In the moment, Jenna felt incredibly lucky.
“You’re here because Brian’s been abusing you?”
“That’s right. It’s been... I’ve been here for six weeks, and really, I should be ready to go, but....”
“Are they pressuring you to move on?” Most places had to. With money constraints and regulations that didn’t allow them to house residents long-term; shelters could only do so much.
“No! They don’t do that here. Not unless you aren’t trying to help yourself. But even then, they help find alternate housing. The Stand isn’t funded principally with government money. There’s some, but it’s primarily funded by investments and private donations and a lot of the work is done by volunteers, so they aren’t as tied to generic regulations as most places.”
“So you can stay until you’re ready to go....”
She nodded. “I just... He’s still a pastor at the church where he grew up. At the church where his father and I grew up. I’m just... I...” She glanced at Jenna’s computer screen.
“I was standing behind you for a bit before I called attention to myself. I... You were shaking and seemed upset, but you were engrossed and I... The article you were reading... I...”
Understanding dawned. She’d been reading about the abuser who used religion to keep his victim under his control. “You want to help your son.”
With tears in her eyes, Renee nodded.
“You realize you can’t help him if he’s not willing to help himself.”
“Are you telling yourself the same thing?”
“I’m... My situation is different.” She couldn’t let the other woman assume...she couldn’t be responsible for setting an erroneous example. She was willing to die in this quest. She couldn’t be responsible for another woman doing so. “I’m not trying to help anyone else.” The words finally came to her. “I’m trying to help myself by gaining an understanding of...the other side.”
Renee studied her for a long minute. And then, standing, she nodded.
“Please.” Jenna reached out to her and was surprised when Renee took hold of her hand. “I’ll... We can study together, if you like. We can learn together. I just...promise me one thing....”
“What’s that?”
“That you won’t put yourself in a position that will allow your son to hurt you again.”
“I can promise you that I won’t have false hopes where he, or my ability to help him, is concerned. But he’s my only child, Jenna. I can’t promise never to be alone with him again.”
It wasn’t what she’d asked. But she understood that it was all the other woman could give.
And that made it enough.
For now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHANTEL HAD TO leave on Saturday. She was on shift that evening. Max didn’t want her to go. While she was there, working with him, he felt as though he was actively on the way to finding his wife. He was actually doing something to bring her back home to him.
He’d continue his online searching—people were more open on social networks. They showed their true colors. And as Chantel had said, abusers with ego problems could be drawn by a social network’s platform to brag about oneself.
Cops, she’d warned, were less likely to use online social networks, however, because they were so aware of their traceability.
She’d promised to continue investigating from her end, though she was treading carefully until she found out how the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department viewed Steve Smith—as one of their own that they would protect, or as one who’d betrayed them all by making a mockery of the badge.
From what she’d been able to determine so far, it was the former.
“What about that list of contacts I gave you?” he asked her while Caleb sat on the living room floor engrossed in a kids’ show on TV. He and Meri didn’t let the television babysit Caleb. But Meri had walked out on them and now he had to make do the best he could.
Ashamed of the thought he moved a little closer to the front door, while still keeping his young son in sight.
“Dead ends.”
Chantel was doing what she could. So was he.
And so, he was certain, was Meri.
It would all work out. They were going to be fine.
“I’ll stay on this, Max,” she told him. “Between the two of us we’ve spoken with anyone she had contact with recently. I’ll continue making calls.”
“Thank you.” But... “Something made her run.”
“I agree. I’m just not convinced it was the dangerous threat you assume it was. She might just be a runner, Max.” Chantel’s voice was soft. “You married a woman with serious issues. They aren’t her fault. I’m not saying they are. Based on the little bit we’ve been able to put together this weekend— her aloneness in the world, her marriage to an allegedly abusive detective from LVMPD, a man who is now a private investigator and has hunted her down on four different occasions—she couldn’t help but have issues. Some women, when they start to feel emotionally pressured, or to feel as if they’re going to fail, run. It’s their way of avoiding the pain of disappointing those they love.”
He wanted to push her out the door and close it behind her. Permanently. “You’re saying they’re motivated by their fear of retribution to get out before they disappoint,” he guessed, because the rational part of him knew there was some truth to her statement.
Just not with Meri. She’d never be afraid of him.
“Sometimes. Or maybe it’s like she said, leaving Caleb at day care was too much for her. You said that she’d fought you on that issue, that the amount of time she left him each week was getting less and less. And she knew you weren’t going to allow her to get away with it.”
This wasn’t about their son’s day care. He and Meri had talked about that issue. And he gave in to her whenever she was at the point of panic.
Because he really did understand.
Just as she understood that he had a bit of a sensitivity where losing his wife was concerned. She wouldn’t just up and leave him.
