Take Me Home

by Nancy Herkness

  “What? Who the fuck are you?” Frank asked, swaying as he turned toward Tim. “It’s a goddamned party here, ain’t it? Did you come to screw my wife too? Or are you screwing the New York bitch?” Frank’s face contorted into an ugly leer. “Or both of them together? Wait, you’re the one whose wife shot herself. You must be a real bastard to drive a woman to that.”

  Claire flinched and looked at Tim. His expression didn’t waver, nor did his slow but steady progress toward Holly’s drunken husband.

  Claire took advantage of Tim’s diversion to scoot over to Holly. Her sister had one hand cupped around her left cheek, and tears streaked what Claire could see of her face.

  “Frank, why don’t you and I take this outside?” Tim said.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” Frank said. “You’re a goddamned giant. You stay away from me, or I’ll break this whore’s ugly statue.” He turned it upside down and squinted at the bottom. “Lauren, that’s its name. My wife loves this thing more than me. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “No, Frank. I’ve always loved you.” Holly’s voice quavered, but she didn’t stop talking. “I’ve never looked at another man. You know that.”

  “Liar!” Frank screamed, raising his arm and hurling the figurine straight at Holly and Claire.

  Claire tried to push Holly out of the way, but her sister resisted, lifting her hands to catch the flying statue. It bounced off her fingers and struck Claire on the cheek before hitting the wall and shattering into pieces.

  Claire bit off a cry that was as much shock as pain, and Holly shrieked, “Oh my God, no!”

  “I’m okay,” Claire whispered to her sister, hoping not to provoke Frank further.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave,” Tim said. His voice had swelled in volume and held an undertone of menace.

  Frank seemed abashed by the havoc he had wreaked. He stood with his mouth slightly open, still braced against the fireplace.

  Tim took another step toward him.

  “You can’t throw me out of my own house,” Frank said, straightening and pushing away from the mantel.

  Fear flooded through Claire as she saw him glance at the rack of fireplace tools. She willed him not to pick one up and go after Tim.

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Tim said, dragging Frank’s attention away from the potential weapons.

  Claire watched in fascination as Tim transformed into an aggressor. He shifted his feet into a wide fighting stance, his hands curled into fists, and his head came forward. He looked ready to charge at Frank like an enraged bull. Stalking to within two feet of Holly’s husband, he slammed his clenched fist against the wall beside him, making all three of them jump.

  “It’s time for you to leave,” Tim repeated.

  Frank swallowed visibly before he took a few stumbling steps toward the door. “You got no call to throw me out of my own house,” he mumbled, bouncing off the arm of the love seat and nearly falling. “I got the right to see my children.”

  “You forfeited that right when you came in here drunk and violent,” Tim said.

  “If you were married to a boring slut like her, you’d be drunk too,” Frank said, grabbing the doorjamb for balance. He pitched his voice in a falsetto. “She’s too sick or too tired or the children might hear.” His voice dropped to its normal register. “No wonder I looked somewhere else for a little bit of fun. You can’t blame a man for that.”

  “Get out before you lose the option of leaving without my help,” Tim said.

  Claire glanced down to find her sister watching the exchange with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Fuck you!” Frank yelled as he scuttled out of the living room. No one moved until the front door slammed. Claire realized she’d been holding her breath and gulped in a lungful.

  As she relaxed, Tim’s posture changed too. His fists uncurled, his shoulders dropped and almost seemed to decrease in breadth, while his chin came up to a nonthreatening angle.

  Holly dropped her face into her hands and began to sob.

  Claire was about to lean over to comfort her sister when Tim stepped in front of her. “Are you all right?” he asked, tipping her chin up and making a swift survey of her face.

  “I’m fine,” Claire said, although her cheek was starting to throb. “Maybe a bruise, but that’s all.”

  “Does it hurt here?” His touch was feather light, but she winced when he grazed the spot where the statue had made contact. “I see it does.”

