The Best Man in Texas. Kelsey Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ the torment marring those beautiful brown eyes.

      The young woman surprised her when she asked, “Do you need help? Should I call the nurse?”

      Interesting, Violet thought, that this Sara should be concerned with her when she was clearly in a more serious condition herself.

      Violet used her good hand to smooth back a few strands of her hair. It had long ago gone white and she hoped that alone was enough to lend some credence to what she was about to say.

      “No, no,” Violet assured her. “I’m simply awaiting a release from the doctor.” She held up her now bandaged hand and turned it as if to prove it functioned.

      “Me, too,” she responded on a slightly labored breath.

      Never one to mince words, Violet met and held the woman’s gaze. “Your name is Sara, right?”

      The woman nodded.

      “I suppose you’re going to go back to the man who did this to you?”

      Sara’s lids fluttered to shroud her eyes. “Do you always listen in on confidential conversations?”

      Spirit, Violet thought. Good sign. “Only when I think I can help.”

      “You can’t,” came Sara’s rote-sounding reply. “Anyway, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

      Stubbornness. Bad sign. “Your face and your ribs will heal but the problem with your husband won’t,” Violet continued, undeterred. “The doctors can fix your body but only you can fix your life.”

      “With all due respect, ma’am, you don’t know me and you don’t know my husband.”

      “I don’t have to,” Violet countered. “I know his type. But I’ll admit that you’re something of a puzzle. You seem like a bright, articulate woman. Smart enough to know better than to let a man use you as a punching bag.”

      Sara shifted onto her back and Violet thought she saw a shimmer of unshed tears in the woman’s eyes. Violet wasn’t sure if the woman’s emotional control was a good or bad sign.

      “You don’t understand,” Sara said after a brief silence.

      “So explain it to me,” Violet challenged.

      “Hank Allen is under a lot of pressure. He owns several businesses and sometimes the stress just gets to him.”

      “You think that justifies beating you?”

      “He wasn’t always like this,” Sara defended without real emotion. “He doesn’t mean to get so rough.” She continued to stare at the ceiling.

      Violet guessed the practiced excuses were wearing thin even to Sara. “They never are. Batterers are successful because they start out as Prince Charming and wait until later to reveal their warts. And just for your information, warts can be removed for a while, but they usually grow back.”

      “I think he really wants to change this time.”

      “Is that what you thought all the other times?”

      “It doesn’t matter,” Sara said, closing her eyes. “Marriage is a lifelong commitment.”

      “Only when it’s made honestly,” Violet counseled. “When your Hank Allen stood in front of God and promised to love and honor you ‘till death do you part,’ he was lying. Seems to me your commitment was based on false promises.”

      “I can’t leave him,” Sara said. “I have absolutely no money, no assets. I tried to leave once.”

      “What happened?”

      “Hank Allen reported the car stolen. Everything is in his name. I’m not even authorized to write a check.”

      “There are places that can help you. Organizations that—”

      “He’d find me.”

      Violet thought about her next move for less than a minute. “Let me help.”

      Sara’s eyes flew open and she jerked her head around—a motion that obviously caused her some pain. Wincing, she said, “You don’t even know me. I can’t let—”

      “All the better,” Violet interrupted. “I’ll give you some money to get yourself away from this mess.”

      “He’ll go crazy. Besides, I couldn’t possibly take money from a total stranger.”

      “I’m Violet Mitchum from Pinto, Texas. There, now we aren’t strangers.”

      “You know what I mean,” Sara argued. “This isn’t your problem. I’ll deal with it, but thank you.”

      “There’s a fine line between being stubborn and being stupid, Sara.”

      “I’m being neither,” Sara said. “I’m being practical. When the time is right, I’ll leave Hank Allen.”

      “But when that time comes, will you still be breathing?”

      CHAPTER ONE

      “I’M STILL breathing, Violet,” Sara Pierce sighed as she sank lower against the stiff seat of the bus.

      But Violet’s wisdom delivered nearly four years earlier had stayed with Sara. The mere fact that she had been so hopeless as to inspire a virtual stranger to take pity on her in a hospital emergency room had been just the push Sara needed. It had taken her months of careful planning and three more beatings, but she had done it.

      Each week she had siphoned cash from the grocery allowance Hank Allen grudgingly provided. Sara had packed her bag a few articles of clothing at a time. If he suspected, Hank Allen never let on, but she had lived in mortal fear that he would discover her plan.

      He didn’t. Eight months after that fortuitous meeting with Violet Mitchum in the Louisiana hospital, Sara Pierce had walked out on years of abuse.

      After a few months in hiding, she had contacted an attorney and started the process of reclaiming her life.

      She gave Hank Allen some parting gifts. First, there was a restraining order. When he violated that, Sara pressed charges and Hank Allen went to jail for six months. During his incarceration, she had obtained a divorce that included Hank Allen having to pay her rehabilitative alimony for three years. It seemed only fair that he support her while she returned to finish the college degree she had interrupted to marry that pig.

      It seemed as if her life was back on track. She hadn’t seen Hank Allen in more than a year. The alimony had ended a week earlier, the day before she had earned her degree. Sara was ready to begin a new life.

      But Hank Allen wasn’t finished with her yet.

      She had returned from her graduation ceremony, stepped inside her apartment, and only wished she hadn’t known what hit her. It took one blow for her to recognize the all-too-familiar feel of Hank Allen’s fists.

      She СКАЧАТЬ