Welcome To Corbin's Bend

by Thianna D

  Still, Jerry was a professional, so he did the job, gave the suffering animal an injection of antibiotics, counseled Mrs. Kline on the warning signs of a full gland to keep Pepper from reaching such an uncomfortable state again, and sent her and her trembling dog out front to pay.

  Though he'd worn gloves, after expressing an infected gland, he spent about five minutes scrubbing his fingers with antibacterial soap at the sink in his office. It wasn't necessary, but the clean smell helped counter the previous assault on his olfactory senses. So, as he scrubbed, Jerry gazed out at the small dog park near his clinic and spotted her. He glanced at the clock. Five minutes early today. Quickly drying his hands, he told his assistant he was going to take Jack for a walk and loped up his stairs, two at a time, to retrieve his black Lab.

  Jack was a gentle dog, and he and Muffin had exchanged sniffs before, so Jerry knew the tiny toy poodle wouldn't get upset if they joined her and her mistress. His purpose for this late afternoon walk, however, pertained more to the animal's mistress, Elly Benson, than the white ball of yipping fluff she owned.

  After grabbing a jacket to help ward off the Colorado chill of early October, he jingled Jack's leash. The six-month-old Lab bounced forward in clear doggie excitement.

  "Easy boy. Sit, Jack. Let me attach your lead, then we'll go visit the ladies in the park."

  Although Jack was eager to romp and play outside, he instantly obeyed Jerry's quietly spoken command. Jerry grinned at his Lab's pained expression, suspecting Jack's excitement for visiting the dog park was far different from his own.

  He'd tried for weeks to involve Mrs. Eleanor Benson in a conversation, but she'd shied away from even his most gentle overtures, as if she almost feared to look at him, much less chat. He would have put her attitude down to a shy, reserved nature, but the way she hunched her shoulders in an effort to make herself smaller, as though she sought to be invisible, made him suspect she feared a dire consequence if she mistakenly drew attention to herself. And other than her daily trips to the dog park, she remained locked within her home, drapes drawn and windows closed. A virtual recluse from society.

  Then, three weeks ago, when she thought she wasn't observed, he'd witnessed her playing in the park with her toy poodle. She'd bent and slapped her knees in a pretend attack, and the little white dog dashed about the perimeter of the small fenced-in area before bounding back to her for more fun. Those few unguarded moments were the only times he'd ever seen Elly Benson's delight-filled natural exuberance bubble forth.

  Though her shyness brought his protective instincts to the fore, what he sought was more of her playful mischievousness. Like the game of hide-and-seek, he'd caught her playing with Muffin a few minutes ago. Yet, the second he opened the gate, he knew a somber pall would fall over the woman like a shroud of sobriety, masking any hint of enjoyment beneath a veil of polite reserve intended to make her invisible.

  Yes, the lady was married, but he wasn't trying to seduce her, merely get her to relax and open up around him. Let her true personality shine through the formal reserve she'd adopt whenever anyone was near. A reserve he suspected might be enforced, rather than natural.

  "Heel, Jack," Jerry commanded as he led the animal to the small dog park where owners were permitted to let well-behaved dogs off their leads.

  After Jerry made certain the gate was securely fastened, he unhooked Jack's leash and gave him permission to romp. "Go on, boy. Do your stuff." Then he turned toward the pale, frail-looking young woman who promptly drew the sleeves of her sweater down and averted her eyes when he glanced in her direction.

  He brusquely rubbed his arms over his leather jacket. "A bit chillier today, wouldn't you say?" He opened with a yes or no question even a complete stranger couldn't criticize.

  She nodded while casting a quick glance at her watch. That's when he spotted a reddish-purple bruise encircling her wrist. Over the past few weeks, he'd seen similar indications of harsh treatment, like a stiff legged-gait combined with winces of pain when she threw balls for Muffin, or rubbing her neck and favoring one arm over the other, which put together had him suspecting her husband played on the rough side. Though, this was the first time he'd witnessed evidence of a physical injury.

