The Good Sister (23 page)

Noah and Gretchen stared at one another after the door clicked behind Lindsey with a soft tap.

“I apologize for imposing upon you like this. You don’t have to let me stay here.”

Gretchen slowly backed up until her legs bumped into the couch. She flopped down, burying her face in her hands. Noah stood there, resisting the urge to pat her shoulder and offer some compassion. Was that the right way to react? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

She glanced up as tears rolled down her face. “Jessie told me it was pretty bad. She told me to be prepared, and to act very matter-of-factly with her. But… I never dreamed she would look like
that.
”

“It’s already been over a week and a half too.”

She shuddered and gulped as she rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, Noah. You must be exhausted. Can I get you anything? Food? Drink? Alcohol?”

His shoulders dropped. It felt nice, really nice to be asked such a question. He met her gaze and smiled slowly. “Alcohol sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

She got up and smiled back at him. “Yes, it does.”

He followed her to the kitchen bar, where she drug out a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses. After pouring a liberal amount in each glass, she caught his eye. “I don’t normally do this but…”

“Yeah. I know.”

They clinked their glasses to toast the success of their mission before drinking the wine copiously.

“Has she said anything to you?”

Noah shook his head. “Nothing much. She was doped up on a cocktail of painkillers and anxiety medicine for a little while. That kept her pretty out of it.”

“A blessing, I’d imagine.”

“Yeah.”

He took a sip of wine as he studied Will’s ex-wife over his glass. She was a stunning woman. Rather tall and built like Charlize Theron, she had shoulder-length hair that curled around her face in appealing, platinum wisps. Her green eyes were a dark emerald color, but they sparkled with a bright, joyful, inner light. She smiled often, and easily. Even today. She gave off every signal of being a really nice person. A normal person. An unharmed person. It was a nice change for Noah and he felt at once comfortable around her. She was just that way. Her frank, honest gaze was filled with a warmth that radiated from her eyes and instantly made a person feel familiar, as if knowing her for years, not hours.

“So, you were married to Will?”

She waved her hand, saying, “A long time ago.  Our split was fairly amicable, and I later became involved with him again when Will decided to take Jessie to treatment. I’m a child therapist, so I knew a few things about navigating the system. ”

“I’ve never met two more tragic sisters.”

Gretchen’s expression became serious. “Neither have I. But I never dreamed Lindsey had such awful, heartrending secrets. When I met her, she was completely different from the woman who just walked through here. We spent a lot of time together during Jessie’s treatment. Until this moment, I don’t think I had the first clue of the depths to which she could hide things. We later took Jessie to the Clapsmiths and got her set up there, and in therapy. The three of us spent entire weekends together, and she was… awesome. I mean, like getting shit done, kind of awesome. She was nice too. Until she met Elliot. I never met him. They married in a quick, small ceremony, as he was being deployed, and they had to tie the knot on short notice. Not even Jessie attended it. But now, I’m beginning to wonder…”

“He purposely rushed her into it before she could figure out what he was really like.”

“The most she ever told me was that he was so different from her father.”

“I’m beginning to think not.”

Gretchen nodded and drank her wine. “How about you? How did you end up here with her? Last I knew, Jessie worked for you, and Lindsey didn’t know you except to say hello.”

“Lindsey took over for Jessie when she went on bed rest. She was awful at it! Not to mention so strange. She was timid, jumpy, and incompetent. Now I know why. But right near the end of her stay in Washington, just before that monster returned for her, she started to change. She smiled. She talked. She laughed. She could actually do the job with a fair amount of skills. Then, he showed up and the capable Lindsey totally vanished. I was completely astounded. I felt pissed. And hurt… and now, I’m so ashamed of the rude things I thought about her.”

“She was hiding it from you.”

“Yes. Now I can see that.”

Silence descended between them, and Noah turned his gaze on her cheerful, pretty condo before he asked, “Now what? What do we
do
with her? For her? I don’t even know what the first step should be.”

“You simply, move forward. She gets up tomorrow and we face her. We talk to her and respect her moods. But don’t tiptoe around her, or act as if she isn’t there. She must face the music. She must live with it, but if we act as if she could have died, that isn’t going to help her.”

He nodded. It seemed like sound advice. He liked Gretchen’s businesslike common sense, and her ease in communicating. He liked how normal she was and how normally she interacted. He didn’t have to worry or stress over what he said or how he said it with her.

