her business anyway.
“He was a cop like Tanner. But he died when we were pretty young.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Noah glanced over at her. “Why? It’s actually good to talk about him like this.”
“Did he die in the line of duty?”
Noah shrugged. “Sort of. He trusted the wrong person. That guy ended up shooting him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She hadn’t meant to reopen old wounds. Everything had been going so well. The kids were utterly fascinated by the ranch and all its many components. Noah had showed them around when they’d first arrived, spending extra time in the barn since both Sam and Eva had a million questions. He’d answered them patiently, even when the answers had led to more questions.
And then the meal… Noah asked questions about Eva’s decorating, the two of them agreeing that she’d indeed made the right choice when she went with butterflies.
Even Sam had opened up and talked a little at the table, which was unusual for him. Too often the kitchen table had been the start of violence, or at least screaming, with Jared. She’d always gotten the kids off to their room as quickly as possible whenever it had become evident that Jared wasn’t going to be reasonable.
Apparently, Sam had been aware of enough of the tension that meals with a man at the table were difficult.
Noah had to have noticed Sam’s stiff behavior. There was no way he couldn’t have. It would’ve been easy for Noah to misconstrue Sam’s behavior as sullen or disrespectful, but Noah hadn’t taken it that way. Instead, he’d tried to draw Sam into the conversation as much as possible, never saying anything at Sam’s sometimes half-muttered responses.
She didn’t want to ruin what had been a great evening by bringing up painful memories of his father.
“Don’t be sorry. Me talking about Dad is good. Actually, according to my family, me talking to anyone about anything is good.”
He handed her a spoon and she dried it.
“You, not a big chatterer?” Sarcasm dripped from her tone. “I find that hard to believe.”
Noah smiled and it softened the lines of his rugged face to such a degree that it almost made him look cute.
Cute in an I’m a warrior and can storm fortresses sort of way, but cute, nonetheless. Younger, a little more carefree.
“Dad’s death affected us all different ways. It led me to the military. Tanner followed in Dad’s footsteps and became a cop. And Cassandra married Graham—a guy who has Dad’s personality. I think he would’ve been happy with how we turned out. How about you? Are your folks still alive? Brothers or sisters?”
“No siblings. I never really knew my dad. My mom had… problems and a lot of boyfriends when I was growing up. None of them stuck around very long. It wasn’t a great situation.”
She put the plate away and turned back for the next one. She didn’t like talking about her childhood much. It hadn’t been bad, comparatively, but it hadn’t been great, either.
“Then that’s even more impressive.”
“What is?”
“You’re a damn fine mom to those kids of yours.” He nodded toward the window in front of the sink where they both could see Sam and Eva playing with the puppies. Corfu sat to the side looking at the four of them like they were all crazy.
She wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her or not. “Right.”
“I’m serious. Those kids worship the ground you walk on. And they’re stable and happy. That’s just about all any parent can hope for.”
She shook her head, wringing the towel around her fingers. “Right. I’m such a good mom that I stayed in an abusive situation, let them see me get used as a punching bag until it got so bad, Jared put me in a coma and almost killed me.”
He reached over and gently pried the towel from her hands, then used it to dry the lasagna pan himself. “Did your ex ever hurt your kids?”
“No. Thank goodness.”
He put the pan down and turned toward her, leaning his hip against the counter. “Would I be mistaken if I said there was more than once where you kept your ex’s violent behavior pointed toward you on purpose?”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t change the fact that I was weak. I should’ve stood up to him. I should’ve left him much earlier than I did.”
There were so many things she should’ve done. So many different decisions she should’ve made, but she hadn’t.
“Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
She fiddled with the dishes in the drying rack, more to give herself something to do than because they needed to be rearranged. Any question he could possibly want to ask couldn’t be a good one.
How could she have b
een so weak?
How could she have been so stupid?
How did she screw up her life so quickly?
“How old are you?”
She spun her face toward him, brows furrowed. That was not what she’d been expecting.
