“What happened to your arm?” Faith asked.
“My rookie mate gaffed me. The worst part is, we lost the fish.” He noticed her face. “The bigger question is, what the hell happened to you?”
Faith beamed red. “It’s a long story.”
“Yeah. One that ends with me beating the shit out of that scrawny husband of yours.” Mack gently examined her bruises. “Good thing your father isn’t alive to see this.”
“The police are handling the situation, Uncle Mack,” she said, gesturing toward Officer Swanson. “No need for you to get involved.”
“This little lady is my goddaughter, Officer. Her father was my closest friend.”
“I understand.” Swanson tipped his hat to Mack. “We’ll take good care of her.”
The nurse coughed, reminding them she was waiting.
Mack engulfed Faith in a one-arm bear hug. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the scent of sweat mixed with fish that reminded her so much of her father.
“You call me if things get out of hand,” he whispered. “I know people who can help.”
A nervous giggle escaped Faith’s lips. Mack would never hurt a fly, but he had a reputation of hanging out with some pretty rough characters.
“Please don’t tell Mama. She has enough to worry about already.”
Mack furrowed his brows. “You’re not still living with him, are you?”
Faith shook her head. “I moved out today. I’m staying with Sam. At least for the moment.”
“All right. I’ll keep your secret safe this once. But there better not be a next time.”
“There won’t be. I promise,” she said, making a promise she hoped she could keep.
He gave a little bow. “Well then, my lady. I’ll be off.” He popped his red Inlet View Marina cap back on his head and disappeared down the hallway.
Officer Swanson parked himself at the nurses’ station and proceeded to chat up the ladies while Nurse Erica completed the preliminary part of Faith’s examination. Faith appreciated the nurse’s gentle touch in taking her vitals and her nonjudgmental manner when questioning her and photographing her bruises. It took a special kind of person to be a nurse, a person whose silent presence helped a patient relax.
When Faith returned from X-ray, Swanson was ready with pen and paper to take her statement. While they waited for the doctor to come in, Faith told the officer about Curtis’s inability to hold a job and the money problems they’d had because of it. She told him about the unauthorized withdrawals she’d made from Sweeney’s. And she told him about the drinking and gambling and abuse.
“I guess you could say you walked into your own trap,” Officer Swanson said.
“The first time I borrowed money, I had every intention of paying it back as soon as my husband found a job. But when that didn’t happen, he threatened me into taking more. I should have told my sister from the beginning.”
“We all make mistakes, Mrs. Evans. It’s how we make amends for those mistakes that counts.”
Faith smiled, ignoring the pain in her busted lip. “I’m lucky to have a sister like Sam.”
“And she’s lucky to have you, too. You need to lean on each other right now.”
“Faith.” Dr. Neilson appeared in the doorway. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Especially not in this condition.”
She smiled, as much as she could with her lip busted. “I didn’t expect to be here, Doctor. Especially not in this condition.” She was flattered he remembered her name. He must see hundreds of patients every week. She could only imagine what he thought of her, a helpless battered wife.
He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to the others. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you all fixed up, good as new.” As he listened to her heart and lungs with his stethoscope, he asked, “How’s your sweet mother? She hasn’t had any more spells, has she?”
“She’s fine. Better than me, or so it seems.”
He pressed gently on her rib cage, then flashed a penlight up her nose. “Your nose is broken, but it appears to be minor.”
“Does that mean it will heal on its own?”
“In time. Protect it as much as you can for the next couple of weeks. Icing will help the swelling go down. You also have two broken ribs. Both on your right side. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about them either. Take ibuprofen or acetaminophen as needed for the pain. And no bending or heavy lifting for at least a week. Will that be a problem for you in your workplace?”
Faith wasn’t sure she even still had a job. “No, I have a desk job managing the books for my family’s seafood market.”
Neilson cocked an eyebrow. “Sweeney’s?”
“That’s the one, the only seafood market in Prospect.”
“I’m a big fan. Although I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t been in since you reopened.”
“You should stop by sometime. We introduced a whole new line of products you might like.”
Dr. Neilson stood. “I’ll do that. It’ll give me a chance to check up on you and your mother.” He fished a business card out of the top pocket of his scrubs and scratched a number on the back. He handed the card to Faith. “My office number is on the front and my cell is on the back. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call.”
Faith took the card from him. “Thank you, Dr. Neilson.”
He leaned down close to her ear. “I thought we agreed you’d call me Mike.”
“Okay, Mike,” she said softly.
He touched her hand. “A man who loves his wife does not break her nose and fracture two of her ribs,” he said in a voice meant only for her. “And I can promise you, if he’s beaten you once, he’ll do it again. I hope the presence of your police escort over there”—Mike aimed his thumb at Officer Swanson—“means you have left your husband.”
“Yes. I’m staying with my sister for the time being.”
“Do you have children?”
“Yes, I have a six-year-old daughter.”
“Which complicates the situation. For both your sakes, file a police report and get a restraining order. Whatever you do, don’t let him come within five miles of you.”
Faith’s eyes welled. “I understand.”
