Walk a Straight Line (8 page)

Deep in thought, Keith entered his home and headed straight to his study. Today had been a tough day. He'd brought the paperwork home on the Marshall case to finish working on his closing arguments, which would take him all night. He sighed. The evidence was stacked against Payton Marshall, but Keith knew she was innocent. She had been a battered wife, but there was no way that she had murdered her husband. He just had to help her prove it. This was the part of the job that he found stressful, defending a client that everybody, including the judge, believes is guilty. Keith was doing the best he could. Losing was not an option to him.

Eve opened the door to the study and entered. Keith barely acknowledged her.

“I guess that snort is your way of saying hello?”

Keith busied himself with his papers, hoping she'd get the hint and leave.

“Busy, huh? But I bet if
Gina
were to call, you would suddenly have something to say.”

He blinked his eyes and gave her a disapproving stare. Don't even dignify that with a rebuttal, he told himself. “Eve, I don't have the time to deal with your theatrics tonight,” he told her firmly.

“Just admit it,” Eve whined, coming into the office and plopping into one of his chairs. “I saw the way you were looking at her when she was here for dinner.”

Keith put his papers down, extremely annoyed with her for breaking his concentration. He was in no mood to deal with her. Eve required a special patience that he didn't always possess. But Keith knew from experience that she would go on and on until she solicited a response from him. He did not know why Eve persisted, especially when he refused to let her get to him.

“You were looking at her like a dog in heat,” Eve continued, still goading Keith into giving her some form of a reply.

He couldn't let that go. “Okay,” Keith said switching gears and looked directly at Eve. “I take it this means that you want some attention. Did you sell any houses today?”

He saw Eve perk up, and she wisely dropped her other argument. “Yes! The Elliots finally found something! My bonus is going to be a big one!”

Keith smiled at her. With her wide smile and bright eyes, Eve was as happy as a child who had been given a piece of candy. He supposed that he could try to make more effort to actually talk to her, since she was having a baby. Keith knew that he should be more sensitive toward her. It was just that she didn't make him sizzle the way . . .
Don't go there.

Truthfully, if it weren't for Eve's delicate condition, he doubted that they would've been together this long. She did have the brains and the beauty. Her perceptiveness was also right on cue. But Eve was shallow. She had to be the center of his world all the time. Keith found it very irritating. But, he supposed, he could still exercise some patience with her. He looked at her and smiled at her. She smiled back.

Keith went over to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he hugged her, trying to be charming, and not the ogre he acted.

Eve warmed to his touch. “I love you,” she closed her eyes and declared in an airy voice.

As soon as she uttered those words, Keith froze. He stepped away from her as if she had slapped him. Eve jumped to her feet with her chin lifted in defiance. He knew that his blatant rejection had hurt her.

“You can't change that, Keith. I'm entitled to love whomever I want. It's my prerogative. And, I do love you,” she reiterated. “I refuse to feel guilty about my emotions, and you need to understand that.”

No, I don't understand that.
“Please, just leave,” Keith said quietly. “We agreed never to talk about love, and I am going to hold you to it.”

“But—” Eve began.

“No, Eve,” Keith said, calmly cutting her off. “Love is not an option for us, and you know that. Do you need me to remind you why?” He hunched his body in a stance challenging her to go there. Because tonight, he was in the mood to go there and lay everything bare.

“No, Keith, I don't,” Eve caved, tearfully. “You're right. I had just hoped that with time . . .” She trailed off.

Keith saw her shrug her shoulders in defeat and tears filled her eyes. She whispered, “I don't know why I even mentioned love to you. I know that's something you don't want to hear. I'm fooling myself for thinking you will change your mind.”

Eve hiccupped through her tears, but Keith didn't respond. He couldn't lie to her. He couldn't just tell her what she wanted to hear, just for the sake of saying it.

“Sometimes I wonder if you have steel where your heart is supposed to be.” He saw her hang her head; then she left the room without another word.

