Where Love Abides (Heartland Homecoming)

by Irene Hannon

  As he thought about what Christine had endured, his typical detached compassion went out the window. Jack Barlow had brutally attacked his wife, then used her claustrophobia as a weapon against her. He’d paid off the police to ignore her plea for help, and capped the evening with the shocking news that he’d never loved her and that their marriage had always been a sham. Yet he’d told her he needed her to play the part of a devoted wife in public, for image reasons.

  Despite Dale’s solid belief in the tenet of his faith that instructed him to love his enemies, he found it hard to do anything but despise the man. Forgiveness wasn’t even conceivable at this point.

  Scooting his chair beside Christine’s, Dale drew her into the circle of his arms. She was trembling badly, and he saw a silent tear plop onto the table.

  “Sorry.” She swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I thought I’d finished crying about this months ago.” Her words were as shaky as the wet, frightened puppy he’d once rescued from the depths of a sewer drain.

  “I don’t know if there are enough tears to cover what you went through.” He pressed his lips to her hair as a sudden protective urge swept over him, reinforcing his commitment to seeing justice done for the hurts she’d endured.

  But first, he needed some answers. Christine struck him as an independent woman. She’d had no problem standing up to him when he’d gotten sick, and she’d been prepared to defend herself the night of the accident, despite her injury. There had to be a reason she hadn’t walked out once Jack revealed his true character.

  “Why didn’t you leave, Christine?” The question was gentle, and he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand in a reassuring cadence.

  “I wanted to. I even packed. But then Jack played his trump card.”

  A frown creased his brow. “His trump card?”

  “My mother. She continued to deteriorate, and the cost of her care was escalating each month, into the five-figure range. Jack said that if I left, I’d get nothing. I knew he had friends in high places, and power, and I didn’t doubt his ability to cut me off. Without his resources, there was no way I could afford to get my mother the kind of care I wanted her to have. And he knew how much I loved her.”

  His mind whirling, Dale tried to process the fact that Jack Barlow had blackmailed his own wife, using her love for her mother to tie her to him. For twelve long months, until he was killed in the plane crash, she’d had to endure his abuse. And a sadistic person like Barlow wasn’t likely to pass up a chance to wield the power he held. What other horrors had the final year of her marriage held for Christine?

  As if she’d read his mind, she spoke again. Her tone was tentative, as if she were testing the waters, seeing if he’d had enough. “There’s more.”

  “I figured there was.” His jaw tightened. “I’d like to hear it all.”

  With an almost imperceptible nod, she settled into the circle of his arms and picked up the story. “Jack never struck me or caused any serious physical damage. And most days, he left me alone. I knew he had other female…diversions. He only needed me to appear with him in public. I could have lived with the situation, if that’s what it took to ensure my mom got the care she needed for the time she had left.

  “Except Jack began to enjoy making my life miserable. Once, not long after that first blowup, he spiked my soft drink with something at a charitable event we attended. I got dizzy and began to slur my words. Everyone there—including the sheriff—thought I was drunk. It was a very clever way to establish public proof of my ‘drinking problem.’” There was a bitter edge to her words, and she swallowed, trying to rid her mouth of the sour taste before she went on.

  “After that, the sheriff started to harass me. Whenever I ventured out, he was on my tail. I got tickets for all kinds of alleged violations—speeding, running lights, parking. The worse was the DUI. I agreed to the breathalyzer because I knew it would come out fine, but he claimed it showed I was intoxicated. When he said I needed to come to his office, I resisted. The next thing I knew I was handcuffed and sitting in the patrol car. I’m sure he called Jack, who must have told him to give me the full treatment. Including the…the strip search.” Even now, she found it difficult to say the words, difficult to swallow past the shame and humiliation.

  “Did he do anything else to you, Christine?” Dale’s voice was low and threaded with leashed anger.

  “No.” She knew what he meant, and she shook her head. “But I spent a sleepless night in a cell wondering if he would. When Jack came to get me the next day, the sheriff kept my license. Between the two of them, they managed to get it revoked for six months. We lived out in the country, meaning I was marooned. The only place Jack let me go was to visit my mother. Under the watchful eye of the driver he hired.”

  Dropping her volume a bit, she wadded her paper napkin into a tight ball. “In the end, it became a game with him. A sport, almost. He liked having power over me. I used to dread the days he was home with nothing to do, because that’s when things got…really bad.” The catch in her words was telling.

  “How bad?” Again, Dale spoke in a low, controlled voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

  “Pretty bad. He’d come looking for me, citing that passage from Paul about wives needing to submit to their husbands. I knew his sole purpose was to humiliate me, that he found perverse pleasure in my distress. I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, so I started letting him have his way without resisting. Once I did that, though, the game was boring and he turned to other ways of tormenting me.”

  “He used the claustrophobia.”

  “Yes. And I couldn’t control my reaction to that.”

  “How often did he lock you in that closet, Christine?”

  “Not often. But enough to keep me always on edge.”

  “For how long?”

  “An hour the first time.” Her volume dropped with each response.

  “What about the worst time?”

  Her reply came out in a whisper. “Fourteen hours.”

