Come Back To Me

by Julia Barrett

  Cara knelt on the floor, still as a stone. Her shoulder had gone numb and she wondered if something was broken. She knew from past experience that both her upper arms sported red handprints. The handprints would become purple bruises within the hour. The towel she’d grabbed had fallen away and blood ran down the side of her arm. It dripped into the pool of juice on the floor. Her robe was soaked and sticky, glistening with a thousand tiny fragments of glass. Cara sensed that if she tried to move, she’d merely grind the glass beneath her into her knees and lower legs. So she stayed. She stayed until she heard Micah finish in the shower. She stayed until she heard him walk down the hallway. She listened to his laughter at the sight of her still on her knees. She knelt there until he closed the door leading to the garage and she heard his car drive away.

  Cara closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking the glass from her robe. She placed both hands on her belly, cradling the child within her. “It won’t happen,” she whispered. “I promise you he won’t kill us.”

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  “Mrs. Welsh, my nurse tells me you’ve had an accident with a sliding glass door?”

  “Yes, Dr. Smith. I walked right into it. I’m just clumsy, I guess.”

  The doctor asked Cara to remove her gown so he could examine her shoulder. She hesitated. He would see all the bruises.

  “Mrs. Welsh, I understand you may be a bit shy, but I do need to examine your shoulder and check for other cuts. We’re going to have to stitch that slice on your forearm and I can already see that I may have to dig some glass out of your knees.”

  Cara thought quickly. Doctors were sworn to keep anything their patients told them confidential. If she told him not to say anything, he wouldn’t, but he would chart everything she told him. That could work to her advantage.

  Cara slowly slipped the gown from her shoulders. She heard Dr. Smith’s quick intake of breath. He stared at her in silence.

  “Mrs. Welsh, Cara, you didn’t run into a glass door, did you?”

  Cara began to retch. The doctor fetched an emesis basin and he held it for her while she threw up. She apologized for being so much trouble.

  “It’s okay,” he said, setting the basin aside. “You’re not any trouble. You’re safe here, Cara. You can tell me what happened.”

  Cara dropped her defenses. He was right. For an hour at least, she was safe. Dr. Smith held her hand and listened. She didn’t say a word about Micah’s business or his drug use. She simply chronicled the episodes of physical abuse, starting with the events of this morning and working backward. Finally, exhausted, she agreed to let him examine her. Dr. Smith made a detailed note of each and every one of her injuries. Her shoulder was badly bruised, but not broken. The bruises on her upper arms matched Micah’s handprints exactly. Dr. Smith numbed her forearm and closed the laceration with eight stitches. Then he numbed both knees and dug out several large slivers of glass. At last, he told Cara she could get dressed.

  By the time he returned, Cara had dressed and composed herself. She sat on the edge of the exam table.

  “Cara, I think you know what I’m going to say.”

  She nodded.

  “You are being abused. Your husband is abusing you. It’s illegal. You do have recourse.” He handed her a pamphlet from the Center for Domestic Violence in Salt Lake City.

  Cara took the pamphlet from his hand, setting it aside. The Center for Domestic Violence in Salt Lake City wouldn’t be of any help to her.

  “Thank you Dr. Smith, but this isn’t a solution.”

  “I don’t understand. They have counselors. They can help you find a lawyer. They have a safe house where you can stay.”

  “Salt Lake City isn’t far enough. I’d have to go to the moon to get away from Micah Welsh. This morning he told me . . . He told me that if I left him he’d hunt me down like a dog and kill me. That’s what he said. My baby would die too.”

  “Then you need to call the Sheriff’s Department. Or you need to let me call the Sheriff’s Department for you.”

  “No.” Cara gripped his arm. “No, that’s the last thing I can do right now. He’d get out. You know they wouldn’t hold him for long. He’d get out and he’d come after me. I can’t take the risk. I can’t risk my child. Please don’t call the Sheriff’s Department. I’m begging you. Please.”

  “Mrs. Welsh, every single day you stay in that house you put your child at risk.”

