Page 41 of A Simple Life

“Bastard.”

“Yes. And as I found out, he simply enjoyed being mean. Nothing was ever his fault. Everyone around him was treated better at work. He had to work twice as hard to get half the recognition. He complained all the time. Chastised me every chance he got.” She paused. “And slept with a lot of other women. When I found out, he informed me it was my fault. If I was the wife he expected and deserved, he wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”

“Bullshit. You know he was full of it, right? The term narcissist comes to mind. He would tear you down to make himself feel superior.”

She laughed, the sound bitter. “He did it well. He had broken me down for years, constantly belittling me, chipping away at my confidence. Taking away my choices. He was first in everything. But he made one mistake.”

“Which was?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. I wanted to go find this bastard and beat the shit out of him.

“He made me a mother. Suddenly, I had someone to care for. A little baby I had to protect—one I loved more than anything in the world. I started questioning him. His motives. His thoughts. I hated the pristine, colorless world he forced us to live in. The cold house. The perfect image. He was horrified if he came home and Abby was fussy or messy. He even hated that I called her Abby, not Abigail, which he insisted she be referred to as.” She shook her head. “She was too little and sweet for that big name. I called her Abby when he wasn’t around. I’d make up songs with her name in them, and she loved them.”

She was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. “He picked on me all the time. If the house wasn’t in perfect order. If I didn’t look as if I walked off a runway. But I started fighting back. Arguing with him. Still, he had the upper hand. Everything I had was his. I had no money, no job, no experience. Not even a credit card of my own. I knew if I left, he would find me and bring me back. So, I fought to give Abby a normal life. It was as if I lived two separate lives. During the day, we dressed the way we liked. Went places. Had fun. When he was around, we were shadows. Always perfect.”

She stopped, gripping the worktable.

“Did he hit you, Quinn?” I asked, my voice tight.

“No, he used words. They didn’t leave marks.” She met my worried gaze. “They only leave scars.”

I knew what she meant. Unable to take the distance between us, I crossed the room, gathering her hands in mine. “What gave you the courage to walk?”

“Abby. I was tired of watching her light fade when he was around. She was only four and acted like an adult. I didn’t want that for her. He ignored us unless it was to yell or demand one of his stupid outings. We’d have to dress up and act like a happy family. There was an event he insisted we go to. Abby wasn’t feeling well, but he refused to listen. She wasn’t herself—listless and refusing to do as he demanded. We ended up leaving, and when he got home later, he ranted for hours. I told him I was done and wanted a divorce. He refused and we argued. He grabbed me and shook me really hard while yelling. He left bruises because he was holding me so tight and he shook me so roughly I had a headache for hours. It frightened me and I wondered how long until he lost his temper with Abby. How defenseless she would be if he shook her.” She swallowed, her voice shaky. “I couldn’t take that chance.”

I nodded, knowing this was the incident she’d been thinking about the other day. The thought of him hurting her made me furious, but I tamped down my anger so she would keep talking.

“When he left for work on Monday, I went to a lawyer and she helped me. The next week, I was gone. He found me fast, but I had people on my side now. For almost a year, he badgered me. I sold the car he’d given me. The fancy phone. The jewelry. Even most of the expensive clothes he’d insisted I had to wear went to a consignment shop. He was furious, but he’d put things in my name for tax purposes. I lived off that tiny nest egg I accumulated. We stayed in a small place. Took the bus and walked. I had a cheap, throwaway cell. I worked at the local diner. And I hadn’t been that happy in a long time. No one was constantly telling me what I was doing wrong. How much I’d let them down, time after time. I had my own thoughts and feelings. Abby could laugh. Scatter her toys. She was happy. I became Quinn again.” She tugged on her overall straps. “I wore what I liked, ate what I liked, and lived how I wanted. I rediscovered myself.”

I nodded encouragingly. “I like this rediscovered Quinn,” I murmured.

She smiled. “I like her too.”

“What happened?”

“He met the perfect woman, who was exactly like him. Then he couldn’t divorce me fast enough. He signed away his rights and gave me money to get me out of his life.” She sighed, her body suddenly slumping. I pulled her into my arms. “We moved here,” she murmured, her head resting on my chest.

“Jesus, I regret the way I acted with you,” I muttered, holding her tight. “I’ll regret that the rest of my life.”

“No, you were just you.” I felt her smile. “A grump. But I could see you were using it to keep people away, not because you were unkind.”

“I will never be a grump with you again.”

She tilted her head back, her eyes warm. “I think you’re kinda cute when you’re being a grump. But I do like the Farmer John Abby knows.”

“You know him too. Or at least, you’re beginning to.”

“I am.” She smiled. “I like him.”

I bent down, taking her mouth. “He likes you. Very much.”

We kissed sweetly. Softly. I drew back. I looked around the kitchen, wanting, needing to explain something to her. “I knew this place well,” I began.

“Oh?”

“Thelma Hopkins was a second mother to me even before I lost mine. I ate here a lot. She always helped me make up meals in the spring I could eat during the busy planting season. She’d drop off food from here all the time. Check on me. I could talk to her about everything. When she died, it was as if I lost my mom all over again.”

“Oh, John.”

“Meatloaf Monday was my favorite. She always made extra for me. I loved it cold on sandwiches.” I shrugged ruefully. “The thought of a newcomer arriving and taking over her place didn’t sit well with me. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”