“I’m serious, Faith. You wouldn’t believe the number of women who refuse to take my advice. I see them in here time and again, battered and bruised worse than you. Yet the majority of them refuse to leave their husbands.”
“Why is that?”
“Lack of money or family support, oftentimes both. Many women feel their only choice is to stay in an abusive relationship. But there are always other choices. If things don’t work out at your sister’s house, I would be happy to help you find a shelter.”
Twenty-One
Samantha
Sam finally got through to Moses on her fifth call. When he pulled up in front of her house five minutes later, she was waiting for him on her porch. She quickly filled him in on the events of the evening.
“I can’t handle this, Moses.” Sam paced up and down the porch. “My son has given up on his life. He wants to die.”
“Come here.” Moses pulled her to him and wrapped his big arms around her, whispering words of comfort and rubbing her back until she calmed down.
“Tell me what to do.” She pushed away from him, drying her tears with her shirttail. “Obviously I can’t keep him safe here.”
“Where is Jamie now?” Moses asked.
Sam reached for the doorknob. “Inside, talking to a police officer.”
Sam and Moses stood to the side, listening to Jamie answer Eli’s questions.
“Who’s the little girl?” Moses gestured toward Bitsy, who was fast asleep on Jamie’s lap.
“My niece, Bitsy. I rescued her mother, my younger sister, Faith, from her abusive husband this afternoon.”
Moses stared at Sam in disbelief. “As if you need anymore drama in your life. Where is Faith now?”
“At the hospital, getting a doctor�
��s report of her injuries.”
“Are they staying here with you?”
“I couldn’t very well turn them away, considering their circumstances.”
“Of course not.” Moses pursed his lips and rubbed his chin in thought. “In fact, having them here might work to your advantage.”
“How so?”
“I can tell by the way he’s holding her, Jamie seems very protective over his little cousin.”
“He is. His whole demeanor changed tonight when he saw my sister’s battered face.”
“Focusing on someone else’s problems might be what Jamie needs to get his mind off his own.”
The idea made sense to Sam. “I hadn’t thought about it like that, but you might be right.”
“We need to decide how to proceed,” Moses said. “I can have Dr. Baker admit him to the hospital tonight.”
“To the psych ward?”
“Unfortunately, yes. That’s where they will put him on suicide watch.”
The alternative was to conduct her own suicide watch. While the idea scared the hell out of her, having her son admitted to the psych ward was even less appealing.
“Do I have another option?”
“He needs to be in therapy, Sam, if not with Dr. Baker then with someone else.”
“I’ve tried, Moses. Jamie flat-out refuses to see anyone.”
“And look where that’s gotten him. He’s too tired tonight to listen, but if you’re comfortable waiting until the morning, I can be here first thing. Jamie and I are close enough that I can talk to him straight, about what happened tonight and about getting some help. But I warn you, Sam, if I have any concerns for his safety, I will have no choice but to find someone to commit him.”
Sam showed the officers to the door, then locked the dead bolt and pocketed the key. “God, I need a drink. Care to join me?” she asked Faith.
“Sure, but let me check on Bitsy first. Where is she?”
“Asleep. In your room with Jamie. The two of them conked out while he was reading her a bedtime story, and I didn’t have the heart to separate them.”
Sam was waiting in the den with a bottle of Chardonnay and a plate of cheese and crackers when her sister returned.
Faith gripped the arm of the sofa as she lowered herself to sit.
Sam uncorked the bottle and poured two healthy glasses of wine. “You shouldn’t drink this if you’re on pain meds.”
“The doctor only prescribed Tylenol and Advil.” Faith accepted a glass of wine from Sam.
Sam clinked her sister’s glass. “Let’s hope this wine kills all our pain tonight.”
Faith picked at a loose thread on her jean shorts. “Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten so bad with Jamie?”
“For the same reason you never told me about Curtis.”
“I guess I deserve that.” Faith took a small sip of wine, followed by a bigger one. She grimaced in pain as she rearranged herself into a more comfortable sitting position.
“Moses, Jamie’s physical therapist, stopped by while you were at the hospital. He’s coming back first thing in the morning to talk to Jamie. We might have to hospitalize him, Faith, if we can’t get through to him.”
“For his own safety. I get that.”
“I’m scared to death he’ll try to hurt himself again on my watch. I thought I was doing an okay job of protecting him, but I screwed up big time.”
“You’re a great mom, Sam. And everybody knows it, especially Jamie. Even if you can’t give him the kind of help he needs, you’re smart enough to find it for him. It sounds to me like you trust this Moses person?”
“I do, and so does Jamie.”
“Then let Moses guide you.”
Sam set her wine glass on the coffee table and rubbed her bloodshot eyes with her balled fists. “Suicide is major, Faith. How did I miss the signs?”
“Because you were too busy worrying about the rest of your family—namely, your pitiful, helpless little sister. I think Bitsy and I should stay with Jackie for a while. The last thing you need is a madman threatening your family. I’d never forgive myself if Curtis hurt you or Jamie in any way.”