  “I know, Dr. Smith. God help me, I know. But if I try to leave right now, if I go to a shelter, my husband will kill me. I swear to you. He will kill me.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse.”

  Cara thought for a moment. “I’ll sign a release. You can keep it in my chart. In the event that I . . .” She took a deep breath. “In the event that I disappear, or if I’m found dead, you can give your notes to the Sheriff’s Department. I’ll agree to that.”

  “Mrs. Welsh, Cara, I hope to God it doesn’t come to that.”

  “That’s as much as I can do for the moment.”

  “No, there’s one more thing you can do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You can come in every week. If your husband asks, tell him there’s a problem with the pregnancy and you need to see me every week. And let him know when your appointments are. Maybe we can get him to control himself a little bit if he knows I’ll be examining you, that if he bruises you, I’ll see it.”

  “Thank you,” said Cara. “I’ll do that. Thank you so much.”

  Dr. Smith rose from his stool. “I’ll get you some of my letterhead and you can write the note. I’d like my nurse to witness it if you don’t mind. She’s completely trustworthy. She won’t divulge your confidence. In the meantime, try to ice that shoulder and take it easy on those knees.”

  Cara nodded. It had been a great relief to tell someone. Now if she disappeared or was killed someone would do something about it. The police would have a suspect. If she was dead, she’d no longer have to worry about what Micah or his nephew would do to her when the police discovered their real occupation.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  “Oh my darling, look at you! Look at you! Why, you barely look pregnant.” Cara winced as her mother hugged her. Her shoulder hurt like hell.

  Cara kissed her mother on the cheek. “I am so happy to see you. I really am, Mom. I’m so glad you came.” She turned to Phil and gave him a hug. “You both look great. You look happy,” she said, meaning it.

  “And as usual, you look too thin,” said her mother. “Don’t you know you need to eat for two?”

  Cara took her mother’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I try, Mom, trust me. I try.”

  Cara had driven down to Salt Lake City after her doctor’s appointment to meet her mother and Phil at their hotel near Temple Square.

  “I’m anxious to meet this mysterious son-in-law of mine,” said her mother.

  Cara laughed, nervous. She was afraid to bring her mother into the situation, but she was afraid not to. Before she and her mother left Phil, she wrote down the phone number of his hotel and his room number and stuck it in her purse, giving him a slip of paper with her phone number and address on it. She also gave him Dr. Smith’s office number. Phil looked at her quizzically.

  “Just to be on the safe side,” Cara said.

  Cara’s mother seemed to enjoy the drive back to Park City. She exclaimed over the beauty of the mountains. “I haven’t been on such a scenic vacation in twenty-five years.”

  Eventually the conversation got around to Cara’s pregnancy, her husband and her marriage. Cara’s answers were noncommittal at first, but as they approached the turn off into town, she felt her mother deserved some honesty.

  “Mom, I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully.”

  “Is it the baby? Or is it something else? Is it your husband?”

  Cara took her eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her mother. “Yes, Mom, it’s my husband. It’s Micah. I’m leaving him.”

&nb
sp; “I wondered,” said her mother, her voice soft. “I’m not surprised. To tell you the truth, I’ve been wondering for a while what was going on. When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow, I’m leaving Micah tomorrow. This is important, Mom, really important. Whatever happens tonight and tomorrow, whatever you see, whatever you hear, don’t interfere. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Cara, if he’s hurting you . . . ? Cara, I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can and you will. Mom, Micah can be a charming man. He can also be a nightmare. I want you to pretend you are delighted to meet him. I can’t promise you he’ll be on his best behavior, but I think it will be okay, and tomorrow we’ll leave.”

  “Why can’t you leave tonight? Why don’t we turn around right now and go back to the hotel. Phil can take care of everything. Phil can handle the divorce.”

  “No, Mom, he can’t. This is Utah. Phil isn’t licensed to practice in Utah. Even if Micah would give me a divorce, I can’t risk letting him get his hands on my child. Not under any circumstances. You have to trust me on this, Mom. Can you do that?” Cara saw her mom nod slightly.

