Unmending the Veil

by Lisa Heaton

  After dinner, Robin sat alone in her cabin and opened up her Bible for the first time in many years. On Sundays, she would turn to whatever passage the pastor directed her to, but she never read along. She went through the motions, just as she was taught to do as a little girl, bowing when they said bow, opening her Bible just as everyone else did, but it was like being a little child again, as she stayed in her own world, thinking of other things. Keeping her mind closed off to Him had kept the veil securely mended.

  Prior to Michael’s death, she had thought herself so faithful. If the doors of her church were open, she was there. But what Chris said about her not knowing God before Michael’s death was accurate. If she were totally honest with herself, she knew it back then, deep inside. She served and worked, but recognized something was missing. It was most obvious around particular women, those who had a passion for Jesus that she did not. It was clear to her when they spoke of their love for the Lord, that somehow, she was lacking something they had attained.

  Within the past two days, she had seen Mike and had openly spoken of her greatest grief in life, her sweet son Michael. The extremes of her emotions could have overtaken her; instead, she would take them to God. For the first time in a very long time, she was hoping she might find Him.

  Turning to Job, she looked up a verse Chris had given her. Even before he began to counsel with her, he mentioned it. Her version was different from what he had written out for her. His was from the King James Version.

  “Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; When his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness; as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle.”

  Hers read:

  “How I long for the months gone by, for the days when God watched over me, when his lamp shone on my head and by his light I walked through darkness! Oh, for the days when I was in my prime, when God’s intimate friendship blessed my house. Job 29:2-3

  Chris’ version called it a candle, hers a lamp. Both were beautiful images and made her hear that sound again, that familiar tinkling in her head. There was a momentary lightness in her heart, and for an instant, she felt less burdened. Any given moment before, heavy of heart would have best depicted her state. At long last, she yearned for the days when she did not feel so far away from God, and finally believed there may be a way back.

  9

  Another week passed, and all that remained of Chris’ vacation time was one week. He had rented the cabin through the end of July, and it was fast approaching. His progress with Robin was nothing short of miraculous. For the past week, she had been so open with him, and for the first time, willing to take steps toward God. She asked questions and spent several days telling him about her son. Slowly, the veil was being unmended, as she was open to the Lord removing the stitches she had sewn. Still, she had far to go, but to see any progress was proof he was seeing God’s handiwork in her life.

  When he was not with her, his time was spent praying. He had spent more time in prayer during that summer than he ever had. Strangely, he caught glimpses of God like never before. Not only was God actively working in Robin’s life, he was working in his own. At a time when any man would question and fear, he felt a closeness and intimacy with Him like he had never known before. Though he would have considered himself, at the beginning of the summer, a man who walked with God; by the end of it he was prepared to declare he was a man who lived in God’s presence. He had shown up in nature, in His work with Robin, in settling his apprehension about the end, so much so, that he considered the possibility that God lived full-time at Lake Winnipesaukee.

  Finally, he did not fear death or even dwell on it for that matter, for he knew what was to come and was at peace with it. Only once had he even considered another opinion or chemo or radiation, and that thought, or more correctly momentary sense of optimism, was in hopes of adding more time to his life so that he might spend it with Robin. He finally settled the matter in his heart not to seek any of those alternatives. He had been diagnosed by one of the best oncologists in Boston, and a second opinion was given by another who was highly recommended. So to pursue treatments would only postpone the inevitable. Without question, the brain tumor was inoperable, his death certain. Somehow, assuredly divinely bestowed, he was at peace in his spirit.

  His symptoms though were becoming more problematic, and his head hurt so horribly at times, he would begin to vomit. He had yet to have seizures as he was warned he might, but he knew his illness was progressing quickly. Having not yet decided if he would tell her, he wavered back and forth from day to day. The place he stood for the moment was not to tell her.

  Her progress was such that if she heard something so disturbing, she could be right back where she began –wondering why God would not save him? It was a possibility, and he was not prepared to be the reason she questioned Him again. Chris knew that God had a plan, even when it was not evident. Actually, in his case, the plan was becoming amazingly clear. Without the illness, he would have never come to the lake. Without his attraction to her, he would have never gotten to know her. Without getting to know her, he would have never recognized her wounded spirit. Every step was in order, beginning with his impending death. God was not One to figure out, merely One to stand in awe of when encountering His providence.

  Having taken pain medication earlier, he was at least capable of meeting with her. The day before, he had to cancel. In doing so, he again aroused her concerns about taking up his vacation with her problems. He smiled to himself, appreciating what a thoughtful woman she was, so concerned with others, that she had left herself out for many years. Finally, in God’s all-knowing manner, having recognized Robin would never put herself first, He intervened in her life and was bringing her freedom.

  Tapping on the door, Robin turned the knob and asked, “Are you ready?”

  “I am. Come on in.” He was sitting in his chair waiting for her when she knocked. The curtains were drawn and the lights were turned off, to ward off another headache, so he hoped she would not mind the dim setting.

