Yes, Ruth thought. To protect Carrie. To protect these women.
Carrie reached out for Ruth and sank to the floor, taking Ruth with her. She sobbed, soaking Ruth’s shoulder. Was Carrie sad, or relieved, or some indescribable combination?
It didn’t matter. Carrie had been defending herself. Protecting her baby. There was no premeditation. She needed to escape to save her unborn child from more beatings. She only tried to leave. It should be an easy legal matter. Carrie was covered in red welts, nearly unconscious when the women arrived. They were witnesses to Eli’s brutality. He’d nearly socked Shirley.
And yet.
Ruth knew the law was rarely on a woman’s side. It would stay that way until people like her fought to change it.
“Shh,” Ruth said as she eased Carrie to the sofa. “It will be okay.” She wished she believed that for a minute. She had a law degree and still had no idea what to do under the circumstances. She looked at her mother-in-law, who nodded at her.
“What happened before we got here?” Ruth asked Carrie.
“We fought this morning. It was stupid. We argued over baby names and he pushed me. I hit my head on the cabinet. That’s when I realized I had to protect my baby, I had to go. He was mad and left—that’s when I called you—but he must’ve come home to apologize. He saw the suitcase and yanked it away. Pushed me. I fell and blacked out. Eli must have helped me to the sofa. But what if something happened to me after the baby came? There would be no one protecting her.” Carrie stared into her lap. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I would never . . . never . . . kill him.” She began to cry. Silent tears rolled down her face.
Ruth knew she couldn’t understand what Carrie was going through, but she also didn’t comprehend the compassion. She shivered with the knowledge that if Eli wasn’t on the floor, then it would be Carrie instead. Carrie had to think about herself, and her baby. She had to let them take care of the rest.
Shirley walked over and smoothed Carrie’s hair back from her face. “Carrie, dear. I know this is a very difficult time, but there is one immediate alternative. Do you still want the Esther Society to send you away? I can make some calls and you could leave tonight.”
Ruth gave her mother-in-law a quizzical look. The lawyer in her knew how this would look to police. An open-and-shut case. Carrie killed him and ran—that’s all they’d see. Her guilt would be assumed. And Ruth had no idea what the neighbors might have seen or heard. What they might tell the police.
Carrie, her face scared and unsure, looked from Shirley to Ruth and back again. She could barely get the words out. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Ruth wanted Carrie to be safe and knew that the Esthers provided a logical option, but it filled her with sorrow. If the Esther Society hid Carrie, Ruth might never see her friend again.
Lillian came up and stood beside Shirley. “We can also help you arrange a funeral and go back to your parents or find a new place in Philly,” Lillian said.
Ruth was oddly comforted not just by Lillian’s presence now but also by Lillian having these protocols and rules to create order out of chaos.
“Your choice,” Shirley said to Carrie. “We are here to stand by you, to keep you safe and to keep your secrets, no matter what.”
“I need time . . . this is too much.”
Shirley nodded but looked worried as she checked her watch.
Ruth snapped into action. She pointed to Lillian. “In the meantime, can you unpack Carrie’s suitcase and put everything away as best you can? We don’t want it to look like she was leaving.”
Ruth turned to Harriet. “That bucket has to go back wherever you found it. It was raining, so if you poured water out, add some back in.”
Lillian nodded at Ruth.
Shirley said, “Irene, can you make a pot of coffee and pour cups for each of us? Ladies, you’ll need to drink from your own cup, and be sure to leave lipstick prints on them. We want to make it look like we were sitting around the kitchen table, crumbs and all.”
Ruth was grateful to have Shirley—and her wisdom—in her corner. The details were so important. The girls rushed to their assignments, and Shirley crouched by Carrie and Ruth. They had things to discuss, yet Carrie was in desperate need of soothing.
When Lillian, Irene, and Harriet returned to the living room some minutes later, Ruth looked up. Shirley sat next to Carrie, holding her hand.
“I will call the police and report a terrible accident,” Ruth said.
The others looked at her, wondering, confused. Ruth continued, “When asked, we will say we were in the kitchen having coffee and chatting when we heard a crash.”
“A crash?” Carrie asked. She still seemed dazed by it all.
“Eli must have stopped home to get something—you weren’t expecting him—and he tripped,” Ruth clarified.
Shirley chimed in as if she and Ruth were a tag team. “It was just a terrible accident. No one’s at fault. You all understand?”
“Shouldn’t we call for an ambulance too?” Carrie asked.
“It’s too late to help him, but you’re right,” Ruth said. “It supports our story.”
Carrie covered her face with her hands. “He can’t hurt me anymore?” Her words were spoken through disbelieving sobs. “He can’t hurt the baby?”
Ruth hugged her. “That’s right.”
Shirley, Ruth, Lillian, Irene, and Harriet grasped hands in a protective semicircle around Carrie.
“But I pushed him,” she whispered.
The girls looked at Ruth. “Shh,” Ruth said. “No, you didn’t. He tripped.”
Ruth knew that Carrie had no chance unless they all stood by this story.
Lillian took Carrie’s chin in her hand and lifted it so that Carrie had to look directly into her eyes. “Listen, Carrie. You were in the kitchen having coffee with your friends. Eli fell and hit his head before any of us even knew he was home. Remember?”
Carrie looked like she didn’t know what to say.
“Do you hear me, Carrie?” Lillian’s tone was even and unwavering. The etiquette maven was setting new rules, a new world order. For their little world, anyway.
Carrie hesitated, then nodded slightly. Lillian cocked her head. Carrie’s nod got stronger, definite.
Ruth lifted the receiver and dialed emergency services, crossing her fingers behind her back so the others couldn’t see. She prayed for strength for them all. They’d need all the help they could get.
There were different kinds of justice, she realized.
Chapter 31
LILLIAN
Lillian had no experience with the police, so she sat in Carrie’s living room, wringing her hands, waiting her turn to be questioned and hoping her distress would be enough to convince the police of their story. Until they took her into the kitchen for official questioning, Lillian would keep quiet.
The irony of elective silence wasn’t lost on her.
She’d strived to speak up to Peter and the girls. She worked to express herself regarding her parents. Now Lillian had chosen to keep quiet about what happened to Carrie and then Eli.
Maybe that was the difference. Choice.
Lillian used to believe she’d chosen the role of strong, silent housewife. In truth, she hadn’t looked for anything else, for other ways to be. It had seemed ideal.