A Shattered Wife (11 page)

His simple statement had the desired effect.

At the sound of his voice, Martha could feel her strength
ebbing. She all but ran inside. Once in the kitchen, she knew without looking
that the chart had not been returned to its usual spot on the wall. There would
be no chance to show it to Katie this time.

"Where is the bathroom?" Katie asked, coming in
behind her.

Martha directed her there, and then returned to find Paul in
the kitchen. "He’s not interested in the operation," he whispered
anxiously when she handed him the cake covered in plump red strawberries. "See
if you can talk to him."

Martha nodded, but knew it was useless.

Katie washed her hands and face in the bathroom and then
stepped into the hall. The house smelled clean, not a thing out of place, but
then she noticed that the closet door was slightly open. On closer inspection,
she found that something blocked it from closing completely. When she opened
the door, a large sheet of poster paper that was covered boxes and red and
black slashes fell at her feet. She bent to pick it up.

"Did you get lost?" Bill asked from the opposite
end of the hall, where he had been sitting quietly since Martha and Paul went
outside.

Startled, Katie looked up to see the black, angry look that
matched his voice. "I’m sorry. The door was open…I…" she fumbled for
an explanation, knowing how it must look.

"Get out of here," he hissed. His voice wasn’t
loud, but carried an unspoken threat.

"But, Mr. Landry, I –"

"And don’t ever come back."

"What do you think?" Paul asked as he and Katie
drove back to Roanoke through the peaceful summer evening.

"It’s a beautiful place for a wedding. Thank you for
thinking of it." Katie snuggled close to him. She felt relaxed, sleepy -
in spite of her altercation with Bill.

"I mean, what do you think about Martha. What should I
do about her?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing!"

Katie sat up. "That’s right. She doesn’t need help.
Psychological help, anyway." She smiled at him, pleased.

"She made up some preposterous story about Bill
attacking his son and making a chart and I don’t know what else. Even I can see
that she needs help."

"You’re barking up the wrong tree," Katie said
flatly. Her smile disappeared and she folded her hands in her lap, feeling the
diamond on her finger. It seemed as if Paul wanted Martha to be sick.

"What do you mean?"

"Martha isn’t the one who needs help."

"What?"

"Bill. Bill needs help."

Paul shook his head and jabbed a finger in the air to
emphasize each word. "I don’t believe this. The woman raves about insane
happenings, but she has no proof of anything. She has all the signs of an
emotional problem, but you can’t see it."

"There is a problem there, but you’ve got the wrong
patient. Martha is under a lot of stress, I’ll admit, but she’s as sane as you
or I."

"I should have known that you women would stick
together." Paul was angry. Katie studied his face. God, she loved him, but
he asked for her professional opinion and, like it or not, that’s what he was
getting. "Paul, Bill is an angry, bitter, unbalanced man. I can see it in
his eyes and hear it in his voice."

"He’s my patient and has been for some months. I think
I know him better than you." Paul glanced at her and almost swerved off
the road.

"You asked for my opinion." An unsettling silence
filled the car and then she said softly, "Maybe you’ve gotten too close to
your patient."

"Are you saying that I’m incompetent?"

"I’m just saying that you’re too involved with him.
You’ve grown too close. You care too much about Bill to really see him."

Paul chewed on his lower lip and thought about what she had
said. It was true that he cared about Bill, loved him like a father, but that
should only heighten his ability to see the man better. Feeling betrayed, he
remained silent until they reached her apartment.

"Good night," she said briskly. "Thank you
for the lovely day."

He looked at her. He wanted her to ask him in, ached to
spend the night with her, and yet he needed to get away, at least for a while.
She had attacked one of the few people in the world that he admired and he had
to think about it. "I’ll call you," he said finally.

Katie nodded. By the time she closed the door to her
apartment, she was fighting back tears. "I will not cry!" she vowed,
but the tears came anyway.