Keith waited until she was gone; then he put his head into his hands. He groaned aloud.
That didn't go well at all.
He berated himself over his lack of tact and for hurting Eve, but he knew that she didn't love him. She'd just managed to convince herself that she did. Keith refused to feed into that lie, especially about something as serious as love.

He'd only been in love once before, when he was in law school. Vanessa Arnold had been in medical school, and it had been love at first sight. In her arms, Keith's mind had been at peace and at rest. He'd slept like a baby. That was unusual for him, because his mind was constantly active.

But, sadly, months before their wedding, Keith had lost Vanessa as a result of a drunk driver—a low-life scumbag who'd fled the scene. Crushed, Keith pursued criminal law to help other helpless victims.

Keith remembered Vanessa's lifeless body and shuddered. Then, he mentally forced those evil thoughts away from his mind. Overcome, Keith reached into the box of tissues on his desk to wipe his eyes. That's how he knew he didn't love Eve. And Keith knew that she did not feel that way about him. Truth be known, the only woman who even came remotely close to stir him like that again was Gina. A woman he couldn't have. A woman who had everything he wanted.

Had he done this to her on purpose?
The question had racked her mind for days. Colleen carefully removed her blouse and tried not to cringe. She slowly took her arms out of the sleeve and then, just as gingerly, removed her undershirt. Involuntarily, she stifled a cry as pain racked her body.

She got up off her bed and went to her vanity to take a look. Her back and shoulders were badly bruised. Colleen sighed. She didn't know how she'd managed to keep from wincing when Gina had hugged her in the restaurant the other day. Now, here it was, days later, and she was still in pain. But Colleen was too scared of the consequences she'd face at home if she had made her friend aware of what had happened to her.

Even though she had seen them before, Colleen could not restrain the gasp from escaping her mouth. The purple marks were painful to the touch. She wondered what Bishop Greenfield would say if he saw these. He was coming over to dinner that very night, presumably to give Terence the good news of the pastoral position. For a minute, Colleen thought about not making an appearance, or purposely waiting until the bishop had arrived to wear something that would reveal her bruises. But Colleen quickly pushed those thoughts of subterfuge aside. She was sure that Terence would find a way to make her pay for them.

Colleen recalled exactly what had happened when she returned home the night of her brief escape. She remembered Terence hugging her and how she had allowed him to make love to her.

But, somehow or other, in a moment of passion, Terence had knocked her over on her back, and Colleen ended up with bruises on her arms and back. She had cried out in pain when she hit the glass table. Colleen remembered looking at Terence in amazement as he had grabbed her to apologize. He kept telling her over and over that it was an accident.

Colleen wasn't sure if she believed him because Terence was not a clumsy person by nature. So, even though Colleen had accepted his apology, a part of her strongly suspected that her injuries were no accident. Terence was both cunning and deceiving. He had orchestrated the events so Colleen could not say for sure that he had purposely pushed her.

Colleen didn't know why she had not had the guts to tell Gina about her bruises. Normally, she wouldn't have hesitated. But Colleen realized that there was still that naïve little girl inside of her who just could not accept the fact that her husband was not only controlling, but also abusive. She could be wrong. Terence could be telling the truth, after all. What if it really was an accident? What if she wrongfully accused Terence of something heinous that he actually had not done?

Terence entered the room to see what was keeping her so long. He stopped short when he saw the purple bruises on her back. To Colleen, he appeared genuinely startled at the telltale marks on her body. She saw guilt reflected on his face before he backed out of the room in silence. She pretended to be unaware of his presence, as he didn't think she'd seen him.

She played along, having become adept at pretending.

 

 

Terence entered the kitchen and went to talk to his mother about what he had just seen. Lady Francine Hayworth had offered to come over and cook a nice meal to honor the bishop's presence and her son's impending appointment for associate pastor.

“Mom,” Terence tapped her on the shoulder. He shared, with a guilty whisper, “I think I hurt Colleen real bad the other day. I went upstairs and she still has bruises.”

Francine merely dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hands. “Nonsense, boy, she had it coming. Listen to me; don't get all prissy on me now. Quit acting like a wimp. Didn't I teach you better than that? Have I ever steered you wrong? Who was the one who told you how to get Colleen to do your bidding? Hmmm? Me, that's who. And didn't it work?”

