by April Worth
“Joanne..what does he mean?..your girlfriend?”
“Are you..are you telling me you’re seeing a woman? Joanne..you aren’t one of those, I don’t understand..”
Her patience had worn thin, she forced a rain check on the conversation with her departure. Pamela had been shocked to say the least. Joanne had wanted to crawl under a rock, but her new found bravery got the best of her.
“You don’t know her mother. She’s sweet, and kind. I don’t know quite how it happened but it did. I don’t regret it..”
She knew Owen’s words were false, knew it deeply. Jean could never do that. Yet, a minuscule part of her wondered, niggling, spurred on only by a mother’s over protective instinct. No. She pushed it away, refusing to give it a voice. She’d taken Annabelle aside, but all she could get out of her was that the woman had hugged her when she felt sick. It was inconclusive, only pointing to the affectionate bond between the two.
Jo had thought about just forgetting the whole thing, but she knew that she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her.
She had to ask her, she’d know in her eyes. And if she didn’t do it herself..Owen would barge in, vilify Jean before any consideration, pronounce her guilty. He’d treat her like dirt, tarnish her honest name by entering her into a database as a person of interest. Something she didn’t deserve. Further, after such treatment, it was likely Jean would want nothing to do with her.
Jo sighed, it had occurred to her that this was all a lie. A means of creating chaos. Unfortunately, it seemed there was no easy road. Her daughter was at stake, she needed answers.
She pulled in eventually into Jean’s long gently curving gravel driveway. The ghost gums had all begun their pale transformation, standing with tall white limbs amongst the orange and red. The willow in Jean’s yard weeping with bronze boughs, flowers were still blooming around the house, lawn a perennial emerald green.
Jo pulled up in front of the old white ute. Waiting a moment to steel herself before she got out. Her hands left their hard grip on the wheel, she opened her door, her skirt billowing slightly as she stepped out of the car. The porch door opened, Jean emerged wearing a cream knitted sweater and blue jeans, feet bare. The older woman waited on the porch, smiling at her as she approached.
The blonde joined her beside the door, Jean smiled broadly, reaching out to take her hand.
“Hi.” Said Jo, gruffly.
“Hi yourself.” Jean stood tiptoe on bare feet to kiss her. Jo returned the kiss, a quick peck on the lips lacking her usual warmth. Jean’s brows furrowed slightly, she remained holding Jo’s larger hand.
“Excellent timing, I wanted to show you something..” Jo sighed under her breath as she was lead by the hand into the dining room. The floorboards complained softly as they walked. Jean had a desk lamp set up, blankets, boxes and a couple of snap locked containers on the old polished table.
She heard the soft peeps before she peered into the box. It was larger than the one given to Annabelle. Larger to accommodate the fledgling’s growing size. Small fluffy feathers over a scrawny budded form. The baby bird looked at her through filmy eyes. Peeping at her with a short straight beak. Jean unsnapped the container, pulling out a eye dropper and a vial of liquid. She smiled, dropping a thimble full slowly into the chick’s mouth.
“Diluted honey, in water..”
Jo nodded, her resolve fading. If only she could forget about the whole thing and go back to how she usually felt.
Jean turned to her, smiling. “You can tell Annabelle that her little friend is doing well.”
Jo nodded, her eyes cast to the ground. Jean looked at her, reaching to stroke fingertips over her face. “Sweetheart what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since you got here? You barely said two words to me over the phone.”
Jo looked into the dark gentle eyes, long lashes fluttered as Jean blinked slowly, worried.
“Jean, can we talk?”
Now she looked truly concerned. “Of course.”
The shorter woman walked back into the living room, sitting down on the sofa. Jo sat across from her, sideways on the wide pad of the recliner, her long legs bent in front of her at the knees.
She clasped her hands between her thighs. Sighing. There was no way to approach this gently. Jean was looking at her with a tightness to her normally smiling mouth.
The words were stuck in her throat. She looked at her lover again, Jean looked back, giving her full attention.
