Tim pulled out a chair across from Beau. He folded his hands on the table. He moved a box of tissues closer to Beau. “Beau, you might want to put that on the back burner for a while. Let the dust settle...”
“And leave her defenseless against a man who kicks her in the face? Kicked her in the face, Tim! She took some stitches in her lip and it’s about as big as my thumb.”
“This can get way more complicated. She’s a battered wife...”
“She won’t quite admit that because this is the first time he slugged her and kicked her, but we talked about the abuse. He talks down to her, tells her she’s a liar and a loser and has this ugly little habit of pinching her, hard, leaving her arms speckled with small bruises. But this...” He sniffed again. “This demonstrates what he’s really capable of doing.”
“And trust me, he wouldn’t mind doing it to you.”
Beau’s face took on a mean twist. “Bring it,” he said darkly.
“You should step away. Find her some good resources and step away,” Tim said. “Help her get safe, and walk.”
“Too late,” Beau said. “I can’t do that now. I won’t do that now. I know what you’re saying but tough shit. I dare that bastard to—”
Tim whistled. Long and loud and high. “This is starting to sound eerily familiar...”
“Pamela was never battered,” Beau said.
“Not physically, which kind of amazes me,” Tim said. “She’s the most aggravating and dysfunctional woman I know, and I know some beauts. Even I wanted to belt her sometimes.”
“Now you’re going to hell,” Beau predicted. “There are many differences between Pamela and Lauren. Many.”
“Oh hell, you’re not objective! You’re a rescuer! You always have been. When we were kids you tried to help the dorks wear their socks right so they wouldn’t get picked on. You stood up for the little guys and took a few shots for it. You took the ugliest girl in school to the prom!”
“She wasn’t ugly,” he said. “And that group of bitches set her up to get dumped right before prom and how could I let that happen, knowing? Besides, she was really nice. And smart. That’s probably why they hated her.” He blew his nose. “Lauren is really smart.”
“This isn’t going to end well,” Tim said.
“I think we kind of need each other right now,” Beau said.
“Oh Christ,” Tim swore. “Listen, you can tell her, you know. You can be honest. Tell her you really like her but things like this usually backfire, so you’re going to help her find the right protection, counseling, security system, whatever it is. And then you’re going to step away until these matters of divorce get settled. Including yours. And then you can revisit the idea of spending more time together.”
“Yeah, that would be really smart,” Beau said.
“Hallelujah!”
“That’s just not going to do it for me,” Beau said. “I want to be the one to help keep her safe. Be with her. Know her better.”
“Oh God,” Tim said. “I’m almost drowning in the testosterone here, could you ease back on that? I’m a priest. I try to keep the male hormone under control... Are you perfectly hopeless?”
“I hope not,” he said. “I’m not as pathetic as you think.”
“What if I told you it might be better for her if you backed way off?”
“She wanted me to help. She had other people to call, even a brother-in-law cop, but she was glad I was there.” He shrugged. “She likes her brother-in-law and didn’t want him to commit murder.”
“Well, I knew the second I met her, she’s a very giving and kind woman...”
“I gave her a baseball bat, just in case...”
Tim couldn’t help it. He let go a little huff. Then he burst out laughing. “You haven’t changed one bit in all these years.” He shook his head. “I’m going to be on my knees a lot over you, you know that, don’t you? Why don’t I pay her a visit? I’ll wear the collar. I’ll carry a bible. But I’m still pretty tough if anything comes up. I could be her protector until things—”
“Maybe when she feels better,” Beau said. “Give her a little time, then by all means, lend your very fine clerical support.”
Tim just shook his head. “They didn’t write enough prayers for you.”
“I know.” He stood up. “I’m really glad we had this little talk.”
“I made coffee,” Tim said.
“I have to go to the store, get Lauren some soft things to eat, some more frozen peas to put on her face. And I should talk to Drew...”
* * *
Lauren hadn’t spoken to her daughters, though she called both of them. She left them messages to call her back. She called her lawyer and emailed the video and was forced to take a selfie because Erica Slade demanded it. “I’ll come over there and take one myself,” she threatened. She was still on the phone with Erica as she received the selfie and listened to the tape. Erica gasped. “Don’t leave the house!” she said. “Keep the doors locked! I’m going to get the arrest report and find a judge. You’ll have a restraining order by noon. I’m going to pin this bastard’s ears back!”
