Hope Springs - 05 - Wedding Cake (8 page)

Carla glanced up at Donovan.

“We did that already,” he replied, speaking for her. “One of the women officers took them,” he explained. “Since she came to the station, we had to file a report, and so it’s just standard procedure to take pictures.”

“Good,” Charlotte noted. “So, now you can take your shower.” She gestured toward the hallway and escorted Carla to the bathroom. She pulled out a towel and cloth from the pantry and handed them to Carla. She showed her where the soap and shampoo and lotion were. She explained the hot and cold water and how she needed to be careful because the hot water could get very hot. She also found a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a new pair of underwear and socks, and handed them to Carla. The newest resident of St. Mary’s glanced down at the clothes.

“We have a lot of new and used clothes here,” Charlotte said. “Most of our residents don’t have anything when they come. You’re welcome to use whatever you need. The clothes are in the bins and hanging on the racks in the back room.” She gestured down the hall.

Carla nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome,” Charlotte replied. “Take as long as you need.” And she closed the bathroom door and headed back up the hall.

Donovan was still standing near the front door. By this time, Maria and the other women had come in the back door, but out of respect and because of their recollections of their own arrivals at the shelter, none of them had come into the front room. Even Maria had not come in the front area. She had just gone into the kitchen, grabbed a dinner roll, and left. Charlotte was surprised to find out later that her volunteer had not stepped inside to meet Donovan.

“You want to sit down for a minute?” Charlotte asked Donovan as she walked back into the room. She could hear the women talking quietly in the kitchen and dining room.

“Sure,” he replied. And he took a seat on the sofa while Charlotte sat across from him in one of the overstuffed chairs.

“She was beaten pretty bad,” Charlotte commented.

Donovan nodded.

“I’m glad she felt like she could come to you,” she added.

Donovan nodded again. He seemed embarrassed about the situation.

“He’s hit her before,” he responded. “But never like this,” he added. He shook his head and slid his hat in his lap. He fingered the edges and then glanced up at Charlotte.

Charlotte didn’t respond.

“We’ve been divorced eighteen years,” he explained. “We got
married right out of high school. We were young, stupid. And we lasted about six years when she realized she didn’t want to be married to a cop and I realized that she was still interested in being young and, well, stupid.” He paused. “Carla has always been a bit on the wild side,” he added. “I’m more, well, I’m a little on the boring side.” He managed a smile.

Charlotte nodded and returned the smile. “But you’ve stayed friends?” she asked.

Donovan shook his head. “Not really,” he replied. “She tends to show up when she’s in trouble,” he added. “It’s not usually this kind of trouble.” He shrugged. “Money, usually. She’s come to me from time to time because she’s needed money.”

Charlotte settled into her seat. She studied Donovan. He was a big man, broad shoulders, stocky and yet still tall. He had dark hair and eyes, and skin that was brown, like he stayed in the sun all day. He seemed nervous, and Charlotte understood that this was uncomfortable for him.

“Do you know her husband?” she asked.

“I know of him,” Donovan replied. “He’s been in trouble before. He’s known to have a violent streak.”

Charlotte nodded.

“A few bar brawls, a bunch of skirmishes with some other drunks. A few arrests. I tried to tell Carla before she married him but she wouldn’t listen.”

“How long have they been married?” Charlotte wanted to know.

“About six years,” Donovan answered.

“And there’s somebody out looking for him?” Charlotte asked, wondering if the other police officers had succeeded yet.

“We sent a unit over to their house. I suspect he’s still there.”

“Why?” Charlotte asked.

“Carla got one good swing at him before she ran out,” Donovan replied.

“She doesn’t look like she could do much damage,” Charlotte noted. “She’s very petite,” she added, thinking about the small woman she had just met.

“She had an iron skillet,” Donovan said with a slight smile.

“Well, that does help if you don’t match up,” Charlotte responded.

“She said he was knocked out when she left.”

Charlotte nodded. She knew that some of the battered women she met were able to fight back. Some of them were quite strong and could hold their own in a fistfight. Some of the others, most of them, in fact, were generally too scared and too weak. Charlotte had noticed that violent men seemed to be drawn to the smaller, meeker types.

There was a pause in the conversation. They could hear the women talking and eating in the dining room. There was some laughter, which always made Charlotte smile. There was not usually a lot of laughter at St. Mary’s.

“Thank you for taking her,” Donovan finally broke the silence. “I didn’t know where else for her to go.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Charlotte responded. “You know, it’s funny that we’ve never met before,” she added. “I know most of the police officers in Gallup.” She thought about all of the men and women she had met in her line of work. She knew all the emergency room staff at the hospital, many of the local clergy, social workers, school counselors, police officers, and, unfortunately, funeral directors. When she discovered that Donovan served on the force in Gallup, she had been surprised to find out that he had never brought a woman to St. Mary’s.

Donovan nodded. He wasn’t sure why he had never come to the women’s shelter. He had certainly handled domestic violence calls, but in his experience, most of the women wouldn’t leave their homes.

There was another pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was married before,” he finally confessed. “I wasn’t hiding it,” he added. “I just didn’t tell you.”

“We’ve only been out once,” Charlotte noted. “We hadn’t really had the chance to go into a lot of detail about our lives.”

“You don’t count the tire change as a first date?” he asked.

Charlotte grinned. “Well, there was a little more to it than just roadside assistance, wasn’t there?”

“Coffee,” he replied. “And we did talk awhile that night,” he added.

Charlotte blushed even though she wasn’t sure why. She glanced away from Donovan and cleared her throat. “So, does Carla have family she can go to when she’s stronger?” she asked.

Realizing that the conversation had changed directions, he answered the question. “She has a couple of sisters and her mother is still living. I suppose I should let them know what has happened,” he said.

