The Good Sister (30 page)

Noah stayed for a week on that trip. They made love. A lot. They laughed. They ate. They talked about things, but never about being beaten, raped or abused. They talked about where they went to college and what their favorite books were. What they did last week. What they planned for next Tuesday. They talked like normal people. They talked while naked and lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, in moods that were relaxed, happy, and so normal. They ate dinner with Gretchen and went out to bars to have a drink or enjoy the local bands. They danced at a honky-tonk bar, and laughed at how badly they followed the steps. They ate ice cream in the park below Gretchen’s condo every afternoon and watched kids playing, while their mothers talked. They sometimes were very quiet; and sometimes chatted as if they were good friends. Other times, they nearly incinerated each other with a look that went on too long.

Lindsey never dreamed there was such a thing as living like this. It was, Gretchen told her, called dating. She never felt this way with Elliot. It was intense with him. He doggedly pursued her because he wanted her. He always showed up with flowers and asked her out on formal, well planned dates. He was so flattering with his attention and compliments, she didn’t notice until much later that they never really talked. They never really connected. They never really learned one real mood or quirk of the other’s.

Not like with Noah. He was usually quiet in the mornings, polite, but quiet. He liked to be left alone to read the newspaper or do a crossword puzzle. He didn’t like to argue. He invariably placated her and agreed with her if only to avoid arguing. It annoyed her. She tried to piss him off, or get him going. But the man simply refused to be angry or annoyed with her. He just seemed to ignore her rude moods or comments. That was really weird for her. She kept testing him to see if she could shake it, but she couldn’t. Nothing could get him going. He simply just sat back and let her rant, rave or whatever. Then, after she was finished, he reasonably answered whatever she wanted or was griping about. He was so calm and rational, she often had to roll her eyes.

He also thought he was right. All the time. On this, he was unyielding. She made a game out of trying to prove him wrong. She tried to find some obscure fact he could not possibly know or have any opinion of. But damn if he didn’t! And damn if he wasn’t right most of the time! He was well read, and well versed in politics and current events. He remembered everything he ever read, which made him annoyingly right more often than not.

Over the next nine months, he visited her three times. He’d stay for only about a week before he had to return home. They usually spent their first entire day in bed. There was usually no talking. Then they eventually began to talk and do things like eating and bathing. They never discussed Elliot. They didn’t talk about what she did while he was gone either. They talked about Tessa’s progress a lot.  She had moved to an apartment recently with the help of federal assistance and Noah. They discussed his practice and the animals. They watched mindless TV shows and movies. They did everything and nothing together.

And they discussed just about everything, but what happened to her.

When the news of Elliot’s election was announced, Noah returned. He didn’t ask her to discuss it, but simply stayed there. He held her and stroked her back. He held her when she cried and let her be quiet.

After Noah’s third visit, Lindsey finally opened up to Janice Hensley. She wasn’t sure why, but something gave inside her after Noah showed up out of nowhere to help her deal with Elliot’s win.  She used to get dizzy, trying to decide where and how to begin discussing the torture that stole five years of her life. She didn’t know where to start.

Then one day, she decided to tell Janice about the time he first broke one of her fingers. It was only two years and seven months into their marriage. Lindsey described in gruesomely graphic detail how Elliot took out a meat tenderizer mallet from the kitchen drawer, and held her wrist down, before slamming it on her naked hand. The one thing she failed to remember, was why. She could not remember why. What good were Elliot’s punishments if she could not even remember why? She spent the entire hour with Janice trying to recall what she could have done to incite him. It was the first time she ever cried in front of Dr. Hensley. And the first time she felt like it.

She finally joined in and spoke at the support group. It was very hard for her. She wasn’t used to airing her private life or feelings aloud. Indelibly etched in her brain, first by her father, and then by her husband, she was forbidden from
ever
sharing her private thoughts or feelings. And yet, now, she could sit in a room of strangers and slowly do just that.

Most startling of all was how far from unique her story of abuse was.

