She cowered wanting to run, but knew that running or wincing would just make the situation worse. She had learned over the years that keeping her mouth shut and looking at the floor was the only way to protect herself and diffuse the situation.
Once she had made the mistake of saying something to defend herself and explain why she had done something. That time saying something had resulted in his throwing his dinner plate against the wall as he had come out of his chair to shove her on the floor. The fork had hit her in the forehead nearly missing her eye. The scar was still there making a permanent part in her eyebrow. She closed her eyes and waited for his anger to run its course. It was the booze. She knew.
He stepped towards her raising his fist. He had never actually hit her. She didn’t think he would but she didn’t think that she wanted to be around if he ever decided to deliver that fist.
He shoved her to the floor again. She backed up like a crab as he continued towards her shouting obscenities. She stared at the floor wishing it would open up and swallow her whole like an abyss or better yet maybe he would get so mad that he would finally explode. No she told herself, God would never make things that easy for her. What had she done to deserve this? The question turned over and over in her mind. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. She silently chanted to herself.
"You are pathetic. Just get away from me. Don’t talk to me anymore tonight," he snarled. She could hear him muttering under his breath as he stalked down the hall towards their bedroom. The door slammed, like a thunderclap, and she heard the lock with a finality that signaled that at least for her this evening tirade was over.
She sat like a statue waiting, not willing to take a breath for fear it would jinx her. Sometimes, he would come back to make sure that she was sufficiently terrified. It was a trick that she had learned. She could sit here and wait. She would wait until it was safe.
For the moment, though, she sat and leaned against the wall, hands grasped around her knees, her legs still pulled tight in against her. It felt safer to sit that way and until she was sure that he was asleep, she would just sit there...like a statue. No feelings. No thoughts. No tears. Only cold and unmoving. She could hear the television noise and the sound of running water, as he brushed his teeth. A little while longer and he would have gone to bed. She would sleep out here on the sofa as she had done many times in the past.
Thirty minutes crept by. She felt it was safe to stretch her legs. If he was coming back, he would have done so by now. She stood cautiously not wanting to make too much noise and walked to the back door. Calling softly, she beckoned to her best friend.
"Baby, where are you? Patty…Pattycake, puppy,” Caitlyn whispered. She waited and didn’t hear anything. It was dark and she immediately began to worry. What if something had happed to her dog? What would she do? She would give her life without hesitation for what she considered her baby. The dog had steadfastly remained her friend over the years. She was always there when needed and never judged her wanting. Pattycake was her baby girl; her very heart – nothing could replace her.
She stepped out the back door into the blackness of the night. She had always marveled at the stillness of the early morning hours. It was about 3:00 a.m. and nothing moved. No birds sung. No dogs barked. No insect chirped. She walked across the concrete patio and across the lawn to the back of the garage. The wooden privacy fence surrounded the acre backyard and ended around the side of the house on each side.
She peered around the side of the house searching the darkness. Sitting in the irises was her dog. The little furry form tipped the scales at about seven pounds. She had gotten the dog from an AKC breeder who ran a puppy mill. The little thing had been starving and filled with worms when she got her. She remembered her vet telling her that a few more days in that kennel and the little runt would have died.
"My baby dog. Come to mommy,” she whispered as she picked up the little package. She knew that the animal was terrified from all of the yelling and screaming. For the little dog to walk in the grass was close to a miracle. Only when she was terrified or carried would she think of leaving the concrete patio or the comfort of the back porch.
"Someday we’ll leave baby. You just wait. Someday, we’ll just leave and then everything will be okay,” she crooned holding the dog in her arms and nuzzling the soft fur. She breathed in the warm doggy smell and hugged the trembling life close to her chest.
"We’ll leave and soon." He’s drunk and he can’t help it. Don’t hate him. It’s not his fault he’s bad. It’s the drugs and the booze. Maybe someday when he learns” Her wishes dropped off the edge of her lips like raindrops off a ledge and on to the ground only to be absorbed into the soil as if they’d never been there at all.
Tomorrow there would be silence for a while and then an apology. He would be sorry and beg her to forgive him. She would as she had time and time again, knowing it was a scene to be repeated time and time again like a summer re-run.
She could remember the first time that she saw her husband. He had been standing cattycorner to her at the corner of a bar. He stood there in a black t-shirt and a black cowboy hat. He looked handsome and rugged and dangerous. A shock of his dark hair hung over his forehead and he had a way of running his fingers through his bangs to shove them out of his face that gave her a glimpse of the muscles in his arm. A similarly dark thick mustache and beard framed his face. When he smiled his light blue eyes sparkled like ice and she was rewarded with a smile that promised that she was the only one in the bar. He leaned with both elbows on the bar, arms creating a pyramid and chin on top of his hands as if he were contemplating some deep dark question.
She and her sister were at a local restaurant and bar taking in the local scene. They’d been there several times since Cat’s last break up. Lynn Marie was determined to find Cat a suitable date. Within the hour one of her sister’s male co-workers would be there to meet the famed sister, Cat, another blind date in a series of blind dates, that Cat had met unsuspecting. Cat stood at the bar ordering a Jim Beam and diet coke when there was a tap on her shoulder, as her sister beckoned for her attention.
