Before she could respond, he blurted out. “He said you belonged to him. What did he mean by that? What’s going on, and you had better have a good explanation.”
Her face flushed. She pushed back the chair and stood, as if a brace was holding her back firm and straight. “I’ve made mistakes, but I won’t be talked to like that. I’m not your child. I’m your wife—your equal.” She pushed her bangs back off her forehead and stomped toward the door.
Jonathan pulled himself up on his elbow and pleaded, “Wait. Don’t go. I need to understand why you were gone, and what happened with that man? We can’t make it together if we don’t talk it out.”
Angie stopped at the door and turned. “You’re right. I do owe you an explanation. But you owe me the courtesy of listening without judging or raising your voice. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She returned to the room and seated herself next to the bed. “What do you want to know?”
#
For the next hour, Angie attempted to describe her life since they had first started dating ten years earlier. When she graduated from college, she had her dreams. When they met, everything changed. Somewhere during their early years, she’d laid down her own plans to adopt his. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. He’d convinced her that he had only a few short years to reach his career goals. Being eight years younger, her plans could wait. She had gotten behind his dreams, played the good wife, and thought that once he reached a position of equity partner, there would still be time for her to begin her own career and start a family. At forty, his career clock was growing short.
“Looking back on all those decision points, it’s clear to me that I chose the easier route. Standing in your shadow, helping when needed, had been relatively risk free.”
“Free from what?”
She leaned closer and put her two hands on each side of his face. “Free from my own failure.”
“I guess I can understand what you’re saying about our lives. How does the professor fit into all of this?”
“Oh, Jonathan, the professor’s a master of manipulation. He must have sensed my vulnerability the first time we met. He flattered me. He promised to fulfill my dream of an art career. He convinced me that with his help, I could be great, truly great. I would have it all. He tossed in his hook with the perfect bait and reeled me in.”
Jonathan frowned. With a halting voice, he asked, “Did you have an affair with him?”
“An affair—no never—you must believe me.” She shuddered, shaking her head. “He courted me, yes. I received praise, wonderful trips, gifts, and masses of flowers.” She sighed. “If he hadn’t been insane, I admit, the way things were going between us, I thought him attractive. But I also faced his wrath, his disappointment, and his control.”
She turned her head and stared out the window. “He had rules, so many rules. I never seemed to have the time or the energy to make personal calls. He made sure my time, my needs, and even my meals depended on him.”
Turning back to face him, she admitted. “He isolated me from you and Vicki. I felt trapped and afraid. But I hungered for the dream he painted in my mind. Vicki warned me about Professor Turner. But my life had been lonely for so long, and I was immature and stupid.”
Tears moistened the corners of his eyes. His face grew pale. “I think I can understand. I love you so much. You are so naive, sweet, and giving. I played a big part in this mess. Do you want to come home with me and begin again?”
Her naiveté had been crushed. But that was for the better. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes. I not only want you. I need you. I’ve made mistakes in the past few years, too. While you were gone, I learned a lot about myself and what it takes to have a happy marriage. When we get home, I’d like to introduce you to Doctor Stephanie King. She’s good at her job.”
“Who?”
“She’s my marriage coach. I think you’ll like her.”
“You have a marriage coach?” Angie dabbed at the moisture on her cheeks. Maybe they could make it. Thank you, God. She lowered her gaze and exhaled. “Jonathan, all those nights you stayed downtown… Was it really for work?”
His brows furrowed. “What did you think? Of course, it was for work. I never …. I mean you are the only one for me. My hotel room was never for any other reason. Honest. I was working.”
“Sorry, I had to ask. If we’re going to be together, there has to be total honesty.” He was hiding something from her. She saw it on his face. Her stomach whirled.
The corners of his eyes filled with moisture. His olive complexion radiated with a ruddy glow. “Babe, listen. When you were gone, not calling, not in communication, I did meet a woman at the Tavern on Rush. She fed my ego, and I was tempted to…” He leaned forward and grimaced. “That first meeting, she handed me her business card. One evening, I was so lonely and imagining all kinds of things. No excuses, but I called her and asked her out to dinner.”
She raised her hand. “Don’t tell me the details. Were you unfaithful?”
“Honest, nothing happened. It was an uncomfortable, humiliating experience.” He held his breath, waiting.
Angie stepped back from his bedside and stared. “I believe you. Thanks for being open and honest. Truth must be the foundation for our marriage. Thank you for loving me enough to tell me. I know you well enough to know it must have been embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? Yes. But I was relieved to get out of a bad situation with only one lesson learned—being marriage to you is all I want.”
She bent down and wept, as he showered soft wet kisses all over her face.
After she composed herself, Jonathan asked, “What do we need to do about that damn professor?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s been taken to the police station. The officer has set up an informal inquiry today.”
“Why are they calling it an informal inquiry? We don’t do that in Chicago.”
Angie smiled. “No. We’re not in Kansas either. But I’m told this is how it’s done here.”
