This was the problem with having time to think. His thoughts had taken him on an emotional roller coaster during the drive to Pastor York’s and he was definitely at the bottom as he parked his car in front of the house. He took a moment to compose himself and erase any sign of care from his face, replacing it with a smile. By the time his knock on the door was answered, he was again the happy, faithful, God-fearing member of the flock.
At home, Emily was still in awe at the wonderful sense of accomplishment she had achieved earlier by devising a workable plan for a move. She was anxious to begin packing but knew that she had to do a lot of healing before she would be physically able to pack anything. At this point she wasn’t in any shape to even navigate around the house. The packing would just have to wait. For now, she would just deal with whatever the day brought her.
With Eric gone for the evening, and no chance of him coming home in the next while and surprising them, there was no tension in the house and they were able to relax and enjoy the evening, the boys playing happily and Emily continuing to make plans for a move. Sam tucked Danny into bed and then he and his mother and two brothers watched T.V. for a while. Before they went to bed, Emily had the boys help her up the stairs to her room. Once again, Sam’s face was troubled and dark. “Mom, this has got to stop. I mean it. He’s going to kill you one of these times. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I’ve got a letter ready...to mail to Mom and Dad...letting them know...what’s going on...and asking for their help. I expect...they’ll answer this time. I promised...that I wouldn’t even think...about coming back to Eric...ever. I don’t see how...they can ignore me. They will call...this time, I’m sure.”
“I’m glad. I’d love to get to know Grandma and Grandpa again. I can hardly remember them.”
Everyone was in bed and the porch light on when Eric pulled into the driveway. He was in an unusual good humor as he came through the door and put his winter things in the closet. It had been a good night. There had only been four men including the Pastor at the meeting, which had been called to discuss a problem, which had come to the attention of the church. One of the women in the congregation, Diane Wilkinson, had been beaten by her husband, Frank. Pastor York had been called to the hospital at the woman’s request and she had asked him to speak with the husband. Frank had reluctantly admitted that he had hit his wife but had blamed her for the incident. Pastor York was far from convinced that he was sorry for what had happened and he felt that he needed some threat to make sure that Frank thought twice before hurting Diane again. He had called this meeting to discuss his plan to disfellowship Frank if such a thing were to happen again. He had an appointment to see Frank next evening and he wanted to be assured that the church elders would support his decision to handle the situation in this manner. Eric agreed that this was the right course of action, even though he secretly felt that the poor sap was probably getting a raw deal. “Why do they always have to feel sorry for the dumb broad who is probably at fault anyway? The stupid jerk should have had some control over his wife and this wouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have let anybody get involved in his personal life.” He smiled with a sense of satisfaction, "Emily knows better than to call the Pastor when I’ve given her a swat. I would never tolerate that kind of thing."
But then he thought of Jeanie, with her nose stuck in his business. His good mood began to fade.
"Nosy broad.", he muttered.
When he got to the top of the stairs, instead of going directly to his room, he turned right and went into Sam and Scott's room where he turned on the overhead light and checked to make sure that all was in order. He crossed the hall to Kyle and Danny's room, where everything looked good at first glance. Then he noticed a small pile of Danny's dirty clothes on the floor beside the crib that Sam hadn't put in the clothes hamper. He felt a rush of excitement.
"She can't do a simple thing like put the kids to bed without me to check up on her to make sure that it's done right."
He stood there for a minute trying to decide how he should deal with this infraction of the rules. She knew better than to leave a mess like this on the floor. Perhaps he would let it pass for tonight, tomorrow he could deal with it. Quietly, so as not to wake the children, he walked down the hall to the room that he shared with his wife.
She was asleep when he came over and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his clothes. He didn’t need to turn on the bedroom light as the glow from the yard light coming through the window made it possible for him to see in the room. "How on earth," he wondered, "Could she sleep on, totally oblivious to the fact that her sons are sleeping in a room with dirty clothes strewn all around." The more he thought about it the angrier he got. At one point he reached for her, but at the last moment remembered her battered face and decided that he couldn’t bear to look at her and pulled back. Feeling rather noble that he had not punished her for her stupidity, he got into bed beside her. After lying there for a few minutes unable to settle down, he knew that he had to confront this tonight if he wanted to get any sleep. He turned to her and snarled, "You seem to think that you don't have to do any work around here. Any woman with any pride would see to it that her kids are looked after before she goes to bed, but not you."
He sat up on the edge of the bed and turned on the light. “There is something I want you to read.” He opened the Bible that he kept on his bedside stand and began looking through the pages. Before long he found what he was looking for. “Here it is, in the 113th Psalm. ‘He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord.’ Did you hear that? It’s a woman’s job to keep house and look after the children - joyfully. What kind of a woman are you that you can’t follow such simple counsel? You are not a natural woman and mother.” His voice was getting louder. “Tomorrow I want you to study this scripture carefully and spent time on your knees. Perhaps God can work a miracle in your life and give you some of these natural tendencies. Other women have them. Why was I cursed with someone like you who can’t even look after the children properly? I should make you go clean up that room right now. But I won’t.” He began to calm down. She hadn’t got away with it, so he could afford to be generous. “You can do it first thing in the morning. But don’t let this happen again.”