Sam picked her glass up and sipped on her wine as she contemplated how much she should tell Faith about their sister’s situation. On the one hand, she respected Jackie’s privacy, but on the other, Faith was as loyal as a lapdog. Knowing she wasn’t the only one with problems in her marriage might give Faith the strength she needed to stand up to Curtis. What were families for, if not confiding in one another and offering support in times of need?
“Trust me, you don’t want to go to Jackie’s. She’s dealing with her own marital crisis du jour.”
Faith’s face changed from shock to bewilderment to disappointment as she processed this information. “Why am I always the last one to know everything?” she asked, her lip trembling.
“Oh, honey. It’s not like that at all.” Sam rubbed her sister’s arm. “Jackie hasn’t confided in me. She doesn’t even know that I know.”
“Then how—”
“Bill and I had a little run-in, one that didn’t place him in the most favorable light.”
Faith looked at Sam over the rim of her wine glass. “Did you catch him in the act?”
“Yep. Pretty much.” She gave Faith the abbreviated version of her encounter with Bill outside his mistress’s house. “Last I heard from him, he was planning to ask her for a divorce.”
“I don’t get it. Bill doesn’t seem like the type to cheat on his wife.”
“I know, right? I was so angry with him at the time, but once I thought about it, I realized how out of character it is for him. I guess you never really know about a person.”
An awkward silence filled the room, and Sam wished she could take back her words. Nothing Curtis ever did surprised Sam. He’d been a rotten egg from the beginning, and everyone in her family knew it. Everyone except Faith.
“Why wouldn’t Jackie talk to us about her problems, Sam?”
“Same reason you didn’t talk to us.”
“Ouch. That hurts.”
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Maybe Jackie is afraid to leave him.”
Sam nearly choked on her wine. “Jackie’s the most fearless woman I know. If anything, she’s in denial, too proud to admit her life is less than perfect.”
“I think you’re wrong about them,” Faith said, a determined look on her face. “They love each other too much to let an affair ruin their marriage. My guess is, they’ll work things out.”
Sam threw a wadded-up cocktail napkin at her sister. “You are a hopeless romantic.”
Faith grabbed the napkin and tossed it on the coffee table. “What have you told Mom about my situation?”
“Nothing. It’s up to you to decide how much you tell her about Curtis, but as far as I’m concerned, the situation with the money stays between us.” Sam reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself another glass. “I don’t think you want Mom to see you looking like that, anymore than I want her to know what happened with Jamie tonight. I’m not trying to keep anything from her. I just don’t want to overwhelm her with too much at once.”
“But we’ll have to tell her something to explain my absence from work.” Faith stared into her empty glass, unwilling to meet her sister’s eyes. “That is, if I still have a job.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you still have a job. You made a mistake. It’s not the end of the world.” Sam poured Faith another glass of wine. “In any case, you know I’m helpless when it comes to accounting.”
“Sammie, about the money—”
Sam held her hand up. “Don’t worry about the money.”
“But with business so slow …”
“We’ll figure something out. You and I both have more important things to worry about right now.”
Twenty-Two
Faith
Faith woke before sunrise the following morning. She allowed herself a few extra
minutes in bed, to enjoy the coziness of the soft comforter and the warmth of her daughter’s small body lying next to her. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.
Last night, she’d begged Sam to let her sleep on the couch so as not to disturb Jamie from his peaceful sleep in the guest bedroom bed, but Sam had refused, insisting that Faith’s body needed rest in order to heal. Sam wanted Jamie in his own room so she could watch over him during the night, and Faith would’ve done the same thing in her sister’s shoes.
She owed Sam a debt of gratitude she’d never be able to repay. Not just for rescuing her from Curtis. Any sister would move heaven and earth to get her sibling away from an abusive spouse. But Sam had chosen to forgive her for the money she’d stolen from the market.
Faith glanced at the digital clock on the table beside the bed. Six thirty. Moses was coming over to talk to Jamie at eight thirty, which left her a small but workable window of opportunity. Officer Swanson had given her detailed instructions on where to find the forms and how to file them.
Time for Faith to take control of her life.
Despite her sore muscles and aching ribs, Faith forced herself to get out of bed. She slipped a sundress over her head, and tiptoed down the hall to the desktop computer in the sitting room. She downloaded and printed the forms. Thirty minutes later, when she had finished filling out all the information, she returned to the guest bedroom for her bag.
She nudged Bitsy. “Mama’s gonna run out for a while. I won’t be long.”
Bitsy nodded, but she didn’t open her eyes.
“Aunt Sam’s here if you need her. You sleep as long as you like.”
Her daughter responded by burying herself deeper under the covers.
Faith snuck out the front door and around the back of the house to her truck. She stroked the dashboard like a beloved pet as she turned the key in the ignition. “Don’t you quit on me now, Rusty, ole girl.” The engine fired on the first try, and Faith hit the highway, fighting to keep her eyes open as she drove the forty-five minutes to Charleston. She located the courthouse, filed her forms with the family court clerk, and was headed back home in less than thirty minutes.
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