Page 5 of Blade
“Yeah, I needed a new life, so I moved from South Carolina to Seattle for college. I graduated with dual degrees in English and education. I got a job teaching at an elementary school.”
“Good for you.” He kisses the top of my head again as his arms hold me closer.
This is so unconventional. I came here to seek protection. How have I ended up sitting on Blade’s lap?
I draw in another deep breath. “I met Pete at the grocery store one day. Weird place to meet a man, I guess, but we bumped into each other. He was so charming and took me to coffee. My pint of ice cream melted in the car while we talked for hours. I thought he was the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Blade doesn’t interrupt. He’s so patient. He’s gently rocking me. I want to draw my knees up, settle deeper into his lap, and never move.
“I should have seen the signs, but I was raised in a house with an abusive father, and the cycle of abuse is strong. Pete gradually took over my life. He isolated me. Eventually, he convinced me to quit my job and move out of the area. We got married at city hall. He insisted he would provide for me. And he did, but he got meaner and meaner. I kept thinking if I did better, if I tried harder, if I pleased him… Well, I couldn’t, of course.”
“That’s the nature of abuse,” Blade murmurs. “There is nothing you could have done to please him.”
“I realize that now, but I didn’t at the time. I didn’t want to be my mother. I wanted to keep my marriage together. I wanted to please my husband. When he switched from screaming and berating me to hitting me, I knew things weren’t going to work out.”
Blade stops moving when I mention Pete striking me, but he says nothing.
“The first time, he slapped me across the face and left the room. The next time, he managed to bust my lip. The third time, he gave me a black eye. He begged forgiveness every time. I told him I was leaving after the black eye. He groveled, and I relented. I should have left that night. But I didn’t. A week later, he hit me so hard that my head slammed into the door, and I passed out. I assume I had a concussion. He didn’t even help me or move me. When I woke up, he was gone. It was the middle of the night. I dragged myself off the floor, put on warm clothes in layers, covered them with one of his coats, stuffed a few belongings in a bag, and left.”
“On foot?”
“I didn’t have a car. I hadn’t even driven a single time in the three years we lived out there. He drove me into town to get groceries when we needed them. I knew it was about two miles to the nearest town, so I walked. Every time a car went by, I hid, afraid it might be Pete. It was three in the morning when I made it to the only place open—an all-night diner.”
“You must have been scared out of your mind.”
“I was, but I was out of options, so I had to go in and ask for help. I’d never been to the diner. It wasn’t like Pete took me out on dates or anything. He never spent a dime he didn’t have to on me once he got me out of Seattle. So, the older woman working the middle-of-the-night shift had no idea who I was. She was kind and sympathetic. It was obvious someone had beaten me. I asked her if she knew of a way I could get to Seattle. She called someone else to cover for her and drove me two hours to a women’s shelter in Seattle herself.”
Blade finally tips me back enough to meet my gaze. He smiles. “Thank God there are still some kind people in the world.”
“Yes. She never asked me who beat me or any other questions. She simply drove two hours each way to get me to safety. I couldn’t even offer her anything. I didn’t have a dollar to my name.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that, June.” Blade’s voice and attention are so patient and understanding that I’m struggling to keep from crying again.
“I spent a month at the center in hiding. I filed for divorce, and they helped me find a job and housing. I got stronger, emotionally and physically. I had a degree, which made it easier. There was no way I could go back to a public job, but I love what I do now even more.”
“What’s that, Little one?”
“I teach English to students abroad. Mostly Japan. It’s online. I have to work evenings a lot because they’re seventeen hours ahead, but I really enjoy it, and it pays the bills.”
He frowns. “I can’t imagine it pays too well. Your studio apartment is pretty sparse, honey.” He’s not condescending, simply making an observation.
“I never, ever, ever want to be in a situation where I can’t escape again. I save every dime I can so I’ll always have a nest egg.” It’s not a lot, but it’s what I’ve got. Not enough to pay for the services Blade provides.
“Good girl,” he praises, beaming.
Those two words burrow under my skin and squeeze my heart. Have I ever been anyone’s good girl? Certainly not my father, and my mother was too busy staying alive to take much time to care for me.
“Have you seen or spoken to your ex since you left?”
“One conversation over the phone. A week after I left. The day I filed the papers. I called him from a secure line at the shelter to tell him I’d filed.”
“And? How did he take it?”
“He told me he would never divorce me in a million years, and if I didn’t come home immediately, he would hunt me down every day of his life until he found me and made me pay.”
Blade’s jaw tightens, and a vein protrudes on his forehead. Otherwise, he remains calm. Maybe he’s used to hearing stories like this from women. After all, his company provides protection for people—all kinds of people, I presume. Though from the looks of his office, I suspect his agency’s clients are usually wealthy. I’m picturing rock stars and actors. Not dirt-poor women with a vindictive ex.
His nostrils flare when he inhales slowly. “And your picture was all over the television last night and this morning.”
