“Katherine! Katherine! Wake up!”
Katherine pushed them away. “Let go of me. Steven loves me! He will marry me!” She suddenly opened her eyes, saw Becky and Sara, and stopped struggling. She collapsed back onto the bed. Perspiration soaked her body. Her heart was pounding.
“Katherine,” Sara’s voice was soft. “Are you all right?”
Katherine lay in bed, breathing deeply, exhaling loudly. She ran her hands through her damp hair.
“Nightmare?” Becky asked. “What was it about?”
Katherine described the first part of her dream, omitting the part about the wedding.
Becky and Sara reassured her. “You’re safe, Katherine. No one is going to hurt you.”
Becky suggested that they leave the doors to their bedrooms open.
“That way Sara and I can hear you if you have another bad dream.” Becky patted her on the back. “We can wake you before you wake the neighbors,” she said. “Again.”
Katherine could tell she was teasing now, and gave her a weak smile. “Thanks. We’ll all appreciate that.”
At two o’clock, Katherine lay staring at the ceiling, unwilling to close her eyes and sleep, perhaps to dream again. She had no other options. If she refused Bill’s proposal she would be disgraced and never marry. If she accepted his proposal she would bind herself to an evil man in a sham marriage, bear his children, put up a good front. That was the only real choice.
She thought about Betsy Hardy, a friend from high school. Betsy had found herself, two years after graduation, unmarried and pregnant. She told Katherine that her boyfriend was the father and they were getting married. The story in town was that Betsy had slept with so many that the father’s identity was impossible to know. The weekend that Betsy came home, every woman in town who saw her would speak, would ask about her health, pat her hand sympathetically, and then whisper, loudly, behind her back, loudly enough for Betsy to hear what they said. All of the women had done it. Well, not all, not her mother, not Aunt Emma, but all of the others. Katherine could not imagine how Betsy had taken it. She never returned to Hamilton. Her mother, a widow, moved away too.
She knew women in sham marriages. Ms. Emily Morgan, who lived down the street from her parents, had been “married off” in a business deal. It was not quite as bad as that, actually. The marriage had not been in the contract when her father purchased Mr. Morgan’s farm. The understanding, though, was that Mr. Morgan would reduce his asking price if Emily would marry his son, Jonathon. Jonathon was wild. He needed a “good woman” to settle him down, his father had said.
Well, he never did settle down. He drank, he chased other women, and he spent himself almost into bankruptcy. Emily never complained, at least in public. She always smiled, was always gracious. She escaped her marriage when her husband totaled his car one rainy night, speeding home from another woman’s house.
Katherine wondered if she would cover as well as Ms. Morgan had for ten years of marriage.
As she lay in the dark, crying, waiting for morning, Katherine realized that she did have another way out. She didn’t have to marry Bill—she would be as good as dead if she did that, at least emotionally.
Climbing out of bed, she crept into the dark kitchen, rummaged quietly through one of the drawers, searching for a knife. Becky was obsessive about her knives—each was as sharp as an unused razorblade. She found a paring knife that she had used to slice carrots a couple of nights before. It had cut through the carrots almost as if they were butter. She took the knife to her room and turned on the bedside lamp.
Holding her left arm under the light, she traced the veins with the knife. They were clearly visible, just below the surface. It wouldn’t take a deep cut, just surgical precision. She gently pressed the knife into her arm. She felt a slight prick and a small red dot appeared beneath the tip. It was simple, really. The pain would be minimal. She would go to sleep as her blood drained from her body.
Katherine took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She did have this third choice—she stared at the drop of blood—but not tonight.
She wiped the blood away, put the knife in the drawer of the bedside table, and lay back in bed. She did have a choice after all, not a good one, perhaps, but a choice.
She reached up, turned off the light, and pulled the covers over her. She drifted off to sleep and did not dream again, awakening only when her alarm rang.
***
“Dr. Jackson, Dr. Worth needs to see you.” Amelia found her as she finished suturing a knife wound for a homeless man.
“Okay. He needs a bandage. And he needs to come in tomorrow for a new dressing.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
It was uncommon to be summoned to Dr. Worth’s office during a shift. The ER was ordinarily far too busy for anyone to leave, except for a short break.
“Come in,” Dr. Worth called as she knocked.
As she entered, Katherine saw Detective James, the one who had interviewed her in November. The young man with her was introduced as Detective Williams.
“Dr. Jackson, the detectives asked if they could talk with you for a few minutes. I’m going to let you use my office.”
“Can we sit down?” Detective James motioned to the small conference table.
“Dr. Jackson, you treated Mary Margaret Kelly yesterday.”
“I treated her initially. Dr. Turner was her primary physician. Is strep throat a matter for the police?”
“I interviewed Ms. Kelly’s father yesterday afternoon.”
Katherine’s stomach began to churn. “I was well within my rights to decline to treat her.”
“Yes, I would say under the circumstances you were. He told me what happened last November. He cried as he talked about it.”
He reported it?
Katherine was shocked. She didn’t respond.
“He gave us the names of two of the men who he believes raped you.”
“I told you, I don’t want to—please. Please, leave me alone.”
