Trust in Me (43 page)

He did it anyway. Roughly. Callously. Like some Neanderthal...

Joe bolted out of bed, but the images accompanied him, so he let himself think hard about it. Psychologists were right. Rape was not a sexual act. It was an act of power. He’d never touched her intimately again after that. He’d known he’d stepped over a line. A month later, just after he’d hit her again, she’d told him she was pregnant, and he’d left town.

After returning to Glen Oaks in March, and finding out he had a daughter, Joe had a whole new demon to face—he didn’t know if that was the night Faith was conceived. He couldn’t tell from her birthday. So Joe had convinced himself Annie was already pregnant the night of the rape. If she wasn’t, their sunny child...It made him ill, even now, to think about it. It just couldn’t be true.

o0o

ANNIE went up on her toes, lifted her leg in a perfect arabesque and held it for two counts. Muscles pulsing, she breathed deeply and came down into a
demi-plié
, did two
ronde de jambe
’s on the floor and bent at the waist. She was ready to leap into the finale when she caught sight of Suzie entering the large mirrored practice room.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead and finish.”

Crossing to the barre, Annie picked up a towel. She swabbed her face and plucked at the sweaty sheer maroon blouse she wore over pink tights and a matching leotard. “No, that’s all right, I still have to work on the ending.”

“You only got a couple of weeks, kiddo.” Suzie’s outfit mirrored hers, only she wore a DanceWorks sweatshirt over it.

“Don’t remind me.”

DanceWorks’ annual recital was in three weeks; the details of putting it on were endless, and the month preceding it was always crazy at the studio. Annie swore this would be the last recital she danced in. Every year, Suzie talked her into it, and every year Annie vowed it was her swan song.

“You want to practice your jazz piece? I’ll critique it.” Annie smiled at her pretty sister-in-law. Fair was fair. Suzie performed, too.

“Nah. I just came in to get away from Ma. She’s driving me nuts.”

Grace Murphy pitched in at the end of the dance season for the recital. Right now, she was in working on the costumes with Rosa DeMartino. Annie had hired Rosa to help take care of last-minute details, then found she was a whiz at sewing. She and Grace were putting the finishing touches—feathers, beads and sashes—a on the costumes. Rosa had also proved to be competent office help.

Grace had been unusually cold these last few weeks, since Linc’s accident. “What’s going on with your mother, Suz?”

Suzie shrugged. “Same old same old.”

Annie picked up the water bottle she’d brought in, took a swig and sank onto the floor. “Sit.”

Wearily, Suzie approached her. Gracefully, she settled down next to Annie. They faced each other, cross-legged. It was time for a girl-to-girl powwow.

“Come on, Suz. You can tell me.”

“It has to do with you.”

“I figured that out.”

“She’s bitchin’ about Rosa. ‘That the woman can’t do anything right. She should just stay home and let her husband take care of her.’” Suzie shook her brown curls. “I swear Ma’s stuck in the last century.”

Annie sighed. Sam’s attack on Linc had spread through Glen Oaks like wildfire in a drought. The whole town knew about it.

Unfortunately, Grace’s attitude was clearly unsympathetic to Rosa. “Think she knows?”

“About Rosa or you?”

“I meant Rosa.”

“I think she senses both. Sort of like a kindred spirit. The point is it doesn’t matter. Somehow, Ma will always believe it’s the woman’s fault.”

“Joe should talk to her.”

Annie saw Suzie tense. She drew a finger along the groove in the wood flooring. “He’s tried, Annie. She won’t listen.” When Annie didn’t answer, Suzie looked up. “You think that’s an excuse, don’t you?”

“Not exactly. It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is that your mother doesn’t treat Rosa badly.”

A grin split Suzie’s face. “The woman’s a find, isn’t she?”

“Yes. I was going to ask you about hiring her permanently.”

“Can we afford it?”

“I think so. Having her work here would cut back on our hours considerably, which is what we both want.”

“Well, if you...”

“Annie?” Joe was at the door. Dressed in black nylon shorts and a T-shirt, his hair was windblown, and his face red. Though it was nine at night, he’d obviously been running. She hadn’t seen much of him since the week before, when they’d squared off in the basement.

“Joe? What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Rosa.” He smiled at his sister. “Hi, kiddo.”

Suzie smiled. “Hi. Rosa’s in the other room with Ma.”

