Dr. Stone passed the cup to her. “This will help with the pain,” he said gently. Olivia took the cup and dumped the pills into her mouth, washing them down with water. She slowly looked up at the man beside the bed.
“Anything else I can get you?” he asked quietly. Olivia refused to meet his eyes as he took in the bruises on her face and forearms. He sighed long and loud before he reached for her wrist so he could take her pulse. “I have been your doctor for six years, Olivia. I had my suspicions, but I never expected anything like this to happen. You’ve lost something precious –,” he started.
But she cut him off. “Stop! I don’t want to talk about it,” she cried. “I will not discuss it right now.”
“You do know that he could kill you next time? Right?” Peter asked as he pulled a chair closer to the bedside. He flipped through the chart in front of him and then sat back and crossed his legs, one foot over his knee. “If you’re not going to talk to me, you have to talk to someone,” he said, blandly.
“What’s to talk about?” Olivia asked, rolling over onto her back. “You had better go. He’ll be back any minute. He just went for coffee.” She glanced anxiously toward the door.
“I’m not afraid of him,” the doctor said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “But I’m afraid for you,” he said, his tone completely different from that of the even-tempered, thirty-something doctor that she’d seen through the years.
“I’ll be fine,” Olivia grunted, wincing as she adjusted her body in the bed. “It was just an accident.”
Peter flipped anxiously through her charts. “There’s no reason for a healthy young woman to fall down a staircase three times in four years.” He flipped again. “No one is unlucky enough break their forearm on two different occasions, all because of stupid mistakes.”
“I’m just very accident prone,” Olivia said, avoiding his gaze.
“Why haven’t you ever reported him to the police?” the doctor asked solemnly.
“He is the police,” Olivia groaned helplessly as she rubbed her eyes with her fists.
“I guess you can go home,” the doctor sighed. “I don’t want to send you back there, but until you’re willing to talk to me…”
“I want to go home,” she said quietly.
The doctor reached into his pocket and retrieved a business card. “Next time you even get a hint of it – that he’s about to get violent – call this number.” He hastily scribbled his personal contact information on the card and held it out to her.
“He promises that he won’t ever do it again,” Olivia said, pushing the card back at him.
“How many times has he told you that before?” he asked.
“He just gets really stressed out at work,” she started.
“That’s not an excuse,” he said, cutting her off.
She startled as her husband entered the room carrying a dozen roses. The cloying scent of his heavy cologne reached Olivia long before he did. She hated the way he smelled. It reminded her of a rest-stop bathroom smell.
“You ‘bout ready to go home, babe?” he asked as he bent to kiss Olivia on the cheek. She flinched.
“Yeah, Richard,” she tried to recover and smiled slowly back at him. “All ready to go.” She sat up slowly in the bed and realized that the doctor could see the faded bruises that shadowed her back through the opening in her gown. She reached back to close it. She couldn’t help but notice doctor gritting is teeth as he watched her walk gingerly into the bathroom.
He was gone when she came out of the bathroom, but a discharge nurse had taken his place. She gave Olivia a bottle of pain pills, discharge notes, grief pamphlets and she added Peter’s business card to the top of the stack. Olivia took them all and tucked them in her purse.
“The doctor said for you to call him if you need him for anything.” Olivia fought the urge to cry as the nurse’s eyes met hers. They all knew. They knew about her shame. And what had happened to her. “He said to call him for anything, even small concerns.”
“I understand,” Olivia said slowly, hissing through her teeth as she slid her swollen foot into her sandals.
****
Olivia spent the next few days in relative comfort. She stayed in bed for two days, per the doctor’s orders and then cooked and cleaned and did all the things that she normally did and Richard was calm and comfortable, patronizing even. But those days usually didn’t last very long and Olivia knew it.
It lasted for about a week before she started to see the signs again.
They sat at the dinner table, eating their meal when Richard suddenly spat his food across the room.
Olivia jumped up and grabbed a napkin from the table to clean the mess off the floor. She bent to clean the carpet and heard him say, “You can’t even get a simple dinner right, can you?” She hung her head and took a deep breath.
Olivia knew better than to respond. She walked into the kitchen and threw the food in the trash and turned to wash her hands in the sink. They trembled as she soaped and rinsed them. It was happening again.
She looked longingly at the wedding photo that hung on the wall in the den. Where had that man gone? Where was the man that she had fallen in love with? Where was the man who loved her back?
Run! Her inner voice screamed.
“Can you get me a beer before you come back?” he bellowed at her.
“Yes, Richard. I’ll be right there,” she replied. She reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer, opening it and watching the steam rise from the mouth. As she stared into it, she noticed her purse hanging on the back of the informal dining chair in the kitchen. Dr. Stone’s phone number was on that card. She unzipped it and reached in, retrieving the card and the bottle of pills that the nurse had given her at the hospital.
Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes was all she needed to get away.
She jumped as she heard him bellow again. “Olivia!” She pinched the skin on the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and took a deep breath before turning the cap of the medicine bottle with the flat of her hand and shaking the pills into her palm. How many? There were ten in the bottle.