“So what happens in this inquiry?”
“The Bakers and I will meet with the professor to get this confusion resolved. Of course, the professor is accusing you of being the aggressor.”
He gritted his teeth and slammed his hand on the bedrail. “Me, the aggressor? That lying jerk.”
She tenderly kissed his cheek and smiled again. “I’m a big girl now. You let me handle this. I got us into it. Let me get us out of it. All you have to do is get better.”
He raised his head from the pillow and tried to get up again. He winced and then aborted the effort. “I guess I have no choice. Right now, I can’t even get up.”
“When I get back, we’ll start planning our future.”
“Has the doctor said when I could travel?”
“Nothing is definite. But he’ll be back later this afternoon. We can ask him. My guess is he’ll discharge you tomorrow.”
He gazed into her eyes. “I need to tell you something else. You and I are really going to start over. I’ve resigned from the firm.”
She gasped. “Resigned? Why?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. You take care of the professor. See to it he stays in jail, or I’ll be a hunted man for murder.”
“I don’t want to settle for weekly visits at the prison. You stay here and behave yourself.” She leaned over the hospital bed and gently touched his lips with hers. “I have to go. The officer asked me to be at the station by two o’clock for the inquiry. I’ll be back as soon as possible. In the meantime, you stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, ‘mam.” Then he filled his lungs with a deep breath, yelped with pain, and gritted his teeth. Once the pain passed, his eyelids drooped, and his snoring returned.
Angie gently kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Sleep well, my tiger. We have a lot to do in the next few weeks.”
Chapter 39
Angie glanced around the police interview room. It appea
red to be similar to those conference rooms she’d seen on Law and Order. She and the Bakers filled three straight-backed chairs clustered along the right side of the table. The professor, planted in a chair at the back of the room, straddled a chair cowboy style.
She fought to keep her eyes open. She yawned and stretched her long torso. Staring at the conference table, she refused to allow herself to make eye contact with the professor. Her concentration broke, as the door opened and two uniformed police officers entered. One, a gray-haired man in his late fifties, carried a tray laden with six cups of coffee. The second officer, a middle-aged female barely five-foot four, cupped a pen and large clipboard in her hands. They introduced themselves and sat down at the table across from Angie and the Bakers.
Coffee dispersed, the male officer turned to Jack and smiled. “It’s nice to see retirement’s agreeing with you.”
“Yeah. The Desperate Housewives has nothing on our neighborhood.”
The male officer laughed and acknowledged Hanna. Then he asked the professor, “Are you James Turner?”
“Professor James Turner. Yes.”
“And I assume, young lady, that you are Mrs. Angie Rhodes?”
“That’s correct.”
“I understand you want to press charges against the professor, and the professor plans to press charges against your husband.”
The professor leaped out of his chair. “No one presses charges against me.”
“Sir, I have the floor right now. You sit down,” demanded the male policemen.
Professor Turner turned his back to the officer and marched to the end of the conference room, muttering to himself.
The officer glared at the professor. “As I was saying, we pride ourselves on relationship building, not cases taken to court. In that vein, our practice may seem somewhat unusual. We make every attempt to resolve differences instead of encouraging litigation—thus our gathering today.”
“The investigations begin more like arbitration,” the female cop offered.
“Yes, and because this is a quiet college town, we don’t like notoriety—especially when our university faculty is involved. So, before anyone discusses charges, let’s talk. Mrs. Rhodes, please tell us what happened.”
“The professor lost his temper and attacked my husband. He used some kind of martial arts and kicked him twice. My husband’s in the hospital with broken ribs and a concussion. The attack was totally unprovoked.”
The professor pounded the table. “That’s a lie. That jerk of a husband threatened me first. He was on my property, and he tried to take her away. I was justified in defending my home and keeping him from kidnapping her.”
The male officer stood and put out his hand. “Professor Turner, please take a seat. If you don’t calm down, I’ll have to end this interview.”
The professor’s eyebrows arched, and his face flushed. “It’s a bunch of lies.”
“You’ll get your turn to speak in a few minutes.”
“Good.” The professor dropped into his seat with a thud.
The male cop turned his attention to Jack Baker. “Kidnapping is a serious offense. What did you observe?”
“Not much, really. I was inside the house. Hanna saw the ruckus out our kitchen window and shouted for me to get my gun. I ran outside, but the fighting was pretty much over. The professor appeared agitated, and the lady’s husband was on the ground, unconscious. I had my handgun and ordered the professor to stand back. Who started it? I don’t know. But the professor seemed to be the one to finish it.”
The male cop turned to Hanna. “Mrs. Baker, what did you hear?”
Hanna drew in her breath. “I heard shouting from the yard next door. I knew the professor had been sent to the hospital the day before. When I looked out the kitchen window and saw Angie, her husband, Jonathan, and the professor. They appeared to be arguing. I was afraid so I called for Jack and then called 911. I didn’t hear what started the fight. But I’m sure the professor was the aggressor. He must have hit Angie’s husband first. He’s a scary man.”
