Keeping What's His(22)

“How did your daughter die?” Tate eventually asked.

“After Scott and I were married, it didn’t take long for me to realize my mistake. We had only been back from our honeymoon for two weeks when he started abusing me.

“I was taking a bath when he walked in and asked why I hadn’t quit my job after he had asked me to. I told him I had never said I would quit working, and he dragged me out of the bathtub by my hair and beat me. I lay there on the wet floor, believing I was going to die.

“When he finished, he left me to go to bed as if nothing had happened. It took me a while, but I managed to get up and clean myself up. I tried to leave, and he told me if I did, he would kill my parents. I believed him. He was crazy and wasn’t trying to hide it any longer. The next day, he called my work and told my boss I wouldn’t be back. I was even afraid to visit pap before he died.

“Not one person called to check on me, and I didn’t know where to turn to for help. I didn’t want my parents to know I had married a man who would hurt me, but could potentially hurt them. I was ashamed and angry at myself for falling for his crap.

“He made sure I was isolated and afraid. I became that woman I swore I would never be when I heard about abused women. He would beat me and then hold me and say it was for my own good. I began to believe him. He stole my self-respect; I couldn’t ever make him happy. If I cooked him something, he would call it slop or hillbilly swill. I used to be a good cook, remember?”

“The best I ever had.” Tate’s soft voice sent a wave of reassurance, though Scott’s insults still had her doubting if there was truth to his statements.

“He broke my arm when he found out I was taking birth control. Then, when I didn’t get pregnant, he would call me an infertile bitch. If he didn’t like the way I was dressed, he would call me a slut. I wouldn’t wear anything low-cut or sleeveless, even though I stayed in the house all day. I couldn’t go to the grocery store unless he went with me, and he had alarms on the windows and doors that would tell him if I tried to leave. I was trapped and didn’t know how to get away.

“When I became pregnant, the beatings stopped, but he wouldn’t even let me go to the obstetrician alone. He stayed with me every second, even during the exams. It still boggles my mind that, because of his position, he was given so much leeway. Even professional, educated people abuse their spouses. It isn’t based on being poor.”

“I know that,” he assured her.

“I wish my obstetrician had known that. One of the questions when I was admitted to the hospital to have Valentine was whether I was afraid of anyone. She asked me in front of Scott. How was I supposed to answer? I was too afraid to tell the truth. God help me, I should have. My daughter would still be alive.”

“Sutton, I learned a long time ago that ‘what’ and ‘if’ are the two most painful words in the world. I still blame myself for not going fishing with my parents the day they died.”

“I want her back so badly. Sometimes, I can’t breathe because I want it so much…” She broke off as tears she didn’t know how she was still capable of crying slid down her cheeks.

Tate’s arm tightened around her, giving her the strength to finish the horrific account of the way her beautiful daughter’s life had ended.

“When I came home from the hospital with my baby, he became even more controlling, saying I didn’t want to have sex anymore. It was true. I couldn’t fake it. He made my skin crawl when he touched me.

“Scott was critical of everything. I wasn’t holding her right or making her take naps. He made me write down the times I breastfed her and for how long. One day, he shoved me when I was holding Valentine, and I almost dropped her. He blamed me, of course.

“When she was three months old, she developed colic, and he said the foods I was eating were to blame, giving her gas, so he made me put her on formula.” Sutton began shaking, the memories becoming too painful.

“One night, he came home from working an emergency, and he went to bed. I couldn’t get Valentine to quit crying. I tried everything, but she wouldn’t stop. Scott came into the nursery, and I could tell by the way he was looking at her that, if he had the chance, he would hurt her. I laid her back in the crib and told him to stay away from her. When I woke up, I was lying on the floor, and he was sitting on the rocking chair, holding my baby. He said he would kill me if I ever tried to come between he and his daughter, and that was the end of it for me. I wasn’t going to take the chance he would hurt Valentine again.

“When he went to bed, I slipped into the bedroom and stole his cell phone. I called a domestic abuse hotline, and the next day when Scott went to work, two of the most beautiful women in the world showed up at the door. I took Valentine and the clothes on our back and ran.

“They gave us a place to stay where Scott couldn’t find us, clothes, and food. Without their help, I don’t know what I would have done. They helped and counseled me through my divorce, provided me with doctors that could testify to the damage he had done to my body. He had broken my arm, several ribs, my nose had been broken so many times it was deformed, and my left eye drooped.

“I was given a divorce and a restraining order for both me and Valentine. I didn’t even ask for spousal or child support, because I knew it would infuriate him even more, so they helped me find a job and start over.

“For two blissful months, I had a life that I was beginning to enjoy. Scott stayed away. I should have known he wouldn’t let us go. I had even warned my parents through one of the domestic abuse shelters to be careful. I thought Scott would be too afraid of losing the respect of his friends and co-workers to violate the restraining order.

“I went to pick up Valentine from daycare two months after our divorce. When I was buckling her into her car seat in the backseat, he knocked me out and pushed me into the car. I woke up with him driving around the city, ranting at me. I tried everything I could to calm him down, but it didn’t work.

“He pulled off the road and dragged me to the trunk of the car and shoved me in, slamming the lid down before I could escape. I was so proud of myself for buying that piece of junk so I would have my independence and be able to pick up Valentine from daycare. It was so old it didn’t have the emergency release for trunks.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I kept screaming at him to stop and let me out, that he better not hurt Valentine.

“I don’t know how long he drove around, because I was in and out of consciousness. I woke when he stopped the car and threw Valentine at me. I held her as he drove, not having any idea of what he was going to do next. I don’t think he did, either. I was so scared, and all I could do was lay there in the dark, holding Valentine.”

“Jesus.”

“Believe me, I prayed. I prayed for God to help me. I prayed my parents would save us, though I hadn’t talked to them in years. I even prayed that you would rescue me. I know it was unrealistic, but I kept praying someone would save us in time.

“Finally, the car stopped, and everything was quiet. I wanted the trunk to open, but I was afraid at the same time. I was terrified of what he would do to us when it did. I heard the sound of a gunshot, but after that, nothing. I started screaming for help over and over again, pleading for Scott to open the trunk, but he never did.

“I lay there in that trunk, thinking sooner or later, I would get help. None came. Even when I knew my baby was dying, I still held out hope someone would find us in time. No one did, and when she took her last breath, I didn’t want to be saved anymore. I wanted to die with her.

“When I heard someone at the trunk, I didn’t make a sound. I wanted them to go away. It’s funny, but when I quit wanting to be found was when I was.

“I fought the deputy who tried to help me. It took two EMTs to get me out of that trunk and take my baby away. In the hospital, they told me Scott had parked in an isolated parking lot, gotten in the back seat, and shot himself. One of the abuse workers I had remained in contact with had reported me missing, and all the members had banded together to search for us. One of them found the car in the parking lot.”

Tate had remained silent so long she raised her head, finding his own eyes brimming with tears and his cheeks wet.

“If I hadn’t left that day …”

“If I hadn’t listened to Lisa …”

Tate’s tortured expression had her protective instincts rising. She couldn’t bear to see the big, outrageously confident man believe he was responsible for any part of the disaster her life had become with Scott.

“It was no one’s fault besides mine. I should have brought Valentine back to Treepoint, but my pride held me back. I didn’t want to face my parents with my mistake. I didn’t want to see you around town, hating me, gloating that I was divorced.”

A groan passed his lips.

“I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

“That you thought I was the biggest walking asshole imaginable? You were wrong. I wouldn’t have gloated. I would have been chasing after you.”

“Yeah, right. You didn’t exactly welcome me back to town.”