  Accidents happen, and many dominants used restraints that occasionally left marks. However, when notable bruising was coupled with shame and embarrassment masked by a well-rehearsed reserve, his protective radar went on alert. Jerry had seen what ill-treatment did to animals, and Elly Benson showed many of the same characteristics. He'd lay odds if he mentioned those bruises on her wrists, she'd minimize their significance while she struggled to keep the evidence of her shame hidden beneath the sleeves of her bulky sweater. Not conclusive proof of abuse perhaps, but enough to cause doubt in his mind. Doubt that had been percolating inside his head for over two weeks now.

  He started toward her, stopping when she backed away with an expression of grave uncertainty on her face. Okay, down boy. You're freaking the lady out even more by encroaching on her personal space.

  "Sorry," he murmured, holding his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. "I didn't mean to scare you, but I noticed your wrist was bruised."

  She promptly yanked the arm of her sweater down to cover the mark, as he'd expected she would. "It's nothing. And, I'm not scared." Her chin came up as though she dared him to contradict her.

  A flash of pride, accompanied by sixteen words and three sentences. A miracle. "Sorry, again. Those bruises appear to be swelling and I wanted to make sure you're not injured."

  "I'm not." Another glance at her watch, then she slapped her thigh. "Muffin, come. We need to go. Now."

  Muffin, however, was more interested in playing a game of nip and dodge with Jack, than in obeying her mistress, so Jerry tried a different tack. "It would seem Muffin isn't quite ready to leave, yet."

  Wrapping her arms about her, Elly Benson shivered and stomped her feet a couple of times as if to return feeling to her toes before giving her arms a brisk rub. The afternoon air had acquired a frosty bite, and though her ski sweater appeared warm, she really should be wearing a proper coat and gloves. Then, she curved her shoulders inward and shivered again

  Jerry removed his black leather jacket and headed toward her, palms facing outward. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he approached her as he would a timid animal. "You're cold," he murmured in a low, soothing voice. "At least wear this until Muffin is ready."

  "No. Thank you." She tried to circumvent his approach by walking around him, but he sidestepped her, unwilling to be put off. From what he'd seen over the past few weeks, the lady needed a champion, and he suspected her husband was ill-suited for the job.

  "I insist," he said, inserting a note of steel into his voice, figuring she would respond to his tone and obey. Instead, she held her place and gave another shake of her head, though she declined to meet his gaze. A muted show of spirit that most likely masked a deeply rooted fear firmly lodged in her psyche. A fear of her husband's disapproval. So, with his arms extended, Jerry remained where he stood and held her gaze. Even in this small clash of wills, he expected to win.

  "I can't," she whispered finally, eyes still lowered.

  "Why not? You're shivering. Colorado can turn unexpectedly nippy at this time of year, so you should always wear a coat in the afternoon." Offering logic, not condemnation, he took another step closer.

  Though she tensed as if ready to bolt in any second, she let him drape his jacket over her shoulders. "I was in a hurry," she explained, grasping the leather collar and drawing it close about her neck.

  "Ahh. So your bit of fluff was being impatient, was she?"

  She nodded, and a tiny smile teased the corner of her lips. "She likes coming here."

  "But of course." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. Usually it was just the two of them at this hour of day, since other dog owners tended to come closer to dinnertime, after their pets had been fed. "What's not to like?"

  "Thank you." She indicated h
is jacket. "Except now you'll get cold."

  He shook his head. "Superheroes don't get cold. Didn't you know that?"

  She gave a small, almost self-conscious, laugh and Jerry enjoyed the sound, probably more than he should. "It's true."

  Regarding him with a touch of skepticism, she said, "So, what're your powers?"

  "You mean outside of x-ray vision, invulnerability to the elements and mind reading?"

  Her smile faltered. "No one can read minds."

  Crossing his arms, he placed a fist under his chin and regarded her with thoughtful consideration. "Think not? How about we place a wager? If I'm able to tell you what you're thinking, you agree to grant me a boon."

  She regarded him with wary caution. "A what?"

  "A boon. It's a cross between a favor and a gift."

  Doubt mixed with curiosity in her expression. "I'm not supposed to bet. Besides, your offer sounds terribly one-sided."