  “Why? Why do you need me?” Her voice trembled.

  “I need you with me because I think Micah will behave himself in front of you. But if this is too much, if you can’t do this, tell me now and I’ll drive you back to the hotel. I won’t be mad at you, I won’t be upset with you, and I won’t blame you. I’ll figure out a way to do this on my own.”

  “No,” said her mother, determination creeping into her voice. “I’ll do this. I wasn’t there for you, honey. I wasn’t there for you for so many years. All those times you needed me and I didn’t protect you like a mother should. You’re just trying to protect your child. I can do this for you. You need me. I will do this.”

  Cara’s eyes filled with tears. She reached over and took her mother’s hand. “I love you, Mom. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You can thank me by getting out us out of this.”

  “I will, Mom. I promise I will get us out of this.”

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The ranch house was dark when they arrived. Cara breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped Micah had kept his word and stayed late at the restaurant, but when she opened the garage door she saw Micah’s car parked in the other slot. Cara’s heart began to pound. This could be bad. This could be very bad.

  Cara grabbed her mom’s overnight case.

  “Stay behind me,” she said.

  The two women walked into the kitchen. Cara turned on the overhead lights. She’d cleaned up all traces of Micah’s abusive behavior. The kitchen was spotless.

  “Micah? Micah? We’re home. Micah, are you here?” Cara’s stomach churned. The baby was kicking like mad. She laid a protective hand across her belly. “Stay here, mom.”

  Cara walked through the house, turning on lights as she went. She found Micah in his study. He sat in the dark, two lines of cocaine on the desk in front of him. He’d never before brought drugs into their home. Cara turned on a reading lamp and approached him. She noted the open bottle of scotch, the pale face, and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He was very drunk.

  “Micah, I’m home. My mom’s here.”

  “Get rid of her.” Micah slurred his words. “Don’t want her here.”

  “I’m going to get her settled in the guest room and make some sandwiches. Are you hungry? I’ll make you whatever you want.”

  “Get me a drink,” he mumbled. “I want a drink.”

  Cara stayed on the far side of the desk. She reached for the bottle of scotch and filled his empty glass. He grabbed her hand as she moved to set the bottle down. His palm was clammy against hers.

  “Don’t leave me,” Micah said. “Don’t leave me. I don’t wanna be alone. I can’t be alone.” He sounded like a frightened child.

  Cara said, “I’m just going to help my mom unpack and then I’ll make us all something to eat. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m not leaving you.”

  “You swear? You swear on your life?”

  “I swear, Micah. I swear on my life that I won’t leave you.”

  “Ever? You’ll never leave me?”

  “I will never, ever leave you. I promise.” Cara took a chance and walked around the desk. She moved behind him and put her arms around him, kissing the side of his neck. “I’ll never leave you, Micah, never. Now I’m going to get you something to eat.”

  Cara gently disengaged herself and left the room. To say she felt surprise was an understatement. She was completely unprepared for this Micah. Drunk out of his mind, pitiful, sad, and lost, but seeing him like this didn’t change her plans. She would do what she had to do just as she knew he would do what he had to do.

  By morning this Micah would be gone. He would be replaced by the vicious, brutal, manipulative, unpredictable beast she had come to know over the past year. By morning, the man who had threatened to hunt her down and kill her like a dog would be back.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Cara escorted her to the guestroom. She gave her a quick tour and she told her she would bring her some supper. She instructed her mother to keep the door locked and sleep in her clothes. As Cara turned to leave the room her mother stopped her. She put her arms around Cara and embraced her.

  Cara leaned against her mother, gathering strength from the older woman’s astonishing courage. Tempting as it was to cry on her shoulder, Cara couldn’t do it. She had to be strong for both of them right now.

  With one ear tuned toward Micah’s study, Cara prepared chicken salad sandwiches and cut up some fruit. She poured two glasses of milk, one for her mother and one for herself. She took a tray of food to her mother’s room and kissed her good night, reassuring her once more that it would be okay. Nothing would happen tonight.

