Annie’s heart rate speeded up. “Oh, no.”
Wiping the sweat off his face with the black sweatshirt he’d tied around his neck, Joe scanned the room. “I need to see her.”
“Come on, I’ll show you where she is.” Annie rose and headed toward the door. Surrounded by ghosts from the past—ghosts that the man behind her conjured—Annie remembered the fear she’d felt that Joe might return at any time. Poor Rosa.
Her gaze darted over her shoulder to her husband; his expression told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Three steps forward, two back, Joe repeated to himself as he caught Annie’s look and followed her to the back room. The fear on her face, actually the remembered fear, cut like glass slivers into the skin. How, how could he have been like Sam DeMartino? Joe asked himself for the hundredth time. How could he ever have hit her?
Just asking that question means you’ve changed, buddy , Pete had told him in the counseling session he’d requested when he’d accompanied Taylor to New York the week before.
They entered the back room, filled with crinoline, taffeta and lace. Rosa sat at a sewing machine, while his mother did some needlework by hand on a couch. Neither spoke to the other.
“Hi, Ma.”
“Joey.” Grace smiled broadly at her son.
“Rosa,” Joe said.
Rosa looked up from her costume. In the weeks since Sam had left, Rosa had gone from scared to resigned to, surprisingly, somewhat hopeful. The counseling sessions with Carol Lopez had helped, along with finding out she could take care of herself and her family, though money was a problem. “Hi, Joe.” She smiled pleasantly. At least she didn’t look at him like he was Bluebeard anymore.
“I need to talk to you.”
Rosa glanced at Grace. “All right.”
“You can use the office,” Annie said.
“No, stay right here.” Grace stood. “I want to ask Suzie something.” With a brief squeeze of Joe’s arm, she scurried out the door.
Annie stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave, too.”
“Wait.” Rosa threw back her shoulders. “This is about Sam, isn’t it?”
Joe nodded.
“Then I want Annie to stay.”
Joe came further into the room. “Sam’s back in town.”
Rosa’s mouth fell open.
“I saw him going into Zip’s Bar and Grill.”
Swallowing hard, Rosa stared over Joe’s shoulder. “I thought he’d be arrested if he came back. Linc pressed charges.”
Linc had pressed charges in order to have Sam picked up if he returned to town. The ever-optimistic reverend intended to use the threat of legal repercussions to bargain with Sam about getting help. Joe didn’t feel very confident about the plan, though.
Crossing to the sewing machine, Joe knelt down beside Rosa. “Did you get the locks changed on the house, like I suggested, Rosa?”
Slowly she shook her head.
“Does that mean you didn’t get the restraining order, either?”
“No. I didn’t.” She glanced guiltily at Annie. “But since Linc pressed charges, won’t the police take care of this?”
“I called the police. By the time they got to Zip’s, Sam was gone.”
“Oh, no.”
Joe stood up. “All right. Let’s deal with one thing at a time. If Sam comes home, you and the kids are in danger.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Is there any place you can go tonight?”
Slowly she shook her head. Joe’s heart clenched. Had Annie been through this alone? He knew she hadn’t told Linc or Beth or Margo about the abuse. His insides knotted.
“Won’t the police keep watch?” Rosa asked.
“They’ll patrol the area, but I doubt someone will stay there with you.”
“She can come to my house.” Annie’s voice was a little shaky.
Joe pivoted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You and the kids could be in danger if Sam figures out where his family is.”
“That’s highly unlikely, isn’t it?”
“I’m not taking chances with your safety, Annie.” Torn, he glanced at Rosa. “But I can come back to the house with you…stay until the morning, when we can change the locks on Rosa’s place and get an RO. In the meantime, the police might pick him up.”
Rosa shook her head. “I don’t want to be any trouble to you two.”
Annie crossed to her and took her hands. “Rosa, we’re not leaving you alone in this. Joe’s plan is good. We’ll go back to your house, get the kids and you’ll stay with me tonight.”