The detective continued. “Since November, we’ve had reports of two other assaults, both at that hotel, both involving women who had been in that bar. In each case, there were two men. In each case, one became ill, and the woman helped him upstairs to his room. In each case, the other man followed them. In each case, they demanded that the woman thank them for something that they said they had done for her. In each case, they told the woman it was all her fault.”
Katherine stared at the detective.
“Mr. Kelly gave us the names and the women have identified their photographs as the ones who attacked them. We need you to identify them, too.”
“Why? You have what the other women said. Why do you need me?”
“Dr. Jackson, what I’m going to tell you isn’t fair—but it’s true. The other two women were bar hopping, alone, when they were attacked. Some jurors might say they got what they asked for. You will be much more credible than either of the others.”
“I can’t!”
Silence is golden. Mine for yours.
Her safety lay in her silence. She desperately wanted to run away.
Detective James leaned across the table and placed her hand on Katherine’s. “Dr. Jackson, how have things been going for you? Since November?”
Katherine hesitated, looked away. She couldn’t meet the detective’s gaze. “Not well.” She raised her eyes then and looked at her, deciding to trust her. She’d had the same experience. She understood. Katherine told her about her fears, her nightmares, about breaking up with Steven.
“You’re frightened.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Afraid of the gossip, afraid your boyfriend, Steven, won’t understand, afraid they might hurt you.”
“Yes.” She turned away, about to cry.
“I was, too. I found, though, that the only way to help myself, to begin to heal, was to stand up for myself. You were brave yesterday, treating that girl in spite of your feelings. Can you be brave again? I
can’t do anything about the people in your hometown, but if we put these men away, all three of them, their convictions will go a long way to silence those rumors. More than that, you’ll be in control of your life again.”
Katherine sighed, looking around Dr. Worth’s office. She stood and walked to the window, slumped against the wall, head down, arms hugged protectively around herself. She thought about her dreams. She thought about the knife. She had no good choice. She could cut her wrists and die, but she couldn’t do that to her family, she had to marry Bill. She looked back at the detective, waiting patiently, then looked out the window again.
If I give her their names, then Bill will…
In her mind, she heard her mother, Aunt Emma, Sara, and Becky all talking at once, their words so intertwined that she was not sure who was saying what.
Katherine, have you lost your mind?
You’re making a serious mistake.
Without love, then everything else…
Put them in jail!
The image of Bill standing over her in the hotel room, smirking, floated through her mind. As she started to shake her head, to tell the detective that she would not name names, another image, one from long ago came to her. She saw herself in her parents’ house pointing her father’s pistol at Bill, as he lay on the floor, a coward, moaning in pain.
I do have a choice. She’s giving me that. I can take control. I did it before. I was strong then. That’s what Dad would do. Take control. He wouldn’t let Bill intimidate him.
She took a deep breath, turned toward the detective, and raised her head. “What do you want me to do?”
Detective James smiled.
“First, I want you to look at some photographs. Tell us if you see any of the men who raped you.”
Katherine sat at the conference table. Detective James placed the photos on the table, two sheets of photographs, sixteen images on each sheet. Katherine looked at the first sheet, then shook her head.
“None of them.”
She looked at the second sheet.
“That one.” She tapped the photo with her finger. “He was the first one. They called him Arthur. And that one.” She pointed to the bottom row. “Jimmy.”
“You’re certain? There’s no doubt? Do you want to think about it?”
Katherine looked up. A weight had been lifted. She straightened her back and raised her head. “No, I’m certain.”
“Mr. Kelly says that their names are Arthur Johns and Jimmy Rutland. He identified them as two of the men who were planning to assault you. They are the same men the other women identified as their rapists. He’s willing to testify about what he knows.”
Katherine gulped.
“The third man?”
Katherine hesitated. No one would connect Arthur and Jimmy with Bill. No one in Hamilton would ever know what had occurred, if she did not identify Bill. She stood, walked to the window, and leaned her head against it.
“Please, Dr. Jackson. You told me that you know the other man.”
“It’s complicated, Detective. The other man is an old…an old acquaintance.”
“Katherine, I need to know his name. The case will fall apart if you know who he is, but refuse to identify him. All of them will go free.” She waited a couple of seconds. “Mr. Kelly told me that they called him Bill.”
Katherine stared blankly at the street outside. Bill had humiliated her. He had attacked her—raped her. Allowed two other men to rape her, in front of him, while he cheered. He had blackmailed her. He likely would have raped her years before if she hadn’t fought back then. He was not merely a guy who could not handle his liquor. He was a bad, bad man. Because of him, she had driven away the one man she had loved. Because of him, she had thought of killing herself.
Had he given her any reason not to give him up? He was an old friend? She shook her head. His threats? The gossip his aunt would spread? No. He had already hurt her far beyond what stories and gossip could do.
Katherine felt light-headed. She turned, drew herself up to her full height, and took a long, deep breath. She felt as if she were dreaming, as if she were standing off to the side, watching, listening, hearing her own voice as she spoke.
“His name is Bill Wilson—William Robert Wilson. He lives in Hamilton, Virginia. He’s an attorney there.”
