The Good Father (17 page)

With one exception. She hadn’t been able to see the possibility that he could one day turn violent. Something that had, at least partially, ended their marriage.

He lost faith in her ability to hear his truth. She knew about his upbringing, of course. Understood and sympathized. And was completely certain he only suffered from abuse-based fear, not from the same latent violent tendencies that had struck his dad.

Her refusal to see, to believe in the possibility, had made it impossible for him to continue to share those fears with her. She gave them no credence. They fell on deaf ears...

But as good as she was at putting herself in other people’s shoes, she’d never seemed to figure out, or understand, that if he opened up and gave her all of the emotions he kept in check, all of the passion and the love and the joy, he’d also risk exposing her to the shadowy side of all of that. The anger that had lurked inside his father just waiting for a life challenge that was too big for him to handle to trigger it. And could possibly lurk inside him, too.

The tension that had built within him during the repeated fertility treatments had been a sign to him. He’d thought, at first, that he was experiencing the normal reactions most couples in their situation experienced. He’d only realized, after Ella finally got pregnant, and he couldn’t share in her joy, that his tension stemmed from something else. He wasn’t prepared to be a father. Wasn’t willing to have a child, as his parents had, knowing that at some point, he could turn from a loving father into a monster...

Ella wasn’t aware of the danger. But he was.

“I saw the bruises, Brett.” Ella’s voice was completely different now. Soft. Almost pleading. And a shock to him, following on his thoughts...

“Chloe told me she was bruised when she came here.” He gentled his voice, as well. Because Jeff and Chloe—they didn’t fit the pattern of abuse. They were just a normal couple. “She said she fell into a doorjamb during the last argument. He’d said something to her about bombarding him with her crap and pushed past her just as she was stepping back away from him...”

Breaking eye contact, Ella took a sip of her wine. Watched as the couple at the next table, the older woman who’d stared when Ella raised her voice, paid their bill and left.

“They had a victim at the Stand a while back,” Brett said. “She was young. Fifteen. She claimed that her brother had hit her. More than once. He was older, about our age. The brother had raised her from infancy...”

He had Ella’s full attention again.

“He claimed that he’d never touched her. And that he wouldn’t ever do so. There was no indication through medical or school records that there’d ever been an issue with him. Or her, either, for that matter. But it was clear to Sara and Lila and others that the girl was afraid of her brother. And that she’d been abused. Charges were going to be pressed against him, on her behalf. He stood to lose custody of her. And would have, if not for one person, an attorney, who believed him enough to do some checking on her own.”

“You said
would have
. I’m guessing that means he wasn’t charged?”

“He didn’t abuse her. There were other things going on. He’d lied to his siblings about his past. His little sister found out his secret at the same time she witnessed something else that weakened her trust in him. She felt angry. Afraid. And had to get away from him.”

“But he’d never hurt her?”

“More like he was father-of-the-year material.”

“But her distress was valid.”

She was getting it.

“Yes.”

“You’re saying that you think something else could be going on here with Jeff and Chloe.”

“I’m saying I believe Jeff when he tells me he’s not abusing his wife. I also know he doesn’t fit the profile. He’s never been involved in any sort of violent activity. He’s never shown signs of having a temper or anger issues. He comes from a good, loving family. Your folks were respectful of you both. And still are.”

Other than being gone more than they were around. Traveling through North America as full-time RVers, working in various parks as they went, going on their eighth year now.

“He doesn’t have an alcohol problem, has an easygoing disposition and is financially secure. He’s socially adept, confident and is clearly devoted to his family.

“All of this leads me to believe that something else is going on here.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, like Jeff thinks, Chloe
is
suffering from depression. She went from being a career person, managing a restaurant with the hopes of owning her own someday, to being a stay-at-home mom.”

“That was her choice. Jeff was happy to support whichever decision she made, to stay at home or keep working.”

“And maybe it was the choice she wanted to make, the one that she believes is best, but it’s an enormous life change. There could be some residual depression involved. And maybe subconsciously, Jeff is reacting to that. Maybe he’s more irritable with her because of it, which feeds her feeling that his anger with her is escalating...”

“I know that she loves her work at the Stand,” Ella said. “She’s exhausted, but clearly enjoys what she’s doing.”

Ella paused and then asked, “Did you ever meet him?”

He frowned. Wondering what he’d missed.

“The brother you were talking about. Guardian to the fifteen-year-old resident at the Stand.”

“Of course not. I have nothing to do with any of that. You know that.”

“You still get the reports.”

“Yes.” The place was his responsibility. Others did the work, but ultimately the buck stopped with him. He had to read the reports.

Ella nodded and sat back as their vegetable tray was delivered with a chrome bowl filled with dip in the middle of it.

As soon as her hors d’oeuvres plate was in front of her, she filled it. He watched, knowing before she reached where her fingers were going to land. Carrots, celery, broccoli and cauliflower. No peppers. Ever. The cucumbers weren’t peeled.

She passed them by just as he’d expected.

He paid attention. And when his study—of life, of situations, of people—presented choices, he made the one that made the most sense.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

B
RETT POURED HIMSELF
a little more wine and topped off Ella’s glass, too, though neither of them had had much to drink, and looked out over the street of homes below them. Provincial, large and in pristine condition, the old Victorian homes stood tall and proud. And yet, intrinsically vulnerable, as well. To the weather coming in off the ocean. To a modern-day society that wanted everything to be new.

Homes that were similar to his own.

The plumbing was a challenge. Electricity had had to be rewired to be up to code and still had hiccups now and then. But there was affection in knowing the home’s eccentricities so well. Security and a kind of beauty that couldn’t be created overnight. Or purchased.

Like good art, he could enjoy their value.