“You’re kind of terrifying,” Lauren said.
“Terrifying is what you need right now, since you’ve been pounded into mush. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be in touch.”
Lauren made one other call, hoping it had not been a mistake to involve another person in her drama. She called Divine Redeemer and asked to speak to Father Tim. He was very surprised to hear from her and she sensed a little hesitation in his voice, but he offered to help in any way he could. “There is something I could use help with, if you have the time. I need to talk with you about Beau.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make time.”
Lacey knocked on her door at ten in the morning. Her beautiful Lacey, wearing white summer jeans, torn in all the most fashionable places, a fitted tee that showed her midriff, tall, lean and tan all over.
“I can’t believe you,” Lacey said before she said hello. “You sent him to jail?”
Well, that explained one thing. Brad had called his favorite daughter.
“I called for medical assistance and the police came. They took him to jail. But thanks for your concern.”
“He said your new boyfriend did this!”
Lauren made a sound that was almost a distorted laugh. “Please, it hurts to laugh.” She pulled her phone out and clicked on the ring icon. She turned the volume up so Lacey could hear her father snarling at her and then slapping her, hitting her, calling her a whore. Lauren winced at the sound of her own begging, whimpering.
The look on Lacey’s face illuminated her shock. Her pretty mouth hung open. Her eyes welled with tears. “This is fake,” she said. “This must be fake. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
“He has always lied. He’ll say anything.”
“Tell me the truth, Mama—did you fake this?”
“Oh for God’s sake! Of course not! The police arrived within five minutes of when I called them. This is a closed circuit security camera. I showed the officer and paramedic. The officer emailed himself the video and they arrested your father for battery domestic violence.”
“You could have told them he’s not like that.”
“He is like that! And they didn’t take him to jail because I told them to—that’s the law!”
“I lived in that house! He didn’t beat you!”
“Honestly, Lacey! Do you think I’m getting a divorce because he adored me and treated me with love and respect?”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Oh my God, of course not!” She split her lip open and a little trickle of liquid ran down her chin. She wiped at it thinking it was drool, but it was bright red. She went for a towel in the kitchen. Holding the towel against her chin, tears rolled down her cheeks. “The man is a neighbor, a man I met months ago in the Divine Redeemer gardens and again at the Andy’s kids fund-raiser. Your father met him, too. I ran into him at the market and we discovered we both live in the neighborhood. He hung some shelves for me and I bought him a beer and sliders to thank him. He’s a friend. He’s kind and honest and helpful. But I’m sure this face and the presence of a violent husband will end the friendship.” She went to the freezer for an ice cube. She pressed it to her lip. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Lacey was sitting on the sofa, weeping quietly. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just manage the way you always have.”
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears that rolled down her cheeks. She just shook her head. She had longed for a husband who would tenderly hold her, comfort her, especially after her babies were born. She had craved kindness and love, praise for everything she did to keep him happy. Appreciation. She’d learned how not to admit how lonely it was in that house sometimes. Lauren and a couple of babies, her husband either away or finally home but angry.
“You can think about that awhile and maybe you’ll come up with an answer,” Lauren said.
“I know you’d get impatient with him, but—”
“Impatient? Oh Lacey... If he didn’t have his way all the time, he was intolerable. Just avoiding his abuse was a full-time job!”
“He didn’t abuse you!”
“He called me a liar! He kept telling me I was poor and uneducated, that I was weak and stupid! He inflicted pain! He could be a monster!”
“But he was also good to you!” Lacey argued.
“By allowing me to live in a big house? Wear good clothes? Take vacations?” Lauren went to the sofa and sat beside her daughter.
“Lacey, I love you. I have always loved you so much. I did everything I could to make your life good. But there are some things you understand, whether you’ll admit them or not. You know there have been endless arguments, temper tantrums from your father that made us all want to run and hide. You know that as often as he was nice, he was mean. He was demanding, he was bitter and angry. He’s been sued by employees twice! You know I haven’t slept in the same room with him for years. And now you know—he kicked me in the face! If you think I’m going to cower and give him another chance, you have lost your mind. And if you’re going to find a way to excuse him, that’s going to be your problem.”