He lay back down, covered up and rolled over to face her. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He grabbed her arm above the elbow and squeezed it. "One of these days I won't be in such a good mood and you will be one sorry girl."
He continued squeezing her arm as he glared at her. She was angry and didn't want him to know how much he was hurting her arm so she just gritted her teeth and remained silent. He seemed to have no intention of letting go and continued squeezing. She began to perspire with fright as she wondered how far this was going to go. She couldn’t face a beating tonight. As her hand began to tingle and go numb, she couldn’t hold back her cry of pain any longer. With a final extreme effort, he squeezed harder and twisted her arm at the same time, then released her. A feeling of contentment washed over him, for he felt that now he could relax. He had dealt with the problem and now he could forget about it and let sleep claim him.
Emily, on the other hand, now found sleep impossible. Her mind churned with anger and at the same time she was puzzled. She knew that the boys were fine. What could have upset him this time?
She lay there until the ache in her arm eased and the tingling in her fingers ceased. She thought of how much she hated her husband and how glad she would be to see the end of him. She got some degree of satisfaction from imagining how he would manage without her there to wait on him. He would have to do a little for himself and that would be a real shock. He did nothing now. He had a job and brought the money into the house, which exempted him from helping with ‘women’s work’.
She began again to plan her move, and in time, her anger faded. She thought again about the major problem that faced her. She needed a
safe place to stay while she rebuilt her life. She had written to her parents yesterday and had the letter ready to mail. Surely they would respond to her plea for help. They had always been loving, supportive parents. Whatever had happened to make them turn away from her couldn’t be so bad that the gulf between them couldn’t be bridged. In the letter she had pleaded for help, not just for her sake but also for their grandchildren. No way could she believe that they didn’t care about their grandchildren. This whole thing just didn’t make sense. They were not the kind of people to let something come between them and their daughter without facing it square on and at least discussing it. What could have happened to cause them to cut off all contact with her? It had been so sudden. She had spoken to her mother just days before they had moved to Edmonton. Everything had appeared to be fine, although she hadn’t been able to tell them exactly where they were moving. Eric, for some reason, insisted that the location of their new home had to be a complete surprise.
They had stayed at a hotel for a short time while they looked for a house and during that time she had written to her mother telling her about the move and then about the new house they had found and giving them her new address. There was no reply. Letter after letter was sent but still no answer. For some strange reason it had taken them almost three months to get a telephone, despite the number of times Eric had tried to get one installed. But as soon as it was in, she had phoned her parents, only to find out that they now had an unlisted number. She wrote again, sending her new number and pleading for a phone call. Not a word. Still she wrote, but still there was no answer. The letters had continued for almost four years and then Emily had given up.
"All I can do is try again. If the problem is Eric, maybe when they know that I'm serious this time, they will help us."
Dawn was creeping into the room before sleep erased worry from Emily's mind.
Chapter 8
Eric was working the afternoon shift, so didn't have to leave until 2 o'clock in the afternoon. This gave him the opportunity to sleep late, which was something he really enjoyed. A morning for sleeping late was something a man deserved now and again. But this morning the sounds of the children getting ready for school woke him up and made him angry. He lay there listening to their chatter, becoming more and more upset as he realized that there would be no more sleep today. "How is a man supposed to sleep with a house full of friggin’ kids running around." he wondered, "Why doesn't she shut them up? That woman is such a waste of skin."
Emily had managed with great difficulty to get out of bed and after getting dressed had made it down the stairs without help but that was about all she could manage. Although she hadn’t been able to get the children ready for school, they had managed quite well on their own, and they had helped her and Danny get ready to go to the hospital. They packed their own lunches and hurried out to catch the school bus, leaving Emily and Danny ready and waiting for Jeanie to arrive. They were looking out the window for Jeanie’s car when Eric came downstairs.
"Where do you think you are going?" he asked.
"I have an appointment...at the hospital...to get my nose...fixed this morning."
"And what am I supposed to do about breakfast?"
"You’ll have to...get your own today.”
“I don’t think so. You’re my wife and you’ll get it before you go anywhere.”
“I don’t...have time.”
“Make time. I’m hungry.”
“I can’t. I have a...nine fifteen...appointment.”
"Don't start with the mouth or I'll put my fist in it. Now get me some breakfast."
"Eric...for goodness sake...give me a break."
"I'll give you a break all right." He took a few strides across the kitchen and grabbed Emily by the arm.
"Stop it, Eric." she cried out. "Leave me alone."
