“Ah, hello.”
He was unsure. She bit her lip. When did she ever make him appear unsure? He didn’t know if it was really Lindsey. But after hearing her voice, he recognized her.
“What’s your question, Ms.?”
“Lindsey. You may call me Lindsey. That is my name.”
She watched him lean back, his hand rising to his collar as the color flushed his cheeks.
“Yes, your Excellency,” she nearly spit out the word. “I would like to know what your stance is on violence against women. Did you know that one in four women is abused in some physical way by a person with whom she is intimate? And that due to recent budget cuts, many of the funds that provide help and shelter for these battered women has been slashed for the last few years. Does that matter to you?”
“Yes, I am aware of the disturbing statistics. And, of course, I am adamantly against violence of any sort, whether it victimizes men or women.”
“Of course, I’m sure you are. But I’m talking about a very unique, yet unfortunately, very common, and very serious type of violence: the kind spouses and lovers do to one another. I’m talking about domestic abuse. What is your platform, Elliot, on domestic abuse?”
Her anger was not camouflaged in her tone. Her stance was combative and belligerent. Her stare locked onto Elliot and his jaw clenched visibly. He gnashed his teeth together to keep from snapping out what he really wanted to say.
“Why, I’m against it, of course.”
She dug her fingernails into her palm and took a long, slow, deep breath. She held Elliot’s stare across the auditorium, and over all the citizens’ heads. “Oh really? Then, tell me Governor, where is your wife? What happened to her? Wasn’t she beaten up rather badly? Didn’t that happen at your own house?”
There was a collective gasp and whispering. Then fidgeting. The crowd was uncomfortable with her perseverance and increasingly obvious rage.
His tight grip on the microphone was turning his fingers white. “Where is she? Where did she go? Who is she really hiding from?” Lindsey persisted.
Elliot pressed his lips together and Cal rushed forward. He was motioning somewhere. Sure enough, a gigantic, suit was headed toward her. She smiled and added softly, “Your wife is hiding from you. How do I know? Because I am your wife and will testify in court under oath that you beat me, over and over and over again. Didn’t you, Elliot? Didn’t you do that to me? The thing is, I finally realized it wasn’t my fault. It’s yours. I was hospitalized after what you did to me. I was choked and raped and locked up in my own house on a regular basis. Wasn’t I, your Excellency?”
She stood up on the seat beside her and held up a picture of herself. It was the only proof that she was hurt by another human being. The police snapped it at the hospital after the supposed intruder attacked her. It was the only evidence in existence. And was probably not enough to get Elliot the punishment he deserved. But it might have been enough to ruin his political life and expectations anyway. “This is what I looked like after the last time he beat me. The last time I was hospitalized. It was the last time only because I ran away after it happened. I’ve remained in hiding since that day. This, ladies and gentleman is what your Excellency does behind closed doors.”
Cal’s goons were almost on top of her, until the people in the vast crowd surged to their feet. Noah was beside her in a second as several people stopped the goons by protectively surrounding her.
Cal turned, physically pushing Elliot off the stage. He was just standing there, unmoving, staring at her with a murderous gaze, his hands fisted at his sides, before dropping the microphone.
She smiled at him and held his gaze until he disappeared behind the curtain.
There were a thousand questions being asked around her as she slowly lowered her feet to the ground. She breathed. In and out. In and out. No more denial. Only exhilaration and freedom. By declaring to the entire world, or at least the entire room, what was done to her by Elliot, Lindsey regained her autonomy.
****
Elliot Johanson disappeared from sight. Where did he go? No one could answer that. Even the authorities. Cal was missing too.
It seemed anticlimactic to Lindsey, after all she prepared for, and deciding she would at least try and press charges against Elliot for assault, battery, imprisonment, and harassment, as well as parking tickets. It didn’t matter to her what she nailed him on, she just intended to get him convicted of something. Anything. She just needed to know he was punished, somehow, someway.
But no one could find him.
Lindsey’s story instantly became fodder for the media. All the news organizations, talk shows, magazine articles, and headlines mentioned it. She hated it and loved it. It was very hard to describe. She felt justified and vindicated. But she also relived the pain that no one else could fully understand or comprehend. Nonetheless, it was a start. A place to figure out how to process all the years of abuse and injured feelings inside of her.
After a few days of waiting to see if Elliot or Cal showed up on the radar, she simply went home. She returned to Noah and Jessie, Will, and her niece. She went home because what else could she do? She couldn’t manufacture Elliot from thin air.
But she did change something for Elliot, even if she never got him convicted, or to publicly acknowledge what he did to her. She managed to ruin Elliot’s grand, master plan. And perhaps that, more than anything else, was the punishment that would most harm Elliot. He could not tolerate losing. And now, his dream was lost because of her.
She spent a long time wading through college brochures. She debated going back to school and getting a master degree in psychology or mental health counseling. Considering her history, she thought maybe she’d be good at it. Or maybe it would make her the worst possible candidate. Her BA in communication seemed fairly useless to her right now. But maybe she’d find some way to use it. Perhaps she could write grants or do something secretarial for nonprofit organizations.
