Hope Springs - 05 - Wedding Cake (11 page)

“Wait!” Charlotte yelled. “You forgot the blazer.”

Denise flew back into the room and grabbed the bag from Charlotte, who was still standing in the doorway holding it. “It’s a suit!” she yelled in delight. “I have a suit!” And she turned and ran down the hall.

“She’s wanted a nice suit for three months,” Martha explained to Carla, who appeared surprised at what had just happened. “She’s been studying to be a court reporter and she was told that she has to have a dark suit to get the job.”

Carla nodded and then quickly looked away from the other woman. Charlotte could see that there hadn’t been a lot of conversation or eye contact before she had arrived. She took the bags and
dropped them off in her office. She would show her findings to Carla when everyone left.

Charlotte walked back into the dining room and noticed everyone as they watched Carla trying unsuccessfully to eat her first spoonful of cereal. With the injuries she had suffered, she couldn’t open her mouth wide enough for the spoon, and once she realized that, she just put the spoon back in the bowl. The other women glanced away, ashamed they had been staring. There was an awkward silence at the table.

“Why don’t I fix you a milk shake?” Charlotte asked.

Just as she asked the question, Darlene walked into the room behind her. “I will fix the milk shake,” she announced. “Because I am the queen of shake,” she added.

The little girls were watching and they both clapped their hands. “I want one too!” the younger one cried.

“You don’t need no milk shake,” Martha said, pushing the bowl of cereal closer to her daughter. “You can eat your cereal.” And the little girl pouted but took up her spoon and continued eating.

Darlene went into the kitchen and over to the freezer, got the ice cream, opened the refrigerator, pulled out the milk and some blue-berries, and then went over to the counter, cut half of a banana, and then slid the blender toward her. She mixed everything together, grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet, and poured the contents from the blender into the glass. She found a straw and then walked into the dining room and put the concoction in front of Carla. “I had my mouth wired together for six weeks after my jaw was broken. I can make any kind of milk shake you want.” She smiled and walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” Carla mumbled.

The women all nodded their approval.

“So, who needs a ride this morning?” Charlotte asked, smiling. The tenderness she observed among the women at the shelter always touched her deeply. She knew the kindness, the easy way they had with one another, the knowing way they spoke to one another, was the very best medicine the women would ever receive. She walked around with the coffeepot and began refilling the women’s cups.

“It’s all being handled,” Janice announced, waving away any more coffee and clearing away her dishes to take them into the kitchen to put into the dishwasher. “I’m taking Martha and Denise and the girls. Darlene is driving Iris to her doctor’s appointment. We’re all in good shape, Sister.”

She finished her cleaning and walked over to Charlotte, who had placed the coffeepot back in the maker and was standing in the door-way. Janice pinched her on the cheek. “And so now you can call your cute police officer we all saw you drooling over last night and tell him the coast is clear for a private visit.” She winked. “I’m sure Carla here won’t mind staying in her room for a couple of hours.”

Charlotte blushed and turned to Carla, who was sipping her milk shake and had been watching, but then had quickly looked away from the executive director. Charlotte wasn’t sure what Carla knew about the relationship Charlotte had with her ex-husband, but she was sure that the other women didn’t realize that Carla had once been married to the police officer they had seen at the shelter the previous night.

“Oooh,” Martha started in then.
“Sister Charlotte has a boyfriend,”
she sang. Her little girls giggled and joined their mother in the chorus,
“Sister Charlotte has a boyfriend!”

Charlotte felt her face start to flush. “I think it’s time for you all to get going,” she said loudly, but she was still unable to stop the women from teasing.

“Give us the scoop and we’ll leave you alone,” Martha said, grinning.

“There is no scoop,” Charlotte answered, trying to hurry the women away from the table and out of the dining room, trying to put a halt to the awkward conversation. “We are making a bad impression on our newest resident.” She pleaded for them to stop.

“So, how did you meet Officer Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” Darlene wanted to know.

