Olivia was at church for a youth event, leaving Sarah alone at the dinner table with Pete. Sarah hesitatingly brought up the conversation with the neighbor.
“I was thinking about the job that Johnny mentioned at the sheriff’s department,” she said. “I know money is tight. If I went to work, maybe it would really help out. I’d never let the housework or anything for you or Olivia go undone.”
Total silence ensued before Pete finally answered hatefully, “You were thinking? Do you know how much trouble it is for everybody when you start thinking? I’ll do the thinking around here. You just do what a wife’s supposed to. Maybe more time in bed might work.” Sarah’s heart sank.
After Olivia made it home, Sarah warmed up a plate of food for her and then got ready for bed. Pete rarely went to bed early. He often sat in front of his television for hours late at night. Sarah stayed up late sometimes too when their daughter was older. She made sure Olivia did well at school and even assumed the role of a student once again to make sure Olivia received good grades. Sarah spent many nights working on Olivia’s homework and special projects if the need arose.
Depressed and disappointed, tears dripped down Sarah’s cheeks, and her hands shook as she washed her face and then got into bed. Anytime Sarah approached Pete with an idea, she felt his slap, either physically or from his angry rebuke, declaring her disgusting and incompetent.
Laying her hot cheek on the cool sheets, Sarah once more let her troubled mind take charge of her thoughts. The little voice inside her head swirled with questions that reminded her of life’s inequities. Why did God make men the stronger sex? Was the wife always expected to submit to her husband?
As she slowly drifted to sleep, images of an antelope crying out and bleeding in Pete’s trunk entered her mind. Years later the memories of pulling the bloody animal through the rancher’s fence still induced excitement in Sarah’s mind. She also felt a sense of fairness from knowing that others suffered pain in this world, even innocent creatures. Pain was a common denominator for Sarah and for so many others she related to.
Hours later, Pete crawled in bed, waking Sarah. She didn’t move, barely breathing at his presence. For the briefest of moments, Sarah recalled The Godfather movie she and Pete saw years earlier. The gruesome scene of a bloody horse head underneath satin sheets had stayed with her for decades. What would Pete’s head look like on their sweet-smelling white sheets if it were sawed from his body? Perhaps his scratchy, unkempt beard would be bloodstained, or his yellowed teeth would he clenched, a permanent look of terror in his eyes. It would take a large, sharp blade to get through his bony neck. To decapitate a man would be physically exhausting for the smaller, weaker sex. Sarah surmised that God must have decided women could be physically weaker, but mentally stronger, for a reason.
Within minutes, Pete was snoring and making grotesque sounds, sometimes gasping for breath. Sarah was sure he had sleep apnea and often wished his heart would stop so that his craggy breathing would stop mid-breath. Whenever she had these thoughts, Sarah would quickly beg God’s forgiveness. She was a wife, and therefore was ordained to care for her one and only husband.
Slowly drifting to sleep, Sarah dared to hope Pete would soften his stance on her getting a job. Going to work could be her escape and therefore her salvation.
Nightmares often invaded Sarah’s psyche, startling her awake at odd hours. Tonight was no different. The clock’s bright light said twelve minutes past three. Sarah sat up in bed, trying to regain her wits. Tonight’s dream was particularly upsetting. A man with a hood over his face was chasing a woman into darkened woods, pushing her into a brushy pit and throwing dirt over her. Gasping for breath, Sarah saw Pete standing on the edge of that pit, laughing and throwing clods of wet ground onto Sarah’s back. Sarah clawed at the muddy bank of the slippery mounds but was quickly covered in sludge, Pete’s laughter growing fainter.
At that moment, her eyes opened just in time to see Pete roll over in bed and turn toward Sarah, mouth agape. Sarah’s urge was to grab a feather pillow and with all her strength cover his ugly mouth until he no longer moved.
“Stop it,” she thought. “This is just a dream. Forgive me, God.” She eventually slept again.
Sarah had Pete’s coffee brewing and two eggs over easy when she heard rapping on the front door. “Who was knocking so early?” she thought. Johnny Campbell, dressed in his sheriff department khakis, grinned at Sarah as she opened the screen door.