She kept researching her options, but applied for nothing.
She did not yet have a clue as to what she would do with her life. She was thirty years old and still had no idea who she was, what she wanted, or what she should or could do. She only knew she loved Noah, and beyond that, nothing. She believed she was safe now, but she couldn’t yet trust in much more than that.
However, she began to have faith that someday, she just might figure it all out. For the present time, she only had the here and now. And all she had to do now was explore and dream, while maybe planning a future, for once. She got hired on as a waitress in a steakhouse and considered it good enough employment for the time being. Her brain felt ready to explode with all the monumental changes and revelations she endured. She wasn’t ready for anything that required a commitment. She hoped soon, however, she’d be able to handle everything.
She went to her therapist and talked with Tessa Backerman. Sometimes, she accompanied Noah on his Saturday afternoons to the shelter with therapy animals. Sometimes not. Sometimes it was too painful, or she simply wasn’t in the mood. She couldn’t be a “battered woman” every day. Some days, she pretended that she wasn’t. She took plenty of time to consider who and what she was, something she’d never done before. And for now, that was enough.
Weeks later, while opening the paper and sipping some coffee, Lindsey was singing along to the radio when her heart stalled and nearly stopped.
Before her read the headlines: Governor of Virginia Assassinated.
Assassinated? Elliot? How? How could that be? For real? The article said he and his manager/turned Chief-of-Staff, Cal Hopkins, were shot and killed in an apparent sniper attack the previous night in Washington D.C. According to the report, that was where they were apparently hiding after the domestic violence allegations that recently came out against the governor. There were no suspects, and no one came forward to claim responsibility. There were also no leads. Even Lindsey, the battered ex-wife, was not a suspect, according to the article, because she was
across the country when the incident happened.
She stared for a full five minutes at the article in disbelief.
The thing she could not ignore was her father was once, long ago, a sniper.
Lindsey was mentioned in the article along with her allegations about Elliot. Her heart sank and skipped a beat. If he were dead, that is all they could ever be: allegations. The shock of it was surreal. Could Elliot really be dead? She somehow pictured him as a zombie who could never actually die. She always imagined he’d be a shadow in her peripheral vision for the rest of her life. And someday, he could still get to her and punish her.
But if he were truly dead, he could never hurt her again. A foreign sound escaped her throat. She could be totally and completely free if Elliot were actually dead. Could it be real? Did her father do that? Who else would have assassinated Elliot and Cal? It wasn’t like that was an everyday occurrence.
“Oh my God! Noah! Noah!”
He came running from the shower, the towel still tied around his waist and flopping against his muscular, hairy legs. Shaving cream was all over his face and his eyes were panicked. She slowly stood up.
“What? What is it?”
Her heart melted. Her hero. All six-foot-four, in a towel, face full of white lather and he was coming to her rescue at a moment’s notice, whether or not he knew what to do about it. Or her. She launched herself into him and he caught her, holding her against him. He automatically wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, totally forgetting, although she didn’t, that he had a face full of shaving cream. It would be all over her hair, but she didn’t care. She only cared that she was in his arms again. Loved. Safe. Cherished. Independent. Free.
He kept stroking her back, her hair, and her shoulder. He, as always, responded to her comfort first, before getting the details of why. He didn’t care why. He only cared to do it.
She leaned back and wiped her hand down his face, collecting the rest of his shaving cream, which she wiped on her pants. “I love you. I love you, Noah Clark. I will always love you.”
His shoulders sagged under her hands and his face lit up with a long, lazy, happy smile. He never felt the need to dim it, quiet it, or hide it. He always showed her, as well as told her what he felt, what he wanted, and what he thought. He was honest and open in his love for her. He loved her like no man ever loved her before.
And she was head over heels in love with him too.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack to tell me that?”
She smiled up at his face. “Isn’t that worth a heart attack?”
He rolled his eyes and finally smiled. “Yeah, it would be worth a heart attack to hear you say that.”
She leaned back, grabbing the paper before handing it to him. “I actually called you about this.”
He frowned as he scanned it, then jerked back in shock as his eyes lifted to hers in horror. “In the name of all that’s holy. Assassinated? Do you think your father killed him?”
It was such a logical, but absurd question. It was nothing she’d ever have to say again about any man in her life. Because now there was Noah: normal, wonderful, nonviolent, nonpsychotic, Noah. Noah who didn’t hit, rape or assassinate people.
“He did. I think he killed Elliot.”
The color vanished from Noah’s face. “I contacted him. I told him what Cal threatened you with. And of course, he knew as everyone else did, that you confronted Elliot. Did I do this? Did I intentionally send him after Elliot? Did I cause your father to do that?” He shook his head. “I might have, Lindsey. I might have wanted this to happen. I didn’t sit down and think it out, but I had to know your father wasn’t going to let this stand. Not when it came to you.”
She touched his lips. “It’s on him. Not you. Whatever happens from here on out is about us. Not them. Not the general. Not Elliot. Not Cal. It’s only about us. And our lives, our happiness, our families.”