“If your relationship was exactly as you say it was, if Meri is all you believe her to be, then why would anything make her run?” The question came quietly, but also with grave seriousness. Chantel, a couple of inches shorter than he was, somehow made it difficult for him to look away. “If she trusts you as much as you think she does, why didn’t she come to you with whatever was bothering her? Why not talk to you about it before she took off?”
“Because Steve wouldn’t let her,” he said, engulfed with tension anew. “It’s what I’ve been telling you for three and a half days. He was there even though you didn’t see him on the tape. He’s got her, Chantel. I’m certain of it. For the reasons you just stated.”
And what if Meri wasn’t running because of fear for her own life? What if another part of the letter she’d written was the truth? The part about protecting Caleb? What if she was somehow protecting her son from Steve Smith?
It didn’t really make sense. She’d call the police if that was case. She knew he had an “in” here, just like Steve used to have in Las Vegas.
But what if Meri was in the grip of irrational fear, if she wasn’t being logical? Then there might be truth to the idea that she believed she had to run to protect them. “We have to find him.”
The brown eyes gazing up at him shadowed, and Chantel grasped his arm, holding on tight. “We will, Max. Even though I’m not sure you’re right about Steve, or Meri’s reasons for leaving, your conviction makes me think you might be. I’m going to keep looking for him. I’m going to find her. For you. I’m not going to desert you. I promise.”
He nodded. And, choked up with too much emotion for one calm guy to handle, held on a little too long when she leaned in and hugged him goodbye.
* * *
DAY FOUR.
I have the bungalow to myself tonight. They’re having Saturday night at the movies up at the main building and both Carly and Latoya went. They wanted me to go with them. I just couldn’t. I can’t be a part of their temporary family unit. I have a family.
Whether we ever see each other again, whether Max would ever forgive me for leaving like I did, with no warning, whether I’m successful in my attempt to have the threat of Steve permanently gone from my life or not, able to return to Max and Caleb or not, they are and will always be my family.
Jenna stopped writing, read the words on the page. And stared at the wall in front of her desk. On it hung a picture of an elegant, old-fashioned boudoir—a woman’s place with upholstered eyelet furniture and soft roses in a vase.
And it occurred to her that she liked her room. Felt safe there. And couldn’t remember a time when she’d really felt safe.
They said that secrets were safe at The Lemonade Stand. Maybe some were. Some probably weren’t.
She was a secret.
And needed desperately to be a safe one.
I made a decision today. I know that my purpose, to keep my boys safe from Steve’s ugliness, to keep them apart from the sense of being hunted like animals, from the fear of being hounded, gives me strength. Meredith Bennet gives me strength. She is the me I was born to be.
And while I was talking to Renee it occurred to me that if I am to succeed in my mission, I must keep alive the parts of myself that drive me. I must keep Meredith alive.
Jenna is a necessary part of me. And Meredith is even more so. Beyond this journal. Beyond my own mind.
I, Meredith, am a three-dimensional human being with a full life. And if I am going to keep her spirit alive, I have to be allowed to fly. At least a little bit.
Renee is a mother. Her selfless love for her son touched a chord in me and I know that it was no mistake that she found me today. She needs me. I got that right away. But I needed her, too.
I must stop Steve’s stalking, put an end to the threat he poses to me and my family. But I must also keep Meredith’s life alive where I can. It is the life that I am willing to die to preserve.
Tomorrow, I am going to make a phone call to the mother of the three-year-old patient I’ve been working with. Someone I can still help, someone from Meredith’s daily life who can coexist in Jenna’s. Olivia’s mother, Yvonne, is a survivor. She will settle for as little as I can give her.
And then, maybe later, if I can figure out a way to do so undetected, I will check in on Max and Caleb. I will watch over my men.
For now.
And for eternity.
This I promise them.
And I promise me, too.
Goodnight.
* * *
“MAMA! MAMA!” The childish cry rent the air and Max flew out of bed and into the hallway before he was even fully awake.
“Mamaaaaa!” Caleb was crying, screaming, and his father stubbed his toe on the way into the nursery to find the toddler standing up in his crib, arms stretched over the bars that contained him.
“It’s okay, boy,” he said, hardly aware of the throbbing in his little toe as he pulled the toddler from his crib. “Daddy’s here.”
“Mama!” Caleb’s voice broke on a hiccup, but the crying had stopped. Throwing his arms around Max’s neck, Caleb held on tightly and laid his head against Max’s shoulder.
“It was just a bad dream,” he said, hoping the words were true, but not willing to settle for hope. He took his son into his room, laid the little boy down on his bed and proceeded to look him over for any signs of illness. He checked his belly for rash, his skin for hives, his fingernails for coloring, his eyes for dilation, his pulse and adenoids while the boy lay there, tears on his lashes, staring up at him.
“Mama?” Caleb’s voice was tiny as he lay in the middle of the big bed.
“Mama’s not back yet,” Max said over the lump in his own throat. Oh, God, Meri, would you be here if you could?
Or did you really choose to leave us? For whatever reason....