“Jean..?”
“Yes?”
Grey eyes blinked. “Have..have you ever behaved in a way that might confuse my daughter?”
Jean looked at her bewildered, her brows drawing. “What do you mean?”
Jo sighed again. “Jean..someone suggested to me that..” She struggled to find the words. “..That there may have been an incident of some kind.”
Jean was looking at her incredulously. “What-What are you saying?”
“Apparently…Annabelle seems to think that you touched her. I know it can’t..Is it, is it true?”
The older woman shot to her feet, looking at her with wide eyes and a frozen shocked mouth. “What?!” Jean remained bolted to the ground, her voice higher and surprised. “Is this?..Is this some sick fucking joke?”
Jo knew. She just knew. She’d destroyed something wonderful. She could see their entire relationship implode in the horrified woman’s eyes. It looked as though the very words had made her nauseous.
She was tearing up. “Jean, I had to ask..”
The older woman paced a step, before turning to look at her, her face was a turmoil of emotions, she looked as though her very soul had been crushed. Her voice was softer, barely above a whisper. Tears trickled out and down her cheeks. “How..? How can you..even think that? How could you ever..?”
The blonde bit her lip, she stood, wanting to reach out, immediately feeling terrible. She knew honesty when she saw it, and Jean was looking at her as though Jo had stabbed her with a knife. Jean pushed her hands away, stepping out of her reach. “No! Don’t touch me!” her voice quivering.
“Jean, I had to ask..I knew-knew it wasn’t true..I had to..I’m sorry..” She was pleading, stepping toward her. Wanting desperately to reconnect and reassure.
The older woman shook her head, her eyes watery, staring at her. “Joanne. I love you..I love your daughter..how on Earth? How on Earth could you ask me that?!”
Jo raked her fingertips through her blonde hair. “I..I had to. He was going to..”
Jean’s eyes narrowed in an angry glare. “Get out.”
“Jean, I know it isn’t true..”
“Get!! Out!!” She was pointing to the door. Her normally gentle eyes almost black with rage.
The tall woman looked at her pleadingly, sniffling tears of her own, glossy grey eyes and a trembling lip. Jean just pointed again to the door. “Get out.” This time it was barely above a whisper.
Chapter 37
“Mummy?”
“Yes?”
“Can we see Jean?” The girl looked hopeful.
The blonde sighed. Cabin fever. A week or so had passed, weekends were harder, they hadn’t spent one at home in a while. Suddenly her little house seemed so small and cramped. More so with packing boxes everywhere. She’d made up her mind.
“No Annabelle. No Jean, we’re staying home today.”
A pout from her daughter’s small lips, the child crossed her arms over her chest.
She sighed, feeling defeated. “Go play with your Barbies honey. You have toys here.” Annabelle’s room would be the last to be packed up.
The child stomped away, giving her a glare over her shoulder. Somehow sensing a tantrum wasn’t in her best interest.
Joanne pulled her phone out of her bag. Nothing. Nothing since..She missed the little texts she’d get, telling her she was in the other woman’s thoughts. Her mind seemed to playback a constant loop as soon as she found herself fading. Sleeping had been impossible. Jean hadn’t answered her phone. Instead, Joanne sent
her an email. Knowing she’d read it. At least she’d have the full story if they never spoke again. She hoped so.
“Joanne. I love you..I love your daughter..”
“..How on Earth? How on Earth could you ask me that?!”
She sighed bitterly. Jean loved her. Joanne knew that Jean felt deep feelings, she’d seen it in the woman’s face sometimes. But hearing it, hearing it made her cry silently every time the vision resurfaced. Especially when it felt like she’d never be able to say it back. There had never seemed to be a right time, or maybe that’s what she told herself.
The policewoman had sat in her car for hours upon coming back. The tolerant darkness of her driveway, enveloping her remorse. Her house cold and vacant. Eventually she’d dragged herself inside. That was the sadness, it was quickly replaced by anger. Anger at herself for letting this happen. Anger at Owen for what seemed like the up-teenth time he’d tried to get in her way. This time he’d won.
