date. Why not have children while we were young, so we could still travel and enjoy ourselves after they left home? Didn’t I love the countryside, where I could have a larger house? Not only was the country lovely, but I was safer there, outside the city, with all its hazards.
In those early months, before we said our vows, he never lifted a hand to me. He rarely even lifted his voice, although he did talk over my comments frequently enough that alarm bells should have sounded. Nor was he aggressive or belligerent when we were in the company of others. Not that we often were. The Abuser wanted me all to himself, and like the romantic girl I was, I thought that showed how much he loved me.
He was often critical of others, but less often of me. When he did criticize, his words were framed as suggestions, patiently issued, lovingly meant. He wanted the best for me. A friend I’d chosen, an activity I loved? Perhaps there were better options.
I can’t place all the blame on the man I chose to marry. I wanted to be loved and taken care of. I wanted to believe that someone could turn my sadness to joy, and I could be happy again. I had never learned one of life’s most important lessons. I am responsible for my own happiness. Letting somebody else take on that responsibility was like diving into murky waters without checking for rocks or sharks.
* * *
Jan stared out the side window of her new bedroom at a narrow pergola adorned with hanging flower baskets.
“Like I said, this was my father’s house,” Taylor said from the doorway. “He’s an architect and of course, he can’t leave anything alone. This used to be a pretty standard little ranch house, but when he finished, it was sort of modern Asian, sleek, stark....”
“It’s anything but stark now. It’s lovely.” Jan turned and saw that Taylor’s arms were filled with fresh linens. She made a pretty picture, chin-length dark hair falling forward, sheets and blankets piled in front of a willowy body. Before Jan could take them, Taylor set them on the white bedspread.
“Oh, it was lovely when he finished it, too, but Maddie and I wanted something a little warmer. It was pretty masculine. So we painted the siding cream, added shutters to match the porch pillars and planted flowers everywhere. A lot of the furniture was Dad’s, but we added pillows and slipcovers, rugs on the floors and lots of things on the walls. We tried not to go overboard, though. We wanted simplicity. Not too girly.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it. Will the room be okay? It’s not huge, but having your own bath is a plus. I’m guessing before too long Maddie’s going to be camping out in hers. I did when I was a teenager.”
Harmony had never been allowed to camp out in their bathroom. She and Buddy had shared the one in the upstairs hallway, and he had often lingered until it was almost time to drive to school, just to point out that a man’s needs always took priority.
“Jan?”
Jan realized Taylor had asked a question. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering. It will be more than okay. It’s perfect.”
“Good, then. Would you like to share a glass of wine before dinner?”
“I’m sorry I ruined your plans to go out with Harmony tonight.”
“I don’t think she’s a bit sorry you showed up, do you? And Maddie’s thrilled because her friend Edna just called, and she and Vanilla are heading over there to spend the night. I never would have heard the end of it if she’d missed that chance.”
Jan had already been introduced to Vanilla, the grown puppy of Velvet, Harmony’s dog, and the smallish golden doodle had won her heart by offering a paw on introduction. “I can’t remember the last time I had a glass of wine.”
Taylor nodded. “Okay, you don’t drink. I’ll remember that.”
“No. I didn’t drink because my husband...” She managed a smile. “I would love a glass of wine.”
“Great. Once you’re settled, come in the kitchen and talk to me while I cook. Harmony warned you I’m a vegetarian, right?”
“Harmony says she’s a vegetarian, too.”
Taylor turned to go. “I hope you didn’t mind not spending the night with her tonight, but it just seemed to make sense to bring you here right away and let you settle in. It gives you a chance to see how you like it, just in case.”
Jan knew that “just in case” meant that if she didn’t like it, she could still leave town in the morning, as planned. That was the compromise they had all come up with. Taylor would have time to consider the safety issues, and Jan would have time to get used to the idea of staying in Asheville.
Of course, it was also clear that if she did decide to leave, she would break her daughter’s heart.
She had brought so little with her that it only took a minute to empty her clothes into a drawer and store her few toiletries on the bathroom counter. Once she’d had time to squeeze Buddy’s scrapbook into the old Scout backpack, it had taken up most of the room. The few other things she had brought were a testament to her desire to leave the past behind. She’d brought no jewelry except her watch, and that only because she’d worried she might need to know the time during her escape. Rex had given her the pretty jewel-encrusted Bulova on her last birthday, and the moment she was sure she no longer needed it, she would donate it to the Salvation Army.
Rex had given her lots of jewelry over the years, and now most likely every bit of it had melted in the fire. Most of the necklaces and bracelets had come with sincere apologies instead of wrapping paper. He hadn’t meant to hit her last night, but she should have known he wouldn’t like A, B or C. He hadn’t meant to take out his bad day on her, but didn’t she know by now that she needed to stay clear of him when things weren’t going well at the office?
She had dutifully worn every bit, faithfully keeping track of each item. Had she not worn a particular piece, he would have been angry all over again, and the cycle would have been eternally perpetuated.
All gone now.
She felt herself smiling a little. “Good riddance,” she said softly.
She combed her hair and wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror. In the past year she hadn’t bothered to visit a salon, a process she hated, anyway. Inevitably Rex would go along, and then he would sit nearby and instruct the stylist on what he wanted her to do. No layers, no bangs, not too short. Plain and simple, like the woman he had married.
“Simpleminded, more likely.” She realized she was talking to herself.
“Which is what happens when you’re the only decent person in the house to talk to,” she said, then clamped her lips shut to cut off the conversational flow and went back into the bedroom.
The room was small, but it was comfortable and comforting. There was room for a double bed, a nightstand and a dresser, plus a television stand in the corner with a small flat-screen and DVD player. The walls were a pale sea-green, dotted with impressionistic seascapes and a trio of embroidered samplers from a time when they were a requirement for learning needlework skills. She leaned forward and read the motto on the closest. “‘To thine own self be true,’” she read out loud.
Had she paid attention to that saying earlier, she would be either happily divorced or dead. She wasn’t