She angled her head. “Don’t you have a life and a practice to get back to?”

“Yes. I all but abandoned my practice to my partner. No one knows where I am or what I’m doing. But in light of this, none of that seems even remotely important anymore. She was a prisoner in her own home. She was beaten, and…” He dropped his head into his hands and took in a shuddering breath. “And I just can’t stand to leave her again. I can’t stand knowing what was done to her. What if she succumbs to his control again and tries to go back? What if he eventually finds her?”

Gretchen shrugged. “Just be her friend, Noah. Listen to what she needs from you. And give her lots and lots of time and space. But whatever she decides to do about Elliot is on her, Noah. Not on us.”

“I can’t leave her here. What if he finds her?”

“I doubt it very much.” Gretchen got up and grabbed a tablet, which she powered up before quickly focusing on a news article. “He’s got a speech with the grocers’ union today. So, we will just track him. We’ll be the first to know if he disappears. We’ll know then that we have to do something. However, I really don’t think he even has a clue about me.”

“That doesn’t make you even slightly hesitant to take her in? In all honesty, you have no qualms about it?”

“In all honesty, no, I don’t.” Gretchen smiled kindly. “Would you like some dinner?”

He smiled and answered, “I haven’t eaten what one would consider a decent dinner in over a week. So yeah; yeah, I would.”

Lindsey stayed in bed for almost a week straight. There was nothing interesting enough for her to get up
for. She only arose to pee and drink water. Sometimes, she ate tidbits of the food Gretchen made for her. To her profound relief, they left her alone. They never came in and demanded that she get up. They never expected anything from her. She knew Noah was still there as she often heard his low, rumbling voice speaking to Gretchen. She wondered why he remained. How long did he plan to stay? How well did he and Gretchen get along? It must’ve been awkward for him, since he and Gretchen were practically strangers. She should’ve cared about mooching off Gretchen, or at least, told her about why she came there. She hadn’t even thanked her for her hospitality. She did nothing but sleep and stare at the white ceiling. She didn’t even know why she did that.

Rolling over in bed on the sixth day, Lindsey groaned. It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. She had stayed in bed for close to twenty-four hours again. The thing was: she didn’t want to stay awake. She didn’t want to eat. She didn’t want to go outside or see people functioning like normal people, and moving on normally with their lives. She didn’t want to hear the mundane TV sitcoms or any depressing news. She didn’t want to talk to Gretchen or Noah. She didn’t want to see their pained expressions, or the pity in their eyes. She didn’t want to endure their bumbling attempts to figure out how to talk to her, and be with her, now that they knew she was a victim of abuse. That made her different. Special. Pathetic.

She wanted to roll over and bury her thoughts in the covers. She wanted Xanex and Vicodin, any of the pills Elliot procured for her, which she usually had to take for a week or more after he punished her. It helped her get through the pain, and Elliot was more than willing to promote that. Eventually, however, she always went off them and had to face her miserable existence again. She tried to be careful and not get hooked. But she really wanted them now. She wanted to just space out and vanish. She couldn’t bear to face a world where her father was still alive and well, and living in
Canada.
She couldn’t face a world where Elliot could attain important and influential political presence. She didn’t know how to go on with her life after leaving Elliot so unexpectedly. The very thought of his reaction to her disappearance resulted in convulsions that traveled down her body. No! No! No! She should never have done this. She couldn’t handle it. The fear, the abject terror she felt just thinking about him, and what he’d do to her, caused her entire body to go numb.

She also couldn’t bear to face Noah, or see the sympathy and hurt in his eyes, while he kept wondering why didn’t she ask for help? Why didn’t she leave? Why did she let Elliot do this to her?
Most of all, she didn’t want to think about how she could have let this happen to her.

Her shame became a knot in her chest. It was much more painful than any of the bruises or cuts she suffered at Elliot’s hand. Nonetheless, she had to pee and she was thirsty. It was time to face reality and she could no longer hide behind her shame, although she preferred to hide forever.

She opened her door, being extra careful and trying to keep silent before padding to the bathroom across the hall and using it. By the time she stepped into the living room, Noah was alerted to her presence. Gretchen must’ve been at work. Now, she was alone with Noah, and it was probably the right time for her to speak to him.