Terence nodded. Francine's sly remark about using his lovemaking as an artful means of manipulation worked like a charm. When he wanted Colleen to agree with his wishes, he kissed her senseless.

“And I bet you she's not complaining,” Francine smirked. “I'm a woman. Trust me, I know what I'm saying. Now, listen to me. Did you make it look like an accident like I told you?”

“Yes, but . . .” Terence stopped unsure. His heart had constricted at the sight of the damage that he had “accidentally” inflicted upon his wife. “I'm not sure I should have done that. I think I took it too far.”

Francine puckered her lips and rolled her eyes. “Terence, I thought I raised you better than that. Would I tell you to do something if I didn't know that it was the best thing to do? You called me for advice, remember? You asked me for guidance. Colleen has to learn real fast about being a preacher's wife. She needs a lot of training. Now, go prepare yourself. The bishop will be here soon.”

Francine shooed away his concerns, and Terence walked off like an obedient child. He did not say anything more. A good son never argued with his mother. He'd learned that the hard way as a child.

But still, Terence felt disquieted. No matter what his mother said, he just didn't feel right about what he had done. He should never have called his mother to tell her about Colleen's disappearance. He probably shouldn't have invited her two cents into his intimate life either.

Even though his mother vehemently denied it, Terence suspected that she did not like Colleen at all. Come to think of it, she didn't like anybody he'd ever dated. Terence shrugged. He didn't know. He turned his right hand over to look at a faded scar on his arm. He trailed his fingers across it—remembering.

He bunched his fists as memories threatened to surface. His mother was always right. To defy her was to pay.

 

 

Francine watched her son leave and pursed her lips in disapproval. She took her aggression out on the pots by banging them hard. She hoped Terence had heard how much he had upset her. That woman upstairs was doing something to her son. Maybe she was putting some roots on him. She had to be, Francine was convinced. Terence had never second-guessed anything that she'd ever told him to do before, and Francine resented Colleen for it.

That was why Francine made sure that she was here tonight. She was proud of her son's accomplishment, and she wanted to be sure that the bishop was well entertained and treated right. Francine wasn't too sure about Colleen's social or cooking skills, so she decided to handle the matters herself. She also did not want Colleen getting any praises on her son's behalf. Colleen had better be prepared to share the limelight. Francine intended to be right there to hear and to take credit for all the good things the bishop had to say about
her
son.

Francine only prayed that the girl did not disgrace herself by wearing something revealing or inappropriate. She was seriously glad Terence had taken her advice and had made Colleen change her look and her wardrobe. Honestly, she didn't know what Terence saw in Colleen. Francine wouldn't have chosen Colleen for her son. Colleen had been the only thing Terence ever stood up to her about.

He had refused to listen to his mother and had married that light-skinned, bony girl, against her wishes. And, come to think of it, why couldn't Terence have married someone a little darker?
Is he ashamed of my dark skin?
Francine cut the vegetables with a vengeance then. “She looks nothing like me, and she's an ostrich. I have to crane my neck to look at her.” Never mind that Terence's father had been light-skinned, tall, and had wavy hair.

Tsk . . . I don't care anything about that fool. Francine scraped the carrot so thin that she had to throw it out and start over.

Terence hadn't budged, not even when Francine threatened to not show up at his wedding. He had told her that he was going to marry Colleen whether she came or not. Francine nearly had a heart attack when he'd said that. So, of course, she'd attended the wedding, but she wasn't pleased about it one bit. Her only child had been prepared to take that momentous step without her presence, and to Francine, that was almost unforgivable.

But, like a good Christian mother, she had forgiven him. How could she not, when her son could do no wrong?
Colleen definitely has roots on him, though. Nothing anybody says can convince me otherwise.

 

 

Colleen entered her bedroom on the verge of tears.
That woman is going to make me hurt her!
Every chance that Francine got during dinner, she used it to put Colleen down. Oh, she'd been polite about it, but Colleen was not fooled for an instant. The woman was plain batty! She seemed to thrive on making Colleen feel uncomfortable. No matter what Terence said, Colleen knew better. Francine had it in for her.

