“But what if she doesn’t see the danger?”
Debbie’s face was pained. “Then there’s nothing you can do.”
“HELLO, DEAR.”
Debbie laughed. “How did you know it was me?”
“Because no one else would call the house at 9:30 on a Friday night.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right about that.”
“So what flavor is it tonight?”
“What?”
“The ice cream. You never call on weekends unless you’re stressed about something, and if you’re stressed you’re eating ice cream; ergo, what flavor?”
She groaned. “Seriously? I’m that predictable?”
“A mother knows her child.”
“Hm. I’ll take your word for it, but only because it means I’m not entirely transparent. And it’s mint chocolate chip.”
“Ahh, one of my favorites. Now I have a craving.”
Debbie chuckled. “Come over and I’ll share.”
“Oh heavens, it would be nearly my bedtime by the time I got there. I wouldn’t be safe to drive home. You know me. So anyway, what’s on your mind?”
Debbie spooned more ice cream into her mouth, then said, “I’m a head case, aren’t I?”
“We all are in our own way.”
“Yeah, I know, but seriously, I have issues. I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“Oh Debbie, now what makes you say that?”
“How many men have I dated in the last five years?”
“Ah. Hm.”
“Precisely.”
“So if you’re feeling like a glutton for punishment, that must mean there’s another man in your life?”
Debbie squirmed in her chair. “Well, not exactly. But sort of. The new accountant at the shelter, Joshua—we went out to lunch today.”
“Oh my, dating an employee? That’s new.”
“No, no, it wasn’t a date, Mother. He wanted my advice. He thinks his neighbor is being abused, and he didn’t know what to do. But…I’ve noticed him, you know? He pops up in my thoughts. I remember stupid details about him like what he wore to work yesterday, stuff like that.” She scooped a pattern in the top of the ice cream. “And after lunch today I couldn’t stop thinking about him! And then it dawns on me that I’ve done this how many times? And each time I screw it up. How could I possibly, possibly do it to myself again?”
Her mother’s voice held gentle reproach. “Because you’re a woman who wants love in her life. It’s not an anomaly, you know.”
Debbie let out a groan. “But I don’t want to want love in my life! I want to be independent. I want to be self-sufficient.”
“No. You don’t want to get hurt. You don’t want independence—you want security. You don’t want to be self-sufficient—you just don’t want to get messed over by someone. It’s healthy to want to avoid those things, but you take it to an extreme because you assume every man out there is going to treat you like that, instead of realizing that that is the anomaly. Your view is skewed by all the instances of abuse that you see.”
And by my own misjudgment that I can’t let go of. Debbie stuffed another spoonful in her mouth to avoid answering. “Hm.”
“And I think there’s probably some guilt there, too, about Gina. You think you owe her something, and you’re afraid to have anything in your life that is going to distract you from paying her back.”
The ice cream was forgotten. Debbie sat silent on the couch, her mind racing. “How did you figure all this out?”
“I told you, sweetheart. A mother knows her child.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this five boyfriends ago?”
Her mother chuckled. “Why does it take some of the women at the shelter years before they finally leave their abusers? They’re not ready to face the truth.”
“So you thought I was ready?”
“You’re listening, aren’t you?”
Debbie sighed. “Yeah.”
She could hear her mother’s smile through the phone. “So there you go.”
“I wonder why I’m ready now and I wasn’t before.”
Her mother chuckled. “I think you know why.”
“What? Why?” Then the light bulb went on. “Oh.”
“So let me know when you two go out again. And Debbie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget your ice cream.”
“HEY ADAM, IT’S JOSHUA.”
“Hey man—how you doing?”
“Pretty good, actually.”
“Great! We haven’t talked in a while—how’s the new job?”
“The job is great. But I don’t know what I’m going to do about my boss.”
“Aw, man—is he a jerk or something?”
Joshua laughed. “That’s the problem. She is great. Wonderful, in fact.”
“The boss is a she? Wait—do you mean a wonderful boss, or a wonderful person, or—”
“Yeah, more like a wonderful person. A really wonderful person.”
“So, wow, you really dig her then?”
Joshua heaved a sigh. “Well, it’s funny. I’m not all starry-eyed or anything. It’s a completely different feeling than it was when I met Lara. But, I think so, yeah.”
Adam let out a holler. “Josh, man, that’s great!”
“I think it is. It is, right? I mean, it’s not too soon, is it?”
“Do you feel like it is? I think that’s kind of your call. It has been over a year. Or—it’s only been a year. Which does it feel like to you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “It’s been over a year. I didn’t think I’d feel that way, but I do. Maddie and I have moved on—literally—and…well, I can’t deny that I really like her.”
“So are you gonna ask her out?”
“Well—eventually, I guess. We work together, though.”
“So?”
“Really?”
“What, you’re gonna pass up the woman that brings you out of mourning just because you work with her?”
“Um—no?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay, so…I’m going to ask her out.”
“Excellent idea.”
“But what about Maddie?”
