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“How’s your leg?”
“It’s an older injury.”
Jake throws his head back.
“How’re the baby’s movements?”
“Good.” Her voice is wobbly. “She’s moving right now.”
“That’s good.” A wave of relief washes over me. She glances to the ground, and I catch her attention by snapping my fingers. I don’t want to be rude, but she’s in shock, and she’ll begin to wonder, diving into the darkest places of her mind. “Eyes on me,” I remind her. I lower my voice, mindful of little ears. “Did he kick?”
She shakes her head. “He was drinking.”
So, his words were nasty, but the power behind his punch wasn’t the same.
If this is what he does to her when he’s drunk, I don’t want to imagine his temper when he’s sober.
“We should get you to a hospital,” Jake interjects.
She shakes her head frantically, tightening her grip on her little girl’s hand while the other protects her bump. “No. I can’t, Jake. He’ll find me. You know he will. He knows too many people.”
Every word and tear is desperate.
“No hospital,” I agree, ignoring how Jake is shooting daggers through the side of my head. “We’re going to get you settled at the shelter. I’ll call our nurse and she will check you out. But Beth, if she feels like you need a hospital, then I will have to insist.”
Her hallow eyes connect with me, and for a moment, I swear, she sees it. She sees history repeating itself.
“Okay.”
Her stare averts, but I quickly snap it back. Her chin quivers as I twirl my fingers in the little girl’s hair. Beth doesn’t break eye contact.
I dig the tip of my finger into her arm. “You feel that?”
She nods again.
“You’re not back there. You’re here. You’re safe.” She chews her raw lip, and the tears falling from her chin are as heavy as the rain. “Did he hurt her?”
I don’t need to look at the little girl. She knows what I’m talking about because a mother always knows.
“Not physically.”
Ice cold air fills my lungs, escaping in a cloud because I know.
I get it.
He hasn’t touched her, yet, he has all at once.
I try not to react when she reaches out and takes my hand in a grip so tight, I almost flinch.
Jake rushes to grab the umbrella and ushers us back to the car.
Her hand remains in mine as I guide both her and her daughter into the back seat, but even then, she doesn’t let go, so I don’t force it. I slip into the back seat with them, aware of Jake’s careful watch in the rear-view mirror. They both fall asleep, and I call our nurse.
I also call security and let them know we’ll be arriving through the back door. I don’t want the children to see. I ask if Mia can be there when we arrive.
She’ll know what to do.
I may relate to Beth, but I haven’t been there. Not in the same way.