Her car keys had cut into her hand, she’d gripped them so tightly. Turning up at his apartment. She had to confront him.
***
The blue eyes looked back at her through the half open door, she’d all but pushed him down to get inside. Standing in his kitchen, he’d calmly closed the door behind her, joining her, standing beside her on the tile.
“Joanne..didn’t we agree to call first?” His eyes flitted over her, the hostility in her posture rolling off in waves.
Her nostrils flared. He always said she looked beautiful when she was angry.
“You are despicable. You are beyond..so beyond what I thought you were capable of Owen. Your own daughter for Christ’s sake?”
He held his hands up in defence. “Joanne, slow down?”
Her grey eyes were hard. “No. You listen. Don’t interrupt me.” Owen stood still where he was, looking at her. His mouth open but not moving, it pulled slowly into a sneer he tried to hide.
“I talked to Jean. You’re lying. You used your daughter like a pawn in your fucked up little mind game. I should have known you’d do something like this when I didn’t come crawling back.”
She bristled, trying to keep control. Trying to make herself clear. Her concern over his reaction suppressed by anger. “We’re done Owen. Done. You’re Annabelle’s father, I can’t stop her from wanting you in her life. But as far as we’re concerned, I’m filing those papers myself. We’re done.”
Owen’s brows shot into his hair. He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. You’re siding with that woman? Over your own daughter? What did she do to you?”
Jo crossed her arms. “She loves me Owen. She didn’t do anything to me. I was the one who was stupid enough to believe you. I should have listened to my gut.”
A step closer to her, he was always taller. “You’re fucked up Joanne. You think any of that is real? This is real. Us. “
She looked him up and down. “No Owen, this was a mistake. Annabelle was the only good thing that came from ‘us’.”
He’d been too surprised to raise his hand, but that had faded away. His eyes were frozen over, and he tried his best to intimidate her. It had always worked before. A hand gripped her shoulder. His mouth working, trying to figure out what to say, his other hand shaking by his side.
“She put her hands on Annabelle, and you believe her, over me?” A breath whistled in harshly through his nose, his hand crushing her shoulder, the other clenching.
“Damn right I do. Liar.” Her teeth gritted.
He raised the back of his hand to her face. She squinted in reflex, bracing, tensing. He’d been careful where he bruised her before, been too cunning. That could change.
“Go ahead. Do it! I’m not scared of you anymore. I’ll report you. Half the station will see the marks you’ve left on me.”
He stood perfectly still, his hand by her cheek. “You wouldn’t?”
“Try me.” Her voice was low and resolute. She believed in herself now, knew it wasn’t her fault. Jo kept eye contact, not backing down, not giving an inch, daring him to do it. He could hit her, knock her down, but if he did.. he’d damn well answer for it. The days of her crying herself to sleep were over. She would never permit her daughter to think this was OK. Never.
Her husband released her, and she rocked back on her feet, almost falling back against the table. Her hands shot out to steady herself.
“You wait and see. I’ll ruin her. Then I’ll ruin you.” His words were cold and blood curdling. Coming out in a hiss over her face as she straightened up her tall frame.
Jo shook her head, her lips pulling into a bitter snarl. “No need. You won. She broke it off.” He smiled slowly to himself, huffing softly in triumph. It prompted a hostile glare.
“You got what you wanted. Leave her alone. I hear anything, anything..about you causing trouble and you’ll find yourself in shit up to your neck...”
***
Restless sleep and no concentration since. A week of it and her eyes were bloodshot. She’d stormed out after throwing around a few more barbed jabs. Had made herself clear. It hadn’t made anything better. They didn’t discuss custody, both too fired up for a civilised conversation. Instead she made one last comment as she was leaving: the house was going on the market. It was never a home, anyway.
She was still left with the sick feeling in her stomach. At least packing boxes made the time pass by. Her empty life taped shut and sealed away. His remaining belongings were in a neat stack on the sofa.
