AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tears welled. “He goes there sometimes. You can’t expect him to sit at home all the time.”
“And when he goes there, he drinks, then comes home and beats on you.”
“It isn’t like that. Not always.” Her voice had a sob in it. “He loves me.”
“His kind of love you don’t need,” Laura stated, then tried another tactic. “Gail, this isn’t good—not for you or your children.”
“I know, but”—this time she did sniffle back a sob—“if he could just find a job, everything would be all right again. I know it would.”
Personally, Laura had her doubts that a job would bring about an abrupt change in his behavior. Maybe with counseling it might in time, but she couldn’t see Mitchell ever agreeing to that, certainly not voluntarily. It was something a judge would have to order him to do; even then Laura suspected he wouldn’t be all that cooperative.
“I’m afraid you’re dreaming, Gail.” Exasperated with the woman’s loyalty, Laura gave up and reached for the mug. “More soup?”
In silence the woman downed a few more spoonfuls. “Where are the children? I can’t hear them.”
“In the kitchen having lunch. I went shopping,” Laura informed her, “and restocked your cupboards and refrigerator.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” But there was abject gratitude in the look she gave Laura. “We’ll pay you back as soon as we can.”
“Of course.” But Laura wasn’t about to hold her breath waiting for that day to come.
The woman started to take another sip of soup, then returned the spoon to the mug, and pushed aside the top sheet. “I think I’ll finish the rest of my soup in the kitchen with the children.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She swung her legs out of bed. “I’m fine.”
Laura couldn’t help wondering which one of them she was trying to convince. She waited while Gail changed into a pair of jeans and an oversized tee, then walked with her to the kitchen. The boy, Mike, was on his second hot dog when they arrived.
The little girl was more interested in the grapes on her plate than the hot dog. She was the only one to comment on her mother’s appearance, pointing to her face and saying, “Mama, owie.”
“Yes, Mama has an owie,” Gail confirmed and sat down at the table with them. She darted a self-conscious glance at Sebastian but avoided looking at Laura. “It was very good of you to help us like this. I’m sure there’s somewhere you should be, and it really isn’t necessary for you to stay. I can manage now, thanks to both of you.”
“We’ll go—on one condition,” Laura said, unmoved by the wary and slightly resentful look Gail Mitchell slid her way. “The next time it even looks like your husband is going to strike you, you call the police.”
“Our phone’s been disconnected.”
“That must make it a bit difficult for a prospective employer to contact your husband about a job,” Laura murmured, unable to resist getting in another jab.
“Laura is right,” Sebastian said gently. “Don’t subject yourself to another beating like this. The next time you could be seriously hurt. Get away from him however you can, and run to a neighbor or the tavern. But don’t remain here.”
“All right.”
But Laura had the feeling the woman was just saying that; she wouldn’t run from the house and leave her children behind. In her place, Laura wouldn’t, either.
Angered by the hopelessness of the situation, Laura turned to Sebastian. “We’d better go. Allie will be wondering where the strawberries are.”
Their leave-taking was brief. Chin high and temper simmering, Laura exited the house and struck out for the pickup parked at the street curb.
“There is only so much help you can give someone, Laura,” Sebastian said in that understanding voice of his.
She threw him a glare. “Don’t say another word,” she warned. “Or I’ll haul off and hit you just because you’re a man.”
Taking her at her word, Sebastian held his silence and climbed into the truck. After a stop at Fedderson’s to pick up the flat of strawberries, Laura pointed the pickup toward the Triple C headquarters, rolled the window down, and let the hot afternoon wind tunnel into the cab. She rested an elbow atop the opened window and combed a hand into her wind-whipped hair to keep its length out of her face while the pickup ate up the miles.
The speed and the big, empty land worked to unravel the high tension in her nerves. A long, slow sigh at last slipped from her.
“Is it safe to assume that your temper has cooled?” Sebastian queried in a dryly amused voice.
