me.”
“Am I? Hmmmm.
Let’s just say that I understand you far better than you think I do. Perhaps
even more than you want me to.” She deliberated for less than a second. “I know
about her.”
“Her, who?”
Zoe toyed with
one of the rings on her finger. “Macy.”
She watched
the muscle in his cheek jump as he clenched down on his teeth and spoke. “Who
told you about Macy?”
“You did.”
“No, I did
not.”
“Yes, you did.
That’s what I saw when I touched you. I make you think of her; that’s why you
dislike me so much. Or resent me. Call it what you will. I make you think of
things you don’t want to think of.”
His knuckles
went white as he gripped the wheel, refusing to look at her. “I don’t know
where you dug up the information on Macy, but that’s my private life and I
don’t appreciate anyone digging into my privacy.”
“I didn’t dig
up anything on you.”
“And pigs fly
with pink wings.”
#
“Looks like
all hell is breaking loose over at the Matthews’ house.”
Rene Taylor
withdrew her hands from the dishwater and grabbed a towel. Wiping her hands,
she joined her husband at the front window. “Reporters. I hope nothing else has
happened. That poor woman has been through enough in her life.”
“I can’t even
begin to imagine having a child vanish like that.” Rene’s husband, Jeff, draped
his arm over her shoulders, gathering her close, as if that simple gesture
might ward off the possibility that tragedy could strike their own lives.
Rene pressed
her lips together, staring out at the hoard of reporters gathering like wolves
around a fresh kill. “I should go over and see if there’s anything I can do to
help. It’s driving me crazy to watch her go through this alone.”
“I thought her
husband told you to stay away from her.”
“He did, but
ask me if I care.” She whipped the dishtowel off her shoulder and wiped her
hands again. “I stay away only to protect her, not because I’m the least bit
intimidated by that coward.”
Jeff smiled,
his arm tightening, squeezing her with affection. “I’ve yet to meet a man who
intimidates you, my love.”
Rene couldn’t
help herself. She smiled. “You make me sound ferocious.”
“Far from it.
You’re just a kitten with claws. But even kittens know how to defend themselves
when threatened by a dog with a bad bite.”
“He’s not a
biter. He’s a barker. And his bark doesn’t bother me. I just don’t want him
taking out his anger on her. She isn’t a strong person at all.”
“Then all we
can do is pray.” Jeff turned from the window and dropped down in his recliner.
He picked up his Bible and began paging through it. “In the meantime, I have a
sermon to prepare.”
Rene tossed
her towel over the back of a chair. “Those reporters are going to eat her
alive. I’m going over there for a few minutes. I can’t stand by and do
nothing.”
Jeff closed
his Bible, hooked a finger over the top of his glasses, and slid them down to
the edge of his nose. He peered over the top of them. “Be careful.”
Rene blew him
a kiss. “I’ll leave long before he’s home. He’ll never know I was there.”
Pulling the
front door closed behind her, Rene squared her shoulders, ready to storm
through the wall of reporters. No, they didn’t intimidate her. Few things did.
But it hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time she had cowered in fear
merely from the way her first husband looked at her, knowing that at any moment
his fists would take over.
Afraid,
intimidated, hurt, and wounded, it had taken years to build up the courage to
go to her pastor for help. The Reverend Bennett Reed, then in his early
sixties, had meant well, but he’d clearly been raised in a different era and
was unprepared for the rise in domestic violence. With a pat on her hand and a
warm smile, the old man had sent her home, gently admonishing her to submit to
her husband’s authority.
That advice may have been
“Am I? Hmmmm.
Let’s just say that I understand you far better than you think I do. Perhaps
even more than you want me to.” She deliberated for less than a second. “I know
about her.”
“Her, who?”
Zoe toyed with
one of the rings on her finger. “Macy.”
She watched
the muscle in his cheek jump as he clenched down on his teeth and spoke. “Who
told you about Macy?”
“You did.”
“No, I did
not.”
“Yes, you did.
That’s what I saw when I touched you. I make you think of her; that’s why you
dislike me so much. Or resent me. Call it what you will. I make you think of
things you don’t want to think of.”
His knuckles
went white as he gripped the wheel, refusing to look at her. “I don’t know
where you dug up the information on Macy, but that’s my private life and I
don’t appreciate anyone digging into my privacy.”
“I didn’t dig
up anything on you.”
“And pigs fly
with pink wings.”
#
“Looks like
all hell is breaking loose over at the Matthews’ house.”
Rene Taylor
withdrew her hands from the dishwater and grabbed a towel. Wiping her hands,
she joined her husband at the front window. “Reporters. I hope nothing else has
happened. That poor woman has been through enough in her life.”
“I can’t even
begin to imagine having a child vanish like that.” Rene’s husband, Jeff, draped
his arm over her shoulders, gathering her close, as if that simple gesture
might ward off the possibility that tragedy could strike their own lives.
Rene pressed
her lips together, staring out at the hoard of reporters gathering like wolves
around a fresh kill. “I should go over and see if there’s anything I can do to
help. It’s driving me crazy to watch her go through this alone.”
“I thought her
husband told you to stay away from her.”
“He did, but
ask me if I care.” She whipped the dishtowel off her shoulder and wiped her
hands again. “I stay away only to protect her, not because I’m the least bit
intimidated by that coward.”
Jeff smiled,
his arm tightening, squeezing her with affection. “I’ve yet to meet a man who
intimidates you, my love.”
Rene couldn’t
help herself. She smiled. “You make me sound ferocious.”
“Far from it.
You’re just a kitten with claws. But even kittens know how to defend themselves
when threatened by a dog with a bad bite.”
“He’s not a
biter. He’s a barker. And his bark doesn’t bother me. I just don’t want him
taking out his anger on her. She isn’t a strong person at all.”
“Then all we
can do is pray.” Jeff turned from the window and dropped down in his recliner.
He picked up his Bible and began paging through it. “In the meantime, I have a
sermon to prepare.”
Rene tossed
her towel over the back of a chair. “Those reporters are going to eat her
alive. I’m going over there for a few minutes. I can’t stand by and do
nothing.”
Jeff closed
his Bible, hooked a finger over the top of his glasses, and slid them down to
the edge of his nose. He peered over the top of them. “Be careful.”
Rene blew him
a kiss. “I’ll leave long before he’s home. He’ll never know I was there.”
Pulling the
front door closed behind her, Rene squared her shoulders, ready to storm
through the wall of reporters. No, they didn’t intimidate her. Few things did.
But it hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time she had cowered in fear
merely from the way her first husband looked at her, knowing that at any moment
his fists would take over.
Afraid,
intimidated, hurt, and wounded, it had taken years to build up the courage to
go to her pastor for help. The Reverend Bennett Reed, then in his early
sixties, had meant well, but he’d clearly been raised in a different era and
was unprepared for the rise in domestic violence. With a pat on her hand and a
warm smile, the old man had sent her home, gently admonishing her to submit to
her husband’s authority.
That advice may have been
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