Noah pressed his lips together, then gathered her closer to him as he kissed her forehead. “You’re right. Let’s make it a good thing, Lindsey. It means… you are completely free. Of him. Of Elliot. You are free and therefore, you are safe. This was your father’s final and perhaps only gift to you. Let it go. Let it be just that.”
Lindsey closed her eyes and inhaled Noah’s skin. The clean smell of soap was still on his skin. So familiar. So safe. So normal. So there for her.
Yes, she was free. She was finally, once and for all, free.
****
Three days later, a package arrived on the front porch with no return address. She picked it up. It was no heavier than the box’s weight and could have been a feather. She set it on the kitchen table and grabbed the kitchen shears to cut the clear tape. She shook out the contents onto the kitchen table. It was simply a penny. She frowned at it and shook the box. Nothing else. What the hell? She picked it up and looked more closely at it. It was Canadian. Words drifted over her memory: If only I had a penny for how many times I’ve thought that too. She knew then. Her heart skipped a beat and started to climb up her throat. Tears almost instantly fell with the relief. Noah was right. This was her father’s last and perhaps only gift to her. But now she could live completely free of him, and Elliot. For that she was grateful. She held the penny between her fingers, and rubbed it with reverence.
Then, tossing the foreign penny into their dish of change, she ran out to help Noah feed the dogs.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading this story.
I would be so grateful if you took a few moments to leave a review of The Good Sister.
If you enjoyed The Good Sister, then read on for chapter one of the last book to this series, The Best Friend, featuring Gretchen Hendricks and Tony Lindstrom. It is due for release in Spring of 2014. (Exact date to be determined)
Book #1 of this series, The Other Sister is available here: Buy Link.
If you would like to keep up on my releases, please go to my website and sign up for my email distribution list or contact me directly at [email protected].
Sincerely,
Leanne Davis
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The Other Sister (Sister Series, #1)-Kindle Buy Link
General Travis Bains has two daughters: one who is good, and one who is bad. Everyone knows Lindsey is the good one, and Jessie is the other.
Jessie Bains is the other sister, the bad sister, which she loves to prove more often than not, until the day she gets kidnapped and brutally gang raped. Will Hendricks, one of her father’s soldiers, rescues her, and brings her home, but fears she may have been nearly destroyed mentally by what was done to her. The most important thing, however, is that no one can know, per the general’s orders.
Jessie’s life was always far from normal as the daughter of one of the most revered generals in the world. No one would ever think or believe the general could abuse either of his daughters, except Will. When Will discovers the danger Jessie is living in at her father’s hand, he once again rescues her, but this time, only he can protect her. Will has survived the horrors of war, but is now engaged in a battle that becomes far more personal and much more deadly. Will alone realizes what the general has done and will do to destroy his “other” daughter.
The Best Friend (Sister Series, #3) – Release to be determined for 2014
Gretchen Hendricks spent half her life in love with a man who ended up more dedicated to his job than her. After a divorce that left her devastated she put all her energies into building up her career as a psychologist. Now, well into her thirties she has achieved professional success, and leads a model life. She has tried to let go of her girlhood dreams of a marriage and kids to complement her career. After being burned so thoroughly by the boy she’d given her young girlish heart to, she is happier alone.
Until one day she runs into her adolescent friend, Tony Lindstrom and realizes the catas
trophic circumstances that have ended his service in the United States Army. It has been two years since the end of Tony's professional career, and life as he knew it. But he has done nothing to accept what happened to him, or even begun to learn how to live with it. He is holed up in his parents’ house, without a job or prospects of any kind, and the thing is: he's just fine with that. He figures he's paid his dues to society more than the average person; doesn't he deserve to be left alone to deal with things how he wants?
But then he runs into the one girl he always loved, and could never have, because she was always his best friend’s girl. Gretchen will not accept who Tony has become, or that he has completely given up on living a worthwhile life. But Tony can’t contemplate anything with Gretchen because to him, what good is a man who is incomplete on the outside, but completely broken inside?
Chapter One
Gretchen Hendricks browsed the produce aisle of the grocery store, seeking some organic fruit that didn’t look unappetizing or rotten. She picked through the pears, trying to find ones that were not too bruised or misshapen. She set a few in her basket and prepared to go down the next aisle. She needed hair gel. Turning the corner, she stopped dead.
Tony? Tony Lindstrom? Her mouth dropped open in shock. Was it surprise? Or rather, complete and utter horror? When did he get back? And when did that happen? She swallowed the instant lump that lodged in her throat. Will, her ex-husband and Tony’s best friend, didn’t tell her. How could he not? The tears pricking her eyes were immediate and real. She quickly backed up and hid behind the soda pop display, shaking her head at her cowardice. She could not hide from him. She could not, in good conscience, turn and ignore him after she saw him. That would be an awful, mean, and heartless thing to do. That would make her the worst person ever. But… what the hell could she say to him? Hey, Tony. How are you? How did you lose your arm? For, of course, she knew how Tony lost his arm, he fought in the war. She didn’t know the particulars yet, but obviously, he got hurt and lost his left arm.
The Good Sister (Sister Series, #2) Page 31