After her outburst, she tried to read in bed. Instead, she
relived the afternoon with Martha over and over in her mind. She had to be sure
her feelings were impartial and professional. Time after time, she came to the
same conclusion – Bill was a sick man and needed help.

***

"God, what a day," Bill breathed, relieved that
Paul and Katie were finally gone. He doubted that Katie would ever return.

"Are you tired?" Martha asked.

"Hell, no! I haven’t killed one groundhog all day. And
you and whatshername traipsing around the woods didn’t help matters, either."
He shook his shaggy head and rubbed a big hand across his face.

"We were well out of the way, up at the pond. You
couldn’t have shot us accidentally," Martha said. The feeling of strength
and self-confidence that she'd gained from talking to Katie still lingered.

"Now, why would I worry about accidentally shooting
you? You scared the rodents away, traipsing around in the woods like that. I
won’t get another good shot until morning," Bill said bitterly. He put the
binoculars up to his eyes, dismissing her.

With a shrug, she left him sitting on the porch. She decided
to bake a cake; anything to keep busy.

In a little over an hour, much to his delight, Bill shot a
groundhog. The impact of the shell cartwheeled the animal backwards and it let
out an agonizing squeal. Even though most of its hindquarters had been blown
away, it managed to crawl into the shelter of bushes beside the driveway.

"Martha!" A strange excitement was building in
Bill. It made his voice quiver. He felt like laughing and yelling at the same
time.

Martha had been in the living room, knitting. She got up
stiffly from her chair and went to the chart. She didn’t know when it had
reappeared, but some of her strength faded at the sight of it. She called out, "I’m
marking it down," and hoped that he would go back to whatever he was
doing.

"No!" Bill got control of his voice again, but the
thrill was still churning in his gut. "Come here!" He might have been
talking to a dog. A retriever, Martha thought.

She ventured just outside the door and waited.

"Almost at the end of the driveway – to the right – is
the groundhog I just shot," he said, waving the gun in that direction. He
did not look at her.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, she sensed what was
coming next. She looked out across the driveway, making herself ignore the
ugly, naked stumps of what once were her beautiful roses.

"I want you to go get it."

Her heart stopped. How could he do this to her again? "Bill…."

"Go get it," he said, as if he were asking for a
drink of water. "I want to see it."

Covering her face with both hands, she tried to convince
herself that this was not happening. The sun was setting, birds were singing,
she had a cake cooling in the kitchen, ready to frost.

"Did you hear me?"

"I can’t. I won’t," she whispered, her stomach
twisting into knots.

"Go. Get. It." He said it again, more forcefully.

Martha lifted her chin, staring at him defiantly. She had
promised herself that she would not retrieve another animal for him. She would
not break that promise, for her own sanity. "No."

"Oh, yes you will." His voice was cold and deadly,
and his hand clenched and unclenched around the butt of the powerful rifle. "Or
you will be very, very sorry."

Taking a ragged breath, she stood her ground. Her chin
lifted another inch. "No," she repeated, but her voice quivered.

He shifted his position slightly and, though the gun
remained in his lap, it seemed to have moved too. "I’d hate to have to
hurt you."

Martha watched, transfixed, as he expertly handled the
rifle. As if by magic, the barrel was suddenly pointing in her direction. She
stared at the tiny black hole that was directly in front of her.

"Now. Do as I say." His hands were steady as he
clicked the safety off.

Terrified at his direct threat, Martha stumbled off the
porch and across the bridge. Walking down the driveway, she was blinded by
tears.

"Right there! To your right!" Bill shouted.

She sobbed, but kept moving, afraid that he would kill her.
Her shaking legs threatened to collapse any minute.

"Between those two rhododendrons," he shouted
impatiently. She heard the thrill in his voice. From the kill...or from
watching her stumble around, crying?

At last, she found the chubby brown animal. He was bigger
than the first groundhog she had had to carry; he probably weighed closer to
twenty pounds. His hind legs and most of his back were destroyed and a thick
pool of blood had formed beneath him. He stared at her through bright, glassy
eyes – she could hear his shallow, uneven breathing.

