Lacy's End (8 page)

Lacy dropped her head, praying her mother wouldn’t argue.

“All I’m saying,” Brenda continued, “is that we have freedom mere miles from our doorstep, why would we want to start all over again?”

Brenda could see Peter’s face reddening, could see the signs of impending anger but couldn’t stop herself. “What about my request to volunteer at the hospital?” she asked.

Lacy’s head snapped up, just as Peter’s fist flew out, knocking Brenda to the floor. “I said no!” he screamed. “You have plenty to do around this house. You don’t need to go looking for other things.”

Brenda picked herself up off the floor, staring defiantly at Peter.

Lacy was shocked. Her mother never stood up to her father.

Peter jumped out of his chair, grabbed Brenda by the hair and began dragging her toward the bedroom.

“No!” Lacy said. She jumped from her seat and grabbed her father’s hand, trying to dislodge it from her mother’s hair. Peter used his other hand to knock Lacy to the floor. She reached out and grabbed her father’s pant leg. “Leave her alone!” Where this sudden bravado came from, Lacy had no idea. She only knew she’d had enough. It was time for this to end. No more beatings!

Peter looked down at his daughter clinging to his leg. With all his might, he kicked her in the lower back, effectively dislodging her. He continued down the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

Lacy grabbed her back and cried out in pain. How long she lay
there, she didn’t know. She just lay there with her eyes closed until the pain subsided, waiting for the familiar sounds from her parents’ bedroom. She listened as the slaps came, heard her mother whimper, then the sounds of the headboard, and her mother’s cries of pain.

Lacy finally stood, cleared the table and washed the dishes. There was no dishwasher in this house. They costs too much money.

She was drying the last pot when she heard the bedroom door creak open. Lacy turned to find her mother standing in the doorway, her robe pulled tightly against her, her hair a wild mess of curls from her father pulling on it. Her eyes already showed signs of bruising. Lacy crossed to the freezer, took out an ice pack and handed it to her mother.

“Why did you goad him?”

Brenda sat in a dining room chair and stared at Lacy. The first emboldened look Lacy had ever seen on her mother’s face. “I’m tired of it.”

“Then let’s leave,” Lacy said. She dropped into the chair next to her mother. “Please, Mom. I’m tired of it, too. Let’s call that social worker lady and get some help.”

“What social worker?”

“The one from the hospital.” Lacy reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card that was worn around the edges from being transferred from one pair of jeans to another. The social worker had given it to her at the hospital. She had even written her home phone on it, even though it was against the rules. “She said I could call her anytime I wanted.”

Brenda took the card from Lacy, stared at it for what seemed like ages. It was worn from Lacy toting it around in her back pocket, but all the numbers were still visible. “If only it were that simple, Lacy.”

“It is that simple. I’ve been looking into this. There’s a shelter we can go to. There are lots of women like us there. They’ll help us out. Please, Mom. Let’s do it.”

Brenda saw the excitement in her daughter’s beautiful face but knew she couldn’t go through with it. Peter was the sheriff, drinking buddies with most of his officers, golfing buddies with nearly every judge. She shook her head. “I can’t, Lacy. I want to, but I can’t. He’ll just drag us back, and believe me, it will be a whole lot worse.”

“Then let’s go away somewhere. I have some money saved.”

Brenda’s gazed hardened. “No! That’s for your college. You’ve worked hard for that money, and I’ll not let you spend it on anything but college.”

Lacy sat back defiantly and said, “I can’t go to college if I’m dead.”

Brenda gasped. “Don’t talk like that, Lacy. I forbid it.”

Lacy stood. “As if you have any right to pull the mother card on me now,” she said and ran out the front door.

Brenda winced when the door slammed. Lacy had never spoken to her like that before. She looked down at the card. She had no memory of meeting the woman. But then again, she had been nearly unconscious that night.
I wonder
, she thought but broke off when she heard the bedroom door open. Knowing it would be Peter, she stuffed the card into the pocket of her robe.

“About that volunteer work,” she said when Peter came to stand before her. She knew he wouldn’t react now. There would be the whole remorse thing he would have to work through. He was most approachable after the beating.

“Why would you want to spend your days tending to sick people? You have this whole house to take care of, and Lacy, too.”

“Lacy takes care of herself,” she said. “Please, Peter. I need something else in my life. I’m tired of staring at these walls all day.” An idea struck her. “Peter, it’s an election year, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“Think how good it would look if your wife were out doing community service.”

He looked thoughtful. Brenda took the time to assess him. He had once been a very handsome man, but alcohol and anger had ruined that for him. He wore his brown hair long, just past his shoulders. He claimed it gave him a tough look. His body, once hard and lean, had gone a bit soft from lack of exercise and all the alcohol he consumed. His green eyes were distant and mean.

Brenda stood and put her arms around her husband’s neck, turned on the sexy look she always used when trying to play him. “We both get what we want,” she said. “I get out of the house, and you get a wife who gives to the community, which makes you look good. I see re-election down the road.”

Peter looked down at his wife. She was still beautiful, even after all these years—despite the black and blue marks under her eyes. “All right, you win,” Peter said.

Brenda jumped with glee, plastering kisses on his mouth and neck. “Thank you so much, Peter. You won’t be sorry.”

He couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see a spark of joy in her. “Just remember, the housework doesn’t slip, and Lacy’s and my needs are met.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He slipped his hand down her backside, resting on her buttock. He swatted her. She flinched but mustered a smile. “Do you like that?” he asked. She said nothing. His hand journeyed toward the front of her robe, brushing past the pocket that held the card in it. She stilled, praying he wouldn’t feel it. His hand continued past it, found the opening and pulled the robe open roughly. She was naked underneath, except for the bandage covering her ribs, and she could feel his response.