“What will we tell them all?”
“We’ll think of something.” She glanced at Joe. “How should we go about this?”
“Let’s lock up here. Suz and Ma can go home. You and Rosa and I can go get her kids. We’ll stop by my place so I can pick up some clothes, then we’ll head on over to your house.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said lightly.
Rosa’s face was glum. “I’m sorry.”
Joe circled around swiftly. “No, Rosa. This isn’t your fault!”
“Yes, it is.” Everybody faced the doorway. Grace stood with her hands clasped in front of her. “You shouldn’t interfere between a man and his wife.”
“Oh, Ma.” Joe shook his head. “Somebody should always interfere.”
“It isn’t right.”
“It’s not only right, it’s necessary.” Joe took in a deep breath. “Somebody should have interfered with you and Pa.”
“Hush.” Grace clapped her hand over her mouth.
Joe glanced at Annie. Then Rosa. Guilt, and disgust, welled within him. He turned back to his mother. “And somebody should have interfered with me and Annie.”
“I don’t believe it.” Though her words were a denial, her eyes indicated otherwise.
“Believe it, Ma. It’s true.”
Grace froze in the doorway. Joe made a quick decision. He turned apologetic eyes on Annie and Rosa. “Could you excuse us for a moment? There’s something I have to do. I’ve put it off long enough.”
Wide-eyed, Annie said, “Of course, we’ll be in the office,” and ushered Rosa out of the room.
Stepping aside, Grace crossed to a machine, sat down and began running some shiny red material through the needles. Her brow was knit with concentration.
He spoke gently. “Ma?”
“This fabric is so slippery,” she said, not looking at him. “It isn’t taking the thread well.”
Slowly, he went to her. “Ma, we need to talk.”
“Annie always picks the prettiest things. But sometimes she isn’t real practical.”
Determined not to take the coward’s way out, Joe crouched down next to his mother. “Ma, I can’t let this go any longer. We have to talk about Pa. And me.”
She kept staring down, threading the fabric through, frowning.
Gently, he touched her arm. “Please stop for a minute. We have to do this.”
At first she didn’t seem to have heard him. Then, slowly, she eased up on the sewing-machine pedal. Folding her hands in her lap, she kept her eyes downcast. Joe took her hands in his. Her skin was papery thin, lined with blue veins. It was ice cold, too.
“What Pa did to you,” Joe began hoarsely, “was unconscionable. No man has a right to do that to a woman.”
Still nothing.
“Pa was wrong, Ma; nothing was your fault.”
Finally she looked at him. Her face was ravaged. “He said it was.”
“Abusers always blame the abused. It’s part of the cycle.”
Grace bit her lip. “You…you really didn’t do those things to Annie, did you, son?”
Foolishly, he’d thought the big hurdles were behind him. He had no idea how much it would hurt to confess his sins to his mother. Still, if he could change her thinking… “Yes, Ma, I did unspeakable things to her. Things I’m so ashamed of I cry about them.”
“Men don’t cry, Joey.”
“Y
eah, Ma, we do. Especially when we have such despicable actions to regret.”
She looked away again. “Why’d you do it? Why did your Pa?”
He sighed. “Aw, Ma, I don’t know why Pa did it. Maybe he was as frustrated as I was.” He clasped her hands tighter. “I always felt suffocated in this town.”
“You were smart.”
“Yeah, I was. But I blew my life, and when I couldn’t take care of Annie like I wanted to, I turned violent.”
“Your father was smart, too. Nobody knew that.”
Joe shook his head. So many parallels. He just held his mother’s hands, saying nothing, trying to keep his emotions in check. Abusers sought out sympathy, to take the attention away from the ones they hurt. Joe struggled for composure, though he wanted to bawl like a baby in his mother’s arms.
Finally, Grace said, “I shouldn’t have blamed Annie.”
“No, Ma, you shouldn’t have. Not Rosa either.”
A beleaguered sigh.