“Hey,” he said. “We’ve not found a good person to work in the sheriff’s office. I thought I’d ask one more time.”
Sarah didn’t answer and did not invite him in, but instead called up the stairs to Pete. “Pete, Johnny Campbell’s down here, and your breakfast is ready.”
Pete came down the stairs and went out on the porch, frowning at Sarah before slapping Johnny on the back. “What’s up, John? You here to arrest me?” Pete joked.
“Nah,” Johnny said. “I’m here to see if you’ll let your wife at least fill in a few days while we look for a permanent clerk at the department.”
Sarah didn’t look at either man.
Johnny persisted. “We really need someone, and you could probably use a break from each other.” Pete looked suspicious, as if Johnny knew the Sears’ marital situation. “What do you say, man?” Johnny looked at Pete.
“Okay, but just a few days,” Pete relented. “She’s a mother and needs to be here taking care of our daughter.”
“Shoot,” Johnny said. “Olivia is almost grown. She should be taking care of you two.”
“Would you like some breakfast?” Sarah asked, hoping to divert the tension.
“No thanks,” Johnny replied. “I gotta get to the office. Sarah, can you be there at eight tomorrow morning?”
“Okay,” Sarah agreed as Johnny slapped Pete on the back and stepped off the front porch, headed for the patrol car.
Pete’s eyes pierced Sarah’s back as they made their way back into the kitchen. The hair on her neck stood on end, expecting his fist at any moment. Sarah’s body instinctively reacted to Pete’s threats, much like a cowering animal. Bracing for a blow, Sarah did not lift the hot skillet off the burner, afraid she’d drop it if her body defended itself from Pete. Instead, she reached for the bread slices in the toaster oven.
It looked like no beating would take place this morning, just Pete’s sarcasm.
“If that son of a bitch would mind his own business, we’d all be better off,” Pete was obviously mad at their neighbor. “Goddamn it. Why can’t he get some other bitch to answer the goddamned phones at his goddamned office?” Pete stared at Sarah. “You better not let this house go while you’re playing good cop, bad cop. You’ll see what your husband thinks of you being Campbell’s assistant, and it’ll be a lesson you won’t forget.”
“I won’t,” Sarah whispered.
***
Sarah prepared a lunch of smothered steak, whipped potatoes, and freshly baked biscuits before she left for the sheriff’s department. Up at 5:00 am to get everything done, Sarah had been too excited to eat a bite before pulling out of the driveway. An apple tucked in her handbag, Sarah would prove to everyone at her new employment how helpful and hardworking she could be.
She walked in the glass front doors and met two women who introduced themselves.
“Hi! I’m Ruby. This is Peg,” one of them said and shook her hand. “Johnny said to be expecting you. We will show you what to do. If you have any questions, don’t fail to ask,” Ruby said and smiled. Peg nodded her head pleasantly at Sarah.
These two women were the clerks. The men were the enforcers. Sarah didn’t waste time worrying about equal employment or equal pay. Pete had trained her to be submissive. Sitting at a desk was more than she’d hoped for since marrying Pete.
She learned she would be the new voice of the Montague County sheriff’s department as the main receptionist. This would be a dream come true.
Sarah was pleasant and efficient. Taking copiou
s notes and cheerfully summoning the correct extension, the hours on her first day flew by. Ruby and Peg invited her to lunch, but Sarah didn’t have money for food. She politely turned down their offer, thanking them profusely. When she got hungry, she bit into her apple, thinking how much she loved being with these women and helping victims on the phone.
“This is God’s doing,” she dared to admit. “Thank you, God!”
The next few nights were fraught with tension, and Sarah tried to steer clear of Pete after work. She made sure to have supper on the table at six. These days it was typically just the two of them, with Olivia gone more often than not at church or some youth activity. Never once did Pete ask about the new job.
