The Good Sister (10 page)

She managed it! She let out a long, happy rush of air from her lungs as she watched the client’s back passing through the front door, holding the dog on its leash. She handled the entire appointment, from checking them in to getting them into the exam room that she prepared. She also got the medicine they needed and the care instructions. The bill not only printed correctly, but logged in accurately as well, so as not to mess up Noah’s accounting. Jessie still took care of the real work from home. But Lindsey had finally managed to deal with one client, using her utmost politeness and confidence, both of which were totally faked, but they didn’t see that. She managed to check them out and get them on their way in a reasonable amount of time. Noah came out suddenly. He was so used to finishing at least something for every client, he stopped dead when he realized he and Lindsey were alone and raised his eyebrows with pleased curiosity.

She smiled and ducked her head.

He smiled back and her breath caught. He was so nice. So kind. So hot. She frowned. Where did that come from? He was a handsome man, confirmed by the incessant supply of baked goods that both the single and married female pet owners often brought and left on the counter for him. Funnier still, Noah did not have a sweet tooth. As far as Lindsey knew, he rarely ate any of the goodies. Other customers did, but she didn’t. Despite how much she wanted to, she didn’t. Sometimes, the smell drove her crazy with longing. But she feared Elliot would go ballistic if she ever put on even a pound. Meanwhile, Noah was flirted with, fawned over and baked for. It soon became quite evident there was an ongoing battle for the vet’s affection.

It was mid afternoon when her phone rang right in middle of a transaction. Noah was standing close to her, instructing the client on how to keep her dog’s wound cleansed. Her stomach twisted. It rang again, and still, the man spoke on with no hint of stopping, as his wife consulted Noah. Lindsey realized she couldn’t stop the man’s talking, but finally, she put a finger up.

“I’m sorry, I must take this; my mother’s been in the hospital and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

The man stopped talking and waved at the phone with a sympathetic smile. “Oh, of course. You must get that.”

She grabbed her cell and bent her head down so she was nearly talking to the desk. She did not want to see Noah’s frown of disapproval for her taking the call right then, much less for outright lying to one of the clients. As Noah well knew, her mother was long dead.

She quickly did her check-in with Elliot. She was surprisingly good at lying to him when he wasn’t in a position to hurt her. Whenever he was close, or could easily become close, she tried to never lie. She had a deep cigarette burn on her back that attested to how much Elliot hated
being lied to. Smiling at the client, she quickly assured him her mother was doing fine, for now. She swallowed and stared out the front windows, ignoring Noah, who was glaring at her, as the couple pulled their little poodle along before loading it into their car. She watched them as if it were the most interesting thing she’d observed in weeks. She dreaded meeting Noah’s angry eyes and being told to simply get out. He could not put up with her crap anymore. She was a temporary, nearly totally incompetent employee. He could not be bothered anymore.

He cleared his throat and finally stepped right into her line of vision. She had to raise her eyes to meet his.

“You outright lied to him.”

“I did. But he didn’t know that.”

“Why would you lie?”

She let out a breath. She never trusted anyone with anything real about her life, her feelings, or her thoughts. She sometimes trusted Jessie with small things, the banalities, but not the reality that imprisoned her for the last five years. It became far worse after Jessie and Will moved across the country. Suddenly, Elliot had complete control of her. He took away her credit cards, her computer, and their home
WiFi. She had no access to money. She was given a small stipend each week, for which she had to account with receipts as well as elaborate explanations of each thing she bought. Even if it were just a pack of gum! Luckily, she didn’t need to buy much. He monitored her phone calls, and went through her cell phone bill, line by line. There was no part of her life that Elliot didn’t fully and completely orchestrate.

It started out small, with things like checking on her frequently, or asking to know what she spent her money on, and gathered strength after Elliot started the physical abuse. They seemed to go hand-in-hand, and once Jessie left North Carolina for good, Elliot wanted complete control. By the time they arrived in Arlington, she didn’t even have a car anymore. He sold hers, but said she could leave the house everyday
as long as she walked.