“Maybe you did because if you admitted they aren’t to blame, you’d have to admit you weren’t either.”
Again, she looked at him, clearly puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I want to know that?”
“Because then you’d have to deal with why you let it go on.”
“I shouldn’t have.” Her voice was tinged with anger.
“No, Ma, you shouldn’t have. No woman should. Ever. Under any circumstances.”
She reached out and brushed her hand down his hair. “You’re different.”
“Oh, yeah. I am. I’m better. I’d never hurt Annie, or any woman, ever again.”
“I’m glad.” She picked up the material. “Now, scoot. I’ve got to finish this costume.”
He stood, then, and stared down at her as the machine began to hum and buzz. Leaning over, he kissed her hair, said, “I love you, Ma,” and left Grace alone to deal with her memories.
*
THE CLOCK CHIMED three times in Annie’s living room. Joe thought about getting up to turn it off, but quiet wouldn’t make any difference. He was beyond sleep. Sprawled out on her comfortable nubby couch, the smell of clean sheets and freshly laundered pillowcases surrounding him, Joe felt anything but clean and fresh. The drama with Sam DeMartino had soiled him again.
And then, confessing to his mother—God, he was wiped out.
Throwing off the covers, he got up and headed for the kitchen. He’d make some hot chocolate, or even coffee now. Inside the big remodeled room—Annie had done a great job with the house—he fished out a pan, found milk in the fridge and poured it to heat on the gas stove. He knew microwaving was easier, but Annie had always made it this way, and he needed the comfort of ritual.
No one had spoken much on the drive to Rosa’s, where they’d easily convinced the kids that there was some kind of gas leak in the house and wouldn’t it be fun to sleep over with Faith and Matt. The four kids had been ecstatic to have overnight company on a school night, and no one seemed to be the wiser.
Joe knew that, eventually, a frank talk with the DeMartino children was in order, but not during a crisis like this.
When the milk bubbled and its sweet scent permeated the air, he poured it into real cocoa, added sugar and stiffed. Picking up the mug, he crossed to the window to gaze out over the yard. Suddenly he was assaulted by a memory…. Annie, fixing him hot chocolate, sexy and cute in a little lace nightgown, after they’d made sweet and tender love. Once again, he was blown away by what he’d had and lost. All that love and trust…
“Can’t sleep?”
He whirled around, sloshing the drink on his hand. He licked it off. She was standing in the doorway, dressed in a long plaid flannel robe. He wondered what she wore under it these days. He ducked his head. “Yeah, I can’t sleep. Did I wake you?”
“No, I can’t sleep either.” She eyed him. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Cold?”
She indicated what he wore—only low-slung blue sweatpants and a sheepish expression. “No, but I’ll put on a shirt if it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” She crossed to the stove. “Can I have some?”
“Uh-huh.” He watched her graceful movements. She was every inch the dancer even as she went about routine tasks. Had he ever appreciated how delicate she was, how fluid?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked as she turned around.
He lied. “That maybe I jumped the gun. Sam didn’t show here.”
Annie glanced at the clock. “The night isn’t over. But you’re probably right. Still, we don’t know if he went to their house.”
“I was going to call the police station when it got light.”
“Hmm.” She sank into a chair at the table. He hesitated then joined her.
How many times had he sat across from her like this, in the early hours of the morning when one of them couldn’t sleep? They’d trade jokes, tell stories about the kids and keep the loneliness at bay. Did she remember any of the good times?
“You okay?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
Annie shook her head. “How did it go with your mother?”
“All right, I guess. I hope I did the right thing by forcing the issue.”
She smiled. “You’re a good counselor. Everybody says so. And I’ve seen you in action on the Council. I’m sure your instincts were right to set things straight with her.”
He stared at her bleakly.
“What?” she asked.
“Am I ever going to set things straight with you?”
“I believe you’ve changed, Joe. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“I wish.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wish it were that simple.”