“I’d let her make that decision,” Charlotte advised.

They both noticed the lights of the car pulling into the driveway of the house.

“That’s probably the nurse,” Charlotte guessed. “I better go meet her at the back and tell her what to expect.”

Donovan stood up, understanding it was his cue to leave. “Thank you again,” he said. “Can I call tomorrow?” he asked.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether he meant her or the shelter for Carla but she answered positively regardless. “Of course.” She thought for a moment. “I did give you my card, right?” she asked.

Donovan smiled and pulled it out from the front of his shirt pocket. “Reverend Charlotte Stewart,” he read. “Call me day or night,” he added.

“It doesn’t say that,” Charlotte responded, knowing that he was teasing her.

“No, but it probably should,” he said. He stuck the card back where it had been and headed for the door. “You’d take a call anytime, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded. “Probably,” she replied.

“I’ll call tomorrow,” he said.

“We’ll be here,” Charlotte replied, still unsure whom he was intending to talk to.

She opened the door and he headed down the steps, and when Charlotte turned around, the women from the shelter were all gathered in the hallway watching.

B
eatrice saw the mailman as he rounded the corner. She threw on her coat and met him at her front gate just as he was about to bring the mail to her box on her front porch. “Eldon,” she said, studying the man who had delivered her mail for almost twenty years.

“Mrs. Witherspoon,” he acknowledged. “How are you today?” he asked.

“I’m as perky as a peach,” she replied. “And how are you?”

He handed her a small stack of letters. “I am fine.”

She took the stack and kept watching the man. “How is Lily?” she asked, sounding as if she knew the answer.

“Lily is fine.” Eldon appeared as if he really wasn’t interested in a conversation. “Have a good day now.” And he turned to walk away.

Beatrice stopped him. “Eldon,” she called out before he had taken a step.

He turned back around. “Yes, Mrs. Witherspoon?”

“This spring Jessie and James Jenkins are renewing their vows. The
Farmers’ Almanac
reports that the weather this year will be particularly kind for outdoor events, and I think it’s high time you marry that woman.” Beatrice was needling Eldon to propose to the woman he had been dating for as long as he had been a mailman. For fifteen years she had pestered him about his lack of commitment.

Eldon sighed a heavy sigh. “Beatrice,” he said, remembering that the older woman had told him years ago to call her by her first name, “Lily broke up with me about nine months ago. I didn’t tell you like I didn’t tell anybody because I can’t stand the questions and the look of pity that is starting to form on your face right now.”

Beatrice tried to change her expression. She could feel the pity look when it started to emerge.

Eldon continued. “She’s found somebody new and she’s happy. So don’t ask me anymore about her. Don’t tell me to marry her. Don’t talk to me about Lily Bitterman ever again.” He turned away from Beatrice and looked up the street. “I’ve got a route to make, and besides, it looks like you have received an important wedding invitation to attend to, so with that announcement postmarked from Columbia, South Carolina, and the Jenkins one, I’d say you got plenty of nuptials to keep you busy this spring.” And he tipped his hat at Beatrice and headed down the sidewalk.

“Well, Eldon Macintyre, why on earth wouldn’t you think you could tell me about your breakup? I mean nothing but goodwill for you.” Beatrice kept talking but Eldon never turned around. “I’ll find you a woman, Eldon!” she yelled, and it was loud enough that a couple of neighbors who were standing outside turned to look in her direction.

Beatrice smiled at them and waved. She never was one to worry
about what others thought of her. She headed back to the house and glanced down at her stack of letters. On top was indeed what appeared to be a wedding invitation. She looked back up the street at Eldon as he moved in and out of driveways, delivering the mail. It surprised her to hear that he had noticed her letters. He had always seemed so discreet, acting as if he never paid any attention at all to anybody’s mail.

Beatrice studied the letter and suddenly noticed the return address, and she recognized it as her daughter Robin’s address in Columbia, South Carolina. The envelope was a thick paper stock, expensive, Beatrice could tell. It was mauve in color, with a gold-stamped pair of wedding rings on the back.

Robin had moved from Charlotte, North Carolina, a few years earlier. She was a banker, a loan officer, and she had gotten a promotion that involved a move south. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal for Beatrice because she rarely saw any of her children anyway, and Robin especially seemed always too busy to come back to Hope Springs to visit her mother and stepfather. As far as Beatrice knew, Robin had not been dating anyone and was a very committed single woman. Beatrice had given up on matchmaking for her daughter after she graduated from college. But it was certainly not because she lost heart. Her resignation came entirely from Robin, who claimed that if her mother didn’t quit setting her up on blind dates or giving out her phone number to young men, she was going to take a job in San Francisco, and never speak to Beatrice again. Her mother got the message loud and clear and never tried matchmaking on her again. Still, she always asked about Robin’s love life, and she had never heard Robin mention anyone that she was dating.

Beatrice held the invitation carefully as she walked to the front
steps of her house. She sat down on the top step and slowly opened it. She pulled out the card and as she read the words, she couldn’t believe it. It was exactly as it appeared. Robin was getting married, and Beatrice was finding out from a wedding invitation. It read:

That was it. Inside the envelope there was also a short letter of explanation about how to reserve airline tickets and rooms at the hotel, an itinerary of events that lasted the entire weekend, and a phone number to call for more information and to RSVP.

Beatrice stared at the invitation. She shook her head, trying to understand how her own daughter could be getting married and she had not known that she was even dating. All kinds of questions rolled across her mind.
Who was Farrell Monk? How long had they known each other? Why hadn’t she told her mother anything about the relationship? Why hadn’t Beatrice met her future son-in-law? And where was Cabo San
Lucas and why would Robin choose to get married in another country instead of in her hometown?