She began taking an antidepressant prescribed by Dr. Hensley. She refused to at first, but eventually, the urge to go to bed and stay there returned. The feelings inside her gut were so overwhelming at times, they often crippled or even paralyzed her. They were the feelings that used to send her bed for days at a time. She didn’t want to go back to bed, so she started the pills. It helped.

All of it helped just a little.

There was no great, epiphany kind of moment for her. There was a series of really small victories, and bigger setbacks.

But it was her life. It was a reason for getting up. It allowed her to serve pastries and coffee at a small bistro down the road from Gretchen’s apartment. It made her unrecognizable to anyone who knew her formerly. She became known by the locals and liked and could easily talk to many folks in the neighborhood after only a few months of being there.

The person who understood her best, however, was Jessie, and Lindsey spent a lot of time on the phone talking to her sister about it.

Things were getting better, slowly. Day-by-day. Week-by-week. Month-by-month. Then it was almost a year to the day since she stepped off the plane in Spokane, Washington to visit her sister. She marveled how far her life had improved. How far she had come. But it overwhelmed her sometimes when she imagined how far she still had to go.

Then, one day, she glanced up and saw Cal Hopkins sitting in a booth, watching her.

She rushed over, gripping a steak knife that she grabbed from a nearby table. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask the same, Ms. Coal, is it?”

“You will ask me nothing, you slimy, sack of shit. How did you find me?”

“It’s taken far longer than I estimated. I had to follow a rather long road. I knew the only contact you’d have was with your sister. So I had to watch her family closely. Only they never so much as left town. Amazing she managed to avoid coming to see you. Your niece is quite lovely, by the way. And just starting to stand up. She toddles and topples all over the place.”

Lindsey gripped the knife handle so tightly, her fingertips started to turn white. She breathed in and out. In and out. Janice showed her how to calm her racing thoughts, which she used to think in order to survive being beaten. “Don’t you dare mention her to me.”

“You haven’t even seen her, have you? What kind of an aunt are you?”

She had not. The bitter, metallic taste of fear filled her tongue. She wanted to see her niece, but couldn’t. How dare he mock her? How dare he come here? How dare he find her?

“It was the vet that tipped me off. We got his name from your cell records. I finally figured his multiple vacations were solely designed for fucking you.”

A chill ran straight through her and into her soul. “What do you want?”

He leaned back and smiled, looking like a crocodile licking his chops before snapping her into his
megamouth. “You. It’s been too long. You’ve been gone way too long for the governor to continue playing it off. You must come home. You must make an appearance for his sake.”

“Or what? What are you going to do to me? What does Elliot plan to do to me?”

He rubbed a small, manicured finger on his goatee. “Well, now I can’t speak for Elliot, can I? He won’t like this, I know. But then, how
is
your boyfriend anyway, Lindsey? How is our towering vet? He isn’t exactly Will Hendricks, or a soldier to the rescue, is he?”

No, he was far better because he was there for her, if not to rescue her, certainly to care about and for her. To ask her what she thought, and felt, and what he should do about things that were bothering him. He treated her as an equal, a partner, a respected, and cared for adult. And if that wasn’t being a hero, then what exactly did a hero do?

Would Elliot harm him? Would he dare? Elliot always directed his violent impulses toward her. No one else. That’s what used to stump her. Why didn’t Elliot lose his temper with or hit anyone else? Even if he got pissed at his father, his business partner, or the damn neighborhood mechanic, he always waited until later, when he could take his anger out on her. The public had no idea that Elliot even had a bad temper. Nor did his own parents. She remembered often hearing them comment on how even-tempered and stable Elliot was with his emotions. No one saw the cruel violence rippling beneath his calm exterior.

How was that possible? If his temper was something he couldn’t control, how could he manage to always wait to take out everything on her? It was her, and only her that Elliot ever physically hurt. Could she trust that since Elliot hadn’t harmed anyone but her in the past, he would not start now? What if, however, he did? She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. She slowly counted to zero from ten. When she opened her eyes, the tunnel-like effect of her fear had faded. She was standing in a crowded bistro. People jabbered and laughed all around her. She heard the click of computer keys and the echo of women giggling. There were people passing by on skateboards, bikes, and cars as well as pedestrians. Despite it being a small town, there was a main street and people. She was not alone, and not in danger. At least, not at this moment.