  She looked up at him. What she saw in his dark-gray eyes sent a tremor of shock rippling through her. Anger blazed in their depths with an intensity that would have been frightening had it been directed at her. She gasped, and he turned away. But she saw that his hands had clenched back into fists.

  Holly was staring at Claire. “Did Lauren hit you? I’m so sorry.” She started to sob again. “Everything’s going wrong. Everything! I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Holly. We’ll get through this.” Claire bent to touch her sister’s shoulder.

  Tim knelt at Holly’s feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Did he hit you?”

  Holly lifted her head as her hand crept back up to the side of her face. “No...yes...I’m not hurt.”

  Tim scanned her face just as he had Claire’s. When he raised his hand, Holly flinched slightly, but let him run his fingers over her cheek and jaw.

  “I think you both need ice packs, but first, we should call the police.”

  “No!” Holly nearly shrieked. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

  Tim remained placid. “Your husband is driving in an impaired condition that’s dangerous to himself and to others. He needs to be taken off the road.”

  “Oh,” Holly said. “I hadn’t thought about that. So you’ll just report him for drunk driving?”

  “If that’s all you want me to say.”

  Holly turned to Claire, who said, “He’s right. Frank could kill himself and anyone in his way.”

  “All right,” Holly said with obvious reluctance, “but nothing else.”

  “Nothing else.” Tim questioned Holly about Frank’s car and license plate before pushing up from the floor. “I’ll call from the kitchen and fix up those ice packs for both of you.”

  Claire saw Holly shrink back into the chair as Tim straightened to his full height, and it made her want to cry. What had Frank done to her sister?

  Claire suddenly remembered the two girls hiding in the bedroom. “I’m going to go check on the children,” she said.

  Her sister rocketed up from the chair with a cry of distress. “Oh my God! Brianna! Kayleigh!”

  “They’re okay. They’re in Brianna’s closet,” Claire said.

  “How do you know?” Holly asked. “In fact, why are you both here?”

  “Because Brianna was worried and called me.”

  “Brianna overreacted,” Holly said. “Frank doesn’t mean it. He just can’t hold his liquor.”

  “Holly, you have to tell me the truth,” Claire said. “How many times has Frank hit you? I know that’s where those bruises came from.”

  “No, those are from the Lyme disease. He’s never hit me before tonight,” Holly said, but she was turning away as she spoke so Claire couldn’t see her face. “I have to go get the girls.”

  Claire let her sister shuffle down the hallway toward Kayleigh’s bedroom.

  Why was Holly still lying?

  “MAMA! ARE YOU okay?” Claire heard Brianna say before Holly shut the door to the bedroom. Anger and pity roiled inside her, an unsettling stew of emotion that reminded her of her feelings about Willow’s abuser. Except she found she was angry at Holly as well as at Frank.

  She turned and started toward the kitchen just as Tim emerged with a dishtowel-wrapped bag of ice in each hand. “This one’s for you,” he said, handing her one bag. “Your cheek is starting to swell.”

  “Oh great,” Claire said, pressing the bag against her face and sinking onto the sofa.

  “Don’t worry. The co
ld will take it down,” Tim said. “Where did your sister go?”

  “To Brianna’s bedroom, second door on the right. That’s where I told the girls to hide.”

  “Let me give this to her, and I’ll be back.”

  Claire sat there with the ice numbing her skin, staring at the shards of the china statue littering the rug. She knew she should get a dustpan and clean them up before the children saw them, but she couldn’t summon enough energy to move. An indistinct murmur of voices issued from the bedroom before the door opened and closed again.

  Then Tim was kneeling in front of her, his eyes lit with concern. “How’s it feeling?” he asked.

  “Cold,” Claire said. “It’s fine, really. Do the girls seem all right?”

  “As well as can be expected. Your sister’s doing a good job of calming them down.”

  “I’m really worried about their safety,” Claire said. As Tim shifted up onto the couch, it dipped under his weight. The tilt of the cushion slid her up against his big, solid body, and she let herself savor the feeling of security it gave her.

  “Changing the locks might be a first step,” Tim suggested.