Colleen dabbed her eyes with some baby oil to remove the makeup. The woman had nitpicked at every single thing Colleen did or said that evening. She'd made cutting remarks about her skin, her hair, and her height. Her sly comments about the way that Colleen dressed and did her hair had made her feel as if she were a common tramp. Anything that Colleen said, Francine found something to say to negate it.

But worst of all, Terence had seemed ignorant about what his mother was doing. He never once defended her, and that infuriated Colleen more than anything else. In fact, Terence seemed to transform into a ten-year-old boy whenever his mother was present. He referred all his conversations back to his mother, as if he were begging for her approval.

Colleen wondered why she was even needed when his mother went out of her way to assume all the responsibility of being the woman of the house. Francine made sure that Colleen was left out of the conversation as much as possible.

The bishop hadn't appeared to notice anything, including Francine's rude behavior. Colleen supposed it was because he was too enamored with Francine's assets to pay attention to anything else. Terence's mother was incredibly beautiful and looked years younger than her age. In fact, she looked half her age. As a matter of fact, when Colleen first met Terence's mother, she had mistakenly believed that she was his sister. Colleen just wished the woman would get a man and stay out of her son's business.

Terence entered the room. He started undressing and was humming one of the hymns from church. He was so happy that he was actually whistling.

Colleen silently seethed.

“Tonight was a success, sweetheart,” Terence praised, as he came over to Colleen to place a light peck on her cheek. “Bishop Greenfield told me he would be giving his recommendation to the church board.”

Colleen's spine stiffened, and she retorted. “Shouldn't you be thanking your mother? After all, she did everything.”

Terence correctly interpreted her underlying message and defended. “Mom was just trying to help, Colleen. I would think that you would be grateful that she was here to cook and entertain. You didn't have to do much.”

“That's just it!” Colleen emphatically stated. She splayed her hands and explained. “Francine didn't
allow
me to do anything, Terence. She did everything. Then she insulted my hair and my clothes—”

Terence interrupted her before she could go on. “I don't think my mother meant anything by it at all. You just took it wrong. That's just the way she talks sometimes. She didn't mean any harm.”

“You're defending her. I can't believe it! I'm your wife, Terence, not your mother—Me!” Colleen shot back at him. It rankled her that Terence acted as if his mother was some innocent Southern girl. His mother was cold and selfish. She wanted her son all to herself.

“Quit!” Terence warned. He raised his hand in a gesture meant to silence her. “Enough about my mother already!”

Colleen instinctively stepped back and clutched her chest. She didn't know if Terence intended to hit her. Just for a second, Colleen felt scared. Then her temper kicked in. “You lifting your hands to me? Are you going to hit me now, Terence? Is this going to be another
accident?
” she asked sarcastically. “Didn't your mother teach you how to treat women?”

Colleen stopped when she saw anger flare in her husband's eyes. Perhaps she had gone too far. Terence took a menacing step toward her; then he paused. Colleen saw him regain control of himself.

“I don't want to talk about it anymore,” Terence informed her calmly; then he walked away.

Colleen stood there for a few moments after Terence left. His placid tone of voice had caused chills to run up her spine. To her, it would have been better if he had screamed or snarled instead of giving her such a stoic response. It was downright spooky, and it needed to stop.

Gina's warning flashed through her mind. Maybe she should just cut her losses and leave before things got too out of hand. Then Colleen rejected that thought. Despite it all, she loved Terence. Even though Colleen was discovering this new, seemingly heartless side to him, a part of her still loved her husband. She knew she sounded like a simpering
Lifetime
movie, but this was her life. Now that she was walking in these shoes, Colleen knew she'd never make fun of another woman again.

She looked at herself in the mirror, remembering a time when she used to brag about never taking any mess from any man. “If it were me, I would be out the door!” Colleen used to say with a snap of her fingers. Well, that was before she fell in love. That was before she got married. That was before she became dependent on a man. That was before she knew herself.