He gave her a half-smile that once again softened his face. “My mom would smack me with the nearest flip-flop if she heard me ask you that.”
The image of Mrs. Dempsey swatting a full-grown Noah with a flip-flop brought a smile to her face. “I’m twenty-six.”
“And Sam is six? Seven?”
“Turned seven last month.” Now she understood the question. “I married Jared when I was eighteen, and I had Sam when I was nineteen.”
Noah nodded. “How about I make us some coffee, then we can go sit on the porch while the kids finally exhaust those two demon pups.”
She laughed. It felt… good, him wanting them to stay. He’d already gone well beyond expected politeness. He wanted her company—or at least, his actions suggested he did.
That thawed a place inside her that had been hidden and frozen so long she hardly recognized it. “That would be nice. Thanks.” She wiped down the table as he made coffee.
“How did you and your ex meet?”
She might as well get her entire pathetic tale out in the open. Not a single bit of it was original or even very interesting.
“The construction company he worked for was buying the land our trailer park was on. I lived there with my mom.” She started wiping down the counter. “I’d barely graduated high school a few months before and was waiting tables at the local diner.”
“So, he was older than you?”
She nodded. “Yeah, by about ten years. But it doesn’t change how pathetic I was. He showed me some attention and I lapped it right up.”
“And you said your mom had problems?”
Marilyn threw the crumbs into the trash and wiped her hands on her jeans. “If you consider being a raging alcoholic a problem…”
“I’d say so.”
“She wasn’t a mean drunk. As a matter of fact, she was a lot easier to be around when she was drinking. Just kind of… did nothing. The psychiatrist said that made me an easier mark for Jared. I was so flattered by his attention, by any attention.”
She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, wishing she could go back and tell her eighteen-year-old self to run as hard and as fast as she could in the opposite direction. She couldn’t even stand to look over at Noah. “He took me to nice dinners. Bought me flowers. I thought he thought I was special.”
“He was a predator.”
It wasn’t a question. She shouldn’t be surprised that Noah had figured out in one conversation what had taken her years to discover.
She nodded. “He knew I had no support system. No real friends, no family. No one who would ask any questions.”
“About bruises,” he muttered softly.
He poured them both mugs of coffee, asking if she wanted anything in hers. She took hers black, having to fight back a giggle when she saw how much cream and sugar he put in his mug.
“What?”
She pointed at his cup. “Do you want any coffee in your cream and sugar?”
“Tanner gives me shit about my coffee habits all the time. That sludge they have in the sheriff’s office could be used to torture people if they wanted. I drank coffee black for a lot of years in the service, so I guess I’m making up for lost time.”
The fact that this giant warrior of a man was sheepish about liking his coffee light and sweet just made him more endearing to her.
They walked outside and waved to the kids, who were currently trying to teach Thing One and Thing Two how to sit and roll over. The pups were just standing there looking at them, tongues hanging out to the side.
“So, your predator asshole of an ex talked you into going out with him. Then what happened?”
They both sat down on the steps. “Textbook abuse situation.”
He shook his head. “Don’t call it that. It wasn’t textbook to you.”
She shrugged. He was right. Dr. Elliott had chided her about taking too much responsibility for things that weren’t her fault. “You’re right. But there tends to be some common factors in abusive situations like mine.”
“Like what?” He looked like he truly wanted to understand.
“I suffered from low self-esteem and self-worth. I didn’t have any sort of support system. Those tend to be typical in domestic abuse situations.” She sucked in a breath, staring down at her coffee. “Maybe I thought he was justified in a slap here or a shove there for something I did wrong. Then that slowly escalated into a punch, then kicks.”
She had to close her eyes and breathe through her nose and out her mouth to keep the sound of her own bones snapping out of her mind. The sound of the kids laughing caused her to open her eyes.
“And then I got pregnant and things got better for a while, then worse. Both times. Also typical of domestic abuse situations. For years I kept waiting for things to change permanently.”
“They never did.”
She shook her head and took a sip of coffee. “Not until it was almost too late.”