Two would probably make him tired. She took two spoons and put two pills between the fronts and back of the spoon and ground them into powder. She shook the powder into the beer. But two more would make him sleep. She ground two more. Unable to remember how many she’d already added to the beer, she ground two more and dumped them in for good measure. She tucked the bottle into the pocket of her jeans.
She jumped as she heard him step up behind her. “Did you get lost, bitch?” he asked, snatching the beer from her hand.
He lifted the beer to his lips and took a sip. “You just better be glad it’s still cold,” he said as he sat back in his recliner and put his feet up. He lifted the beer to his lips again and took a long draw. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He drained the bottle dry. Anticipating his needs, she pulled another from the fridge and held it out to him, taking the empty one.
She cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. There was nothing that Richard hated more than a messy home. She watched from under hooded lashes as he turned on ESPN and settled deeper into his chair, watching him as his lids grew heavier and heavier. She frantically searched her pocket for the business card. Richard didn’t like for her to be able to make calls when he was at work, so there was no phone in the home.
She tiptoed quietly over to his side and saw that his cell phone was still in its place on his belt. She slowly reached and touched it. She jumped as he flinched in the chair and stood quietly to see if he would settle back down.
She gingerly tugged the phone and twisted it to remove it from the cradle at his belt. She turned and walked quickly with it down the hallway to the bedroom, closing the door behind her and pressing her back to it. Her breath rushed in and out as she flipped the phone open. She glanced at the slip of paper that was held between her thumb and forefinger and dialled the phone.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hello?” a male voice said.
“H-hi. M-my name is Olivia. Can I please speak to Dr. Stone?”
“Hi, Olivia. This is Peter. What’s up?”
“Y-you said that I could call you if I ever needed help,” she stammered.
There was a pause for a second. “Do you need help?” he asked.
“I think so,” Olivia replied.
“Where is he?” Peter asked.
“Sleeping,” Olivia whispered, tears escaping from beneath her eyelids as she the clenched them tightly.
“Tell me where you are.”
She gave him her address.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Pack what you want to take with you. We’ll provide the rest.”
“Who’s we?” she asked quietly.
“Friends,” he replied and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m on the way. Meet me outside.”
Olivia took a sport’s bag from the closet and filled it full of her clothes. She turned and swept the jewellery from the top of the dresser into the bag. Then she walked around to her husband’s nightstand and bent to open the drawer. It was, of course, locked. She tiptoed into the office and lifted a letter opener from the top of the desk. She had contemplated this scenario in her head hundreds of times but was always afraid to break the lock. She inserted the tip of the letter opener into the flimsy lock and twisted with all her might. Olivia felt the lock break and she slid the drawer open.
She rummaged through the drawer until she found a small, locked rectangular box. She placed it on the bed and turned to open the lock, not entirely sure what she was taking. Then lights shot across the window from the headlights of a car. She threw the metal lock box into the bag and walked back down the hall. Olivia grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder.
Richard still sat in the same position in the chair. She looked longingly at the wedding photo. That man no longer existed. And neither did that girl. She pulled her wedding ring from her finger and dropped it on the coffee table, watching it roll until it settled with a clank.
She opened Richard’s phone again and called 911. When the operator picked up, she simply said, “I think my husband has tried to commit suicide. He won’t wake up.” She gave the address and clicked the phone closed. She put the phone on the coffee table beside her wedding ring.
As she opened the front door and slipped outside, she saw the door of the car open as it was pushed from the inside. She bent and looked into the car, meeting the smiling eyes of Dr. Peter Stone.
“Ready?” he asked as she slid into the seat.
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied as she closed the car door and sat back, drawing in a deep breath. She met his eyes when he turned to look at her.
“Why do you care?” she asked quietly.
“I had a sister, once,” he replied.
“Once?” she asked. “What happened to her?”
“She died,” he answered, cracking his window and lighting a cigarette. “Do you mind?” he asked as he flicked his Bic.
“No,” she shrugged. “Go ahead. Nasty habit, though,” she couldn’t help adding. “What happened to your sister?” she whispered.
“Same thing that was happening to you,” he said, blowing a stream of smoke toward the crack in the window. “He would have finally killed you. Or beaten you down to the point where you wanted to die.” He looked at her.
“I would rather die than live like that for one more day,” she said with conviction in her voice. “I’m just sorry that it took too long for me to realize it.”
“Good. I have good things in store for you.”
“What?” she asked.
“First, we’re going to get you to a safe place. You can stay with my wife and I for a few days.”
“Then what?”
“Then you get a brand new start. You’ll be self-sufficient, responsible only to yourself,” he said. “What skills do you have?”
“None,” Olivia said blandly.
“He’s told you that for way too long,” Peter replied and tapped her nose playfully. “What’s the thing that you enjoyed most as a child?”
Olivia thought long and hard. “Horses,” she stated.
“Horses?” he laughed. “Never heard that one before,” he said, throwing his cigarette butt out the window. “But horses it is. You afraid to get dirty?”
