Falling Like Snowflakes (24 page)

He remembered the way she'd pushed him off her in the barn. She'd been afraid of him. Where had that come from? Not a father with agoraphobia.

“Can I ask you something?”

She looked away. “You can ask.”

“Who hurt you?”

She turned back, giving him a long look.

“The way you reacted in the barn a few weeks ago . . . that's the reaction of an abused woman.”

She turned away, staring at the TV for a long, quiet minute. “I wasn't abused. Not really.”

“That's an ambiguous statement.”

She kept watching the TV as the news came back on. Her breathing had accelerated, and her hands fidgeted in her lap. He waited her out.

“My husband didn't hit me, if that's what you're thinking,” she said finally.

“Then what did he do?”

She curled her arms around her body protectively.

Had anyone protected her ever? She seemed so independent, so capable. But if things were as bad as he thought, she had to be scared. He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he'd be the one. He'd keep her safe. But she wouldn't welcome that.

“My husband and I—we didn't have a normal marriage, except maybe in the beginning.”

“What happened?”

She shook her head. “I was young and stupid and desperate to get out of the house. I met him when he came to town for some kind of ER training.”

“He was a doctor?”

She nodded. “He wore a suit, and he was kind, and every time he smiled at me my pulse would race. One day he asked me to have dinner with him, and I did. I sneaked out of the house after my dad was asleep. I started sneaking out a lot.

“I felt so free those nights. We eloped a few months later—I knew my dad would never approve. After we were married we moved to Antonio's hometown. Dad was devastated. I felt terrible for leaving him, but I just needed to be free of that trailer so badly. But as the months went on I began to realize I wasn't free at all. I'd fallen for a man who just wanted someone to control.”

“Why didn't you leave him?”

She gave a short laugh. “I tried. But by then we'd had Jack. He threatened to take my son away.”

“You have rights.”

“Not in that county. He was very rich and had a lot of clout with all the right people. He could've made it happen, and I couldn't stand the thought of losing my son. I was trapped.”

“Right back where you started.”

“In so many ways.”

“That still doesn't answer my question.”

She looked at him, as if not remembering what it was.

“How did he hurt you?”

Even the darkness couldn't hide the shame that washed over her face. She lowered her head, sank deeper into the couch.

“You can tell me anything. It won't go any further.”

“I don't like talking about it.” Her voice was a thready whisper.

“Have you
ever
talked about it?”

She met his eyes, shaking her head.

He let the silence play out a minute before he spoke. “Kate . . . whatever he did to you—you didn't deserve it. You're a wonderful person, a terrific mom. You're special, and you deserve to be treated that way. I hope you know that.”

In the background the news moved on to weather, but Beau couldn't take his eyes from Kate and the emotions washing over her face, the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“I thought he was the answer to all my prayers—my knight in shining armor. At first I noticed he was a little controlling and obsessive about certain things like our schedule and where things should be put away. But then we started arguing. He insisted on a maid, and I preferred to take care of my own home. He didn't want me to work, and I was bored. I thought having a child might help,
and he agreed. But as soon as Jack was born, he wanted me to hire a nanny.” She shook her head. “I wouldn't give in. No one else was going to raise my son. I wanted to be with him every moment.”

He remembered the soulful way Jack had called for his daddy after the car had backfired. “What kind of father was he?”

“Better than you'd think. He was busy with work, but he made time for . . . Jack. As Jack got older I started doing some work from home—designing websites for small, local businesses. I didn't tell my husband, and when he found out, he was furious. He demanded I give it up. That was the last straw for me. I threatened to leave.”

She shuddered. Her hand fell to the pillow between them. “He made it very clear that if I left I'd never see my son again. And I believed him. I'd seen him at work, all the hospital politics. He was ruthless. After that things were tense. There was no relationship, no tenderness or kindness.”

“What about friends? Wasn't there anyone you could count on?”

She gave a rueful smile. “My old friends were long gone. He didn't like them. And my new friends—it was hard keeping up a front that everything at home was okay. If someone befriended me, asked me to go to lunch, I'd just make excuses. It was easier that way. Eventually they gave up.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It was. I walked on eggshells all the time, worrying about upsetting him. If anything went wrong it was my fault—at least, that's what he said. And when someone says that enough, you believe it. You don't feel capable of making good decisions or even thinking straight. I lost a little piece of myself each day. He used to remind me all the time of the Proverbs 31 wife. He let me know how short I fell.”

“What about him? What about a husband loving his wife the way Christ loved the church?”

“He never talked about that.”

“I'll bet he didn't.”

Her fist tightened on the pillow. Her breaths came more rapidly. “He also insisted that—that I owed him for all he did for me. I wasn't working, after all, and I was living in his gorgeous house. I was wearing designer clothes he paid for and having dinner at the country club on a membership he'd bought, and I was traveling to Europe on his dime. But all I wanted was my son and my freedom.

“He had ways of threatening me to get what he wanted. And even though we no longer had a real relationship, he wanted . . . other things to stay the same. He called it my ‘wifely duty.' ”

Beau's gut twisted hard. Anger welled up inside, burning hot toward a cruel man who was dead and deserved to be. He took a deep breath, forcing it down.

He set his hand on hers. “Kate . . . I'm sorry.”

She turned to him, tears and shame shimmering in her eyes. “And so I did it,” she whispered. “Every Saturday like clockwork. For month after month after month, I did exactly what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.”