The isolation, she later learned, was a rather common device used by controlling, abusive men. She knew it firsthand. She went to the library one day and read all about it. She did not dare check out any of the books, fearing he’d somehow find out. She simply sat there and read all about herself. She was the victim of domestic violence. What a stupid name! It made her want to scratch her fingernails down a chalkboard with annoyance.
Domestic violence
. It sounded so minor, like a lesser offense. It took the sting out of the word “violence.” She knew, didn’t she? It seemed like most people considered men who beat their wives weren’t as bad as unknown intruders breaking in and beating or raping a woman unknown to them. And these women like her, who willingly chose to live with and marry their abusers… well, didn’t they deserve what they got? As Lindsey well knew, however, no intruder could do half the damage that her husband regularly inflicted upon her. 

Elliot’s episodes were totally unexpected, mostly unprovoked, and rarely with any kind of predictable pattern. She was never certain of the circumstance that would bring on Elliot’s full-blown assaults.  Or how bad they would be. Sometimes it was mild. An unexpected backhand across the face, or a shove against the wall, or having her hand, if not her entire arm, pinned behind her back.

Other times, it wasn’t. During those times, she worried she wouldn’t wake up in the morning. That was when she most feared and actually believed Elliot’s threats. When his anger was most inflamed, and the insanity ignited his green eyes on fire as he told her if she ever left him, or told anyone about the beatings, he would kill her. During those times, she truly believed him.

One time, he had her on the floor, and proceeded to sit on her bare back before burning a cigarette into her flesh as she screamed and screamed, horrified by the awful smell of her burning flesh. Times like those were how he enforced his rules about never telling anyone. She could never escape. To her, that was why she stayed, and her answer to everyone’s questions about the reasons women tolerate such abusive situations. Some stay for fear of losing their kids. Lindsey stayed simply for fear of losing her life. However, during the worst times, she often wondered if maybe losing it would be kinder than continuing to live it.

So, seeing Noah standing there, glaring in anger over the white lie she told to one of his clients, a lie that hurt nobody, and would never be detected by the client… well, Noah’s anger didn’t hold much of a punch for her. She would do anything to avoid getting Elliot mad at her. But Noah? Not so much.

It was unprecedented for Elliot to allow her out of his sight. Letting her come there for an extended stay was the greatest opportunity of her life. She even got to drive a car again. She still had to be cautious with her purchases as Elliot monitored those daily on line. But she could still buy things, shop, and best of all, breathe. Not once did she wake up dreading what would happen to her that day.

“Well?”

She snapped her eyes back to Noah. “I lied because it was the only way to take the call without being totally rude. You already lectured me once about that.”

“No, I lectured you because you took the call. Then you begged me for another chance, and now you do it again? On the very next chance you got?”

She stood up unexpectedly and the chair shot out, slamming into the wall behind her. “I have to take all of his calls.”

“Just tell him you’re filling in for Jessie and you can’t talk during business hours. Surely he would understand a few hours when your entire devotion isn’t being monopolized by him.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? That Elliot would understand such a concept. But he doesn’t. It will only make him mad, which will make him demand that I come home. It doesn’t matter if he’s there or not. And if he demands it, I must go. And since I don’t want to go home yet, I take his calls at all times. You don’t have to understand it, but maybe, just temporarily, you could let it slide. Because I’m asking you to let me do this. You don’t have to agree or like it, but I’m begging you to let me continue doing it.”

Noah stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. He shook his head. “I just don’t get what you like about the controlling ways in which he deals with you.”

She raised her eyebrows in response with a tinge of disdain. “You don’t have to understand. But, please, just let it be. Let me use stupid excuses with clients if I must just to take his calls. It’s not forever. It’s only for a little while. But that little while means a lot to me. So, please let me do this.”

He slowly nodded, but his jaw clenched. She knew somehow, he’d relent. He was such a kind, decent, caring person. He couldn’t ignore her pleas outright.

She nodded back, feeling like she’d won a monumental victory. She took a stand and won. Okay, a stand that allowed her husband to completely
control her, but a stand nonetheless.

Noah whipped around to prep for a surgery he had scheduled in the afternoon. He stopped just as he pushed the door open. “By the way, the rest of your job you managed to do all right today. Do that again tomorrow, and I’ll seriously consider letting you stay.”

She grinned foolishly as if he’d just handed her a certificate of self-validation.

