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“Other than the wig, what else can we do to help?” Simone picks up her glass.
“I could use some help in figuring out how to get Violet and Sophie out of Oregon,” I tell them. “The women’s emergency shelters in the area are all full. Violet needs a safe place where she and Sophie can go and her husband can’t find her.” I look at each woman in turn, hoping one of them has a suggestion. “Her family lives in Portland, so she can’t go there. It will be too easy for Chief Wilson to locate her if she does.”
Jasper wanders over to Avery. She pets him behind the ear. “They won’t be able to travel out of Maple Ridge via public transportation. Someone is bound to recognize them and report them to the police.”
“We need something like what they did during the Second World War,” I say, “when downed Allied pilots tried to return to England. Escape lines through France led to the Pyrénées Mountains in Southern France, and the pilots hiked into Northern Spain and made their way to Portugal. The escaping pilots were passed from one helper to the next along the escape line until they got to the mountain range.”
“So the same idea as the Freedom Railway and the conductors who helped escaped slaves get to the north and Canada,” Zara adds. “That’s not a bad idea. But let’s hope this is easier to pull off than it was during the time of slavery and the Second World War.”
I’m not sure if it will be any easier or less dangerous than it was back then. There are more challenges now when it comes to disappearing and starting over.
“I can talk to some people I know about arranging potential safe houses,” Avery says.
Zara sweeps a cluster of thin braids behind her shoulder. “Same here. I have some connections in New Orleans who might be able to help us. Can’t get much farther away from Maple Ridge than that.”
I sag in partial relief, praying this will work and no one is caught in Chief Wilson’s web of terror. He won’t torture them like the Gestapo did when they captured and interrogated anyone they suspected working with the Allies, but he could easily destroy someone’s life if he really wanted to. “Thank you. You can’t begin to understand how grateful I am. How grateful Violet will be. Because of her husband, she’ll lose everything. I just want to make sure Sophie isn’t added to the list.”
Avery picks up a mini quiche from a plate in the center of the table. “Your husband. He’s the reason you’re so nervous around Noah, isn’t he?” She takes a bite.
I shift on the chair at the reminder of who her boyfriend is. “I know Noah isn’t my husband and I know he wasn’t responsible for me spending five years in prison, but I can’t help it. I’m working on it, but it’s not easy because I know he’s a cop…even when he isn’t in uniform. I just…cops make me extremely nervous.”
A small smile curves on Avery’s mouth, the sadness in her eyes giving away she’s not a stranger to some of what I’ve gone through. “I get it. My father was an alcoholic and focused most of his abuse on my mother. She was finally able to get away from him and took my sister and me with her. But it took her five attempts because every time we left him, she’d second-guess herself and return to him. I think she was as scared to be without him as she was with him.”
Avery puts the half-eaten mini quiche on her plate. “It’s never easy to escape an abuser…even when you have escaped them. But just so you know, Noah will never judge you because of your past. None of us will. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
Her words take some more of the weight I’ve been experiencing for too long from my shoulders. “Thank you. I’m taking my recovery one day at a time and figuring out who I am.”
Avery’s mouth melts into a wide smile. “It will come. I remember my mother went through the same thing. And eventually, each day was brighter than the last. She became the woman she’d always wanted to be. She went back to college and got her degree in social work and took art classes. Tons of art classes.” Avery makes a sound bordering on a giggle. “And now her house and studio are filled with paintings of nude men and women. It’s quite startling, actually. I’m looking forward to Noah’s face when he finally sees the place.” She laughs once more, and her laughter is contagious as we imagine his expression.
I brush away the tears that are the result of laughing so hard and opening up to the three women. And with each tear shed, the tension drains from my muscles, giving me a moment’s reprieve.
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I don’t feel so alone in my pain. Troy has been incredibly sweet and supportive. But this—what these women are doing, risking—is different. It’s heartwarming. Inspiring. I feel like I have sisters again. Sisters my parents never gave me. Sisters that I had in my best friend when I was younger—before that was taken away.
“Alright,” Zara says after we’ve recovered from laughing so hard. “Let’s get to work on getting Violet away from her husband.”
And we instantly sober at what we’re about to face.
48
Jessica
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
I enter the living room belonging to the parents of the bride and swallow back a yawn. A side effect of last night’s bad dream.
I survey the natural lighting. With the picturesque windows spanning the length of the wall, it’s perfect for the style of photos I’m aiming for. Light and airy. Magical.
The four bridesmaids, dressed in rose-colored gowns, are talking excitedly among themselves. Theresa’s father is sitting on the couch, sneaking in some Sunday afternoon football on TV. Katelyn isn’t in the room. She’s upstairs with Theresa.
Doing my best to be invisible, I shoot several candid photos of the bridesmaids laughing and smiling. And I sneak in a photo of the priceless expression on Anthony’s face as he watches his team score a touchdown. He’s wearing a tux, the bow untied, which only adds to the charm of the photo. It’s my favorite one I’ve shot so far today.
I open my mouth to plead for Anthony to change his mind about the festival sponsorship. But what am I going to say? Tell him he’s making a big mistake—that Chief Wilson is an abusive husband? It’s Theresa’s wedding day. He’s not going to want to discuss the sponsorship on his daughter’s big day.
I shut my mouth and go upstairs to Theresa’s old bedroom. Katelyn is there with her mom, fussing over the bride. She glances at me long enough to smile and returns her attention to Theresa’s veil. Em is also in the room, going over last-minute details with the trio.
