I peeked into the bathroom. His clothes were piled on the floor. He sat, smiling, in the steaming water with one foot dangling over the edge of the large claw foot bathtub. “This is quite a tub.”
“Mum used to hide in here for her quiet time. It’s a nice place for that.”
“Did your father ever join her?” I asked as I began to remove my clothes.
His brow elevated, a small smile forming. “I don’t care to know that information, Claire.” He watched me as I undressed.
“It’s a huge tub, lots of room for one person.” I giggled and threw my bra at him. I stepped over the edge, sinking to my knees in the delightfully warm water at his feet. He was staring at me and I paused, looking at him. “What?”
His gaze traveled over me as he murmured, “You’re lovely.”
I smiled, blushing. I loved that he thought I was beautiful. But it was hard to accept, even from him. In the past, flattery had been used as a lure, always leading to something bad.
“Does it bother you? For me to tell you how beautiful I find you?”
He doesn’t miss a thing. I met his eyes. “A little.”
He smiled slightly. “You are beautiful. It astounds me that you don’t see that.”
“I’m a little self-critical. Focusing on my flaws.”
His eyes slid over my form. “What flaws?” His brow furrowed.
“You want me to catalogue them?” I tried to tease.
He wasn’t amused. He shook his head, regarding me steadily.
I held out my right hand, turning my arm over to expose the long thin scar that ran from the inside of my elbow to my wrist. “That’s not lovely.”
He took my arm, dropping soft kisses the length of the scar. I stared at him. I stood and turned, exposing the scar from my broken rib. The doctor had done wonders with a needle and thread.
Josh’s hand covered it, rubbing over the scar. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss over the indention, his breath warm on my skin. I raised my left arm, displaying the line from under my breast into my armpit.
He looked up at me as his fingers traced along the scar. “You don’t need to show me anything else.” His hands clasped my wrists and pulled me into the water to face him. “Your scars aren’t flaws, Claire. The only flaw is what you can’t let go of. Somehow you think you’re responsible for what he did.” He pushed the hair from my shoulder.
I felt myself withdrawing a bit, my eyes dropping to the water. But I stopped, forcing myself to consider his words, to hear the truth in them. “Yes, I guess…maybe.”
“Why?” He sounded strained.
I shrugged. “I told you. I let him down.”
His voice was low and taut. “You truly believe being a ‘better wife’ would have prevented this?” He looked at me with wide eyes. “Prevented his abuse?”
I looked at him curiously, then blew out the air I felt trapped in my suddenly tight throat.
His hand found my hand in the water. “You’re not to blame for any of what happened.” His voice was low as he spoke. “I can understand the need to find a reason, some explanation.” He held me against him then. “But you’re not that reason. Claire, nothing you did was responsible for his actions. You were a victim, whether you like the word or not.”
“I know that, sometimes. Other times I think I must have done something. Because I thought I knew him and understood him. And it’s terrifying that my judgment was so messed up. How can I ever trust myself again?”
“You have to try.”
“I will. I am. It’s just hard to start over.” I paused before saying, “I know it’s pathetic, but, as you said that night, self-examination can be hard.”
He made a face. “I didn’t know what I was saying, Claire. I spat out words without knowing what you’d been through. I was looking for a way to get your attention.”
I smiled at him. “You have it.” His hands tightened around mine. “I can’t forgive myself because I didn’t leave earlier. I put the kids in danger. I did that.”
Josh was staring at me, his jaw locked. He pulled me into his lap. “You did protect your children. You finally left him. You did that.”