He stood up quickly, dropping the computer tablet he was scrolling on. It thudded to the floor as Noah realized right before he tried to grab it and exclaimed, “Shit!”

He often got nervous around her and dropped things. Or said things she knew he didn’t mean to say. He would grimace at himself and run his hands repeatedly through his hair when he seemed stumped over what to do with her. Which happened often. Lindsey was almost shocked at the pulling of her lips. Noah Clark, just then, might have been the only person alive who could manage to make her feel even remotely like smiling.

Dressed in black jeans and a t-shirt, his hair curled around his forehead. There was something endearing about him. Something adorable, but very sexy. There was something intriguing about a man who didn’t want to see her hurt or hit or raped. A man who really never knew what happened to some women, but once he did, look out! He came to rescue her. He drove her mute, comatose ass across the country, all the while without any idea as to where she was directing him. Never once doubting her. Never once arguing with her. Never once distrusting her.

“Lindsey!” His tone sounded happy. He must’ve been glad she was up. Then he seemed to realize he sounded a bit too chipper for the situation. He cleared his throat, “I mean, hi. How are you?”

She stepped into the room, but it was so freaking bright, she had to pause. One entire wall was all windows with a view of a pretty park and neighborhood. They were five stories up and the bright sunlight had her blinking furiously.

“Hi.”

“Do you feel better? I mean, did you sleep well? Did sleeping help?”

She smiled slowly, “I slept. It did help. I do feel better.”

He shook his head and pushed at his glasses. “You don’t have to be better, just, you know, not so raw?”

She tilted her head. That was a good description of how she felt. “Yes.”

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? What can I get for you?”

The thought of food was like sand in her mouth and her stomach nearly cramped in response. She had barely eaten a thing in weeks and was wasting away. Her eyes looked sunken in her head and her cheekbones jutted out with unnatural definition . So, yeah, she should eat. “Okay, I’ll eat.”

He quickly set the tablet down and went into the kitchen where he started rummaging through the cabinets and fridge.
He asked her, “How about a sandwich? Ham and cheese okay?”

“Okay.” She came closer to the bar and sat on one of the black stools. Noah moved around as if he were Gretchen’s childhood friend, and not a week-long houseguest and former stranger. Apparently, they must’ve bonded while she slept, nearly catatonic, in her room.

“Is Gretchen at work?”

He stopped opening the bread bag. “Yes. She’ll be back around six. She was going to pick up a pizza for dinner.”

Noah quickly and efficiently made a sandwich that was far beyond what Lindsey would have bothered making for herself. It looked like a gourmet deli item, all the way down to the lettuce and tomatoes. She smiled her appreciation as she took a small bite, while he poured her some lemonade. She had to drink. Returning to the hospital to be treated for dehydration was the last thing she needed. She took several bites, and all the while, Noah watched her. He shifted his weight in obvious discomfort, and finally leaned his hands on the counter.

“So is she shocked? At me? At this?”

He swallowed. “Yes. You do realize how shocking it is, don’t you?”

She stared hard at the white plate. “I do.”

“She wants you to stay here. For however long you need. She isn’t saying that to be nice either. She really means it. She left this stuff for you to read. I looked through some of it.”

“What is it?” Lindsey asked as she took the pile of reading material. She immediately saw some pamphlets about domestic violence. There was a sad looking woman, cowering against a wall with her head on her knees. Depressing. Pathetic. Victimized. Only… didn’t she also cower against a wall, and hold her knees up to her face, while trying to obliterate the images of what she just lived through? The pamphlets depicted some of the signs and symptoms of domestic violence. They explained the abuse cycle. No. No cycle with Elliot. He simply did it whenever he felt like it, often completely unprovoked.  She pushed the pamphlets away with disdain.

“Gretchen said you should look through all these to start.”

Lindsey raised her eyebrows. “You two seem quite close?”

He glanced up, his expression puzzled by her tone. “Sure. She’s really nice. I don’t know.”

Lindsey stared at her food. Half the sandwich was all she could manage, and she pushed the remainder away. With a deep breath, she said, “I owe you some answers.”

He shook his head. “No. You owe me nothing.”

She raised her head. “I owe you everything, Noah.”

“You wouldn’t have come without
him.
It wasn’t me who got you out.”