On the second Friday of Sarah’s employment, Ruby, who was the official office manager, handed Sarah an envelope. Sarah was reticent to open it, afraid it was a message that she was no longer needed. Instead, it was a check payable to Sarah Sears. Sarah thanked Ruby and beamed at both the women, safely putting her first paycheck in her purse. Sarah Sears was a real employee, a receptionist, a coworker.
“Thank you, Jesus!” she whispered as she made her way into the parking lot to go home.
Sarah proudly handed Pete the envelope when she walked into the living room.
“What’s this?” he demanded, ripping open the top. “Oh,” he acknowledged. “It’s a paycheck. Well, ain’t that special.” He could not be happy for her, but Sarah could see signs that even Pete knew this little bonus would be helpful to the Sears household. Pete put the check in his pocket and later sat down to the meatloaf dinner Sarah had put in the crock pot that morning before work. They ate in silence. Olivia was volunteering at the church again that evening.
Pete was less combative after Sarah’s first paycheck. He often made fun of her meager job, but the perceived threat to his manhood did not lead to a beating. Sarah believed God was working in Pete’s soul, and a slightly softer Pete was emerging.
“God works in mysterious ways,” Sarah thought as Pete’s abuse diminished over the following months.
***
Both Sarah and Ruby were worried on Monday morning at 8:15 when Peg hadn’t clocked in. Arriving at 8:25, Peg closed the office door, a rare occurrence.
“I need to talk to you both. I’m retiring next month after 32 years,” Peg announced. Her eyes watery and her face flushed, Peg had obviously been crying.
“Why so sudden?” Ruby wanted to know.
“I need to rest,” Peg continued. “I have pancreatic cancer, and the doctor gave me six months to a year. This place doesn’t need a sick woman, and besides, you two can handle it.”
Sarah was stunned, and Ruby began crying.
The silence was deafening. No other words were shared between the women the rest of the day, only police business and persistent phone calls. Sarah was even more efficient than ever, wondering how this turn of events would affect her job.
The county sheriff’s department was a small coterie of dedicated but unhurried locals who enjoyed working at a steady government job. Small towns and rural counties have mostly petty crimes, often related to alcohol and drugs. Meth labs, drunken homegrowns, and violent divorces often filled the court dockets.
Sarah loved the esprit de corps the group exhibited. A prisoner could complain about the food, or being behind bars, but complaining about any of the department staff would only exacerbate his problems. His mealtimes might be forgotten, and his bread and dessert would mysteriously be left off his tray.
The county offered good benefits in an area of the country where jobs were nearly impossible to obtain. Sarah knew she was very lucky to have known Johnny.
Pete had little knack for education but an acute sense of the potential to lose control of his family. As his telemarketing hours continued dwindling, Pete grew increasingly agitated, spending more time watching television into the wee hours of the night. Paranoia was slowly overtaking his mind.
Sarah tried to avert any direct conversation with him and never mentioned her job. After Peg’s resignation, Johnny Campbell urged Sarah to apply. If she got the job, she’d be the full-time supervisor of the clerks. Ruby, Sarah’s coworker, was sixty and had no interest in furthering her career. She wholeheartedly supported Sarah wanting to apply for the job.
The night Sarah decided to discuss her opportunity with Pete, Olivia was once again absent at the dinner table because she was volunteering at Reverend Thomas’ church. Pete and Sarah ate silently. Sarah mentioned Peg’s pancreatic cancer and her inability to continue her duties. The department had posted her job, Sarah said, and several people thought Sarah should apply for it.
He violently pushed his half-eaten chicken toward Sarah, backing his chair from under the table. “I guess you think you could be the head clerk,” he hissed. “Not surprising for a college girl,” he mimicked Sarah. Her stomach was a knot and shoulders tense.
“Don’t look at him,” she reminded herself. “Please, God, help him settle down,” she prayed.
Pete left the kitchen, leaving Sarah alone. She knew his behavior patterns. Leaving the room did not mean he was now peaceful. Sarah braced for his re-entry and the pounding blows or a slam to the floor. To her surprise, he stayed away.