“Sorry, man, that’s out of my realm.”
Joshua sighed. “It’s been a long time since I asked a woman out.”
“Flowers and dinner have worked for the last hundred years. I’m guessing that would be a safe bet.”
A little knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Uh-oh, Maddie’s awake. Gotta run.”
They hung up and Joshua opened the door. “Hey baby, what’s up?”
“I don’t want to sleep in my bedroom alone.”
“No problem, sweetheart.” He picked her up and carried her to his bed, laying her in the space where Lara once slept. “You know, I’ve missed having you in here with me. I’m so proud of how well you’re sleeping in your own room, but sometimes I get lonely.”
“Me too.”
He gave her another squeeze before tucking her in. “Pray again?”
“Okay.”
“God, please watch over us tonight, give Maddie happy dreams, and give us both a good day tomorrow. We love you and thank you for all the blessings you’ve given us. Maddie, is there anything you’d like to add?”
“No.”
“Okay. That’s it, God. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Sing too.”
“Oh Maddie—”
“Please?”
He sighed. “Alright. Amazing Grace or Be Thou My Vision?”
“Amazing Grace.”
He doused the light and sat on the edge of the bed, then began to sing the song he’d sung so often he could do it while his mind wandered. Tonight it was Debbie’s face that filled his mind, their lunch and her advice, which led him to pray that Rick would behave tonight and spare Maddie the sound of Kim’s pain. Save her and that baby, God, and if you want, you can use me to do it. But if not me, then someone, God, please. Don’t let him�
��
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.
KIM SHIFTED ON THE DESK CHAIR and rearranged the blanket around her. Her body didn’t fold well into the chair anymore, but the living room didn’t give her the distance from Rick that she needed. She just wanted to get away for a little while.
She’d had insomnia the first night back from the hospital, and tonight she just wasn’t tired enough to go to bed. It was as though her mind started moving faster once the sun went down, and by bedtime she was so full of thoughts that needed mulling and lists that needed making that she couldn’t shut down and sleep. She knew if she went into the living room she’d get sucked into something on TV and not get everything out of her head that was keeping her up, and Rick would hear the TV through the wall and get mad anyway.
This weekend they were going to buy paint for the nursery. She couldn’t wait to paint the room, a job that had fallen to her since Rick didn’t like the smell. Not that she minded. It gave her something else to do with her day, though she couldn’t start until her week of rest was over. She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out paper to make a list of paint supplies she would need.
With those thoughts out, her mind had more room to dwell on the baby. While in the hospital she’d seen a full-color picture in a brochure of what the baby looked like at this stage in its development. Its face had stunned her with its humanness. She’d never considered a baby to be real before it was born, and even the ultrasound pictures hadn’t quite convinced her. But that image had completely changed her view of the being inside her, made her more real, more fathomable.
Kim stood and walked to the crib. Staring down at the flowered sheets on the mattress, she imagined herself singing to her daughter, rocking her in her arms, then lying her down to sleep. She didn’t like the thought of leaving her baby alone in a room so far away from her at night, but she didn’t think she’d be able to convince Rick to let her move the crib to their room. Maybe she’d make up for it during the day by holding her while she napped. It’s not like she had anything else to do with her time.
Her thoughts drifted to what her baby would be like. Would she be a good sleeper? A good eater? Would her hair be blonde like Rick’s or brown like hers? Whose personality would she have? Rick’s creativity? Kim’s sensitive heart? Would she make the same mistaskes Kim had made?
No. She will be good—kind and caring to the core. She won’t have the reasons Rick and I have for our mistakes. She won’t face those kinds of trials. Her eyes teared, and she mopped them with the corner of the blanket. Her mistakes had weighed heavily on her lately. She couldn’t bear to think of passing them on to the baby.
A sound on the other side of the wall made her smile. Joshua was singing—to himself? His cute little girl? She pressed her ear to the wall, sliding along it until his voice was as loud as it seemed it would get. The tune sounded vaguely familiar; it conjured memories of the religious family she had lived with when she was little. She wished she could hear them more clearly…grace, how sweet…saved a wretch…me…once was lost…blind but now I…
She shook her head in frustration as his voice grew quieter. She vaguely recognized the song and wished she could remember all the lyrics; what little she’d heard made her curious. She knew what it meant to be a wretch—killing someone definitely put you in that category. But whatever grace was, she was pretty sure it couldn’t do anything for the sins of her past.
SIXTEEN
TWO MONTHS LATER
The morning sun on January 18th was blinding as it reflected off the thick layer of snow and ice that coated the landscape outside Kim’s window. She pushed herself up on the bed, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her legs and groin, and flopped over to her side, then pressed a pillow over her head to hide from the light. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept through the night and woken feeling refreshed. Everything hurt. She was ready to be done.