Looking back now, it was easy to see that she’d stayed way too long. She should’ve left and not just because of Jared’s physical abuse. Because of the… other.
“But you made it out alive.”
“Yes. And that’s more than some.” She took another sip of coffee. “Pathological narcissist with psychotic tendencies. My therapist sat me down and showed me classic cases—the behaviors found with people diagnosed with this.”
“And your ex fits the bill?”
“Down to the letter. Not that he’s been officially diagnosed, of course. He would never think there was anything wrong with him.”
But he was definitely a psychopath. The things he’d done… allowed to be done to her while he’d watched. She could feel bile forming in her throat. Compared to those memories, thinking about the physical pain was easier.
She never told another soul about those things. The things she’d allowed. She hadn’t said no. She couldn’t blame Jared for that, could she? The violence, yes. The other… that was on her.
Maybe she needed to be officially diagnosed, too.
“And he’s in jail right now?”
“He’s awaiting trial.” She set the coffee down beside her. There was no way she could take another sip. “I tried to leave Jared a few times, but he always convinced me to come back. A few months ago, Jared found me again. He… hurt me.” Broken ribs, broken wrist, coma. “I was in the hospital. He went too far and there was enough evidence of prior trauma that he was arrested.”
Finally.
“You must sleep better at night knowing he’s behind bars where he belongs.”
The weight eased just a little bit.
“Knowing he’s in jail has given me the best nights’ sleep in a long time. I won’t even lie. I laughed outright when the judge denied him bail. His court date is not for another few months, so no matter what, I know I have that much time.”
Felony domestic assault was what he was looking at. She’d done as much research as she could, and as best she could tell, Jared would probably go to prison for five to ten years for what he had done to her.
Five to ten years. And then he would be back out. It hardly seemed fair when, in her mid-twenties, she could barely get up some mornings because she was so stiff from injuries. And Dr. Annie warned her that it would just get worse as she got older.
But Marilyn would take it. She would take every single minute she could live in peace knowing there was no way Jared could get to her. She would worry about him getting out when that happened.
She knew it would happen. And knew he would come for her. She would just have to make sure he didn’t find her. At least by then the kids would be older.
“I think you’re going to have to take one of those pups home with you sometime soon,” Noah said, finishing his coffee.
“Or if you’re really an angel, both of them.” He batted his eyelashes at her.
She let out a laugh so loud that the kids turned and looked at her in surprise. “Sorry, I’m all right.” She waved to them.
The kids smiled at each other and began playing with the puppies once more.
“There is no way in hell you are saddling me with both of those demons.”
He grinned. “Damn it, foiled again. But one?”
“It won’t make the pups sad to split them up, will it?”
“Nope. Not with your two rugrats to play with one and the other will have Corfu to keep company.”
She smiled. “Okay then. Let me just make sure it’s all right with the New Journeys guidelines before I talk to the kids about it. It would be nice for them to have a pet. I know they wanted one. Are you sure I can’t pay you for it? Cash? Or maybe lasagna?”
“First of all, I will take lasagna any day that you are willing to bring it. But I cannot rightfully charge you for taking one of the demon pups when you’d be helping me so much.”
That warmth again. More defrosting of frozen parts. “Okay. I’ll bring lasagna of my own free will.”
“There is one thing you can give me in exchange for the dog. Actually, scratch that.” He turned to face her more completely. “It really has nothing to do with the dog but there’s something I’d like to ask you. Don’t give me an answer today, I just want you to think it over.”
Marilyn had no idea what he could be talking about. “What?” Her voice was wary.
His green eyes pinned hers. “Let me train you. Let me show you some basics in self-defense—things specifically for people your size—so you can have a fighting chance.”
“Against Jared?”
He nodded. “I saw your face. We both know that he won’t be in jail forever. I want you to be able to sleep soundly whether he’s behind bars or not. I know two dozen ways to kill somebody with my bare hands without even thinking about it.”
He reached out and gently touched her fingers where they rested on the step. “Let me teach you how to protect yourself.”