Part 1 (2/2)

”Maybe. I called the bank because I was worried maybe he was emptying out her bank account, too. She doesn't seem to be hurting for money right now, but who knows? Maybe she sold it years ago and we just don't know.”

”I take it that means there was no suspicious activity on her account.”

”No. They a.s.sured me she doesn't have a cosigner and the only automatic withdrawals are for the minimum payments on her credit card and a monthly gym members.h.i.+p.”

”Gym members.h.i.+p!”

”I know, right?” Jill couldn't help but smile at the thought of our mother, who thought sweating was unladylike, going to a gym. ”There's a s.h.i.+ny new place downtown.”

”Maybe it's the hot place to meet guys,” I said, not joking at all. ”Okay, but, Jill, back up for a second. You haven't actually told me anything that points at what's-his-name.”

”Phil. Okay, I admit, the missing silver could have been Mom's own doing. But her engagement ring? The one Dad gave her? She's not wearing it and I couldn't find it anywhere. It used to be in a special ring box of its own.”

”I don't remember that.”

”Really? We used to play with it. Here, look at this. Do you remember this?” She dug into her bag to pull out a family photo alb.u.m. She flipped a few pages, and there we were in dress-up clothes, clearly playing ”wedding.” From the look of the napkin on my head, I was the bride. Jill must have been playing the part of the priest, and the whole wedding party, including the groom, was made up of teddy bears and stuffed animals. Many of them were wearing bow ties.

”Am I wearing her engagement ring here?” I squinted at the picture. I couldn't have been older than four.

”I think you are. I remember the ring clearly, and it's definitely not in her stuff now. Neither is the string of pearls she told me Dad bought her on their honeymoon.”

”And what are the chances that one day she got fed up with the stuff from Dad and sold it in a fit of pique?”

”It's possible, but not likely. I think she really liked those keepsakes of him.” Jill sighed.

”You still haven't told me a good reason to suspect Phil. Not all men are jerks, Jill.”

”You think I don't know that!” She started to raise her voice, then hushed herself before a nurse could come scold us.

”I'm just saying don't jump to conclusions. I don't exactly have great examples of men treating me well in my past, so trust me, I'm inclined to jump on the boy-bas.h.i.+ng bandwagon right now. But let's try to be calm about it and think it through. I know we're both upset about Mom. I'm just saying let's not take that out on some poor guy who may be sitting at home worried half to death that his girlfriend is seriously injured.”

Jill took a deep breath. ”Okay, let me tell you the rest of what I know, which will explain why I'm so suspicious of him. Did I tell you yet about her car?”

”No. What happened to her car?”

”When I got here yesterday, I went to the house thinking, stupidly, that I'd use her car. So I go into the garage and find it completely dead. Not a click. At first I think that's weird, I wonder if she left her lights on and totally drained the battery or what? I didn't have time to wait around for a jump start, so I took a taxi. Later, I went back to the house to sleep, and that's when I started to think things were missing.”

”So you said.”

”So it could have been the boyfriend, or it could have been someone who heard about her being out of commission who broke in. Either way, I didn't feel safe in the house, so I spent the night with the Rosemonts next door. And they told me the car's been out of commission for six months and that Phil drives her everywhere.”

”Okay, that's weird.”

”I think he convinced her not to get it fixed in order to make her depend on him. 'Oh, honey, it'll be so expensive. Why don't you just let me drive you?' Meanwhile, Mary Rosemont says she hasn't spoken to Mom in months, either. She's cut off all her friends and even stopped going to church.”

”Well, is that because the real reason she went to church was to try to meet men?” I asked.

”Karina!” Jill's voice was sharp.

”Seriously, Jill. I'm not joking around. She found a guy and then she didn't have to go anymore.”

”I think it's more likely he's the kind of abuser who cuts a woman off from her friends and family and makes sure she's completely dependent on him with nowhere else to turn.”

The word abuser made my throat tighten up. ”And you think he attacked her?”

”I don't know. Plenty of abusers don't use force, though. Sometimes the manipulation is more emotional and psychological. They just have to feel like they're in control all the time and like the woman doesn't have any autonomy.” She rubbed her face and sighed. ”When I did that domestic violence training course, I never thought I'd be applying what I learned to my own mother.”

”What domestic violence training course?”

”You remember. When I was volunteering at that shelter. There was a whole orientation course. Chilling stuff.”

”I can imagine.” I swallowed, wondering what Jill would think if she knew I'd spent the summer messing around with a bunch of rich bondage nuts in England. Probably that I was nuts. And what would she think about a guy who made me agree to being spanked or fondled before he would do it? Wasn't that what my own abusive professor tried to do? Get me to agree to his terms before s.e.xually using me? How was Renault different from Damon, or James? What if James wasn't any different from Phil?

My stomach made a queasy flip as I entertained the thought. What was the difference between James and a creep like Phil or the abusers Jill learned about? Maybe I was too sucked in and blind to be able to see that there wasn't one.

The truth was, I missed James. The whole flight from England, even though I was burning with anger, my arms had ached with emptiness. I missed his scent, and even now I kept thinking I could hear his voice coming from somewhere down the hall. Was I deluded? Was it like being addicted to a drug that felt good but was ultimately the worst possible thing for me?

I tried that thought on for size, but it didn't fit. James might be bad for me, but it wasn't abuse. I couldn't quite put together why at that moment, but I felt there was a difference. I still had ma.s.sive issues with him, but abuse wasn't one of them.

I wondered if Jill would agree, but this felt like the wrong time to bring it up... I jerked upright, realizing that I had nodded off right there in front of her.

She glanced at her watch. ”Let's go see if she's awake.”

”Okay.”

We tiptoed into the room in case she wasn't.

My first sight of her took my breath away. Her face was drawn and pale, making the bruise on her forehead look even darker and more lurid than it actually was. A bandage was wrapped around her head. There was an IV in her arm, and other tubes and monitor wires disappeared under the beige blanket. The bed was arranged so she was reclining sitting partway up, but her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping. Her left hand was bandaged and in a splint, too.

I crept closer, until I stood at the railing next to her outstretched IV arm.

Her eyes flew open then, and she whispered, ”Karina!” Then she cleared her throat and said in a more normal tone of voice, ”My baby girl, I'm so glad you came to see me!”

I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, trying not to get tangled on any of the wires or tubes. ”I'm so happy to see you, too.”

”Oh, I've missed you missed you missed you missed you,” she crooned. ”Did it take you a long time to get here?”

”Well, I was working in London for the summer, so I had to fly back, but it's fine. My a.s.signment was over anyway. Are you okay, though, Mom? The doctor said you had a fall.”

”Oh, I'm sure I will be fine very soon, honey. Don't worry about that. London, you say? You mean England?”

<script>