“Yes, but you were
there
. You were sitting there, waiting for me. You were waiting to help me, whenever the opportunity arose. If you had not been there, I would have had no way
to
leave.
So what you did was important. It was, perhaps, the most important thing anyone ever did for me.”

He straightened up. “I don’t care about that. I don’t care about anything I did. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. I don’t want your apologies either. Just do this for me: stay here, Lindsey. Don’t go back. Please. I will do anything just to ensure you won’t go back to him.”

“Don’t you want to know why I went back to him in the first place?”

Noah shook his head. “The same reason Tessa would have. Shame. Embarrassment. Fear. Call it whatever you want. It doesn’t matter why you did; what matters is where you are now.”

What a beautiful thought Noah had! It didn’t matter why she went back, only that she was away from it now. It was also a load of shit. “What do you mean, Tessa would have?”

He nodded. “It was just like you said. Not even a week after you left, Dean went home and started calling her. He was spouting all kinds of shit about how he would change and how she needed to come home. She actually considered it even after I talked myself blue in the face explaining all the reasons why she couldn’t. Once I convinced her to move in with me, well, that helped. She doesn’t talk that way anymore, or at least not as much.”

Lindsey choked on the lemonade she tried to sip. “Wait, what? You moved Tessa and her six kids into your house?”

He shrugged, feeling obviously uncomfortable with her questions. “It’s just temporary and until they can get on their feet. And it’s also to make sure they won’t go back home.”

“Noah, you can’t move a strange woman and her six kids in with you! That’s crazy. It’s insane. It’s way too much. It’s… well, it’s the most thoughtful thing I’ve ever heard someone do.”

He walked around to the doorway of the kitchen. “I don’t know about that. I just couldn’t let her go back to Dean. And she needed a house for all those kids, and I have that huge, old house, with all those rooms going unused. So it seemed like, why not? I couldn’t stand the guilt of letting her go, especially if she got hurt again.  Besides, they aren’t so bad, and the kids love my dogs. They help me take care of them. You could just say they are house-sitting for me.”

“But what about Dean? What if he comes after her? Or you? No, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Noah’s jaw tightened. “Nobody’s going to let that happen. The police and a battered women’s advocate are both working with her, and protecting her. The community currently shuns him. It’s not okay, Lindsey. People don’t condone what he did to her. They also don’t sit around, wanting to punish her because she couldn’t leave. It wasn’t ever her fault. It was all his.”

Tears pricked her eyes. God, he was so wonderfully good. She was sure she’d never met another man like him. She kept her eyes down. “Of course, it wasn’t her fault. She had six kids and no means of supporting them.”

He stepped closer to her and she could feel his body’s warmth. The proximity of his physical presence comforted her. It had been a long time since someone being so close to her didn’t repulse her or instigate fearful thoughts. He put his hand on her chin and raised her gaze to his. “It wasn’t her fault. Just as it wasn’t your fault. Kids or no kids.”

Shaking her head, she tried to jerk her chin from his grasp. “It was. It is. I mean technically, I know I didn’t hit myself. I know he had the problem. But I stayed. I could have told someone. Anyone. I could have called the police. But I did nothing. I was there, in the hospital and the cop was right beside me. And I told him a stranger came at me, one I’ve never met before. I told him that! I voluntarily went along with that! So, please tell me, how is that not my fault?”

His fingers tightened on her chin, and again, he silently demanded her eye contact. But there was not one thing harmful or hurtful in his grasp. His fingers were long and strong, but very gently held her, making her heart swell with gratitude. He stared at her and his blue eyes were bright with intensity. With care. With tears. Her heart practically dropped to the floor. There were tears in his eyes; were they for her?

“Lindsey, he did it. Not you. It is not your fault. You are a victim. You are a complete and total victim of Elliot Johanson’s. You are a victim of domestic violence, whether you want to call yourself that or not, you most certainly are.”

“I stayed so I chose it.”

“You didn’t choose it. You didn’t.”

He kept his gaze on her and very softly said, “It’s not your fault.”

“It is. It is my fault.”

“No, it isn’t! Why are you so obsessively focused on that? Not what was done to you, or how you feel, or what you’re going to do about it now. Not how Elliot should be punished for it, but that it’s your fault? Why is that all you take from this? That has nothing to do with it.”