"Order me another drink, will you?" her sister asked.
"One here too," her sister’s boyfriend, Joe, chimed in. They stood packed against the bar trying to save their spot from an encroaching crowd. Bodies were pressed tightly against each other as couples went to and from the dance floor and others stood watching the dancers sway to the pounding rhythm of the country music. She turned around to order the drinks and the dark cowboy was missing from the corner of the bar.
"Oh well,” she pondered to herself, "he was too good looking anyway. Most of the ones that look like that are either conceited or just no good". She signaled for the bartender’s attention. He paused to receive her order and she stood waiting for the drinks.
There was another tap on her shoulder and she turned around to tell her sister to hang on to her drink for her. A warm, shiver coursed down her back to the very soles of her feet as her eyes came into contact with the dark stranger’s eyes.
The stranger smiled, as if laughing at her discomfort, and in a practiced baritone asked "Dance with me?" Speechless she just stood there wondering if she was going to be able to say anything and not surprised that nothing came out but a stutter of protest, as he pulled her towards the dance floor.
Lynn Marie smiled at Cat as she allowed herself to be propelled towards the center of the floor, a slow pulsing love song filled the air as the lights dimmed slightly.
The stranger pulled her close and she allowed herself to be pressed against his chest, her head barely coming to his shoulder. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as she followed his steps. She couldn’t believe that he had asked her to dance. Things like this...gorgeous men actually noticing her and then asking her to dance just didn’t happen.
She stepped back to look up into his face, he asked, "So will you marry me?" and she knew right then that her fate was inescapable.
Cat
was short, not petite, just a short 5’4". Or maybe it just seemed that way because the majority of people that she came into contact with every day were taller than her. Long red hair fell to the middle of her back in uncontrollable waves and red bangs framed her face revealing a pair of light green eyes fringed by thick red lashes, a nose that in her opinion was a little too big, and lips fuller than she would have liked.
Her white porcelain skin, with a sprinkling of freckles and deep green eyes flashed her Irish background. She had a small cleft in her chin. Her mother said a fairy put it there to charm Cat’s life. In her opinion, her nose was a little too big and she could have been happier with one of those full lipped pouts her sister had, but all in all it wasn’t a bad face.
She had an hour glass figure which was not the fashion in a day where beauty in the glamour magazines was a more boyish, anorexic build. She went to aerobics and ran religiously to be able to eat as she pleased and was satisfied that she was doing the best she could with what she had. She would never wear a thong bikini or be asked to pose for Playboy, but neither would a lot of other women out there. When she made a list of her good points, there were a few.
When she was growing up, she was the smart one; the middle sister who was not the eldest and not the youngest; not the pretty one nor the athletic one. So she settled for trying to be the smart one. It had worked when she was in high school. She passed all of her classes easily and spent her free time escaping to the different worlds that books offered. She traveled through time with Madeline L’Engle and investigated imaginary worlds with J. R. Tolkein. She didn’t have many friends, nor wanted them, satisfied to find company in her books.
In college she fell in love many times. Each of them were special but none sparked an interest in anything long-term. By the time college ended, she was against marriage and instead chose a career. Even though, she talked about having a family and felt its pull, she never really believed that it would happen. After a while her older sister married. She visited Lynn Marie in a small town in West Tennessee over the years, watching her build a home and a family and felt a loss.
As she moved into her late twenties, she had lots to be proud of. She had a home, her mother, father and sister close by, a good job with promise of promotion into management after a few years, friends at work and some nice men to date. But even with all that, she still wasn’t happy, so what was missing. The story that young girls grow up with of course, where was her prince charming?
That was how she came to be standing face to face with the dark stranger who soon after became her husband. And now after five years, she made the decision to leave.
The next morning after Dominic left for work in the same, always late but impeccably dressed state. Cat called the pet sitter to care for her horses indefinitely, gathered Pattycake and a few of her belongings into her dually. She pointed the bulky truck in the direction of Norris and her father’s house. On the way, she called her godfather and asked for the use of his lake house.
Now she was nearly there. She made a last left hand turn. Her father’s driveway meandered through 100 acres of well-manicured lush green lawn. The house was a large rambling white dwelling with columns running from the roof to its red brick front porch. A long balcony stretched across the front of the house on the second story. Wrought iron railings allowed for step-outs on the second story windows. To the left was a white combination porch and carport that stretched over the driveway. The roof of the carport was a sixty-foot square porch with white railings. The drive ran beneath the carport and behind the house to a large six-car detached garage.
Directly in front of the house, the driveway made a circle and in the middle of the circle stood a three tiered 20 foot round fountain with a wide blue pool. To the left of the house sat a large glassed in sunroom abundant with various exotic greenery. The third floor of the house held a glassed turret which opened out on to another porch which was often used for cocktail parties and other social functions.