“How many times have you gone out?” Martha chimed in.

“Have you kissed him?” Hannah asked, laughing. She was the older of Martha’s two girls. Josie was six and Hannah was eight. The two girls became unglued with that question and fell out of their chairs laughing.

At that moment Denise walked into the room to model her new suit. “What did I miss?” she asked, suddenly aware that something important had been going on while she was not in the kitchen.

“Nothing, Denise, and you look wonderful. It fits you perfectly and you will make a fabulous court reporter.” Charlotte clapped her hands together like a teacher. “Now, Hannah and Josie, you both need to get ready for school,” she reported loudly, and quickly walked over to the two girls and helped them to the floor. “Let’s go get your teeth brushed while your mommy cleans up the dishes.” She shot a look over to Martha, and before any of the women could say anything else, she ushered the girls out of the room.

“I didn’t know Sister Charlotte was kissing a man,” Iris, the oldest of the residents, said quietly. And the women burst out laughing so
that Charlotte could hear them even though she was down the hall.

Disappointed that there was going to be no more gossip, the women finished their breakfasts and their coffee and quickly cleaned up the dining room and kitchen, and within a few minutes were all dressed and out the door. All the previously made arrangements among the residents left Charlotte alone with Carla, who was still sitting at the table drinking her milk shake. Once the women were out of the house, however, Charlotte was embarrassed about the breakfast conversation and how the women had teased her about Donovan in front of his ex-wife. With all that information about Donovan and Charlotte being unloaded in front of Carla, Charlotte wasn’t sure how to start a dialogue with St. Mary’s newest resident. She wiped down the counter while Carla moved into the kitchen and sat at the small kitchen table.

“Was Darlene’s milk shake okay?” Charlotte finally broke the ice.

“It’s good,” Carla responded.

Charlotte placed the dishrag over the faucet and poured herself a cup of coffee. She walked over to the table and sat down across from Carla.

“It’s quiet when they all leave, isn’t it?” Charlotte asked.

Carla didn’t respond. She took a sip of her drink.

“Laurie told me that she gave you something for the pain. Did it help last night?” Charlotte had talked to the nurse after she had completed the examination. She had reported exactly what Carla had already suspected. More than likely, there were a couple of broken ribs. Everything else was probably just bruised or sprained. She suggested taking a few X-rays, just to make sure, but Carla had refused any further medical attention, and so Laurie had treated her with bandages, ice packs, a heating pad, and Percocet.

Carla nodded gently. It was easy to see that the slightest movement was still very painful.

The two women sat at the table. Neither of them appeared to be very comfortable in the situation.

“Donnie told me that he had been out with you,” Carla said. “When he was bringing me here, he told me how you had met.”

Charlotte nodded. “I don’t know what to say, Carla, I’m sorry.”

Carla looked up at Charlotte. “What do you have to be sorry about?” she asked.

Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry that you had to be here when the girls were giving me a hard time. I’m sorry that it feels so awkward this morning.”

Carla glanced back down at the table. She stuck the straw in her mouth and took another sip of her drink. “Donnie is a good guy. He deserves to have love,” she said, surprising Charlotte.

Charlotte nodded. She took a sip of her coffee. “You want to talk about it?” she asked. This was usually the way she began a conversation with a new client at St. Mary’s, and she was comfortable with that beginning. This one seemed a little different, but, she reminded herself, she had never been dating the ex-husband of one of her clients before.

“You mean about me and Donnie or me and Bo?” Carla asked.

Charlotte thought the response was fair. She would have asked the same thing. “Is Bo your husband’s name?” Charlotte responded. She hadn’t gotten very much personal information about the man who beat her from Donovan or from Carla the night before.

Carla nodded slowly. “We’ve been married six years,” she added, and Charlotte recalled Donovan telling her that much. “It’s never been this bad,” she said. “He was really mad last night.”