He drilled her with a look. “It's not your fault, Kate. That's called rape.”

“He was my husband.”

“That doesn't give him the right to force you.”

“He didn't hold a gun to my head.”

“Didn't he? If he'd followed through on those threats it would've killed you.”

“The week before he died, I found out he'd been cheating on me with a nurse at the hospital.”

Heat flushed through Beau as he worked hard to hold back a
few choice words. He wished the guy were still alive so he could beat him to a pulp.

Her fist tightened under his hand. She lifted her chin and laughed, but there was no humor in it. “No man will ever touch me like that again.” Her firm voice wobbled as she blinked back the tears.

“No man should ever touch you against your will.”

Her body was stiff, the line of her shoulders taut, her arm flexed. She was a bottle of soda, capped and shaken, ready to explode. He wanted to ease off the lid and let out the pressure. But how?

“You don't have to be so strong all the time,” he said.

Her chin wobbled as she fought for control.

“A lot has happened to you. Things you didn't deserve. It's okay to just let go.”

She shook her head. “If I do that I'll never stop.”

“It only feels that way. You're still blaming yourself for what happened, aren't you?”

Her lip trembled, and she caught it between her teeth.

“It wasn't your fault. You're a good mom. You did what you had to do to keep your son. Your husband was the only one at fault.”

A tear got loose, tumbling down her cheek. Another followed. Her face started to crumble. She covered it with both hands, and a sob broke free.

His heart cracked in two. He wished he knew what to say. Wished he could fix it. He touched her arm, and when she didn't flinch away, he gently tugged her. “Come here, Kate.”

She resisted only a few seconds before giving in. She fell limply toward him until her head hit the pillow on his thigh, her hands still covering her face. Sobs wracked her body.

An ache opened up inside him, yawning wide. He couldn't
imagine how hard her life must have been. How broken her spirit must have become. She was drowning in guilt and shame, and he wanted to take off her shackles and set her free. But that wasn't his job.

God, release her.

He ran his fingers through her hair. So soft. She trembled against him.

“That's it, Kate. Just let it all go.”

Her grief was so real and big. What kind of man treated a woman that way? As if she were a possession to take at will. It disgusted him. It made him want to put his fist through a wall. But that wouldn't help Kate. He wasn't sure even this was helping. It was breaking his heart. That was for sure.

“You're going to be okay,” he whispered. “You'll see.”

He continued to run his fingers through her hair, whispering whatever came to mind. When he wasn't talking, he was praying for her. When her sobs settled into a soft cry, he let his head fall against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

Chapter 26

S
omething tugged Eden from a sound sleep. She kept her eyes closed, fighting the pull of morning. She was warm and toasty and . . . lighter somehow. Her breaths lengthened as oblivion drew her deeper into its embrace.

A creaking noise sounded above her. Why was there creaking over her head? She was on the top floor.

Her eyes cracked open, blinking against the morning light. They fell on the fireplace, the coffee table. A jean-clad knee.

The night before came rushing back, and her breath froze in her lungs. She'd fallen asleep. On Beau's lap. Why hadn't he awakened her?

She heard only faint, steady breathing. Overhead another creak sounded. Micah must be up and moving about.

She had to get up. Preferably without waking Beau. The mortification of last night's confession and her subsequent breakdown came crashing down on her. Why had she told him all that—her deepest shame laid out bare. But she couldn't process last night. She had to deal with now.

She assessed the situation. A blanket was draped over her, the knitted afghan that always rested on the sofa back. One of her hands was tucked beneath her cheek, the other under Beau's thigh. They'd shifted in the night, and one of his legs was stretched out alongside her. He'd fallen asleep against
the
arm of the sofa, and she was wedged between his leg and the sofa back. The weight of his hand rested on her shoulder.

She turned her head slowly . . . and met Beau's sleepy brown eyes.

“Morning.” His voice was morning gruff.

She pulled her hand from his thigh and bolted upright, drawing the afghan to her chest as if she weren't fully dressed in yesterday's clothing.

“You fell asleep,” he said.

“You should've woken me,” she croaked.

His lips tilted in a sideways smile. “I would've except I fell asleep too.”

“You probably have a terrible crick in your neck.”

“I slept great, actually. You?” Had his voice always been so deep and yummy?

She remembered the way she'd wept all over him. He probably had a lifetime of snot and tears all over his jeans. Her face heated. What had gotten into her? She never did that. Never just let loose like that. She had to hold it together. If she didn't, who would?

Though she had to admit, she'd slept like a baby.

The floor creaked overhead. She tossed the afghan aside and leapt to her feet. “Jack's up. I'd better get him ready for church.”

She ran up the steps before he could reply.

Sheriff Colton joined Beau and Aunt Trudy in the foyer after church. “Afternoon, Beau. Trudy.”

Beau clasped his hand. “Colton. Good to see you.”

Aunt Trudy lifted her chin. “Sheriff.” She looked out the window where yesterday's snow swirled in a glittering spiral.

“You should join us for dinner,” Beau said. “Aunt Trudy's got a roast in the Crock-Pot.”

The sheriff's eyes glanced off Aunt Trudy. “Ah, wish I could. I do love your cooking, ma'am. But I'm on duty in a few minutes. My deputy had a family emergency.”

“I'd better go see what's keeping Kate,” Aunt Trudy said, excusing herself.