She laughed. “Why?”
“I think I have the perfect place for you,” Peter stated, tapping his forehead. “One of the doctors at the hospital inherited a horse farm. Name is Dr. Broden Wester. Place is in the middle of nowhere. Might be the perfect place to get a new start.”
“I’m willing to try anything,” Olivia stated.
“You’ll like him. He’s a nice guy. And his wife is pretty fabulous, too.”
“Can’t wait to meet them,” Olivia replied, her voice full of excitement for the first time in a long time.
Chapter One
John Wester found himself bowing to his partner on the dance floor and lifting his cowboy hat from his head to mop his brow with his forearm. His red hair was plastered to his forehead and he relished the feeling of air moving under his cap. The smoke inside The Pour House was thick and the heat from all the bodies crushed together on the dance floor made it seem doubly so. He made his way from the center of the floor and weaved through tables to the front door, stopping to talk to friends on the way out.
The Pour House had a long, wide porch that ran around three sides of the building with a wooden railing on which patrons could lean. John jovially walked down the length of the porch and entered the shadows, sitting in a rocking chair that he knew was hidden in the darkness. He sat back and lifted his boots onto a wooden wire spool. He raised the hat from his head and balanced it on his crossed feet. He sat back and took a deep breath, enjoying the breeze as it blew across his skin. The music pounded through the walls of the building. He tapped his long fingers on his thigh along with the rhythm of the band.
He smelled the scent of her perfume before he saw her. She smelled like baby powder, simple and clean. John slowly sat forward as he saw her slink into the shadows with him. He reached for his hat and replaced it atop his head, slowly lowering his feet to the floor. The woman stepped further into the shadows.
John heard her stop breathing as a uniformed officer walked by, heading for his car.
“I thought you would never get here,” he said quietly in her ear, his arms sliding around her waist from behind in the darkness.
The officer stopped in his tracks and turned, hearing the murmured voice behind him. He pulled out a small flashlight and started searching the darkness.
John felt the woman spin quickly in his arms, her hands moving to clutch the back of his neck as she pressed herself against him. She danced him around until her back was against the wall. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, her lips meeting his fiercely.
John tried to pull back, saying, “You’re not-.”
But heard a whispered, “Please,” as she weaved her fingers together behind his neck.
He grabbed her behind her knee and ran his hand under the skirt of her sundress and then up her thigh to her bottom, squeezing gently as he did so. He felt her gasp as she drew in a breath against his lips. His mouth touched hers, gently at first. But she clasped the back of his neck and drew him down to her, her tongue sliding into his mouth. After recovering from the initial shock, he met her tongue, thrust for thrust. He grabbed the back of her head and slanted his mouth against hers, feeling the kiss deepen and his pulse begin to quicken.
John saw the beam of the flashlight as it moved over them in the darkness and lingered. He broke the kiss and lifted his head, calling out, “Do you mind?”
“Sorry,” the officer called back as he got into his car and drove away.
John felt the woman in his arms relax but he still held her leg up by his waist, her back pressed to the wall.
“You
can let me go, now,” the woman said softly. “Please,” she added.
“Who are you?” he asked against her ear, his heartbeat still pounding.
“Certainly not who you were waiting for,” she replied. “Can you let me go, please?”
John heard the urgency and fear that entered her voice and loosened his hold on her leg. He felt it slide down his side as she released his neck. John stood up to his full height. He was a full head and shoulders taller than she was. He reached out to touch her hair. Her short, choppy red hair stuck out in spikes. Was burgundy a natural color for hair? Her face was devoid of makeup. But lashes heavily coated with dark mascara fluttered against her cheeks. Green eyes danced from one object to another as she looked around, obviously looking for an escape route.
John reached up and resettled his hat upon his head. He stepped back and regarded her quietly.
She moved to walk around him. He grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “You want to tell me what that was all about, ma’am? Maybe I could help,” he added.
“You already did,” she replied, smiling shyly at him. “Thanks,” she threw back as she walked away, her fingers slipping slowly from his grasp.
Olivia remembered their encounter, differently. The uniformed officer had been following her for miles. Her hands shook as she changed gears in the small rental car. She furtively looked into the rear view mirror again and saw that he was still there, despite her efforts to lose him. She checked the speedometer to ensure that she was not driving too fast. Then she spotted the full parking lot of The Pour House. She turned the wheel quickly and slid into a parking space. She looked in her rear view mirror and saw the patrol car stop as well. Her heart clamoured in her chest as she slid out of the car and stayed low, walking toward the front of the building. She walked through the double doors and squinted at the sudden flash from the strobes on the dance floor. She saw a sign pointing to the bathroom and headed in that direction.
She stepped into a stall and closed the door behind her, chewing her fingernails as she walked in a small circle. What do I do now? He can’t be looking for me? But what if he is? It’s just a coincidence, she told herself, taking a deep breath as she walked out of the stall. She primped in front of the mirror, fluffing her hair and wiping the sweat from her brow.
Escaping the Past (Wester Farms) Page 30
