“Oh, now, Mary Lou, it wasn’t your best one.”
“It’s the principle, Sam. Chief Keller asked us what you’re asking. We had to tell him what we’re telling you. We’ve never heard or seen anything that looks like he’s physically abusing her. But I’ve looked out the window upstairs, seen her out hanging wash, crying while she did. “She’s not the girl I knew back when she was ten, twelve. She’s not that girl. It’s breaking her mama’s heart. Her mama, as good a woman as I know, isn’t welcome over there. Her sister either. Not since she lost the baby, and not much before that either.” “The Drapers are hard people,” Sam added. “We steer clear, and never had any trouble to speak of until the boy built that house. I’d give him the damn land at this point, but Mary Lou won’t hear of it.” “I will not. You give in to a bully, they find something else to bully you over.” “You’ve got that right,” Zane agreed. * * * He stewed and chewed over it a bit longer, then found himself telling Darby. She listened over a beer on his back patio. “I met Traci’s sister at Best Blooms. Joy introduced us. Allie was in there looking for a hanging basket for her mom for Mother’s Day, and Joy asked how Traci was doing. Apparently she used to work for Joy in the busy season.” “I didn’t know that.” “Allie just said she didn’t see much of her. It struck me she would’ve said more if I hadn’t been there, so I wandered off. They talked for a while. It sounds to me like the classic separation tactic.” Shifting, she looked at Zane directly. “So this is what’s been on your mind. I figured it must be some legal wrangle you couldn’t talk about, but it’s not. Why didn’t you tell me before?” “They’re not clients, so there’s no privilege, but…” He waggled a hand in the air, and she pointed at him. “Not it.” “Not altogether.” “Some elements are similar to what happened to me. The separation gambit, for instance. Did you think it would upset me to talk about an abused spouse? Because you’re right, she’s being abused. If it’s not physical, it’s certainly emotional.” “I had concerns there, yeah. It’s always under there, right? And those memories, the feelings are so easily triggered. I didn’t want to trigger yours.” “You, obviously, look to protect. It’s your nature. I object to being protected. I have to. It’s a survivor trait. On the issue of abuse and triggers, I’m solid. My experience was, thankfully, short-lived, and I came out of it smarter and stronger.” “Can’t apologize for my nature.” “Nope, me neither. But if we’re in a relationship…” Tipping her head, she gave him a long look. “Would you say we’re in a relationship?” “It has all the earmarks thereof.” “‘Thereof’—lawyer.” She smiled, sipped. “In that case, this is just the sort of troubling event we should be able to talk about. Now, would you like my take on the troubling event?” “I would.” “From what you’ve said, it sounds as if Clint was raised to believe men are in charge, and superior. Women are meant to do what they’re told, tend the house, have children. She was pregnant—probably why they got married in the first place. Now she’s not. Whether or not he had anything to do with her losing the baby—and my money’s on he did—she failed in one of her duties. She’s cut off from her family and surrounded by his and their particular culture.” “She could walk away,” Zane pointed out. “Her family’s right here. So’s the law. I know it’s not as simple as that, but—” “It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. Yes, she’s an adult—you weren’t. Yes, she has family, she has support if she reaches for it. But—” She sighed, heartfelt and long. “After Trent, part of my therapy was group sessions. Jesus, Zane, the stories I heard. Women who’d stayed for years. Women who got out, then went back, again and again.” “Revolving door,” Zane said. “That’s what we called it.” “But it wasn’t because they wanted to be hurt, not because they were weak. It was because they’d been beaten down emotionally, spiritually, mentally. Because they were caught in a cycle. Abused by a parent, now a spouse. Or because they believed he’d changed, convinced by him or themselves it wouldn’t happen again. Or if it did, they deserved it. And some, because they had nowhere else to go.” “I know it. I prosecuted my share of batterers. Just like I know I can’t help Traci Draper, Lee can’t help her, her family can’t help her, until she steps across the line and asks.” “And you want to help,” she concluded. “Even need to help. So it pisses you off you can’t help.” “Oh yeah. And since it does, let’s put it away. Put it the hell away. Let’s call Britt, have her bring Silas and Audra and Molly up, hang out.” Darby cocked an eyebrow. “And what do you plan to feed them? It’s unlikely they’ve had dinner yet.” “Uh … delivery?” Darby shook her head. “Big, beautiful grill right there. And if you wait until tomorrow, you could ask your whole family, use that grill—having picked up red meat. And your back wall will not only be finished, but planted.” “Not as spontaneous.” “No. But…” She rose, skirted the table, straddled his lap. “We could try a different kind of spontaneity.” “We could.” He watched, a little stupefied, when she peeled off her shirt. “Here? But it’s—” “A really pretty evening,” she finished, and took his mouth with hers.