The Perfect Husband (7 page)

Was she being overly dramatic? Reading
things into Nigel’s actions that just weren’t there? She was so
confused and tired and uncertain, she no longer knew what to think.
Her thoughts were a jumbled blur and she felt like she was caught
in some complicated maze, retracing the same steps over and over
again and getting nowhere.

Mason squeezed her fingers. The contact
startled her. She pulled her hands away and averted her gaze.

“Talk to me, Belle. I can see you need a
friend. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll do everything I can to
help.”

She shook her head in bewilderment. “How can
you say that? We haven’t seen each other in years. How could you
possibly know that there’s a problem? I appreciate your concern,
but we might as well be two strangers meeting for the first time
for all that we know about each other right now.”

“It doesn’t matter. Something’s upset you. I
can see it in your eyes. There’s a sadness there that you never had
before and it tears me up inside. I want to help you, Belle. I want
to bring back your smile.”

She looked at him and thought again how good
and kind he was. Did he see her as she saw herself in the mirror?
Was it obvious to the world now? She didn’t think she could bear to
know. “Why do you call me that?” she asked softly in an effort to
delay the real purpose for their conversation.

He gave her a look that told her he knew
exactly what she was doing, but answered her anyway. “The name
Isobel always sounded so formal and proper. Belle seemed to suit
you so much more. Besides, everyone called you Isobel. To me, Belle
was unique and special.”

His voice had grown husky over the course of
his explanation and emotion now shadowed his face. It dawned on her
that his feelings for her from all those years ago might not have
been buried over the passage of time. The thought unsettled her and
yet at the same time, warmed her through.

He glanced at his watch and the spell was
broken. He wasn’t being rude or signifying he wanted to be
somewhere else. She understood time was at a premium. He was a
senior doctor in a busy hospital and there was always plenty to be
done. Knowing if she didn’t find the courage to tell him now, she
might never feel brave enough to approach it, she spoke again.

“Mason, it’s hard for me to trust anyone
right now, at times I don’t even trust myself. What I’m about to
tell you will shock you. In fact, if I wasn’t the one living
through this, I’d have a hard time believing it, too.”

His gaze remained steady, but his expression
turned guarded. “Okay.”

She drew in a deep breath and eased it out
between lips that were parchment dry. “Nigel and I have been
married for nine years. The last five of them have been a living
hell.”

He didn’t move. Not even a blink. His tone
remained conversational. “In what way?”

Hot shame boiled up inside her, but she
forced herself to answer. “He’s controlling, manipulative and
selfish and… And more and more lately he uses his fists.”

That got his attention. He visibly paled
beneath his summer tan and swallowed uneasily.

“What are you saying, Belle? That Nigel
beats
you and the kids?”

She bravely held his gaze, though it was the
hardest thing she’d ever done. “Not the kids. So far, he’s only
threatened them. It’s me he beats.”

* * *

Mason stared at her and did his best to
control his fury, knowing instinctively that any loss of control
would frighten her. Under the table, his fists were clenched and
anger gushed through every vein. He wanted to rush away and find
Nigel Donnelly and pummel him to a pulp. He was so angry, he could
imagine killing the man with his bare hands. The bastard deserved
that and more. So much more.

A man who beat up on his wife and threatened
his kids. What kind of goddamned cowardly asshole did that? He
couldn’t believe it was a man he knew—although looking back, the
early warning signs had been there.

He could still remember seeing Nigel after a
game, angry because they’d lost. His mom had swung by to pick him
up and Nigel had shoved past her so hard, he’d pushed her against
the wall. She’d cried out, but his pace hadn’t slowed.

It was Mason who’d walked over to her to
check that she was all right. He could still remember the glint of
her tears, but what was worse was the shame that had filled her
eyes. It was the same look that flooded Belle’s gaze now.

“It’s not your fault, Belle. There’s
something missing in Nigel. He’s sick. He needs help.”