  “I’ll suggest it to Holly.” Claire was dubious, though. Her sister seemed to be in denial about the seriousness of the situation. She slanted a glance at the man beside her. “You’re quite an actor. I thought you were going to fold Frank in half and stuff him up the chimney.”

  “Fortunately, he thought so too.”

  “Actually, I was terrified he would pick up a poker and slam you with it.” She suddenly remembered Frank’s comment about Tim’s wife. Should she bring up the ugly words or pretend they had never been said? She decided on an oblique approach. “Frank said some horrible things about Holly, which I know aren’t true.”

  He slewed around so he could look at her. “I don’t pay much attention to what a drunk says.”

  “I’m glad.” She didn’t believe him, though, because the shadows were hovering in his eyes. “Thank you so much for your help. I don’t know how I would have gotten Frank out of here without you. You were amaz—oh my God, the dinner reservations! It’s way past time. You’ll never be able to get a table there again. I feel terrible!”

  “Easy, Claire,” he said, engulfing her free hand in both of his. “I’m not worried about whether I can eat at the Aerie or not.”

  Milo would have been. Claire gave her head a little shake to rid herself of the thought of her ex-husband. The warmth of Tim’s hands seemed to radiate up her arm and through her body. She could feel her nervous tension ease, even as a new set of sensations sprang to life.

  She left her hand in his as she said, “I feel really guilty about dragging you into this situation, especially on a first date. It’s not quite the evening you were expecting.”

  “Hey, none of that,” Tim said. He raised the back of her hand to his lips and brushed the lightest of kisses across it before releasing it.

  The tender gesture sent little curls of pleasure dancing over her skin.

  “Now,” he said, “we need to discuss how to keep everyone safe tonight.”

  “I’m going to barricade the doors and stay here.” Whether Holly wanted her or not.

  “I’m staying too.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “I don’t recall your doing any asking.” Tim’s smile was easy, but his tone said he wasn’t budging.

  “It’s not me you have to convince, anyway. It’s my sister.”

  The sound of a door opening ended the debate. Claire stood up as Holly appeared. For the first time, Claire noticed her sister was wearing a dress and high heels. It infuriated her that Holly would still dress up for her creep of a husband.

  “The girls and I are going to bed soon,” Holly said. “They’re going to sleep with me in the master bedroom. I’m sorry you both had to see all this, but it’s over. You can go on to dinner now.” Holly’s eyes went wide. “Oh no, dinner!”

  When she started toward the kitchen, Tim held up his hand to stop her, saying, “I turned off the stove when I was making the ice packs.”

  “Thanks,” Holly said, her sudden burst of energy fading so she looked pale and drained. “I was making a nice family dinner for all of us before Frank and I...”

  “Before you what?” Claire prompted when Holly’s voice petered out.

  “Frank came over because I wanted to talk to him about how we would tell Brianna and Kayleigh we were getting a divorce.” Holly’s eyes filled with tears. “We were going to have dinner with the girls first and then discuss how to handle our announcement after they went to bed. But he showed up drunk.”

  “Holly, we have to talk,” Claire said firmly.

  “Not tonight,” Holly said, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “I’m exhausted.”

  “I’m sorry, but there are certain things that can’t wait.” Claire kept her tone gentle. “We have to tell the police about Frank being violent when he’s drunk. Paul can get a restraining order first thing tomorrow. And you have to change the locks on the doors.”

  “I...No, it will just make Frank angry again.” Holly sank into a chair. “He was mad tonight because I got a lawyer already. He said I was in a big hurry to get rid of him.”

  “He wants to control you, even in the divorce,” Claire said. “It’s classic abusive behavior.”

  Holly’s gaze skittered sideways. “I got mad too and mentioned his spending habits. That’s when he started yelling and calling me a slut.”

  She looked so sad and defeated that Claire debated whether it was right to push her any more. Then she thought of Brianna’s frantic phone call. “You don’t want Brianna and Kayleigh to see another scene like this one, or even worse, do you?”