The house was reminiscent of the chaotic Civil War and Gone with the Wind’s beloved Tara. If it wasn’t the 21st century, you would expect to see a beautiful, but spoiled, pouting, high-tempered and strong-willed, 16 year-old Southern belle in a beautiful white crinoline gown with ruffles on the mansion’s porch.
Gathering the small dog in her arms from the front seat next to her, she opened the door of the truck with her left hand and stepped out on to the cobblestone drive in front of her father’s house.
Cat smiled as she thought of her father. He was always teasing her of being like Scarlet O’Hara, determined and spoiled. She hoped her father would be happy to see her as she stood in front of the house hesitant to go in. He was the wealthiest man in town. He had extremely high standards for not only his employees but also his children and anyone else within his sphere of influence.
She climbed the steps of the wide porch still carrying the dog, opened the screen door and reached for the front door knob. It was pulled quickly backward out of her grasp and she leaned back against the screen door startled. There standing in front of her was her father, a stern look on his weathered face. The stern look changed instantly into a wide grin as he recognized his visitor.
“Come here, half-pint,” he growled pulling her close in a large bear hug. She let herself be enveloped by her father’s large arms and pressed her face into the front of his shirt squishing the little dog between them. His shirt held the sweet smell of cigar smoke and peppermints. The cigars were his only vice and the peppermints were a habit from the days when his wife would catch him smoking in the house instead of out on the porch. Despite all the years that her mother had been gone, her father still carried a handful of mints in his pocket to cover up the cigar smell.
Her father reminded her of Ben Cartwright from the TV series Bonanza. He was tall, gruff, intelligent, honest, respected, and had a strong sense of right and wrong which he wasn’t shy about voicing under any circumstance. He hadn’t always been this way. He often talked about when he was young and what a wild streak he had full of gambling, drinking and driving his business until it was one of the most profitable in the state. Her father also looked like Lorne Green. He was tanned with a healthy head of white hair cut neat above his ears.
The little dog wriggled between them so Cat pushed away leaving the safe comfortable embrace that made her feel like a child again.
“Hi Dad” she said. “I am sorry to barge in on you like this but there wasn’t a choice”.
“Nonsense. You are always welcome. Come on inside and let’s get you something to drink. You can tell me all about what has made you come home so quickly. The phone call didn’t shed much light, “he said ushering her through the front door. They walked through the front foyer to the left into a large living room with a large red brick fireplace from floor to ceiling on one wall. A flat screen 65 inch TV blared the roaring of a college football game as a class of orange and crimson jerseys filled the monitor.
“Damn that Phil Fulmer. He’s starting that young quarter back again. I don’t see how he’s going to win switching back and forth between two sophomore quarterbacks. Oh, for the days of Peyton Manning again. If he were here, we just might make a bowl game this year,” her father went on about the Big Orange football game he had been watching. Reaching for the remote, her father muted the game and walked to the oak bar to fix a drink. She sat on the dark brown leather couch and put Pattycake on the floor. Patty quickly ran off exploring the house.
“What do you want?” he asked as mixed himself a drink.
“A glass of white wine would be fine,” she said. He handed her the glass and sat himself across from her in a worn rocking chair made of the same brown leather as the chair.
“Tell me about it, Caitlyn,” he said with a steady stare.
“I just needed some time to work things out, Dad. There are some issues between Dominic and I. They may or may not be serious. I just don’t know what to do and I needed to be away from him in a place that I could have s
ome down time and think. He also needs time away from me to decide what is important to him,” she said in a small voice. “Thank you for finding me the house.
“Don’t worry about the house. It belongs to your godfather,” her father said waiving his hand dismissively.
“Once I have had some time to settle in and think all of this out, I will come over and we’ll talk some more. Until then I just don’t have my head on straight enough. I am too close to the situation to be able to make a good decision.” She reached for the glass and took a sip.
“That’s fair enough, Cat”, he said. “I am here when you are ready and you can stay in the house for as long as you want. If you want to stay for good, you can do that too. You know you always have a home here at Dove Manor.”
He looked out the window thoughtfully. “It’s quiet without you, your mom, or your brother and sister around, but I get along and Camille is still here taking care of me and the house.”
“Have you talked to Mom lately?” Cat inquired.
“No. It’s been at least two years since we spoke. That would have been about the time your sister Lynn Marie had the baby. You know we don’t speak that often. She and her new husband can get along fine without my input,” Robert snarled.
Cat left the comment alone knowing that the break up between her parents seven years ago was still a sore spot for her father.
“Where is Camille?” Cat asked.
“She’s out shopping. She’s determined to make dinner for your tonight and wanted it to be special” he answered. “I do look forward to Camille’s cooking when we have guests. It’s bound to be good.”
Camille was originally hired to help take care of the children and the house, but over the years she had turned into the family’s adopted grandmother. She lived in a small house on the other side of the property with her husband, Duane, who was the farm’s manager and all around handyman. They didn’t have any children, so they dotted on the ones that had lived in the big house.
Coming Home (Norris Lake Series) Page 8