A knock at the door. Joanne rolled her eyes.
She stood behind the door as she pulled it ajar. Her mother. Wonderful.
“Hi Mum.” The policewoman awkwardly opened the door for her. She’d left Pamela’s house without even saying goodbye that day. Too much on her mind, her mother waiting to harpoon her with questions the least of her concerns.
“Joanne, I came to see how you were feeling? You were very..stressed last time I saw you..”
“I wonder why?..” Grumbled under her breath as she walked to the kettle.
Pamela looked around, noting the congregated furniture and stacked boxes. She’d seen the sign out front.
“House on the market dear?”
“Yes. It was time.”
“I see.” She watched her daughter's tense movements across the room. Joanne glanced at the older woman, who was nervously fiddling with her handbag.
“Mum. I’m fine.” The grey eyes looked defeated.
“Do you want to talk about it Joanne? Owen?”
Joanne sighed. They had never been close. “If you want to know if what he said about Annabelle is true, it’s not, she’s fine.”
The green eyes remained fixed on her. Pamela nodded slowly, seemingly relieved. “It gave me quite a start. Why would he say something like that? It makes no sense.”
Jo leant her back against the kitchen counter. Bracing herself. “Sure it does. He wanted me end my relationship. He got what he wanted.”
Her voice slow and measured. “So this Jean is more than a friend then? You were..involved with her?” Her eyes said it all.
Jo nodded. Breathe. “Yes.”
Her mother looked uncomfortable, and almost guffawed at her answer. “You’re not one of those Joanne. I’d know.”
The tall policewoman’s brow quirked in agreement. “Jean is the only woman I’ve ever..felt that way about. Trust me, I was as shocked as you were.”
There was a silence for a moment. Tact sometimes took time. “Well, perhaps this was a sign that it wasn’t to be.”
A soft sigh. “I didn’t think it would hurt so much.”
Her mother looked genuinely surprised. “You spent a lot of time together? With this..woman?”
Jo smiled sadly. “I have a key to her house Mum.”
Her mother’s blonde bob tussled as she nodded. It was a hard thing to hear, as hard as it was for Joanne to tell her. Strangely, Jo felt none of the expected embarrassment in doing so. She had braced herself for the judgemental looks. For the hissed whispers. Even from he
r own friends and family. Instead her mother’s attitude was measured equally by her concern. At least it implied she still cared.
“Your daughter will no doubt be confused?”
“She’s confused about not being able to see her anymore.”
Pamela smoothed the table linen. “I meant about you..seeing another woman?”
Jo’s eyes were icy for a moment. “Kids don’t learn judgement until they’re older.”
“Perhaps. Joanne what were you thinking? What would this mean? Getting..complicated with a woman? What would your friends think?”
Her daughter shut her eyes for a moment. “What does it matter? It’s over now. You don’t have to worry about what people think of you.”
“Of me?” Both shaped brows raised, crinkling the older woman’s forehead.
Jo tidied the counter angrily. Basic utensils were yet to be packed. “Yes. You. Your friends at the golf club would have a fit. I’m sure you’d just change the subject if they asked about me?”
Pamela tried her best to feign innocence. “Nonsense. I would merely tell them you were well..going through a difficult time. It would be true.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes, hurting. “It’s over. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“So you confronted her about Annabelle? What did she say?” Her eyes flitting over her daughter.
“Jean was horrified. Like I knew she would be. It made me feel awful.” Studying the ground. She still felt a deep sense of shame.
Her mother seemed unaffected. “It was your daughter. Sometimes you have to ask difficult questions. Annabelle comes first.”
The tall blonde sighed. “I just, miss being around her. She always made me feel so at home. So cared for. Makes me sad to think I’ll never have that again.”
Her mother rose to stand beside her. “Oh Joanne, don’t be silly. You’ll have that again. This..Jean woman was just an interlude, a rebound. You’re going through a difficult divorce?”