  He gave a considering nod. "Yes, I suppose it does. All right. If I fail to demonstrate my superpower, then I shall grant you a boon instead."

  "But I don't want anything, and I'm not allowed to accept gifts."

  "A conundrum to be sure, though not insurmountable for any true superhero. Perhaps I should offer a small demonstration first."

  She frowned down at her Rolex again, and the puffy ring of flesh not covered by her watchband was fully visible now. "I really need to go."

  "That bruise looks serious. May I see it?"

  When she gazed at him, her face expressed so much dismay he almost relented, but he wanted to determine if the bruising represented a case of play gone a step too far, or if she'd been held against her will. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "No touching, just a look. Not only am I a superhero, but I am a doctor, too, you know?"

  A slight smile followed by a hesitant nod, she extended her right wrist to him. He gently pushed the sleeve of her light blue bulk knit sweater to expose her wrist. Just as he thought. In addition to the reddish bruise and swelling, the flesh was rubbed raw. The lady had been resisting her restraints.

  "What happened?" he inquired casually, as he extended his hand for her other wrist. She obeyed without question this time, though her fingers trembled in his grasp.

  "Nothing."

  He met her gaze, uncertain how far he could push her into admitting the truth before she shut down or ran away. "My mind-reading super sense tells me you're not being truthful. Do you realize the risks you take in lying to a superhero?"

  She shook her head and tentatively tried to pull her hand back, but he held on, not ready to release her, yet. He wanted answers to questions that had been running through his mind since he first spotted her in the dog park four weeks ago. However, if she persisted in pulling away, he wouldn't detain her. He didn't hold women against their will.

  "Your pulse is racing, and it's the doctor, not the superhero who's detecting that. Do I scare you, Elly Benson?"

  "No, sir," she replied in deferential respect, her voice a mere whisper.

  "Good. Because I never want to do that. However, these marks on your wrists aren't a result of 'nothing.' So, unless you prefer I employ my mind-reading super skill to extract the truth, I think you should tell me what happened."

  "Please," she whispered, pulling her hand back again. This time he let her go, but she remained where she stood, as though uncertain what to do next.

  He bowed. "A superhero worth his salt always bends to a lady's request. So, why don't we get our dogs and I'll accompany you back."

  "No!" Her response held a note of panic, then she shook her head and attempted a smile; however, he wasn't fooled. "That's not necessary," she countered. "I mean our condo is right over there." She indicated a row of houses, which pretty much all looked the same, then, she reached up to remove his jacket, but he placed his hands over hers to stop her.

  "Keep it. If you won't let me walk you home, I want you to wear it. You can give it back to me tomorrow when you and Muffin visit the park again. All right?"

  She nodded. "Thank you. For understanding."

  This time he shook his head. "Don't mistake me, fair lady. I'm not at all happy you refuse my escort, but I won't press if my company is not wanted."

  "No. It's not that…" Another quick glance at her watch. "I'm already late and I—"

  "And your husband doesn't tolerate tardiness. Correct?"

  "No. I mean, yes. He can be strict about certain things, and one of those is my schedule."

  "I don't want to cause any trouble, but I'd like to help, if you'll let me. There are many people here who are more than willing to lend their support, if you and Arthur are having problems."

  She nodded. "I know. We're not having problems." She tugged at her sleeves to cover her wrists again, as if she considered the bruises proof to her lie and a testament to her failure to accept her husband's discipline. "It was only a simple misunderstanding. Sorry, but I really have to go."

  "All right." He whistled for Jack, and Muffin came pouncing after the big Lab. Jerry thought the little poodle might even have a crush on his much larger dog.

  "Thank you," Elly murmured as she bent forward to attach a pink lead to her poodle's matching harness. Straightening, she offered him a shy smile. This one more genuine. Yup, they'd definitely made progress today. He'd actually engaged her in a conversation and she'd let him examine her injured wrists.

  "I promise to return your jacket tomorrow, Dr. Douglas."

  "No hurry. I have another one. And call me Jerry. All right?"

  "Yes, sir… Jerry."