  Shock rippled through Dale. He’d seen how she’d reacted to a few minutes of imprisonment in the dark shed. An hour would have been torture. He couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d survived fourteen.

  “It was after I went to a neighboring town to try and arrange a loan to cover my mom’s expenses. I figured if I could get enough funding for a year, I could leave Jack. My mom wasn’t expected to live any longer than that. But I hadn’t worked since my marriage, because I got pregnant almost right away and had a number of related health problems. I had no collateral. Everything was in Jack’s name. And I had a police record. Anyway, Jack found out and…” Bile rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. She struggled to swallow past it, tightening her grip on Dale’s hand.

  “Take some slow, deep breaths, Christine.” He touched her cheek, her hair, trying to erase the anguish from her face. He’d heard enough to plead her case to the prosecuting attorney. More than enough. “We can stop if you need to.”

  She focused on Dale’s gentle instruction, breathing in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythm. “No. I want to finish.”

  A minute later, she resumed her story. “He went to w-work and didn’t remember he’d locked me in the closet u-until he got home that night and started looking f-for me.” Her words were choppy, the remembered horror squeezing the air from her lungs. “By then I—I couldn’t stand, let alone walk. I was in such bad shape even he got scared.”

  For weeks, Dale had wondered what had happened to Christine to plant such deep hurt and wariness in her eyes. Now that he knew, he almost wished he didn’t. The betrayal she’d endured at the hands of a man who had professed to love her was appalling. No one could go through an experience like that unscathed. That she’d not only endured but gone on to build a new life was a tribute to her strength.

  Except she didn’t look strong right now. Her head was bowed, her shoulders sagging in a posture of defeat. But she’d come too far, survived too much, not to see this
fight through to the end.

  Pushing prudence aside, Dale rose and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he tucked her head against his chest and rested his cheek against her hair.

  To his surprise, Christine didn’t fight him or try to pull away. Instead, after stiffening for a brief moment, she relaxed in his arms, her body melting against his. He stroked her back, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the spicy scent that was uniquely hers as he thought of all she’d endured. Now he understood why she kept her distance from people, why her trust level was at such a low ebb. She’d been abused and humiliated and made to feel worthless by the very people who should have supported and defended her. More than anything, Dale wanted to reassure her that their behavior reflected their character, not hers. That whatever hurts she nursed in her heart, whatever blows her ego and esteem had sustained, she could overcome them. That any lingering doubts and insecurities from her traumatic experience didn’t have to plague her for the rest of her life.

  But he’d felt the same way about Linda, he acknowledged, and he’d failed to convince her of those same things. Her damage had been too severe, her scars too deep. Even his devoted love hadn’t been able to help her overcome her shattered self-image, her bouts of depression, her bulimia. And if he hadn’t been able to help his wife, there was little chance he could help Christine. The best he could hope to do for her was clear her name, allowing her to start over with a clean slate at least in legal terms.

  Backing up a bit, he kept his arms looped around her. She looked up at him, searching his face, her vulnerable expression tugging at his heart.

  “I think you got more than you bargained for,” she whispered.

  “I suspected some kind of abuse all along. But I had no idea about its extent. How did you keep going, day after day?”

  “In the beginning, I prayed. But when God didn’t respond, I took refuge in reading and gardening. They were my escape. And I knew my mother wasn’t going to live very long. I figured I could survive. Still, by the end, I was…” She swallowed, struggling with the admission. “I was wishing God would hurry up and take her, as awful as that sounds.” The words came out choked. “Then Jack’s unexpected death gave me an early reprieve. The only emotion I felt when he died was relief.”

  “After all you’d been through, I think that was a normal reaction. My wife felt the same way about her stepfather.” At her curious look, he explained. “Linda was abused by him as a child. She would never talk much about it, but I know the abuse continued until he died when she was fourteen. She told me once that instead of mourning, she celebrated that day. That she felt as if she’d finally been set free. But in the end, she couldn’t escape his legacy. It colored the rest of her life and was manifested in many ways, including bulimia.”

  Sympathy suffused her face. “That must have been very hard for you.”

  Emotion tightened Dale’s throat as he looked into Christine’s warm, caring eyes. Her ability to put aside the trauma of her own story and focus on his difficulties was yet more evidence of her unselfishness and empathy.

  “We had our challenges,” he acknowledged. “But today isn’t about me. It’s about you. And getting your name cleared. After hearing your story, I’m more convinced than ever that your record needs to be erased.”

  “Stratton will never admit to any involvement with Jack.”

  “Your testimony could be powerful.”

  “It would be my word against his. He may not be credible, but I don’t think anything I say would stand up in court without some hard evidence to back it up.”

  “The prosecuting attorney is looking for that now.”

  Dejected, she shook her head. “As you pointed out earlier, there’s not a lot of incentive for him to put much effort into the search. Jack’s dead. It sounds like they already have a case against Stratton. They won’t waste their time just to clear my name.”

  “It’s not a waste of time. It’s pursuing justice. And I don’t intend to ease off until every stone has been overturned.”

  She searched his face. “Is putting things right really that important to you?”