She began to clean the table, still conscious of his presence in the adjoining room. He was pacing like a caged animal, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke. He suddenly re-entered the kitchen, watching Sarah work on a sink load of dirty dishes.
“You clever, little bitch. Do you have the hots for one of those uniformed sons of bitches?”
“Not at all,” Sarah said, furrowing her brow.
“You better never let me catch you. I’ll kill you both! A deputy doesn’t scare me,” Pete bragged. “You seen those rifles in my pick-up? They work on humans too!”
Sarah was barely breathing.
“Okay, cunt,” Pete said and stared at Sarah. “Take your little job, but don’t think you can get away with not taking care of your family. I expect dinner and breakfast. And you better not be late coming home.”
“I won’t,” Sarah uttered.
“We can use the money right now, but don’t complain if you have to quit,” he raged. “I figure you’ll fuck up either here or at that shitty little sheriff’s office. And don’t try to sneak any money to the side. I’ll know your tricks,” Pete snarled and went upstairs to catch an episode of The Rifleman.
Sarah could hardly wait to go to bed. Tomorrow she could apply for the head clerk’s position at the Montague County sheriff’s department. God had smiled on Sarah tonight, and she thanked him as she dozed off.
***
With bacon frying and oatmeal cooking on the burner, Sarah was frantic to leave the house before Pete changed his mind. He had an early call list, and Sarah could hear him walking the call through the company sales protocol. After covering Pete’s plate of eggs and bacon and placing a lid on the cereal, Sarah changed into her favorite of the five dresses she owned that were suitable for the office. The green color made her happy, and she felt it brought her the “luck of the Irish,” although she wasn’t sure she had any of the Emerald Islanders’ bloodline.
Sarah brushed her hair and hoped soon she could get a haircut, but now was not the time for daydreaming. She had application papers to fill out. As she hurried down the stairs, Pete stood braced at the front door.
“Off to your stupid job?” he smirked.
Sarah nodded.
“Just so you won’t forget who’s boss,” he stepped closer to Sarah and punched her right eye. Her neck felt the blow and careened back, giving her an immediate headache.
“Any problems remembering now?” he laughed at her.
“No, sir,” she capitulated.
“Now get the fuck out of my sight, but you’d better be home on time, boss lady,” Pete said, mocking Sarah.
Sarah’s right eye had been colored many times in her married years. She knew how to cover the bruise and swelling with make-up she carried in her purse, but she still
cried a few tears after every blow from her husband. How many women were in her situation? Sarah wondered, but she had no way of knowing.
Entering the small headquarters, Sarah stepped into Johnny’s office. He looked up, suspicious of her swollen face. “What happened to you?” he asked, alarmed.
“Oh, just bad allergies,” Sarah said and smiled, momentarily looking away from his questioning eyes.
“I’d sure like to apply for Peg’s job,” Sarah asked, slightly holding her breath.
“That’s great!” he said. Johnny’s chair made a screeching noise as he pushed it out from under his desk and opened a file drawer. “I’ll get you the paperwork, and we’ll see where it goes.” He smiled at Sarah.
“Thank you, God,” Sarah prayed under her breath. “I know you are good.”
She went back to her desk and began working. The investigators’ office was a wall away from Sarah’s desk, and she often heard the two middle-aged white men assigned to various crimes laughing about some of the cases. A “crazy bitch” calling in about her old man hitting her was not uncommon. Wife beatings earned last place among the detectives’ workload.
The investigators, Darrel and Homer were buddies and often worked a case together. Their day was a good one if a case closed, even though most often the final assessment was actually premature. Their day was a bad one if they got a call from state headquarters or had to assist a neighboring county.
Homer’s teeth were heavily stained from chewing cigars, rarely lighting the ends. His belly overtook his khakis, making them ride perilously low on his torso. He heaved as he walked any distance more than five feet.
Darrel, Homer’s’ brother-in-law, was the stereotypical inept and lazy investigator. Taking advantage of his relationship with Homer, Darrel often claimed worsening allergies to stay home for the morning. If he was at the office, he often spent time flipping through hunting magazines.
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