He backhanded her across the face. As the slap rang out in the room, Danny began to cry and Emily tried to jerk away from him nearly losing her balance. The color drained from her face and once again her breath was gone. She thought that she was going to collapse onto the floor and probably would have if he had not had a firm grip on her arm.
Suddenly he realized why she had been looking out the window and his eyes narrowed, "How are you getting there?"
Her heart sank and the word came out in a whisper, "Jeanie."
"You rotten...” He slapped her once more, and would have again, except Jeanie chose that moment to knock on the door. He lowered his hand and leaned close, whispering in her ear, "This isn’t over, you know. Your day is coming. I'm gonna get you yet."
He pushed her roughly into a chair that happened to be just behind her and hurried across the room and up the stairs. There was another knock on the door as Emily struggled to regain her breath. Danny, frightened and still crying, tottered up to the door as it opened to admit Jeanie.
"Hi, sweetie." she said to the small boy as she came into the warm kitchen, removing her glasses which had instantly fogged up from the heat in the room. She looked from Danny's tear streaked face to Emily's, which bore the imprints of Eric's hands on each side. "That rotten son of a..." One look at Emily’s face and she stopped in mid-sentence. This wasn’t the time or the place to say what she was thinking. Instead she reached out to her friend and helped her out of the chair and into the car without saying another word, and then went back to get Danny, who was on the step struggling to shut the heavy kitchen door. Once he, too, was safely in the car, she spoke, "Somebody should beat that man to a bloody pulp."
She started the car and put it in gear, then remembered; "Your letter. Did you get it written?"
“Yes.”
“Have you got it with you? We could mail it before we come back.”
Emily took a few seconds to clear her thoughts, then answered, "No, but...don't worry. It's on the ...stand by the...door. Eric always...looks after the...mail. He'll take it...when he goes...to work.
The car began to move down the driveway but still Jeanie was worried, "I don't know about you but I don't trust that man. Maybe he won't mail it."
"He has always...looked after...the mail. I always leave it...there on the stand...and he takes it... with him when...he goes to work. Why wouldn't...he mail it?"
"I suppose you're right"
As she turned onto the highway, she reconsidered. "I really don’t trust him I’m going back and getting that letter. I have a feeling that we need to mail it ourselves. I want to see that letter in the mailbox with my own eyes."
She backed the car up and turned again into the driveway. When she reached the house she left the car running and sat for a minute looking up at the silent house. She had to admit that she was uneasy at the thought of facing Eric. In actual fact it was more than uneasiness, she was afraid of him. Sitting there thinking about going into that house left her cold. She debated following Emily’s suggestion and leaving the letter for Eric to look after for that would mean that she wouldn’t have to risk coming face to face with him. She looked into her friend’s face and the sight of her and her injuries made her angry enough that she decided she could face him if she had to. Probably she was worried about nothing. She would slip in, retrieve the letter and get back out before Eric realized that anyone was there. With the car still running and her car door open, she ran up to the front of the house where she paused for a moment and listened. When she heard no movement inside, she quietly began to open the door. She peered inside and saw Eric, still in his housecoat, standing with his back to her at the stove. She began to close the door, giving up on the idea of retrieving the letter but just then she caught a glimpse of flame and stopped to watch. Eric was burning paper at the stove. Suddenly, she realized what was happening and experienced a flash of anger. Was he low enough to be destroying a letter from his wife to her parents? She pushed the door open and spoke up, "Emily asked me to get something for her."
Eric dropped the burning papers and spun around, a shocked look on his face. He tried to think of an explanation for what he
was doing but could think of nothing. He watched as Jeanie turned to the stand, looking for the letter that Emily had left propped there.
Her voice dripped sarcasm, "Gosh, Eric, looks like her letter is gone. I wonder what could have happened to it."
Her voice left no doubt in his mind that she knew exactly what had happened to the letter and he found himself still speechless. His eyes darted to the envelope that he had left on the table when he had removed the pages. Jeanie's eyes followed his and they both stood motionless for a moment staring at the envelope. They both moved at the same time, from opposite sides of the room, eyes focused on the envelope but she reached it seconds before he did and snatched it up.
Eric glared, "Give me that."
"No."
"Give it to me, now."
"No."
"That's mine. Give it here."
Jeanie was steadily backing toward the door, the envelope clutched tightly in her hand. She kept her eyes focused on Eric who was approaching her with a look of pure hatred on his face. She suspected that this was the look that Emily saw just before the blows came. Her mouth went dry with fear. Just then she saw the door out of the corner of her eye and realized that she had finally reached the doorway. She began to turn, just as Eric reached her and grabbed her arm. "Give me the envelope.” He snarled at her. “I want it now."
Suddenly, Emily appeared behind her. "What's going on?"
Eric was furious. He made another attempt to grab the envelope but Jeanie spun around and thrust it in Emily's hand.
Leaving Sharpstone Page 6