Between Sisters - Kristin Hannah [21]
Meghann didn't say what came to mind. Instead, she said, “That's good.” If she'd been with May, she would have been able to look in her client's eyes and take a measure of the woman's fragility. If it seemed possible, she would have given her statistics—horror stories designed to drive home the ugly truth. Often, if a man would hit his wife, he'd get around to hitting his children. Bullies were bullies; their defining characteristic was the need to exert power over the powerless. Who was more powerless than a child?
But none of that could be done over the phone. Sometimes a client sounded strong and in control while they were falling apart. Meghann had visited too many of her clients in psych wards and hospitals. She'd grown careful over the years.
“We need to make sure he understands that I'm not going to take his children from him. Otherwise he'll go crazy,” May said. There was the barest crack in her voice.
“Let me ask you this, May. Say it's three months from now. You're divorced, and Dale has lost half of everything he owns. He's living with Dance Hall Barbie and they come home drunk one night. Barbie's driving because she only had three margaritas. When they get home, the baby-sitter has let the kids demolish the house and little Billy has accidentally broken the window in Dale's office. Are your children safe?”
“That's a lot of things going wrong.”
“Things go wrong, May. You know that. I'm guessing that you've always been a buffer between your husband and kids. A human shock absorber. You probably learned how to calm him down and deflect his attention away from the children. Will Barbie know how to protect them?”
“Am I so ordinary?”
“Sadly, the situation is. The good news is, you're giving yourself—and your children—a new start. Don't weaken now, May. Don't let him bully you.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Lock the doors and turn off the phone. Don't talk to him. If you don't feel safe, go to a relative's or friend's house. Or to a motel for one night. Tomorrow we'll get together and come up with a new game plan. I'll file some restraining orders.”
“You can keep us safe?”
“You'll be fine, May. Trust me. Bullies are cowards. Once he sees how strong you can be, he'll back down.”
“Okay. When can we meet?”
Meghann dug through her bag for her PalmPilot, then checked her schedule. “How about a late lunch—say two o'clock—at the Judicial Annex Café by the courthouse? I'll schedule a meeting with Dale's lawyer for later that afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“May, I know this is a sensitive question, but do you by any chance have a photograph of yourself . . . you know . . . when he hit you?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then May said, “I'll check my photo albums.”
“It's simply evidence,” Meg said.
“To you, maybe.”
“I'm sorry, May. I wish I didn't have to ask questions like that.”
“No. I'm sorry,” May said.
That surprised Meg. “What for?”
“That no man has ever shown you the other side. My father would have killed Dale for all of this.”
Before she could stop it, Meghann felt a sharp jab of longing. It was her Achilles' heel. She was sure she didn't believe in love, but still, she dreamed of it. Maybe May was right. Maybe if Meg had had a father who'd loved her, everything would be different. As it was, she knew that love was a rope bridge made of the thinnest strands. It might hold your weight for a while, but sooner or later, it would break.
Oh, there were happy marriages. Her best friend, Elizabeth, had proven that.
There were also forty-eight-million-dollar-lottery winners, five-leaf clovers, Siamese twins, and full eclipses of the sun.
“So, we'll meet at the Annex tomorrow at two?”
“I'll see you there.”
“Good.” Meghann flipped the phone shut and dropped it in her purse, then pushed the elevator button. When the door opened, she stepped inside. As always, the mirrored walls made it feel as if she were stumbling into herself. She leaned forward, unable to stop herself; when a mirror was near, she had to look into it. In the past few years, she'd begun to search obsessively for