“Why?” Annie asked. Something about Joe’s demeanor made her tense.

“Sam’s back in town. I saw him going into Zip’s when I ran by.”

Annie’s heart rate speeded up. “Oh, no.”

Wiping the sweat off his face with the black sweatshirt he’d tied around his neck, Joe scanned the room. “I need to see her.”

“Come on, I’ll show you where she is.” Annie rose and headed toward the door. Surrounded by ghosts from the past—ghosts that the man behind her conjured—Annie remembered the fear she’d felt that Joe might return at any time. Poor Rosa.

Her gaze darted over her shoulder to her husband; his expression told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Three steps forward, two back,
Joe repeated to himself as he caught Annie’s look and followed her to the back room. The fear on her face, actually the
remembered
fear, cut like glass slivers into the skin. How,
how
could he have been like Sam DeMartino? Joe asked himself for the hundredth time. How could he ever have hit her?

Just asking that question means you’ve changed, buddy
, Pete had told him in the counseling session he’d requested when he’d accompanied Taylor to New York the week before.

They entered the back room, filled with crinoline, taffeta and lace. Rosa sat at a sewing machine, while his mother did some needlework by hand on a couch. Neither spoke to the other.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Joey.” Grace smiled broadly at her son.

“Rosa,” Joe said.

Rosa looked up from her costume. In the weeks since Sam had left, Rosa had gone from scared to resigned to, surprisingly, somewhat hopeful. The counseling sessions with Carol Lopez had helped, along with finding out she could take care of herself and her family, though money was a problem. “Hi, Joe.” She smiled pleasantly. At least she didn’t look at him like he was Bluebeard anymore.

“I need to talk to you.”

Rosa glanced at Grace. “All right.”

“You can use the office,” Annie said.

“No, stay right here.” Grace stood. “I want to ask Suzie something.” With a brief squeeze of Joe’s arm, she scurried out the door.

Annie stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave, too.”

“Wait.” Rosa threw back her shoulders. “This is about Sam, isn’t it?”

Joe nodded.

“Then I want Annie to stay.”

Joe came further into the room. “Sam’s back in town.”

Rosa’s mouth fell open.

“I saw him going into Zip’s Bar and Grill.”

Swallowing hard, Rosa stared over Joe’s shoulder. “I thought he’d be arrested if he came back. Linc pressed charges.”

Linc had pressed charges in order to have Sam picked up if he returned to town. The ever-optimistic reverend intended to use the threat of legal repercussions to bargain with Sam about getting help. Joe didn’t feel very confident about the plan, though.

Crossing to the sewing machine, Joe knelt down beside Rosa. “Did you get the locks changed on the house, like I suggested, Rosa?”

Slowly she shook her head.

“Does that mean you didn’t get the restraining order, either?”

“No. I didn’t.” She glanced guiltily at Annie. “But since Linc pressed charges, won’t the police take care of this?”

“I called the police. By the time they got to Zip’s, Sam was gone.”

“Oh, no.”

Joe stood up. “All right. Let’s deal with one thing at a time. If Sam comes home, you and the kids are in danger.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Is there any place you can go tonight?”

Slowly she shook her head. Joe’s heart clenched. Had Annie been through this alone? He knew she hadn’t told Linc or Beth or Margo about the abuse. His insides knotted.

“Won’t the police keep watch?” Rosa asked.

“They’ll patrol the area, but I doubt someone will stay there with you.”

“She can come to my house.” Annie’s voice was a little shaky.

Joe pivoted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You and the kids could be in danger if Sam figures out where his family is.”

“That’s highly unlikely, isn’t it?”

“I’m not taking chances with your safety, Annie.” Torn, he glanced at Rosa. “But I can come back to the house with you...stay until the morning, when we can change the locks on Rosa’s place and get an RO. In the meantime, the police might pick him up.”

Rosa shook her head. “I don’t want to be any trouble to you two.”

Annie crossed to her and took her hands. “Rosa, we’re not leaving you alone in this. Joe’s plan is good. We’ll go back to your house, get the kids and you’ll stay with me tonight.”

“What will we tell them all?”

“We’ll think of something.” She glanced at Joe. “How should we go about this?”

“Let’s lock up here. Suz and Ma can go home. You and Rosa and I can go get her kids. We’ll stop by my place so I can pick up some clothes, then we’ll head on over to your house.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said lightly.