  “Yes.” He responded without hesitation, confining his answer to that single word. There was more he could say. Like, you’re important to me, too. But he didn’t want to lead her on. She’d been used enough by men who should have been doing their best to protect her. The last thing she needed was a man who professed feelings he couldn’t follow up on. A man who was afraid to take the risk that loving Christine would entail.

  Calling on every ounce of his willpower, he stepped back and let his arms drop to his sides. “I think I’ll take your advice after all and lie down for a while.”

  Somehow she managed a forced smile. “I guess I wore you out. It might have been better to do this in installments. Like the daily soap operas on television, dishing out the melodrama in small doses.”

  Her ability to joke about her sordid story astounded him. Humor had never been a tool Linda could apply to her childhood trauma. Nor had his wife ever trusted Dale enough to share the kind of details Christine had revealed. He’d tried not to take it as a personal affront. Tried to remind himself that the scars she bore often kept her from sharing the secrets of her heart. Nevertheless, her withdrawal and holding back had been difficult to accept. And it had hurt their relationship.

  It didn’t appear that Christine had those issues. Though she’d been wary when they’d met, once he’d proven himself trustworthy she’d been able to get past her prejudices and see him for himself, not as the reflection of a stereotype. Linda had never been able to do that.

  The differences between the two women resonated with Dale. Made him question his decision to keep his distance from Christine. But today wasn’t the time to think this through. Later, after he felt stronger, he’d revisit the situation. And in the meantime, he wasn’t about to burn any bridges with this special woman.

  “I appreciate your trust, Christine.” He touched her cheek once again. “We’ll talk more about next steps as soon as I feel better.”

  As Christine watched him disappear down the hall, she wondered if his comment about next steps had been in reference to her fight to clear her name or to their relationship. Because they did have a relationship, much to her surprise. How it had developed, she had no idea. Nor did she have any idea where it was headed. She was even less sure where she wanted it to head.

  Confused, she sat back down at the kitchen table and reached for her mug. But when she lifted it to her lips, she discovered that the coffee had grown as cold as her dreams of romance and a family.

  Yet as she nuked it back to life, she saw another parallel. Like the coffee, her dreams were also being resurrected. By a small-town sheriff, of all people. Thanks to Dale Lewis, she was rethinking her resolution to lead a solitary life.

  There was much baggage still to deal with, of course. And she knew that many pitfalls and hurdles lay ahead. Perhaps too many to overcome.

  But for the first time in years, an ember of hope sprang to life in her heart, filling it with warmth and optimism and a growing conviction that a brighter tomorrow might lie ahead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You ever heard the term ‘two sheets to the wind?’”

  As Dale shut the door to the sheriff’s office behind him, he gave Marv a wry grin. “You’re about as good for my ego as Christine.”

  “You wouldn’t be referring to Christine Turner, would you?” Interest flared in the deputy’s eyes. “The woman who shies away from uniforms?”

  “That’s the one.” Dale headed for the coffeemaker, but changed his mind halfway there. He was pretty sure his stomach wasn’t yet up to the high-octane stuff Marv brewed. “Anything going on?”

  “You tell me.” Marv folded his arms across his chest, his expression curious. “How’d you break through those walls she puts up?”

  “My mom left her checkbook at the library last week, and Christine stopped by to drop it off.” Dale contin
ued toward the coffeemaker and rummaged through the cabinet underneath. “She caught me in the throes of salmonella and offered to watch Jenna over the weekend until I felt better. Do we have any tea?”

  “Worried about the kid, huh? That makes sense. Women are soft touches with children. Nope, no tea. You must still be feeling poorly if you prefer that over coffee.”

  “Let’s just say I’m being cautious.”

  “So what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you wanted me to fill in all day today and go to half days tomorrow?”

  “I have some things I need to do this morning while Jenna’s at preschool. And I’m going to take her to story hour at the library after lunch.”

  “The way you look, you should have stayed in bed.”

  “I needed a change of scene.”

  “Not much of a vacation for you, is it?”

  “You’ve got that right.” Dale had planned to drop Jenna at preschool every morning while his mother was away, instead of her normal three days a week, work in the mornings, then take half days of vacation in the afternoon to watch her. That schedule hadn’t worked out yet, but he planned to implement it tomorrow. In the meantime, he wanted to brief the prosecuting attorney in Nebraska on the information Christine had shared with him.

  “You sure you don’t want to take a few more days off? I finished replacing the rose arbor, so Alice is off my case—until she comes up with another project. I have time to fill in.”

  “Thanks, but I’m improving. And according to Sam I should start feeling a whole lot better soon.”

  The man shrugged. “It’s your body. You want me to run down to Gus’s and get you a cup of tea?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t be here long enough to drink it.”

  “Anything I can help you with?” Marv settled back at his desk.

  “No. I just want to run through my mail and make a quick call.”

  Closing his office door behind him, Dale moved toward his desk, giving his mail a cursory glance as he eased into his chair. Despite his comments to Marv, he was struggling with the aftereffects of the food poisoning. The exertion of getting Jenna ready for preschool, dropping her off and coming into the office had wiped him out. Christine had offered to stop by again, but he’d declined, unwilling to take advantage of her generosity. In fact, today he intended to try and repay some of it.