“Thank you, Dr. Jackson. We will arrest Mr. Johns and Mr. Rutland. We’ll have to ask the Virginia State Police to take Mr. Wilson into custody, pending extradition proceedings.”
Katherine allowed herself to smile. “Detective, Bill Wilson will be in New York tomorrow.”
***
Katherine reached home late. Becky and Sara were not there. Katherine sat stiffly on the sofa, twisting strands of hair around her finger, the telephone resting in her lap. What if no one else believed her story? What if they couldn’t find the two men? What if someone alerted Bill?
She waited.
An hour later, the telephone rang. Detective James was calling. “Dr. Jackson, we have arrested Arthur Johns and Jimmy Rutland. They have been formally charged with your rape.”
“Good,” Katherine whispered. “Good,” she said, nodding. She bit down on her lip and squeezed her fist tight, shaking it—a victory, not a failure.
“You will be willing to testify against them in open court?”
Katherine grasped the receiver tightly and nodded. “Yes. I will testify against them.”
“Good. We’ll need you tomorrow to identify William Wilson. You said you are to meet him at four o’clock at the bar at the Royal Hotel.”
Testifying against the other two men was one thing. Confronting Bill would be another. She took a deep breath, but her voice quivered. “Yes. That’s right. He is to fly in from Boston at two. He’s expecting me about four.”
“Dr. Jackson, Katherine, this is the right thing to do. Detective Williams and I will be with you. You can stand at the door and point him out. We’ll arrest him and take him off. You don’t need to go near him.”
Katherine remembered the bar, what it looked like, how it smelled. She had avoided the hotel for months, walking blocks out of her way twice a day to avoid passing it, to avoid seeing it, or any of the men who had been sitting at the table with Bill. Now she would have to go inside again. She gulped.
“Katherine? Are you there?”
“Okay. Yes.” She sank deeper onto the sofa.
“Mr. Kelly tells us that a group of men meet there every afternoon. They were at the table last November, and they likely knew what was going down. After we arrest Wilson, other officers will take them in to question them.”
Katherine was quiet. Was it really ending?
“You’ll be at work or at home?”
“Work.”
“We’ll pick you up at three o’clock. Katherine, I know you’re frightened, but this is the right thing to do. You have my number. If there is a problem, anything, call me. Doesn’t matter how late. Call me. Hear?”
“I will. Detective—thank you.”
Katherine replaced the receiver and sat for a few minutes, thinking about all that had happened. There were still two things she had to set right. First, she called home.
“Mom, it’s me, Katherine.”
“Of course, sweetie, I recognize your voice.” Her mother laughed. “How are you doing? I hope you’ve straightened out this nonsense about marrying Bill.”
Katherine ignored the last comment. “I’m fine, Mom. Excited about your trip?”
“So excited I can’t stand it. We’re leaving early, you know. We’ll be at JFK at ten o’clock on Friday.”
“I know, Mom. I’m borrowing Becky’s car and I’ll meet you at the gate.”
“Now you don’t have to go to all of that—”
“Mom?”
“Katherine, what’s wrong? Does this have to do with Bill? Steven?”
“Is Dad at home?” Katherine’s voice was shaky. “I need to tell you both something, and I…I don’t know that I can say it more than o
nce. Can you put him on the extension?”
Engagement
“Katherine, are you here?” Becky and Sara burst through the door. “We brought you dinner!”
Katherine had just finished talking to her parents. She wiped her eyes, a sense of peace filling her heart. She looked at her two best friends and smiled.
Sara turned to Becky. “Who is this? She looks like Katherine, but she’s smiling!”
Katherine laughed. “I haven’t been that bad, have I?”
“Every bit! What’s going on? You’re crying…you’re smiling…”
They began to unpack the paper bags they were carrying. “We have Greek chicken, orzo, and green beans, baklava for dessert. It’s a theme dinner.” Sara laughed as she placed everything on the table.
“I’ve been talking to my parents. I told them. Everything.”
“No! You didn’t! Everything?” Sara almost knocked the plates on the floor as she spun around.
“Everything.” Katherine nodded.
Becky scampered over and sat beside her, while Sara perched on the arm of the sofa.
“I’ve never heard my dad cry before.” Katherine’s lip began to tremble and she raised her hand to her face. “They were so upset.”
“I’m so sorry, Katherine.” Sara patted her arm. “What did they say?”
“After she calmed down, Mom told me that I acted like a damn fool when I didn’t call the police from the hotel lobby.”
“Good for Mom.” Sara clenched her fist and popped the arm of the sofa.
“Dad said he would feed Bill Wilson to the ’gators.”
“Right on.” Becky punched the air with her fist.
“They said they knew something was wrong at Christmas, but they couldn’t figure out what it could be.” Tears ran down her face. Her voice caught, and she took a deep breath before she continued. “They said they loved me and that nothing I did, nothing that happened to me, could ever change that.”
Becky rubbed her arm. “Come on.” She guided Katherine to the table and sat beside her. “What happened? Why did you decide to tell them?”
“I told you about the bartender, his daughter, yesterday? Well, he talked to the police. Told them everything that he knew—he identified two of the men.”
The Handfasting Page 24