  She moved to the chair across from him. Sitting on the edge of her seat, as if she might bolt away at any time, she acknowledged, “I am running out of time, I know. It is time to get it over with.”

  Understanding what she meant, he nodded for her to try again. She had tried on several occasions to tell him of her last night with Mike. Not once was she able to get more than a sentence or two out. All he knew so far was that she was washing her face before bed when it began.

  “Usually, I would hear his truck. I guess with the water running, I missed it that night. Normally, when I would hear him pull in, I would try to prepare myself for who might walk through the door. I never knew what to expect. That night, I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.

  “He grabbed me around the waist and threw me into the bathtub. I was tangled up in the shower curtain, and the rod fell and hit me in the face. Blood began to pour from my nose and all over my nightgown. At that point, he was not even looking at me. Instead, he was hitting walls and even crashed his hand into the mirror over the sink. Glass was everywhere and his hands were bleeding.

  “When he finally turned his attention back to me, he reached down and grabbed my wrist. He yanked me out of the tub and dragged me into the kitchen. There, he pushed me down into a chair, and that is when I saw them lying there. It was a pack of birth control pills on the table in front of me.”

  As she spoke, she looked as if she were in a trance. There were no tears, and she seemed unusually disconnected from the story. The only time he had ever seen her cry was when she spoke of Michael. He always found it a little curious under the circumstances. A few times, he was sure he saw tears well up in her eyes, but she was always able to blink them away.

  “I’m not certain how he got them. All I can think is that he must have been at the drug store and the pharmacist thought he was doing me a favor.”

  �
��You were on the pill and Mike did not know?”

  “Yes.” Her heart sank when she thought of the many months he was so hopeful that she might be pregnant. Each time, she knew better and still allowed him to hope. Even before the violence began, she had secretly gone to the doctor to get the prescription.

  “He smashed them with his fist and began screaming at me. The things he said were terrible.” Holding her finger up, indicating she needed a minute, she leaned back in her chair and recounted his words. They had resounded in her heart for years. She could hear them ringing in her head at that very moment.

  “All I have ever asked for is another baby. And you refuse me that.” He slammed the pills again. “You were sleeping while our son died. He died on your watch! Not mine. These past months, you have let me hope…” Stopping abruptly, he began to cry, and with the tears came an explosive sort of anger like she had never witnessed before.

  Beginning again, Robin said, “He flipped the table over and pulled me out of the chair. Dragging me into the bedroom, he threw me on the bed, and he…” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “He hit me in the face a few times.

  “I had never run from him before. He always threatened that if I did, he would make me regret it. This time though, he was different. I had a feeling if I didn’t get away, he would kill me. He began taking off his belt, and I knew what he was about to do.” Looking away, a knot formed in her stomach, and for a moment, she felt queasy. “So I took both feet and pushed him into the wall. He was drunk enough that it seemed to stun him for a minute. It was my chance to run.

  “By the front door, I grabbed my purse and kept running. I dug around, but my keys were not in there. Most likely, he took them; he had done so before. As I ran down the driveway, I heard him come outside, but he wasn’t chasing me yet. He just stood on the front porch screaming my name. He was so angry.” Stopping for a moment, she sat, gripping the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. Even at the memory of it, her heart was pounding, and she could feel the chill of the night air and the jagged rocks beneath her bare feet. Robin shivered. “I was barely dressed, and it was drizzling out. It was cold, and I was shaking so badly I could barely keep my feet moving.

  “When I ran out onto the road, I knew I was out of his sight for a moment. I made it to a large group of trees and into some thick brush. It was muddy out, and I could see I was leaving a trail, but there was simply nowhere else to go. The moon was bright, and I was too visible. He found me easily enough.”

  Chris sat there, suddenly nauseous. He supposed it was this traumatic, but hearing her tell the story, it affected him more deeply than he anticipated it would. The dread of hearing more made him want to stop her, but he knew healing could come no other way than for her to allow it out into the light.

  “By the time he got me back to the house, I was covered in blood, and I was muddy from falling. He took me to the side of the house and sprayed me down with the garden hose.” She could feel the cold water dousing her. Shivering and crying, she was certain she was going to die. By that point, she hoped she would. “Back inside the house, he took me to the bedroom and forced himself on me.” Gazing into the fireplace, she avoided making eye contact with Chris, not wanting to see the expression on his face at her admission.

  “He raped you.” Her way of expressing what Mike did to her was, in a sense, lessening the significance of it. It was rape.

  “It wasn’t the first time, but that night was nothing like before.” Ashamed of what she could only consider some sick perversity on her part, she admitted, “The times before, I gave in to him, responded to him even.” Hesitating a moment, she whispered, “I know how that must sound.”

  “What do you think it sounds like?”

