Part 18 (1/2)
Presently, she'd nodded, then: ”I knew it . . . I guess.”
”Ruth, I'll do everything I . . .”
”No.” She tucked a strand of red hair under her cap. ”They let him call me from the jail . . . just before you came. He was furious with you. He won't accept anything you say.”
They must've told him about my report, Thurlow thought. ”Now he knows his mask of sanity isn't working,” he said. ”Of course he's furious.”
”Andy . . . are you sure?”
She put her hand on his, her palm damp with perspiration. He held her hand, thinking of mingled perspiration: the idea carried an odd sense of intimacy.
”You're sure,” she sighed. ”I've seen it coming.” Again, that deep sigh. ”I didn't tell you about Christmas.”
”Christmas?”
”Christmas Eve. My . . . I came home from the hospital. I had the late s.h.i.+ft then, remember? He was walking around talking to himself . . . saying horrible things about mother. I could hear her upstairs in her room . . . crying. I . . . I guess I screamed at him, called him a liar.”
She took two quick breaths.
”He . . . hit me, knocked me into the Christmas tree . . . everything knocked over . . .” She put a hand to her eyes. ”He'd never hit me before -- always said he didn't believe in spankings, he'd had so many beatings when he was a boy.”
”Why didn't you tell me?”
”We were . . . I . . . I was ashamed of . . . I thought if . . .” She shrugged. ”I went out to the clinic and saw Dr. Whelye, but he said . . . fights, people in the conflict of marriage are . . .”
”Sounds like him. Did your mother know he hit you?”
”She heard him storm out and slam the door. He didn't come back all night. Christmas Eve! She . . . she'd heard the commotion. She came down, helped me clean up the mess.”
”I wish I'd known this when I was talking to . . .”
”What good would it do? Everyone defends him, even mother. You know what she said while she was helping me clean up? 'Your father's a very sick man, Ruthy.' Defending him!”
”What about your neighbor, Sarah French? Does . . . ?”
”Oh . . . she and Dr. French heard the fights. Sarah . . . Sarah knows daddy's sick. Dr. French . . .” Ruth shrugged.
”But as long as she knows, maybe . . .”
”She doesn't mean mental illness. Dr. French thinks he has a progressive sclerotic condition, but daddy won't go into the hospital for a complete examination. She knows about that and that's what she meant. That's all she meant!”
”Ruth . . .” He thought about this revelation for a moment. ”Ruth, severe conditions of this kind, Monckeberg's sclerosis, for example, frequently are accompanied by personality distortions. Didn't you know this?”
”I . . . he wouldn't cooperate, go to a hospital or anything. I talked to Dr. French . . . Whelye. He was no help at all. I warned mother -- the violence and . . .”
”Perhaps if she'd . . .”
”They've been married twenty-seven years. I can't convince her he really might harm her.”
”But he struck you, knocked you down.”