“Where’s Lacy?” he asked.

“She ran out. We had an argument.”

“Good.”

He pushed her down on the floor. “Not here, Peter. What if Lacy comes back?”

He ignored her, pushing her roughly onto her back. Her head hit the floor as she went down. She tried hard not to cry out in pain. Her cries would only intensify his need. He mounted her, pushing himself roughly inside. She bit her lip, wincing with each thrust until finally he had finished.

She sighed in relief when he got off her and strode back to the bedroom. She lay there for a few moments, thinking to herself. She didn’t even bother to pull the robe closed. So what if Lacy came home. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what went on between them.

She closed her eyes against the pain. It wasn’t just submitting to Peter’s violence that hurt so much; she had grown accustomed to that. It was the humiliation and the fact that she had never known the gentleness of a caring man. She let her mind take her away from the pain. What would it be like to have a tender lover? Perhaps one who would arouse her to places Peter’s greed could not. If she tried real hard, maybe she could feel her lover’s kiss. She let her hands wander, finding the spot that gave her pleasure. In a rush of fury, she finished what her husband hadn’t.

***

On the bluff overlooking the vast desert, Lacy stood perched on the edge of danger, the night air riffling her hair, whipping it fiercely around her face. Tears streamed out her eyes and down her cheeks, making it difficult for her to see.

Lacy had lived in this harsh desert all her life. She was used to the ravages of the climate. Once, when she was three, the wind had blown so hard it had nearly knocked her on her butt. Her mother had laughed nervously, but Lacy could tell she had been scared. After that, Brenda always held her daughter’s hand when they walked near the bluff.

Her mother wasn’t here now, though. She could not shield her from danger, could not stop the thoughts racing through Lacy’s mind.

She gripped the railing with one hand while testing the breeze with the other. “If I just let go it will all come to an end.” She spoke the words aloud, even though there wasn’t a soul around for miles. Even if there had been, the night’s cover would have hidden her actions, the wind would have carried her words into the air.

Would they notice her gone? Would the students in her school mourn her and cry, as they had last spring when Jacob Walters broke his neck in the football game and died? Most likely not. If she were gone, her mother might feel free to move away and start a new life. Perhaps she would change her name and appearance. She was still young enough to start over. She could take the money Lacy had saved for college and make a new life.

She smiled at the thought. Her measly little stash was hardly anything—just enough for a bus ticket and a few months in a motel. Her mother didn’t have any job experience, but she cooked and cleaned better than anyone Lacy knew. Perhaps she could get a job in a fancy hotel. She’d heard they made good tips, enough to live a nice life—better than what she’d lived so far, anyway. How she loved the idea of being the one who made it possible for her mother to have a normal life.

Millie might miss her, but kids bounce back quickly. Six months from now, she was likely to have a new best friend.

She wondered where her father would be when the call came in. Would he even know he had driven her to it? Would he even care?

A hand gently touched her. She jumped slightly, losing her balance, nearly letting go of the railing. The hand held tight to her wrist. “I’m here, Lacy. You’re not alone.”

She gasped, turning to stare into the eyes of her new friend. “Jake,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” She still held the railing. He still held her wrist.

“Is this what you really want, Lacy?”

“What if I do?”

“I guess that’s your decision.”

“You won’t stop me?”

“That’s not my job.”

She stared, puzzled, thrown off guard by this mysterious stranger. The moonlight danced in his eyes. For the first time, Lacy noticed how odd his eyes were—smoky-gray, with flecks of white nearly replacing his entire pupil.

“Your eyes,” she whispered.

He smiled. “They are unique, I know.”

“But how?”

He pulled her to him. She didn’t resist but lifted each leg over the railing, into his arms, back to safety.

“Why didn’t you just let me go?”

“You didn’t let yourself go. I’m just here to help. You’re making the decisions.”

“Who are you?”

He smiled. “I told you. I’m Jake, and I thought I was your friend.”

She looked stricken. “Oh, but you are.”

“You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

She nodded. “It was a bad night.”

“Because of your father?”

“Mostly, but partly my mom, too. I thought she and I were together in this, but tonight…”

“But tonight you were ready, and she wasn’t,” he said, finishing her sentence.

“I’ve been carrying around that stupid card for so long.” Tears welled in her eyes, and angrily she wiped them with her sleeve. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Every morning I put it in my back pocket as if it were a necessary part of my day. Every day I hope for enough strength to pick up the phone and dial the number on it. And every night I take it out of my pocket, look at it, and swear tomorrow will be the day.”

“You can do it without your mother’s help if you really want to.”

She shook her head, looking at Jake with shock. “I could never leave Mom behind.” She paced, stopping occasionally to kick a rock. “If only I could make her realize.” She stopped, an inspiration coming to her. She ran to Jake, pleading with her eyes. “Could you talk to her?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lacy. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because she wouldn’t listen to me, for one. And two, that’s not my job. It’s not why I’m here.”

She furrowed her brows. “I don’t understand.”

“You will when the time is right.”

She wanted to push the issue but felt she would get nowhere, so instead she said, “I don’t know why, but I feel as if I can talk to you.”

“You can tell me anything, and it’s safe with me.”

“That’s the thing. I know that—feel that!” She took a breath and went on. “He’s getting worse. It takes so little to set him off now that I’m sometimes afraid to move around the house.” She paused to wipe her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Mother pretends not to notice most of the time, but I can see it in her eyes. I don’t understand why she takes the abuse.”