She nodded, but he could see she didn’t
believe him. Her lip trembled and she averted her eyes. He took her
hands in his again and squeezed them, trying to reassure her, to
make her see. She cringed at the contact and once again, pulled her
hands out of his. He didn’t press.

“It’s a common reaction to blame yourself.
It’s what a lot of victims do,” he continued gently. “You’re a
health professional. You know this stuff as well as I do. It’s not
your fault.” He spoke slowly and succinctly, doing his best to
convince her of the truth. The reality was, it would take a lot
more time and skill than he had to make her believe it.

“I’m going to hunt that prick down and hit
him so hard he’ll never want to beat you again.” He said it calmly,
but with enough force that she’d know he was serious.

She shook her head as if to protest, but a
tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “What good would that
do?”

“Probably nothing, but I’d feel a hell of a
lot better.”

She fell silent and busied herself
rearranging the napkins. He stared at her, willing her to meet his
gaze.

“You have to leave him,” he said. “There’s
nothing else you can do.”

It took awhile, but eventually, with eyes
downcast, she nodded. “Yes, I know that now. I’ve been searching
for the courage to do it, but somehow every time I think I’m ready
to leave, the doubts creep in. Then I remember the constant
threats, the murder books and the bottle of Diazepam…”

He frowned in confusion.
Murder books?
Diazepam?
She wasn’t talking sense. He quietly told her as
much. He heard her shaky, indrawn breath and just as shaky release.
As if the action had fortified her, she raised her gaze to his and
told him what she’d found. The bleakness in her eyes and voice
lacerated his heart.

When at last she fell silent, it was all
Mason could do not to howl out his anger at the man she’d married.
Instead, he forced a few calming breaths through the tightness of
his chest and breathed out slowly, silently counting to ten. She
interrupted his mammoth attempts to hold on to his self-control by
speaking again.

“Will you…help me?” she whispered brokenly.
“I… I can’t do it on my own.”

He replied without hesitation. “Of
course.”

“It’s not only me…”

“Your kids. No problem,” he said and meant
it. “Kids are good.”

“Do you have any?”

“No, Sue Ann wasn’t able to.”

“Sue Ann? You’re married?”

“Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

He sighed. “It didn’t work out.”

She frowned and he could see she wanted to
know more, but she surprised him by saying, “Thank you for helping
me, Mason. You’re a good man. Until I saw you again, I didn’t have
anywhere else to turn.”

She looked at him with so much gratitude, he
wanted to curse. It wasn’t her gratitude he wanted, but he knew it
would take her awhile to reach a point where she was open to
anything along the line of a normal relationship. Regardless, he
knew in that moment that he wanted to be part of her life—and that
he’d have to be patient. What she needed right now more than
anything was a friend.

“It’s fine,” he said and then winced
inwardly at his dismissive tone. He was being churlish and it
wasn’t fair. In a much milder voice, he spoke again. “We should
talk about how this is going to work. First, we’re going to the
police to file a report and get an apprehended violence order. What
time do you finish work?”

She looked doubtful and more than a little
scared. “Eleven, but Nigel will be expecting me home. He finishes
around six tonight and then swings by the daycare center to collect
the kids. He knows how long it should take me to get home. If I’m
late, he’ll wonder why. He’ll ask questions. It could
get…nasty.”

Mason stared at her and his jaw clenched
with the effort of holding in his anger. Once again, he wanted to
bury his fists into Nigel Donnelly’s face and pummel him into
oblivion. He drew in a deep breath and eased it out. “Could you get
away a little earlier?”

She nodded. “I’d planned to do it tonight
during my dinner break. I’m off between seven and eight.”

“No problem. I’ll come with you.”

The relief on her face was palpable. Once
again, he had to tamp down on his anger. It wasn’t right that any
woman should feel so scared of her husband’s reaction. He couldn’t
believe it was happening to someone he knew and cared for. With
reluctance, he checked his watch again.

“I have to go, but I’ll meet you in the
hospital car park just after seven. We can go in my car to the
police station.”