Twenty minutes passed before she could stomach the thought of standing and showering. She limped to the bathroom, her robe pulled as far around her beachball stomach as it would go, and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face had grown along with her belly over the last few months. So had her hands and feet, which now didn’t fit any of her shoes. Rick had finally taken her out to get a new pair of gym shoes two weeks ago—not that she used them often, since she rarely left the house anymore. Just before Christmas she’d removed her engagement ring, with the help of butter, and set it back in its box until her fingers slimmed down again. She couldn’t wait to have her body back.
The shower spray did little to ease the pains that pulsed through her muscles and joints. Last night’s altercation hadn’t helped things, either. The fresh bruises on her legs and arms were like blueberry stains on her pale skin. She inspected each one in the mirror after her shower, cataloging her penitence and boxing the memories away, stuffing them deep into the recesses of her mind. She had other things to think about, like how to pass another day.
She waddled to the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove to make hot chocolate, then pulled out a bowl for cereal. She was so tired of eating. Her appetite had been insatiable the last couple months, despite eating seconds and thirds at almost every meal. She spent half her day eating, and most of the other half planning or cooking her next meal, or cleaning up from the last one. After two heaping helpings of cereal she dumped the bowl in the dishwasher and sipped the hot chocolate that had finally cooled enough to drink. On the sofa sat a basket of baby clothes, a jumble of Easter egg colors waiting to be folded. That would be her next chore, and by the time she got them all tucked away in the nursery she’d be ready for her midmorning snack.
While she sorted onesies and knit pants and tiny socks, she thought back to yesterday and her most recent appointment at the clinic. The doctor had pressed her for an exam, but she had refused, just as she had done for the last three months. The first time, Rick had beaten her the night before her appointment and she’d been afraid of what the doctor would say if she saw her bruises. When she hadn’t consented to the exam, the doctor had made a half-hearted attempt to convince her to have one, but her reasons weren’t compelling enough for Kim to risk revealing the marks on her body. She had kept her clothes on at each appointment ever since, figuring it didn’t matter how dilated or effaced she was—knowing wouldn’t make the baby come any faster.
Despite the doctor’s prognosis that all was well, Kim couldn’t shake the first-time mom paranoia that plagued her. What if all that food made her daughter an overeater? What if she didn’t make it to the hospital in time? What if she turned out to be a lousy mom? It was times like these when she ached for another woman to talk to. Rick refused to let her attend the LLL meeting Jillian had mentioned, and she knew he didn’t want her calling some stranger to hang out. He’d even convinced her to quit the Club, much to the girls’ dismay, though she’d been secretly glad that her hypocrisy would no longer be staring her—and them—in the face.
Kim stacked the clothes in the laundry basket and carried them to the nursery. The pink of the walls made her smile every time she came in, and today was no exception. She began to hum as she tried to decide where to keep the hats and socks, the blanket sleepers and bodysuits. She rearranged and reorganized three times before feeling satisfied, savoring the decision-making process and the fact that the decision was hers alone.
She was halfway out the door when her middle tightened and took her breath away. As the tightness faded she hurried to the couch and sat down to gather her thoughts. Was that what she thought it was? She checked the clock and made a note of the time, then made herself a snack and sat, pensive, in front of the blank television.
Fifteen minutes later another tightening in her abdomen brought a nervous smile to her face. She puttered aimlessly around the apartment looking for something to keep her mind off what was happening, but when the next contraction came twelve minutes later she couldn’t help but call Rick to tell him.
“So no
w what?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know how long I should wait.”
“I’m almost done with this project. Can you give me one more hour?”
She laughed. “I don’t think it’s up to me.”
He sighed. She could hear the irritation in it but she was determined not to let it bother her. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Be ready to go, okay? I don’t want to sit around waiting for you.”
They hung up and she watched the minutes tick away until the next contraction ten minutes later. This one kicked her into action. She grabbed her overnight bag and set it by the door, then made a sandwich to take along. A few minutes later she made another sandwich, this one for Rick, and then changed her clothes into something more comfortable. Each contraction stopped her in her tracks. She squeezed her eyes shut and panted through them, clutching whatever was near to give her support.
An hour came and went and Rick still had not come home. Kim ate the sandwich she’d made and paced the apartment, feeling like a caged animal. She called him at work again but the receptionist said he was gone. “Where is he?” Her voice was a growl that rumbled from her throat at the tail end of a contraction that came only seven minutes after the one before it. When they got down to five minutes and he still was not there, panic set in. She didn’t know who to call, where to go. Joshua’s face popped into her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to knock on his door. The last time they’d spoken Rick had made sure she knew never to do it again. Joshua, bless his heart, had tried to convince her to leave Rick a few weeks after her hospitalization, blurting in the middle of the parking lot that he knew Rick hit her. She’d made excuses for the noises and covered for Rick as best she could, but when she’d turned to go inside she’d seen Rick’s face at the window and knew she was in trouble. She hadn’t seen Joshua since.
Another contraction made her groan, and she gripped the doorknob for both support and fortification. She couldn’t go to Joshua, not with Rick on the way. Hopefully, anyway. But what if he doesn’t come in time?
The Weight of Shadows Page 21