Charlotte waited for more of the story. She never liked to push the women to tell more than they were comfortable telling, especially just after arriving at the shelter. Charlotte understood that by the time most of these women had gotten to St. Mary’s they had been forced to tell a lot of information to a lot of people, including the perpetrator, who often beat the victim because he thought she was keeping something from him.

“He got mad because he heard I had called Donnie last week,” she confessed. “Bo hates Donnie even though I don’t think they’ve ever even met,” she added.

Charlotte took another sip of coffee.

“Bo hates all police officers, and when we first met and he found out I had been married to one, he’s hated them even more.”

“Why did you call Donnie last week?” Charlotte asked, and then wished she hadn’t. It sounded more like the question from a jealous girlfriend than from a concerned professional.

Carla didn’t seem to mind the question or to think much about it. “I was scared,” she said. “Bo was getting more and more violent, and I thought I needed to talk to Donnie to find out where I could go.”

Charlotte nodded. She wondered what day of the previous week Donovan had talked to his ex-wife, wondered if it had coincided with the night they had gone out. She tried to shake those thoughts from her mind.

“How did Bo find out?” Charlotte asked.

Carla shook her head. She placed her bandaged arm on the table and then, grimacing, put it back in her lap. “I don’t know. I don’t know how he finds out anything. He has spies, he tells me.” Having finished her milk shake, she sat back in her chair. She looked up at
Charlotte. “Do you think they got him last night?” she asked, sounding a bit nervous.

Charlotte answered confidently, “Donovan called this morning. Your husband was arrested and charged. He’s in jail. They booked him after they woke him up,” she added, alluding to the fact that he was passed out when they got to their residence.

Carla smiled slightly, understanding what she meant. “I hit him with a skillet,” she confessed.

Charlotte drank the last of her coffee. “And pretty good, I heard,” she responded.

The two women waited for a minute before continuing their conversation.

“Will he come after me here?” Carla asked.

Charlotte waited before answering. She knew this was the fear of every woman who stayed at St. Mary’s. She knew the risks the battered women took in leaving their abusive relationships. She knew the efforts she and Maria and Laurie and all the other volunteers, all of the board members, took to keep the location of St. Mary’s private. She spoke to the workers and residents more about the need for privacy and keeping the location of the shelter secret than about anything else.

She knew the fear she felt when some of the women left and went back to their abusive partners and how she was always worried that they would tell the violent men the address of the shelter. Charlotte loved her work, was passionate in dealing with the issue of domestic violence, would do anything for any of those women she housed; but Charlotte was also always a little afraid herself that one of these men, who could beat and kill their wives and girlfriends and family
members, would come to St. Mary’s and do violence to her or to those entrusted to her care.

“He’ll never find us,” Charlotte finally answered, sounding as confident as she could. “I’ve been here a long time, and none of the men have ever come here,” she added, glad to remind herself of these statistics. “He’ll be in jail awhile, and when he gets out, we’ll have found you a new place to live.”

Carla seemed comforted by this news.

“Do you have family or anybody we could call?” Charlotte asked, going back to her standard questions asked during an intake of a new resident.

“Donnie called my sister in Farmington,” she replied. “I guess my mother knows too.”

Charlotte got up from the table, taking her mug and Carla’s glass. She washed and dried them both and put them in the cabinet. “I brought you some clothes. I figured you were a size four petite. Is that about right?” she asked.

Carla smiled and nodded. “You’re pretty good at this,” she said.

“We’re going to take good care of you, Carla,” Charlotte promised.

“Donnie hasn’t dated anybody seriously since me,” Carla said.

Charlotte nodded, helping Carla up from the table. She was surprised to hear Carla mention this.

“I hope you’ll give him a chance even though it’s …” She hesitated. “… complicated,” she finished.

Charlotte smiled and walked with Carla down the hall and toward her office to get the bag of clothes. She didn’t respond to the remark made by the newest resident at St. Mary’s. She simply wasn’t sure what to say.