She cocked her head. God, he couldn’t do this. He thought he could. Pete and Taylor both advised him to ask her. To face this last truth—to slay this last dragon. But he didn’t think he was capable of accepting the utter horror—and result—of his actions. Abandoning his cocoa, he stood and went back to the window.
“Joe, what is it?”
His hands clenched at his sides. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
He remained silent.
She came up behind him. He was surprised she got so close. “What is it?” she repeated.
Still, he couldn’t ask. Until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Some of the pain blunted, some of the guilt abated. And some of his hard-won courage surfaced. “There’s…there’s something…I need…to know. About Faith.”
“Faith?”
Oh, God. It would be easier to ask her with his back to her. But he was done hiding from self-truths. So he turned around. To face it, and her, head-on. “Annie, I know…I’ve never forgotten what I did that night.”
She stilled. He didn’t have to say which night.
Her eyes were wide and liquid. They sparkled like aged brandy in this light. “I remember, too.”
“Was it…was Faith…” He bit his lip, unsure if he could continue. “Was that the night we made Faith?”
“Oh, Joe.” Her face shone with something he couldn’t name. “Is that what you’ve been thinking since you came back and found out about her?”
He could only nod his head.
“No, no it wasn’t. I was pregnant that night. I already knew.” The stark words erased one guilt but unearthed another. “Oh, God, you were pregnant and I did that to you.“
She looked away. He swallowed hard. Relief overwhelmed him, but so did the shame at what he’d done to this woman. His knees weakened, and he grabbed onto the chair at his side.
“Joe, I…”
He lifted his fingers to her mouth. “Shh. Don’t say anything. I’m glad.” He searched her face. “Don’t try to comfort me. I wasn’t the one abused. I don’t deserve to feel better about it.”
She raised her hand to his wrist. He was shocked when she didn’t fling him off; instead she caressed it tenderly. “I think you do deserve to feel better. I t
hink you’ve changed. It’s time to let go of all this, on both our parts.”
He could feel the tears prickle beneath his lids. He willed them back. He would not solicit sympathy. He would not put that burden on her like before, when he’d been the one in the wrong. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes.” She looked around. “We’re both different people now. Let’s put it all behind us.”
Struggling for control, he averted his gaze. He heard the clock strike again four times. The refrigerator turned on. A branch beat against the window outside. Finally he could meet her gaze. “All right. I want to do that. For all our sakes. Let me just say one more thing.”
She nodded.
He moved his hand to grasp hers—to link their fingers. “I’m sorry, Annie.” He brought their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed hers gently. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Chapter 26
*
FOR THE VERY last time, Beth pulled into Doc’s driveway to drop Ronny off. It was the middle of May, and next week the car would go to the track garage where, under Doc’s supervision, the remainder of the work would be done. Ronny could get to the track by foot or bus, so she wouldn’t have contact with Tucker anymore. As had been the case most of the week before, she wouldn’t even have to see him. The notion weighed like a concrete block in her heart.
“Mom? I said goodbye.”
“Oh, I’m coming inside a minute. I want to talk to Doc.”
Ronny shrugged. He was preoccupied.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked, before he opened the door.
“No.”
“Is Mr. Johnson doing all right?”
“Yeah, Lily and I went to see him yesterday. Poor guy, though, he can hardly get around. And his wife’s got this new baby. I feel bad for him.”
“Maybe you could go help him on the days you don’t have community service.”
“I gotta work at the diner.”
“You can go to your teacher’s. I’ll figure something out.” She smiled. “It would be good for you and for Mr. Johnson.” She stared at the house. “Let’s go.”
Exiting the car, Ron headed down the sidewalk to the back of the cottage that faced the lake; Beth followed his long strides, thinking again of how grown-up he was. Her own steps were slow, and she told herself to buck up. Things in her life were fine. Linc was on the mend, though with this injury a grumpy side of him had surfaced that Beth had never seen before. She smiled, thinking of her sainted brother acting like a cranky baby. Jane Meachum had been around a lot to soothe him.
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