And like good art, he could enjoy a moment sipping wine with a woman who, while young, had the wisdom of age and wore her value beautifully.

“You had a rough day today.” The words came as she was down to her last stick of celery. He’d shied away from personal conversation. But he was confident that they were on the same road where Jeff and Chloe were concerned, which to him meant that getting her to agree to the plan was no more than a formality at this point.

A presentation and acceptance that would end their meeting.

Taking a short breather from the business at hand was perfectly acceptable. Maybe even advisable to further the good working relationship they were establishing.

He wished he’d held his tongue as the shadows came back over her face. Why did he have such a propensity for hurting her? Almost as though it came naturally to him.

Old feelings of guilt and frustration filled him. Panic would follow. He knew the way it worked. Brett reached for a carrot. Took a sip of wine. Distracted himself long enough for the sensations to pass.

“I’m assuming you’ve read the emails,” Ella said while he was busy tending to himself.

“I haven’t seen anything since first thing this morning,” he told her. “As soon as the day’s meetings were over I headed to the hospital and then here.”

“Your mother didn’t text you?”

“No.” Pulling out his phone to check for any missed communication, he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Lila must not have been in touch with her yet,” Ella said. “It’s not like it’s an emergency as far as the Stand is concerned. Not like we can do anything, and if we all got in 911 mode for every at-risk woman we dealt with, we’d never get out...”

“El...” He reached forward and touched her hand. As he’d done a million times before when she thought out loud before letting him know what was going on.

Getting ahead of herself, he’d always called it.

“I got ahead of myself, didn’t I?”

Every nerve in his system tightened as she voiced the words running silently through his mind.

“It’s Nora Burbank,” she continued, unaware of the discomfort he was feeling. The connection that had just been revealed to him.

Him. Her. Still of like minds.

He’d thought the divorce had taken care of that.

“What about Nora?” The woman Ella had brought to the Stand from the hospital, he reminded himself. Her infant was Ella’s patient.

“Her baby was released today, and she took him home. To their permanent home.”

“I thought arrangements had been made for her to live at the Stand.”

“They had. She didn’t tell them she wasn’t coming back. We wouldn’t have known at all, until she didn’t show up downstairs for her ride, if an employee hadn’t noticed the change she’d made to her address on the discharge papers.”

He frowned. “I’m assuming the High Risk team has been notified?”

“Yes.”

So there was nothing more they could do for now. Except add another name to the prayer list. Keep a close eye out. And hope.

“I can’t believe she did this, Brett. I don’t get it. She was desperate for help. And was so grateful when it was provided to her. She couldn’t have faked that.”

“I’m sure she didn’t,” he said, and it dawned on him. This was a first for Ella. Her first domestic-violence case. Her first case on the High Risk team. Her first flesh-and-blood introduction to the manifestations of the insidious disease.

“She loves that baby, Brett. Much more than she loves her husband...”

“But she’s a victim, El.”

“Not if she stays away from him.”

“That’s a misconception. She’s a victim whether she’s currently being abused or not. Much like an alcoholic is an alcoholic even when he’s not around alcohol. She’s mentally and emotionally vulnerable to his conditioning.”

“Brainwashed, you mean.” She was drawing on the table with her finger.

“In essence.”

“I read about some of that, but you should have seen her, Brett. She was so glad to have a way to take back control of her life...”

“She had moments where she was able to think clearly. But in the beginning, those moments will be less frequent than the ones where she feels out of sync with herself every time she goes against his conditioning.”

He heard the passion in his tone and sat back. Blamed the wine.

“I spoke with her as soon as I got to work this morning and was told of her plans. When she heard that child protective services had cleared them, she called him,” Ella was saying. “She said she wanted him to know that she hadn’t gotten him in trouble. That he was free and not being looked at anymore. She said that as soon as he heard her voice he started going on about how wrong he’d been, how sorry he was, how things were going to be different. He said it took her leaving him like she did to open his eyes and that from now on, she’ll be in charge of their son’s care. That he’ll do whatever she tells him from now on.”

“You don’t believe him.” Neither did Brett, but he was understandably biased in cases like these. He’d heard his own father make similar promises when his sister had been in remission.

And then she’d relapse again.

First thing in the morning he was going to use some of his investigative skills and do a thorough online check on Ted Burbank. Before the day was done he’d know if the man had so much as ever gotten a speeding ticket.

And he didn’t kid himself about why, either. Yes, he’d do what he could to keep Nora safe, but there was no way he could keep track of every abuser of every resident they’d ever had at the Stand.

It wasn’t technically legal, either, with him having access to the residents’ personal information.

No, he was doing this for Ella.

Because he knew her well enough to know that she’d blame herself if something happened to that young woman and her son...

“I’ve never met Nora’s husband,” she was saying. “But based on what I’ve read, and seen with her, I don’t believe a word he said. If he was truly sorry, he’d get himself into some kind of program. And he’d want Nora to stay someplace safe until he was confident that he had his issues under control.”

Which was exactly what Chloe was telling Ella she was trying to do.

And he was back to where he’d started—knowing that getting her to cooperate with his plan wasn’t going to be easy.

Knowing, too, that his idea was their best shot at reaching their goal—getting Chloe back home with Jeff. Though their ideas of what it would take to fix the situation were different—he and Jeff believed that Chloe needed time alone to find herself, while Chloe and Ella hoped that the separation would prompt Jeff to acknowledge his anger issues and seek help—the time apart was key. And the only way that Jeff was going to be able to give Chloe that time was to see her again and assure himself that their love was still there. As it stood, the last time they’d been together had been angry. If they could spend some time together and then separate on good terms, Jeff’s chances of giving Chloe what she needed were far greater.

And yet, to help his friend, Brett had to put his own emotional health in the direct line of fire.

A line he’d told himself he’d never approach again.