A couple came in three days later, and Lindsey almost instantly sensed something wasn’t right. The man held the leash of a giant, black and brown Rottweiler. He also clutched the arm of his mousey, demure, brown-haired wife. She shuffled in behind him. She didn’t raise her eyes even once in response to any of Lindsey’s questions. When they sat down to wait for Noah, the wife sat with her ankles crossed, and her hands clasped before her, her gaze still addressing the floor. Whenever her husband moved, she flinched. When she dropped her purse after rifling through it, he grumbled his disapproval before she scrabbled to the floor to grab her stuff. She exhibited a rushed sort of desperation that Lindsey instantly recognized. The woman was trying her best to please her husband. Glancing at their paperwork, Lindsey saw they were Tessa and Dean Backerman. After watching them shuffle back to the exam room before coming out twenty minutes later, Lindsey felt ninety percent sure Dean beat Tessa regularly. Tessa waited off to the side of Dean as he paid. She never said a word, or even raised her head. She didn’t smile or make any polite conversation. And when her husband snarled at her, she flinched while nervously eyeing Lindsey.

Her husband took his lethal-looking dog with a jerk of the leash as he nearly dragged Tessa after him. He shoved both of them into the old pickup, taking more care with the dog than he did with his wife. Lindsey stared after them until Noah came out and started talking to her. She stood up, and didn’t hear Noah. Walking to the front door, she stared after the truck as it disappeared down the street and turned out of view.

“He beats her.”

She said it aloud. Noah was yakking about something, but she had no clue what it was. She interrupted him.

“What?” he asked, straightening up from his casual slouch. He rarely stood at his full six-foot-four glorious height.

“That man beats her.”

Noah frowned. “Now how would you know that? You never met them before today. Yeah, Dean is a bit rough around the edges, but he’s nice enough. She’s just really shy.”

“She might be, or maybe not. She tries to hide and be invisible, and she cowers so she doesn’t make him mad. That way, when they get home, he doesn’t hit her.”

Noah tilted his head and frowned deeply as he stared at her long and hard. His silence suddenly felt ominous between them. “How would you know?”

She let out a breath. She was so close. She knew she could tell him. He would help her. She knew deep in her gut, he’d help her. She was away from Elliot. She was stronger emotionally, right now, today, than she’d been in months. And freer than she’d been in years. That was why Elliot insisted on keeping such a tight rein on her, no doubt. At home, she could never even contemplate telling anyone. But… even if she managed to get away, she knew he’d come after her. Somehow, someway, he’d always come after her. He
often explained in detail what he would do to her, so she knew it was hopeless to risk it.

“I often volunteer at the battered women’s shelter in Arlington. It’s my charity. I often fundraise for it, and I always volunteer my time. I’ve learned to recognize the signs. And that woman is textbook classic with the signs. He beats her.”

Noah’s brows shot up again. She was blowing his mind today. No doubt, he was picturing her with her usual lack of competency and applying it to how ineffective she’d be at helping battered, troubled, injured women. She didn’t really volunteer there. She had never met another battered woman. Well, at least, none that she knew of. She was convinced, however, that there were more women like her, whom no one would ever believe. People expected the abused woman to look like a victim: sad, small, weak, poor, depressed. Being rich, and made up like she presented herself, were not part of that image.

“I didn’t realize you did that. Jessie never mentioned it.”

“Well, it’s just one of those things I do. Not something I’ve ever felt the need to discuss with anyone.”

“Well, nevertheless, we know nothing of their situation, so consequently, there is nothing we can do.”

Right. Sure, Noah was correct. But… she was also right. She knew she was. She turned and nodded, rifling through the files on her desk. She decided to ignore it and get to work. It was Tessa’s problem, not Lindsey’s. She had to use all her coping skills to survive her hell each day. Tessa simply had to do the same. It wasn’t her business. There was nothing she could do for Tessa.

“Besides,” continued Noah, “they have six kids; so I’m sure one of the kids would have told someone, if something abusive ever happened. So don’t go spreading rumors. It’s not fair.”

Lindsey jerked to attention. Six kids? She stared with incredulous eyes at Noah. Did he really believe that? That the kids would tell? She nearly snorted and told him to wake up. They were most likely either victims themselves, or feared for their mother’s safety so much, they would never tell anyone. That was the secret and why domestic abuse was so effective.
There was no one to tell.
Imprisoned by shame and fear, all the victims remained silent on the matter.

Naturally, the first question on everyone’s tongue is, why would she stay? If she were being hit and hurt, why would she stay? Why indeed? She hated attitudes like Noah’s.

She nodded her head, pretending she was considering what Noah said, and not seething inside.  He turned and disappeared into his surgery. Lindsey, meanwhile, grabbed the patient file and jotted down the address for Tessa and Dean Backerman.