  Embarrassed, she regretted telling him about it at all. At the memory of it, her breathing became labored, and she could nearly smell stale alcohol in the air. He would whisper in her ear, telling her how much he loved her. Always, he would say, “I need you to love me.” Even the recollection of it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. “He would change, become like the real Mike again. He would tell me he loved me and how he couldn’t stand the thought of losing me. Then it would turn from something ugly in to what it used to be.”

  “Do you feel ashamed that you responded to him?”

  She nodded.

  “He was your husband, the man you loved. If your heart or even your body responded to him once he became tender and loving toward you, it would not seem so out of place to me. Maybe you wanted what used to be so desperately that you were willing to reach for it in that moment.” Shifting in his seat, he moved in closer to her. “Shame is something that keeps people in darkness, especially women. Your body responded how it had always responded to your husband. Determine this very moment that you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She nodded again, grasping his words as some new revelation that might ease her shame. “All I ever wanted was our old life back. When I could catch a glimpse of it or of the old him, I clung to it.”

  “This night was different, though?”

  “Yes. The tenderness never came. The way he looked at me, it was as if he did not see me at all, exactly as if he were looking at a stranger. At one point, he told me since I would no longer be on the Pill, he would do that to me every night until I got pregnant.” Closing her eyes, she placed her hand over her mouth, recalling how that terrified her. For a moment, she could not go on. What happened next was like a nightmare she could not shake. Finally, she whispered, “When he was finished, I said something really foolish, and I knew better.” Her heart began to beat rapidly at the memory of it and her breathing quickened.

  “What?”

  “I told him he had become his father. There could have been no crueler thing to say to him. When he was a little boy, his father used to beat his mother, him, and his little brother. When I said that, he snapped. He wrapped his hands around my throat and began choking me. Then he lifted me from the bed and held me against the wall with my feet dangling above the floor.” Stopping her narration, she looked at Chris. “You wanna know what I was thinking?”

  He nodded.

  “I kept thinking, ‘I hope I die so I won’t have to live this way anymore.’”

  Up until that point, Chris had been holding back his emotions and the tears that threatened to come. At her admission though, he stopped fighting them. He thought of the times she swam alone in the dark. Having lived so many years full of torment and anguish, no wonder relief seemed possible only in death. This was the woman he loved telling this story, not some stranger. This was the woman he would marry if God would only give him a miracle. For a moment, while she was quiet, he tried to regain his composure. Rubbing his face, he wiped his eyes with his fingers. His greatest desire was to hold her and somehow make her pain go away, if only that were possible.

  “Something happened. I don’t know. All of a sudden, he let go of me and jumped back as if he had been scalded. For some reason, one that I will never understand, he rushed from the bedroom. When I fell to the floor, I lay there gasping, trying to catch my breath. I could hear him in the kitchen throwing things and breaking them. It was then that I looked on the dresser and saw his holster with his gun.

  “I could barely stand, but somehow, I got up and went over to the gun. I took it out and turned off the safety. Though I hardly remember walking into the kitchen, next thing I know, I was standing there watching him bent over the sink vomiting. I waited until he stood up. When he turned around to face me, he didn’t seem at all surprised. I was holding the gun out, and it was shaking. I guess I never realized how heavy it was. He just stood there, looking at me. He never even made a move to stop me. There was something different in his eyes by that point, maybe resignation or regret, I’m not sure what.

  “Finally, I pulled the trigger. The sound of it was deafening. After the first shot, he looked down at his stomach, and then back at me. So I shot him again, and again. At that poi
nt, it was as if we both were moving in slow motion. He put his hand over his stomach and slumped to the floor. I dropped the gun and went for the phone. While we waited for the ambulance, I sat with him. He kept telling me how much he loved me.”

  Her expression was entirely blank, as if she were retelling a movie she had seen, rather than a scene she participated in. There were no tears or emotion. She simply retold the story in such detail, he was certain she must relive it often.

  Looking directly at him, she admitted, “I did it on purpose. He wasn’t coming after me. I meant to kill him.” She allowed the wicked truth to linger in the air between them. Self-defense was the term the police used, as did her parents and Emma, but the real truth was that she sought him out to kill him. Just before pulling the trigger, she could hear his words ringing in her head, he would get her pregnant. He was consumed by the thought of having another baby, but it was the one thing she would never allow.

  “Once we were taken to the hospital, I never saw him again – until he showed up here.”

  Having shot him, no wonder she thought he was coming to kill her. After hearing the story, he could view their encounter by the lake with new perspective. Understandably, she was hysterical, having waited years for his retaliation. He was broken, remorseful for the terrible things he had done to her. Even Emma’s actions took on a new dimension. She was prepared to kill Mike. Had he known the gruesome details, he might have felt the same way. “Can we stop now?” She stood, feeling unusually calm. “It’s in the light.”

  He stood too and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, Robin. It is in the light. Now, you have given God something to work with.”

  She sighed heavily. “I’m glad it is out. I have told that to no one, other than the investigator who came to my hospital room.”