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As the dogs and I draw closer to the bench seats, I notice a lone figure on one of them with a toddler on her lap. It’s Violet. Her shoulders are hunched as though the air has been knocked from her lungs. She looks…defeated.
“Hi, Violet.”
She startles, and her eyes go wide. I recognize the fear and the hollowness in them. The fear and hollowness that stared back at me in the mirror when I was still married.
Sophie spots the two dogs and reaches out to them, a toothy grin on her face.
My heart squeezes, remembering Amelia also responding the same way whenever she saw dogs. She would point her chubby little hand at them, giggle, and say, “Doggie!” in the sweetest voice.
Craig seems to be the opposite of his brother in so many ways, including his love for dogs. Amelia’s family has a dog. His brother—my late husband—despised them.
The memory of my dead husband sends a shiver creeping up my spine, its cold touch spreading through me. I scan the area, searching for signs that Violet, Sophie, and I aren’t alone. Searching for signs Chief Wilson is lurking in the shadows.
Once I’m certain he’s not here, I sit next to Violet and Sophie.
I don’t speak. I focus on my breathing and focus on my happy place. In the canoe. With Troy and the dogs. I imagine the soft splash of the paddles breaking free of the lake surface. I try not to let Violet’s reality pull me back under. Try to fight it so my own dark memories don’t drag me down too.
“You were right,” Violet says, her gaze directed away from where I’m sitting. “What you said in the store the other day. You were right. But you can’t tell anyone. He’ll hurt me if he finds out I told you.”
“Do you have anywhere you can go?”
She shakes her head, shame and fear twisting the corners of her mouth. “And even if I do try to leave him, he won’t let me. He has too many connections. He’ll track me down and kill me if I attempt to escape him.”
Those were the same words I’d told myself so many times during the worst points of my marriage. Shards of fear stab me. Fear for what Violet is going through. Fear I’ll never truly escape the damage my husband inflicted and I’ll never see Amelia again.
“My husband was a cop too,” I tell Violet. The little girl playing soccer with her family kicks the ball and it rolls across the grass toward the goal. Her father pretends to make an attempt to stop the ball. It rolls between the two pylons.
Pretending.
Pretending.
Pretending.
Sometimes there’s nothing wrong with pretending and make-believe. But sometimes…sometimes it’s a dangerous trap. “At first, I thought he was wonderful,” I tell her. “He seemed sweet and funny. It wasn’t until we’d been married for a year that things changed. Or maybe they’d been changing all that time, but by the time I noticed, it was too late.”
Violet nods as if she knows exactly what I mean, her gaze on the dogs by my feet.
“He used to beat me, rape me, demean me,” I continue, my mouth dry, the words scratchy. “It was a sport for him. When he forgot he shouldn’t bruise my face…those were the days I dreaded most. It meant I couldn’t leave the house. I wasn’t allowed to go out until after the bruises were healed. I know what it’s like to be trapped, Violet, thinking you’ll never escape the monster.”
She turns to me, and her expression…it’s as if she’s seeing her own reflection in my face. The same reflection I saw every morning in the mirror after my husband left for work.
But at the same time, there’s also a seedling of hope in her eyes. “But you did. You escaped him.”
I laugh, the aching sound hollow and humorless. “I’m not sure you ever truly escape the abuser. Yes, my husband is no longer physically in my life…or on this planet. But he still haunts my dreams. My thoughts. My actions. I’m seeing a therapist now. She’s helping me realize what happened wasn’t my fault. It was my husband’s fault. Every lash of his tongue, every punch, kick, hit—it was all on him. You don’t have to live like this, Violet. But I also know you can’t do it alone. You need help to escape him.”
She scoffs. “Easier said than done. I have a child. He’ll never let me take her, and there’s no way I can leave her behind.”
“I get it. I really do. He’s using her as a pawn. My husband did the same with my daughter.” My voice cracks, the splinters rough against my throat, and my gaze drops to my lap.
“You have a daughter? Where?”
“Seattle. But she’s no longer mine. Not legally anyway.” I shelve the pain and think about the bedroom I hope Amelia might see one day. Once it’s renovated. “My husband was murdered. I have no idea who killed him, but the evidence pointed at me. I was sentenced to twenty-five years. I thought I’d never see her again, and I didn’t want her to be ashamed her mother was thought to be a cop killer. I wanted her to finally have the new life I had promised her so many times when I’d dreamed of escaping my husband. So I gave her up for adoption to one of my husband’s brothers.” I describe the family dynamics between the two men, and how Craig had been estranged from the family, which is why I trusted him with my daughter.
“She’s in a loving home with all the opportunities I could never give her,” I explain. “I miss her so very much. But she likely doesn’t know I exist. And if one day I do get to see her, she’ll never know I’m her biological mother and I love her more than I can bear. No one in Maple Ridge knows about her, and it needs to stay that way.” A plead threads through my words, begs for Violet to understand my wish to keep my daughter a secret.
She nods.
I cover her hand with mine, wishing that was all it would take to protect Violet from her monster. “I don’t want you to go through what I did. I don’t want you to lose your daughter like I lost mine.”