  She looked in on Micah. The cocaine was gone, as were another few ounces of the scotch. She brought him a plate of food and a glass of water. He didn’t seem to notice when she set it down on the desk in front of him.

  Cara sat down at the kitchen table to eat. She didn’t have an appetite, but she hadn’t eaten all day. That was irresponsible of her. Her baby deserved better. She forced herself to finish two sandwiches, an entire orange and a handful of grapes. She drank two glasses of milk.

  Cara cleaned the kitchen, deciding that no matter how she dreaded it, she should get ready for bed. She was tired. Her shoulder hurt, her arms and her knees were sore.

  Cara was desperate for sleep, but she knew Micah could rouse from his stupor at any time. She had to be ready.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Cara was in the throes of a nightmare. It seemed so real. She could feel Ezra Payne’s hands around her throat, hard, relentless, squeezing the life from her. Her eyes flew open and she was suddenly wide awake. A hulking shape straddled her. His hands were wrapped around her throat. It was Micah.

  Cara fought, clawing at his face, at his eyes, at any part of Micah she could reach. Abruptly, he stopped and rolled away. Cara threw herself in the opposite direction, choking, gasping for air. She flew out of bed and backed towards the door, prepared to run but Micah got there before her.

  “Don’t leave. I won’t let you leave me.”

  Cara could tell he was still very drunk.

  “I’m not leaving.” Cara held a hand to her throat. “I’m just going to check on my mother. She’s in the next room, Micah. Remember?”

  “Why is your mother here?”

  Cara kept her voice low, calm, sweet. “She’s here to meet you, Micah. You’re my husband. She’s here to meet you and see all you’ve done for me. Everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Yes, I have done a lot for you, haven’t I? I’ve given you everything, haven’t I?” Micah’s voice grew louder. “And look how you repay me. Look at you. Look how fat you’re getting. How ugly. You won’t even fuck me. You won’t even fuck your own husband.”

  Cara watched his hands clench into fists. She swallo
wed hard. She had to make this convincing. “Of course I will. Of course I want to make love to you, Micah.” She reached for one of his hands with both of hers and held it, opening his closed fist, tugging him towards the bed. “Come Micah. Come here. Let me do the work. Let me love you.”

  After a brief moment of resistance, Micah followed. She sensed he was close to tears. Cara didn’t care. She hardened herself. Right now she had to give the performance of her life. She remembered Jerry’s words, “If he tells you to suck some asshole’s dick then you suck his dick. And you act like it’s the best thing you ever tasted.” Cara did that and more. She did whatever she had to do.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Cara pretended to be asleep until she heard Micah get into the shower. It seemed he intended to go into the restaurant today. She prayed that was the case. Her entire plan depended upon it. But if he didn’t, she’d find another way. She’d shoot him in cold blood if necessary. Cara hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but she couldn’t lie to herself. It might.

  The water shut off. Cara turned her head away and closed her eyes. The bathroom door opened.

  “Get out of bed and make me some breakfast you fucking lazy bitch.”

  Cara felt a foot against her bottom. He gave her a hard shove. The beast was back.

  She rose from the bed, her body stiff and sore. She knew if she looked into a mirror, she’d see new bruises on her neck. She reached for her nightgown and robe, this time she added slippers. Cara walked past her mother’s door. Micah was still in the bathroom, shaving. Cara knocked softly. Her mother opened the door a crack. Cara could tell from the look on her mom’s face that the new bruises were bad.

  “Oh, Cara.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Make sure you have everything ready to go and then come into the kitchen,” Cara whispered. “Remember, it’s just a normal day.”

  Her mother nodded. Cara could see her fear. She was sorry she had to involve her, but things had deteriorated to the point where she knew if there were no witnesses Micah would kill her. She would simply disappear.

  But killing two people? One of whom had a lawyer husband staying in a hotel in Salt Lake City? Micah wouldn’t do it. He’d wait for a better opportunity.