The professor slammed his palms on the table again. “She’s the scary one. Always peeking out her windows, constantly watching me come and go. She should be locked up.”
“I asked you to calm down. I won’t tell you again.” The male cop said.
The professor slumped. With lips pursed, he mumbled “She’s a nosey old liar.”
Ignoring the comment, the male cop looked over at his female partner. “Anything you want to ask these fine folks?”
“No.”
“Okay, Professor Turner, it’s your turn to share what happened. Please remain calm and stick to the facts.”
The professor stood and paced the length of the small conference room. “I teach art. Angie is my student. Out of the blue, this man appeared on my property. He grabbed Angie and said she had to leave. Knowing we were in the midst of a nine-week class, I moved to protect her from that irritating man.”
Angie leaped up. “That’s not true. That man is my husband, and you knew it.” She pointed her finger at Turner. “I had already told you I was leaving, Knoxville—going home. You threatened to kill yourself if I left. I tried to stop you from swallowing a bottle of pills. They had to pump your stomach.” She stopped for a breath. “When my husband came to help me, you used that Karate. The attack on Jonathan was unprovoked. He never put a hand on you.”
The two cops stared at each other. “I think I’m beginning to get the picture. Why don’t you two sit down?” He sighed and looked into the faces of the four civilians. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. While we’ve been talking, my man has been taking a deposition from Mister Rhodes. We’ll compare stories and review your statements. When we return, we’ll discuss whether any charges can be filed. Do you folks think you can sit here quietly and not discuss the case while I am out of the room?”
The professor smirked. “I refuse to sit here with these liars.”
The male cop shrugged and said, “Fine. Come with me. You can have your very own interrogation room.”
The two cops strolled down the hallway. The professor squared his shoulders and marched behind them, the echoing of his steps diminishing as he went.
Hanna Baker reached over and patted Angie on her trembling hands. “Honey, how’s Jonathan?”
“He’s actually doing pretty well. His pain comes and goes. It hurts him to move, but the doctor says he’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
“Broken ribs can be nasty,” Jack said.
Angie stood, and paced to the back of the interrogation room. “I feel so guilty. He never would have come if I’d kept in touch.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Hanna said. “That professor is a dangerous man.”
“I can’t blame the professor for everything that happened. I played my part, too. It was obvious he had problems, but I lacked the courage to pack up and go home. I didn’t want to face Jonathan as a failure.” She paused. Tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ears, she continued. “I blamed Jonathan for his success. I was wrong. I lived in fear, and fear is a poor choice as a companion.”
Jack crossed his arms. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go get some more coffee while you ladies talk in private.” He exited the room in record time.
Angie stifled a laugh. “Men rarely like to talk about feelings.”
“Some do, but most men are more action oriented. They want to solve the problem, not talk about it.”
Angie slid back into the wooden chair and leaned closer to Hanna. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please others and keep everyone happy. I’ve never demanded what should be rightfully mine—the right to be a mother, the right to become an artist. Instead, I allowed myself to shine as a trophy wife. I apologized for my own dreams and settled for Jonathan’s.”
Hanna cleared her throat. “Fear is a powerful motivator. As we grow up, our experiences mold our behaviors. But like all choices, we are responsible for ma
king the final decisions. The good news is, we can change, but we have to want to intentionally choose different behaviors.”
Angie rested her head on the table. “I can’t live this way any longer. I have to be strong enough to make a change.”
#
A half an hour later, Jack and the professor returned with the two cops tailing behind, as if on a forced march. Jack took his seat next to Hanna and sipped his fresh cup of coffee.
The professor stomped in, stood in the back of the room, and began tapping his foot.
The male cop flopped into his chair and rustled through several papers. He raised his head and engaged each of the witnesses as he gazed around the room. “We’ve reviewed all the statements. Some agree, some disagree, and some just lack all the facts. The bottom line is you folks got into a heated discussion and lost perspective. A harried husband worried about foul play, an anxious professor just released from the hospital for emotional issues, and a young woman away from home too long. In my opinion, it all adds up to much about nothing.”
Angie gasped. “Nothing. What about Jonathan.”
“We have no other witnesses in this matter. Mrs. Baker, although you say the professor hit Mister Rhodes first, you didn’t hear what was said. The professor claims he felt threatened and was protecting Mrs. Rhodes. Since the Bakers didn’t hear the confrontation, the two of you,” he waved at Angie and then at Professor Turner, “won’t agree on what happened. It’s a “He-said/She-said” case. No winners, but possibly two losers. Let me suggest that you part company, forget about filing charges that won’t be strong enough for prosecution, and move on with your lives.”
“My husband’s lying in a hospital bed with a concussion and broken ribs. He deserves justice.”
“I understand you being upset. But Professor Turner has a right to defend himself and his property. He claims your husband threatened him, and he responded with force. You can’t win this, lady. Professor Turner is well-known and respected in our community.”
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