  Holly gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Claire went over to kneel by her chair. “Tim and I will stay here tonight, but we have to leave in the morning. I’ll be crazy with worry, not knowing if you and the girls are safe.”

  “All right.” Holly’s voice was a mere thread of a whisper.

  Claire wanted to leap to her feet and pump her fist. Instead, she stretched up and touched her lips to Holly’s uninjured cheek. “Attagirl, sis. We’ll handle this together.”

  As Claire straightened, Holly reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze, murmuring, “Thanks.”

  “I’ll talk to the police, if you’d like,” Tim said. “The chief and I are acquainted.”

  Holly nodded, and Claire mouthed her own thank you as Tim headed back toward the kitchen.

  “I’m going to say good night to the girls,” she said, turning to head down the hallway.

  The two children were huddled together under a patchwork quilt on the big bed, their curly hair wisping out of the braids hanging over the shoulders of their princess pajamas. Claire had given Holly and Frank the quilt as a wedding gift, commissioning its creator to embroider their names and the date along the border. She wondered if Frank’s name could be ripped out without damaging the fabric too badly.

  “Aunt Claire!” Kayleigh shrieked, hurling herself across the bed and into Claire’s arms. “I was so scared.”

  Claire shifted the little girl to her side and held out her free arm to Brianna. The older girl scooted across the quilt and snuggled in against her.

  “Thanks for coming,” Brianna whispered. “I was scared too.”

  “You did the right thing by calling me.” Claire watched Brianna’s face lose some of its pinched tension. She wanted to reassure the child, since she suspected Holly had reprimanded her for involving others. “It was important for me to be here tonight. I think you know that.”

  Brianna nodded before she buried her face in Claire’s shoulder and began to sob. “Mama says Lauren got broken. She was my favorite Royal Doulton lady.”

  “You can have Genevieve. She’s really pretty too.” Kayleigh’s little voice quavered slightly.

  Tears welled up in Claire’s throat. She and Holly had done the same thing when they were young—
spent hours debating which of the china ladies they each liked the best.

  “No, Genevieve is yours,” Brianna said, lifting her tear-streaked face. “I’ll pick a different lady.”

  “Maybe we can find another Lauren,” Claire said, mentally crossing her fingers for good luck. “My job is to locate beautiful things for people, so you can hire me to help you. For free.”

  Brianna sniffled and straightened up. “Thank you, Aunt Claire, but I like Laurianne too. She’s reading a book.”

  “That’s nice of both of you,” Claire said, admiring her nieces’ generosity toward each other. “I want you to know that you are two very smart, brave girls. You did exactly the right thing tonight, both of you. I’m proud of you.”

  “Aunt Claire? Mama says you have a whisper horse that you can tell anything you want to,” Brianna said.

  “That’s right. Her name is Willow.”

  “Can two people have the same whisper horse?”

  “I don’t see why not, but the real expert is my friend Sharon. Why don’t we visit the stable tomorrow and ask her?”

  “Me too?” Kayleigh asked. “Mama says they have kittens there.”

  “Of course you too,” Claire said, pulling the girls close to her again.

  As she hugged them, she thought how small and light their child’s bones were beneath the brightly colored pajama fabrics, almost like a bird’s. A desire to protect them from all the ugliness in the world surged through her with fearsome power. How could Holly even think of exposing these two precious beings to Frank’s violence? Claire could feel anger welling up inside her again. She fought it down by dropping her nose into Brianna’s hair and inhaling the sweet powdery scent of innocence.

  “I love you so much,” she murmured against the curve of her niece’s skull. “And I love you,” she said, shifting to Kayleigh’s little head.

  She felt something shift deep inside her as her feelings for these two little girls seemed to expand and strengthen second by second. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

  Oddly enough, she had said almost the same thing to Willow.

  “HOW DID IT go with the police chief?” Claire asked Tim. She had tucked two clean, pajama-clad little girls in bed next to her sister before she found him sitting at the kitchen table eating the casserole he had rescued from the oven.