"He’s not dead," Martha whispered, putting her
hand to her mouth, and then, realizing that Bill could not hear her, shouted, "He’s
not dead!"

"Dammit; kill him, then!"

Sobbing aloud, not knowing what to do, she shook her head
vigorously. She had never killed anything in her life.

"Get a rock and bash his head in!" Bill barked the
order.

Blindly, she slapped at the rough gravel, looking for a
rock. The stones gouged into her hands, but she finally found one that seemed
large enough. Standing over the groundhog, she took aim and threw the rock as
hard as she could. The rock missed the animal entirely, struck the ground and
spun out into the driveway. Tears continued to fall as she searched again and
found another rock, listening to Bill’s devilish laughter.

Suddenly, something clicked in her mind. She felt it, and
rage surged through her. Holding the rock tight, she moved closer to the
gasping, unmoving groundhog and took aim. The rock landed squarely on the
animal’s head with a soft thump.

It continued to breathe, though – barely. It was shallow and
slow, but she could hear it. With great effort, she hit the animal one last
time and all was silent except for her own choked sobbing. In the stillness,
she looked down at the blood spattered on her white apron and shoes, and then
at the mutilated animal at her feet. She dropped to the ground and threw up.
Hoping that this was all just a gruesome nightmare, she stumbled up the
driveway and back to the house without the groundhog. Angrily, almost ready to
scream, she tore off her apron and shoes and threw them in the trash. When she
finally collapsed on the sofa, the sun was still setting, the birds were still
singing, and her cake was still cooling by the open window in the kitchen, but
she would never be the same again. She had taken a life.

From out of nowhere, Bill appeared beside her, smiling down
happily. With a slight trembling in his husky voice he said, "You’ll do
better next time."

What she saw when she looked up at him was a monster. Cold,
glittering eyes met hers and his wicked smile curved across his stony face. Her
Bill was gone; something evil and destructive had taken over his body. She lay
on the sofa and her husband continued to smile down at her. She was afraid to
move, afraid to breathe. Finally, with a sharp, harsh laugh, he left her alone.
She fled to the bedroom.

"Paul, wake up!" Katie’s voice crackled through
the telephone, full of excitement.

"It’s one o’clock in the morning," the sleepy
young doctor complained.

"I’m sorry, but I just remembered something," she
said.

"Look, I don’t want to argue now. I’ve got to get some
rest. I have an early appointment, and –"

"I saw the chart," she interrupted. "The
chart Martha told you about. It does exist!"

"What? How do you know that?" Suddenly, he was
wide awake.

"When I went to the bathroom, I saw something I wasn’t
supposed to see. I’m telling you that chart was hidden in the hall closet,"
she explained triumphantly.

"Why didn’t you mention this before?"

"I wasn’t sure at the time that that’s what it was, but
now that I’ve thought about it, I know it’s what I found." Her voice
became softer. "Besides, I was so upset that we were arguing, I guess I
forgot."

"So what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Why not check it out for yourself? I’ll bet if you
made a surprise visit out there tomorrow…or today…you’d find that chart hanging
on the wall, just like Martha described."

Paul thought for a few minutes. Why would Bill hide it? If
there really was a chart, if everything Martha told him was true, then Katie
was probably right and Bill needed help. As badly as he hated to admit it, his
idol might just have feet of clay. He had to find out for himself. "I’ll
see if I can find someone to cover for me tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll take a
ride out there.

"Great," Katie said, relieved. "I’ll see you
about noon."

"Maybe a little after. Listen, if you’re wrong…."

"I’m not. And Paul, I don’t want to scare you, but he
could be dangerous."

Paul hung up without saying goodbye. He knew Bill; strong,
independent, responsible. Good God, the man was paralyzed from the waist down.
How could he be dangerous?

At breakfast the next morning, Bill and Martha sat across
from each other at the rough pine table. The only noise was the clink of their
silverware against the dishes. Bill, with his gray-tinged full beard, looked
just as tired as Martha felt.