“But?” The soft word came from Faith. Miles was relieved that someone could see that there was more to be said here.
Charity shot her sister a grateful look before gulping down a mouthful of red wine and then grimacing.
“But…I’d prefer never to see Sandra and Paul again.”
“Charity,” Rita’s voice was gently chastising. “I know it’s diffi—”
“Pleased don’t say it’s difficult,” Charity interrupted her sharply. She cast a self-conscious glance around the room, but the other patrons hadn’t noticed the slight rise in her tone. “The only thing that was difficult for me was having to watch you all cry for him. Miss him. Mourn him. And to pretend that I felt the same way.”
Rita’s mouth opened and then closed. Clearly lost for words. Erik was frowning, but Faith…Faith had paled. With her drawn face and distraught eyes, she looked like someone who had just witnessed a fatal accident.
“What did he do to you?” she asked, her voice pitched low, and Erik made a soft, distressed sound in the back of his throat. Rita still looked confused and horrified. Not as quick as her husband and older daughter…probably too sweet and insulated to even imagine such a thing happening to one of her precious children.
Charity laughed. There was no humor in the awful sound. Only bleakness and despair and anguish.
“Oh God,” she murmured, scrubbing her palms over her face. “What didn’t he do? It was like he followed an abusers’ manual or something, because he did it all.”
Rita made a choked sound, and her hand shot up to cover her mouth, her lovely eyes glittered fiercely above that hand.
“It started on our wedding night. It ended the night he killed himself. And he only did that because he thought he had killed me. He called his parents before he shot himself though.
“Knowing Blaine, he was too vain to allow our bodies to lay there undiscovered possibly for days. So, he called his parents who always took care of everything for him. And they came running. The police were not to know that he had tried to smother me with a pillow, of course. So, they concocted this story about him mistakenly thinking I was going to leave him. And, as a result, he shot himself while I was asleep. I was in shock, and traumatized to find myself covered in blood after regaining consciousness. Numb and confused…it was simpler to sit back and allow Sandra and Paul to dictate the narrative.
“Everything I said and did was always to preserve Blaine’s perfect public image. And then his precious memory. I was so…conditioned to do what was expected of me by then that I, once again, allowed them to control my thoughts, my words, even my emotions.
“Blaine and I had an argument. He thought I was going to leave him. He killed himself because he loved me too much to lose me. That was our story. I took the blame and his devoted parishioners hated me for what I did to their precious pas
tor. I played the victim, the villain, and the grieving widow all at the same time, when inside I was just so…relieved that he was gone. But you all were so sad. And I couldn’t stand it. I had to get away.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rita’s tears had overflowed, and she was hanging on to Erik’s arm as if her life depended on it. The older man also had tears streaming down his devastated face as he stared at his daughter in horrified silence.
“I was so ashamed.” Her voice wobbled on the last word, and Miles palmed the vulnerable nape of her neck and squeezed it reassuringly to remind her that he was here if she needed him. “He made me feel like there was something wrong with me. Like I was to blame for everything he did. He didn’t want me to work. I know you thought I was wasting my education and when I mentioned possibly joining, or starting, a practice, he… he…” She shook her head, but the starkness in her eyes told its own harrowing tale.
“He isolated me from everybody. Not only because he wanted to control me, but because he was so possessive that he felt threatened and was jealous of any other relationships. I once had lunch with Faith, and afterward, he demanded to know where we had gone. What we had spoken about. What I had worn. None of my answers satisfied him. And he snapped. It never took much for him to snap. He broke a couple of ribs that time, and Sandra drove me to hospital to have them strapped. To this day, I don’t know how she explained it away. But she always had a handy excuse available for her clumsy daughter-in-law’s silly accidents.
“And the worst part of it all is, that I was so grateful to her for always helping me. I didn’t even understand until much later, how much she enabled him. She used my dependency on her to control my emotions. It wrecked me every time she told me she was disappointed in me for not being more aware of Blaine’s needs. For driving him to such extreme measure. For being so difficult.”
She stopped talking to take a thirsty drink of water. Faith was swearing, a steady stream of angry and impressively colorful invective. Rita and Erik were both still silently crying, and Charity, as if only now becoming aware of how her words had affected them blinked and gasped in horror.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get it all out. But I could have eased you into it a bit more—a little less…”
“Charity,” Miles murmured, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. “Give them a second to process.”
“You were so quiet and withdrawn after the wedding. We all noticed, but…” Rita paused and shook her head bitterly. “Sandra told me you were just nervous about your new role as a pastor’s wife. You wanted to make a good impression, she told us. You were trying to tone down your wild streak.”
“She never had a fucking wild streak,” Erik growled, surprising Miles with the unexpected profanity. Thus far, the cheerful semi-retired neurosurgeon had been silently absorbing every painful hit. Earlier, Erik Cole had struck Miles as a cheery, good-natured man, who rarely had a bad word to say about anyone. Now he understandably resembled someone whose entire world had tilted on its axis. “We entrusted our beautiful, exuberant, free-spirited child to them. And they turned that spirit against her. It never sat right with me when they called her wild. But she seemed content. So, settled. Fuck…fuck. Charity. I’m so sorry, baby.”
“It’s not your fault, Daddy,” she said, taking hold of his hand and smiling at him through her tears. “None of you are to blame for his actions. And, it took me a very long time to understand this, but it’s not my fault either. For too long I believed that it was. I believed if I changed everything about myself, I could be what he needed me to be. But he was sick and twisted and he enjoyed hurting me.”
“We should have seen what was going on.”
“How? I didn’t let on. I became adept at hiding what was happening from the world. I withdrew from all of you. And I knew it must have been hurtful and confusing…And I’m so sorry for that.”
“God, don’t apologize!” Faith snapped. “Just don’t!”
“Faith…”
Faith shook her head and tossed her napkin onto the table. “I can’t deal with this. I just can’t. I need some air. I’m sorry.”