Are you still alive, my love?
Everyone was so sure she’d left him of her own accord. The facts pretty much proved that she had. Chantel, the local police, they all seemed to think she was safely out there somewhere starting a new life for herself.
He just couldn’t believe that.
So much so that he still hadn’t told anyone she’d left. They’d made calls, asking if anyone had seen her, heard from her, but as far as his work was concerned, no one knew the truth.
He’d made calls to the clients she’d had on her calendar for the coming week, saying that she was under the weather. He’d called the school to let them know she wouldn’t be in.
He was doing what he had to do to take care of his family.
If Smith had Meri, would he kill her for having married another man?
“Mama home.” Caleb lay still, watching him.
“She’ll be home soon, son,” Max said, scooting the little body up and over so that his head lay on Max’s pillow. He flipped off the light he’d turned on upon coming into the room, and climbed into bed beside his son.
Chantel was using her police skills and resources to look for Meri. She’d promised him that she’d find her. They’d talk again in the morning, just as they had every day since Meri’s disappearance.
Tonight, he would do what Meri would do if she were there. He’d cuddle their son for her.
And find strength and solace in sleep.
But as Caleb snuggled into Max’s chest and the little boy’s breathing evened out, Max lay wide-awake in bed beside him.
Caleb had just had his first nightmare.
And his mother had not only missed it, she’d caused it.
* * *
JENNA DIDN’T ATTEND Sunday morning service. She went to the library instead to do more reading. To get into the mind-set of the abuser so she’d know how to approach Steve.
She had to convince him that it was in his best interest to let her go. The question was, how did she do that without getting herself killed?
If it were easy, or clear, she’d already have done it. She knew the risk she was taking. Had a pretty good idea the chances of her getting out alive weren’t in her favor.
But he’d pushed her as far as she could go. This wasn’t just about her and Steve anymore.
When the hour grew decent enough for a phone call, she went for a walk on the property—acres and acres of lushly landscaped colorful gardens and perfectly manicured lawns—pulled her untraceable pay-by-minute cell phone from the edge of her bra where she was now storing it, and dialed a number she knew by heart, waited for the machine to answer and said, “Yvonne?”
Olivia’s mother wouldn’t pick up an unknown number. “This is Meredith. I’m going to call back in a couple of minutes. Talk soon.”
She walked, head down, not wanting to engage in conversation with anyone. She waited a few minutes and then called back. Yvonne’s three-year-old daughter was going to be having surgery and would need to learn how to swallow again. Jenna had already started the little girl on exercises that would facilitate that learning.
“Meredith?” The woman sounded breathless as she picked up on the first ring.
“Yes.”
“I... Someone came to the house the other day, a policeman. He was asking about you. I’ve been worried sick.”
“I wouldn’t let you and Olivia down,” Jenna said, walking, turning her head as someone passed, staying in constant motion so that she wouldn’t be overheard.
“I was worried about you!”
“I’m fine, Yvonne. No need to worry.” Yvonne had enough problems of her own—she was still being hounded by an abusive ex who had already violated his
restraining order once, in addition to dealing with her little girl’s medical issues—and Jenna didn’t want to add to them.
Or set a wrong example, as she’d almost done with Renee the day before. She was going to have to be very careful. Sisters in victimhood watched each other, watched out for each other, learned from each other—all part of that which made recovery possible.
She couldn’t betray that sisterhood. Couldn’t have one of the other women following in her footsteps as she headed out to confront her abuser on her own.
And still, she knew she was on her own right course. “Is Olivia still on for surgery next week?” she asked, nervous about being on the phone at all. She couldn’t be traced. She knew that. But still...
“Yes, Tuesday at nine a.m. I just got confirmation on Friday morning. Are you home?”
“No, I’m not. And...I’m not going to be. Listen, Yvonne, I want to help you, as I promised I would.” Olivia was due to have reconstructive surgery to repair a bone in her jaw that was broken when her father shoved her mother while Yvonne was holding Olivia. “I want to do Olivia’s throat therapy after surgery. She trusts me and we’ve worked through the exercises so while someone else could certainly take over, I think I’ll be the most effective at getting the quickest results and giving her the best chance for complete recovery.”
“So you’ll be back home then?”
“No. And here’s the thing. I will help you but I have to do so on my terms.”
“Of course. You know I’ll do anything I can to accommodate you. You’ve helped me so much. Without you—”
She’d first met Yvonne in a therapy session at The Lighthouse women’s shelter—where she’d been a resident when she’d first moved to California, and then later, a volunteer.
“I’m...in hiding,” Jenna said, surveying her surroundings as she reached the Garden of Renewal, an exquisite piece of natural art set apart from the rest of the Stand’s property by a forest of trees. She’d never been inside the Garden. And didn’t go now, as there were sure to be other residents inside, sitting on the benches, enjoying the waterfall she could hear from the edge of the trees.
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