“I will not go back. I will never go back. Tell that to Elliot, Cal, and see what he does. Tell him to come and get me himself.”

Cal’s eyes glowed with rage. They looked like werewolf eyes form a horror movie, and Lindsey could have sworn they were about to turn red.

“You’re making a critical mistake, Mrs. Johanson.”

She flipped the knife over, gently setting it on the table in front of Cal. “No. No, I’m not. My mistake was marrying Elliot and not leaving the moment he first struck me. My mistake was staying so long and thinking it was my fault. My mistake was hiding when I finally got the courage to leave. Tell Elliot if he fucks with me, my family, or anyone that I love, I will bury him. Just like Jessie did to my father. You tell him that. It means something to him. Something huge. Now get the fuck out of here, you second-rate messenger boy!”

Cal’s hand crept toward the steak knife, but Lindsey leaned on the table and stared hard at him. “What are you doing to do, Cal? Stab me in front of twenty witnesses? Go ahead and do it, Cal. Go ahead. Do it. I want nothing more right now than to fucking stab you right in the place your heart should be, if you had one. So try it! Start it! Give me a reason!”

His black eyes, looking like the holes of hell, burned into her, but he slowly released the knife. “If that’s the case why didn’t you ever, even once, fight back?”

She smiled slowly, “Because I cared about him and didn’t want to hurt him. But you? I can’t wait for the chance.”

He slowly stood up until he was eye-to-eye with her. She did not back down, but stepped forward. He snarled, “You look like a dyke,” before finally turning and leaving.

Her shoulders dropped and her entire body sagged. She fell into the booth and rested her head in her hands.
Holy shit
. She stared at her hands, which were trembling. She couldn’t stop shaking. But she stood up for herself. To Cal. To Elliot’s right hand man. The man who lived to report her location to Elliot. She actually dared to boldly spit in his face. She dared to  throw down Elliot’s gauntlet and almost sounded like she meant it.

Holy shit
. What had she just done?

She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Noah.

“It’s in the open now. He knows where I’m at. Cal just confronted me.”

Noah’s sharp intake of air was audible over the line. Instead of asking questions like most people would have, he said simply, “Come here. Come home, Lindsey. Please. Come to me. Then, we can deal with this together.’

She tapped the ketchup bottle up and down as she stared through the window at the pretty, suburban street. She closed her eyes.
Home.
Was there such a place on earth for her? Home implied a place where you felt you belonged, and were loved and safe. She never felt safe before. She never was safe.

But
together.
They could deal with this
together.

Was she ready? She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the window. Was she ready to be part of
together
? Had enough time elapsed? Had she figured enough stuff out? Was she in a better place? Was she able to—

“Please, Lindsey. Please come home to me.”

His voice was quiet, sincere and calm. He was always so calm. And he wanted to be there for her.

Was it too soon? Shouldn’t she decide
what
she needed, and
when
she needed it? Wasn’t that the point of the last ten months? She got to decide what happened in her own life and her own heart. Mistakes or not. She got to make the final call. “I think I love you.”

The line went dead. Did he hang up? No, no, she heard him shuffling. He laughed softly in her ear. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Me neither. It just came out.”

“Do you think,” he hesitated, “do you think you meant it?”

“I meant it. I’m not a child. I know what I feel. I know what I want. And I love you.” She drew in a deep breath and expelled it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He was the first man to say it to her without wanting anything in return. He didn’t want her to behave a certain way or look a certain way. He didn’t want anything from her, but her unconditional love.

“Now, will you come home to me?”

She closed her eyes as the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Happy tears? Sad tears? Exhausted tears? Relieved tears? She really couldn’t say. Just tears to express the tumultuous knot forming in her gut. Finally, she whispered, “I’ll come home.”