Lillian didn’t have the words to define exactly who these women were or what was happening to them, but she knew from Shirley that this kind of cruel behavior went overlooked throughout their community and others. Peter would have to listen and trust her.
“Places?”
Lillian had no idea if there was such a thing or not, but she aimed to find out. “Yes.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“I have.” Even though she had no idea how she could help or what she would do.
“So this is what you meant? You want to help women whose husbands beat them?”
“As of now, yes.”
“That might be dangerous.”
“It’s important to do this. For them and for me. It’s one way to make it up to my mother—to do what I can to ensure her suffering wasn’t for nothing.”
“You’ll be careful?” Peter’s eyes were troubled, but Lillian sensed that something had changed. “When you believe in yourself, other people will believe in you too,” she’d heard her grandfather say, without understanding what he meant. Now she did.
“I will.”
“You come to me if you need anything, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“So, no baby?”
Lillian smiled. “No baby, Peter.”
Peter picked up one of the blue baby outfits. “I was hoping for a boy.”
Lillian chuckled, stood, and brushed Peter’s hair off his forehead. “We could get a boy—dog.”
Peter laughed, and Lillian recognized the sound of yes. “You know, Lil, your mother isn’t the only one who wants you to be happy.”
Inconvenient tears pooled in Lillian’s eyes and rendered everything blurry. She reached for Peter’s hand, lifted it to her lips, and kissed his palm three times. She looked up at him and held his gaze.
He stepped toward her and leaned close, his mouth to her ear. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon,” he whispered.
“Uh-huh.” Sparklers flickered inside Lillian’s head. “The girls won’t be home until five.”
Chapter 30
RUTH
Ruth came back inside from her late-morning studying on the patio when it started to drizzle. She had work to do, helping Shirley. She positioned the leaves in the dining room table and set six places for lunch. Shirley’s Lenox china and crystal sparkled. The silver shined. The crisp linen tablecloth gleamed from starch. Fan-folded napkins adorned each plate. The delicious, herbaceous aroma of roasted chicken wafted in from the kitchen and filled the air.
Shirley stepped into the dining room, untying her apron.
“How does it look?” Ruth asked.
She’d set an elegant table but purposely sought her mother-in-law’s praise. Ruth understood now that doing so was a sign of respect and gratitude, not one of debasement. Shirley smiled when Ruth asked. The consideration pleased them both—Ruth to give it and Shirley to receive it. Ruth had mistakenly seen Shirley as difficult to please, but her mother-in-law was a cinch now that Ruth understood her.
“It looks lovely.” Shirley walked to the front window and pushed aside the sheer curtains. “Set out the umbrella stand, please. They’re bound to need it.”
Ruth reached into the coat closet, pulled out a Chinese-inspired, painted porcelain umbrella stand, and placed it next to the front door. From there, she saw Shirley walking around the dining room table, inspecting it all, arms crossed. Ruth braced for criticism or correction or for Shirley to move a glass, or a spoon, or a chair. Instead, Shirley added a short vase of mums. The finishing touch.
“Thank you for doing this,” Ruth said. “It means a lot for me to be able to host my friends.” Ruth wanted to take advantage of the time she had with the girls. Soon she would have to focus on the bar exam and then her job as a lawyer.
“I hear that Harriet is coming back, as well as Carrie, and I’m glad.” Shirley smiled at her. “I want Carrie to feel comfortable here, no matter what. What better way to express that than with a little lunch?”
Over the past week, Ruth had seen Carrie once and spoken to her daily. Her friend was happy—or seemed to be. Maybe she really was. Ruth was hoping to be made wrong on this count.
As the rain fell, the house filled with arriving friends. Irene. Lillian. Harriet. They gathered in the living room, umbrellas and boots and rain bonnets stored in the hall closet. Irene and Shirley wrapped themselves in afghans, citing a chill. Irene dried her wet face with a tea towel, apologizing when she saw she’d transferred some of her makeup to it. “Not exactly good etiquette,” she said ruefully. She opened her compact and reapplied her spice-colored lipstick, more subdued than some of her previous shades.
Ruth checked her own face in the mirror by the door. Fine and dandy. She glanced up at the sky outside; the rain looked like it was letting up, but Carrie might be drenched when she arrived. She’d probably walked, unless Eli drove her.
Shirley, Ruth, and Lillian had privately agreed to leave out any discussion about Carrie’s domestic situation—doubly so since Harriet would be there. Today would be about mending fences and cementing friendships, not stoking old wounds and disagreements.
While she and Ruth were making lunch earlier, Shirley had suggested that the more comfortable Carrie felt about being with them, the more likely she might be to reach out if Eli attacked her again. As for Harriet, well, they had to be sure she didn’t dish to anyone about the plan for Carrie’s escape. Best to keep her happy so she stayed quiet. Hopefully, she’d think the plan had been abandoned and wouldn’t make trouble.
As the women relaxed and waited for Carrie to show up, the house filled with laughter and conversation. Important, life-changing topics were discussed, like the Diamonds’ dislike of raisins, Heidi’s toddler escapades, Shirley’s schnecken recipe, Ruth’s bar exam studies.
The telephone rang and Ruth skittered to the kitchen. “I’ll get it.” She lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Ruth? It’s me.”
“Carrie?”
“Yes. I’ve changed my mind. I want to leave Eli.” Ruth heard rustling on Carrie’s end of the line, suggesting Carrie was prepping to be on the move. “I’m packing a few things; I’ll be there soon.”
Ruth was terrified and relieved at the same time. Her head filled with questions about what had changed since yesterday, when Carrie had sounded fine. The fact Carrie was calling was a good sign, though. If she were badly hurt, she might not have been able to talk. Yet something serious must have happened if she wanted to leave her husband. Twenty-four hours ago, Carrie had been certain her life was on track. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
Goose bumps crawled up Ruth’s arm, but right now it didn’t matter what had happened. Time couldn’t be wasted. Carrie should leave, but she had to be careful. Eli must not discover she planned to go. “Carrie, don’t stop to pack, just—”
Rumbles and a crash reverberated through the receiver. Ruth’s heart sank. She had to remain calm for her friend, had to assess the situation. “Carrie? Are you okay?”