  "Good girl," he offered an encouraging smile. "Until tomorrow."

  With a nod, she hurried out of the park and practically ran back to her home. He could only hope his detaining her hadn't made matters worse.

  Elly's fingers trembled as she fumbled to push her door key into its lock, but not because of the cold. After she'd hurriedly unfastened the lead from Muffin's harness, she rushed over to the phone and dialed her husband's work number.

  "You're ten minutes late, Eleanor," he replied without even a pretense of cordiality.

  "Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

  "So, what's your excuse for tardiness this time? Weather, improper footwear, or that rat of a dog you own?"

  Elly hesitated, unsure if the truth would only make matters worse. "Dr. Douglas, the vet, wished to speak with me, and I didn't want to appear rude by cutting him off."

  "I see. So, is it more important for you to chat with our neighbors than keep your word to your husband?"

  Elly's heart sank to her feet. No matter how she replied to the question, she'd be punished for the wrong answer. "I'm sorry."

  "Yes, I'm sure you are, but that doesn't address the issue, does it?"

  "No, sir."

  "Your perpetual tardiness is yet another sign of your inability to manage your time properly. I thought I'd made it clear during our previous sessions that timeliness and tidiness are signs of respect, and to ignore either reflects a blatant disrespect to me."

  "I didn't want to be rude…."

  "But you were. To me. I am not pleased, Eleanor. However, you knew I wouldn't be when you made your choice, didn't you?"

  Yes, she'd known he'd be angry with her, though other than run away from Dr. Douglas, which would have only intensified his suspicion, she'd had little choice. All the same, she answered, "Yes, sir."

  "Then we shall have to deal with your inconsideration later tonight. Hopefully, this time you'll learn from the lesson. I expect to be home by six. I suggest you not disappoint me further by failing to have dinner on the table when I walk in the door. After we eat, I shall address your failure to keep a simple promise to me."

  "Thank you, sir," she murmured, knowing he expected her to be grateful for his 'loving correction.' Except, Elly no longer thought there was much love in Arthur's corrections, which made them more and more difficult to accept with the dignity and grace she was expected to exhibit. She'd begun to regret their move to Corbin's Bend, and
they'd only been there a month.

  "See you at six," he replied before disconnecting.

  That gave her two hours to get their evening meal ready. Demonstrating an appreciative willingness to accept her discipline often resulted in a lighter punishment, so Elly intended to do everything she could to express her desire to learn from her husband teachings. Especially, since she was still sore from his last one.

  As Elly removed the roast she'd prepared for dinner and transferred it to a board, the garage door opened. Muffin heard it too and started the peculiar growl-like barking she gave in warning whenever Arthur came home. "Muffin, quiet," Elly scolded in a low voice as she covered the still sizzling roast with tinfoil. Then, wiping her hands on a nearby dishtowel, she quickly prepared Arthur's scotch on the rocks and set the glass on the marble coaster situated on the small table by his chair in the living room.

  Muffin's protests softened to a growl. "Shh. If you won't behave, then you'd best get in your bed. Daddy's already upset with Mommy, and you aren't helping."

  The poodle gave her a look that Elly could only interpret as resentment. "Yes, I know you'd like nothing better than to give Daddy's leg a good nip, but you can't. Now, go. Beddies."

  With a slow, sullen gait, Muffin did as she was bid. Arthur didn't care much for Elly's dog, and Muffin barely tolerated Arthur. Afraid her husband would demand she place her pet in the pound, Elly attempted to keep peace by making sure Muffin maintained her distance. Though the poodle had snapped at Arthur a few times, she'd never actually bitten him, but Elly feared the animal could and would if given half the chance. Man and dog didn't even make a pretense of mutual respect; their dislike of each other was too consuming.

  Giving a quick glance about to ensure everything was in its proper place, Elly straightened her dress and held her breath. She didn't dare open the door for Arthur, since she was to keep their front door locked at all times and woe to her if she ever forgot. It was the first thing he checked when he got home, and she'd learned not to interfere with his process. Instead, she stood at a soldier's attention and waited for her husband to unlock their door and enter.