Rosa’s face was glum. “I’m sorry.”

Joe circled around swiftly. “No, Rosa. This isn’t your fault!”

“Yes, it is.” Everybody faced the doorway. Grace stood with her hands clasped in front of her. “You shouldn’t interfere between a man and his wife.”

“Oh, Ma.” Joe shook his head. “Somebody should always interfere.”

“It isn’t right.”

“It’s not only right, it’s necessary.” Joe took in a deep breath. “Somebody should have interfered with you and Pa.”

“Hush.” Grace clapped her hand over her mouth.

Joe glanced at Annie. Then Rosa. Guilt, and disgust, welled within him. He turned back to his mother. “And somebody should have interfered with me and Annie.”

“I don’t believe it.” Though her words were a denial, her eyes indicated otherwise.

“Believe it, Ma. It’s true.”

Grace froze in the doorway. Joe made a quick decision. He turned apologetic eyes on Annie and Rosa. “Could you excuse us for a moment? There’s something I have to do. I’ve put it off long enough.”

Wide-eyed, Annie said, “Of course, we’ll be in the office,” and ushered Rosa out of the room.

Stepping aside, Grace crossed to a machine, sat down and began running some shiny red material through the needles. Her brow was knit with concentration.

He spoke gently. “Ma?”

“This fabric is so slippery,” she said, not looking at him. “It isn’t taking the thread well.”

Slowly, he went to her. “Ma, we need to talk.”

“Annie always picks the prettiest things. But sometimes she isn’t real practical.”

Determined not to take the coward’s way out, Joe crouched down next to his mother. “Ma, I can’t let this go any longer. We have to talk about Pa. And me.”

She kept staring down, threading the fabric through, frowning.

Gently, he touched her arm. “Please stop for a minute. We have to do this.”

At first she didn’t seem to have heard him. Then, slowly, she eased up on the sewing-machine pedal. Folding her hands in her lap, she kept her eyes downcast. Joe took her hands in his. Her skin was papery thin, lined with blue veins. It was ice cold, too.

“What Pa did to you,” Joe began hoarsely, “was unconscionable. No man has a right to do that to a woman.”

Still nothing.

“Pa was wrong, Ma; nothing was your fault.”

Finally she looked at him. Her face was ravaged. “He said it was.”

“Abusers always blame the abused. It’s part of the cycle.”

Grace bit her lip. “You...you really didn’t do those things to Annie, did you, son?”

Foolishly, he’d thought the big hurdles were behind him. He had no idea how much it would hurt to confess his sins to his mother. Still, if he could change her thinking... “Yes, Ma, I did unspeakable things to her. Things I’m so ashamed of I cry about them.”

“Men don’t cry, Joey.”

“Yeah, Ma, we do. Especially when we have such despicable actions to regret.”

She looked away again. “Why’d you do it? Why did your Pa?”

He sighed. “Aw, Ma, I don’t know why Pa did it. Maybe he was as frustrated as I was.” He clasped her hands tighter. “I always felt suffocated in this town.”

“You were smart.”

“Yeah, I was. But I blew my life, and when I couldn’t take care of Annie like I wanted to, I turned violent.”

“Your father was smart, too. Nobody knew that.”

Joe shook his head. So many parallels. He just held his mother’s hands, saying nothing, trying to keep his emotions in check. Abusers sought out sympathy, to take the attention away from the ones they hurt. Joe struggled for composure, though he wanted to bawl like a baby in his mother’s arms.

Finally, Grace said, “I shouldn’t have blamed Annie.”

“No, Ma, you shouldn’t have. Not Rosa either.”

A beleaguered sigh.

“Maybe you did because if you admitted they aren’t to blame, you’d have to admit you weren’t either.”

Again, she looked at him, clearly puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I want to know that?”

“Because then you’d have to deal with why you let it go on.”

“I shouldn’t have.” Her voice was tinged with anger.

“No, Ma, you shouldn’t have. No woman should. Ever. Under any circumstances.”

She reached out and brushed her hand down his hair. “You’re different.”

“Oh, yeah. I am. I’m better. I’d never hurt Annie, or any woman, ever again.”

“I’m glad.” She picked up the material. “Now, scoot. I’ve got to finish this costume.”

He stood, then, and stared down at her as the machine began to hum and buzz. Leaning over, he kissed her hair, said, “I love you, Ma,” and left Grace alone to deal with her memories.