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, but she
blinked them away. “Thank you, Mason,” she whispered.

He nodded once and then stood and walked
away.

D
ear
Diary,

I don’t know where I’d be without Mason’s
support. He has given me courage, he is the light in my darkness
and for that I will be forever grateful. I do not know how I will
repay him for his kindness. I should be thanking You, God, for him,
but I have lost my faith in You. I can’t help but question what it
is that I have ever done wrong to have earned this living hell.

How many times have I prayed to You for
help, for direction, for comfort? My prayers have gone unanswered.
But maybe I’ve misjudged You, too? Maybe You were waiting to send
me Mason all along or maybe You knew what I didn’t—that I could
bear this cross on my own, that it wouldn’t destroy me and that in
the end I would have my own triumphant resurrection and come out of
this a better, stronger person. Only time will tell. Because aside
from time, what do I have left?

I want so much to trust Mason, but how can I
trust another when I no longer trust myself?

* * *

As Isobel entered the sterile surrounds of
the Sydney City Police Station, she was encompassed in a rush of
cool air from the air conditioner vents. Even though the sun had
disappeared half an hour earlier, the night was still warm. She
drew in a breath and tried to ease the tension that had doubled her
stomach up in knots.

Mason offered her a smile of reassurance and
she took courage from his quiet strength. Squaring her shoulders,
she approached the reception desk and forced herself to make eye
contact with the young female constable who stood behind the
counter.

The woman greeted her with a friendly smile.
“Hi, what can I do for you?”

“I-I need to report an assault.”

“Okay, are you the victim?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Mason moved up beside
her and she was grateful for his comforting presence. The officer
looked from one to the other and then nodded to Isobel.

“I’ll have one of the senior officers come
and speak with you. They won’t be long. You can take a seat, if you
like.”

Isobel turned and looked at the row of hard
plastic chairs behind her. They were stained from years of
ground-in dirt. She shuddered and turned away. “I’m fine, thank
you. I-I’m happy to stand.”

Mason moved to put his arm around her
shoulders, but she deftly slipped out of reach. She was sure he’d
only meant to offer her comfort, but she was uneasy with unexpected
physical contact. Just another part of her that her husband had
damaged.

A moment later, a door opened at the far end
of the room and a male officer appeared. His graying hair and quiet
air of authority reassured her that he would listen to her fears.
She only prayed he’d take them seriously.

“I’m Senior Constable Gavin Rogers.” The
officer put out his hand and Isobel shook it. Mason followed suit
and introduced them.

“If you’d like to follow me, we can talk
inside.”

Isobel murmured her thanks. With Mason right
on her heels, she followed the officer through the doorway and down
a corridor that eventually led to a series of empty rooms. Each was
furnished sparsely with nothing more than a plain wooden table and
three chairs. They all took seats, in silence.

Thirty-five minutes later, she was done. Her
throat felt dry and scratchy and her eyes were hot and pulsing from
the pressure of unshed tears. Mason reached for her hand and this
time, she let him take it.

He squeezed her fingers and she returned the
gentle pressure. It had been reassuring to have him there by her
side, though what she’d told the officer had been pretty graphic.
Now that Mason was aware of what her life was really like, she
believed he would stand by her and she gratefully accepted his
comfort.

“I can apply for an apprehended violence
order first thing in the morning,” Senior Constable Rogers said. It
will need to go before a judge, but it shouldn’t be difficult to
get the order. We’ll then set about serving your husband with his
copy.” He cleared his throat. “I assume you have somewhere else to
stay tonight?”

The question was enough to undo her. The
reality of what she was about to do hit her all of a sudden with
enough force to leave her gasping. Panic surged through her. Fast
on its heels was a fear so debilitating, she was sure she wouldn’t
even have the strength to leave the station.

The more she thought about what would happen
as soon as Nigel was served with the AVO, the more she knew she
couldn’t take the risk. She shook her head with increasing
vehemence, willing the men who watched her with concern in their
eyes to understand.